I first discovered gay pornography at the age of 13, on a trip to New York, where I bought a copy of Inches from a newsstand vendor who somehow managed to remain ignorant of the fact that I hadn’t hit puberty yet. Inches was a revelation to me, as I had theretofore been limited pretty much to the strip club scene in Bachelor Party. There was a story about these two guys who had an affair with a guy who could suck himself off, and then at the end of the story the surprise twist was that the guy had a twin. I can’t tell you how exciting I found this.
In any event, I returned home to South Carolina and started trying to figure out how I could get more of this stuff. I realized pretty quickly that the local purveyors of such material probably wouldn’t be as accomodatingly blind as the newsstand vendor in New York. So I went to B. Dalton’s, where they sold Inches and a few similar publications, picked up a copy surreptitiously, and stuffed it in my jacket when nobody was looking.
Before I left, however, I dropped a five dollar bill on the floor, because I knew that stealing was wrong.
I just wish I could have gotten change.
I love stories like that. I used to smuggle Nancy Friday’s pseudo-psychological books on sexual fantasies out of the library (before they ever installed those beeper things at the doors).
Wow. You brought me back to my own days of when I was 13 and used to read copies of Jock and Blueboy at the bookstore, surreptitiously tucked into big picture books, like “A Day in the Life of Russia” or some other country. I still can’t even look at that series without pitching a tent.
Wow…and what B.Dalton was that in South Carolina? And why do I never remember seeing those when I lived in the Carolinas?
Faustus, I trust that you aren’t in Manhattan these days, because of the diverse choice of porn? 😉
Awwww… honest Faustus. Squeaky clean.
I absolutely love that story! Hmmm… I think you should edit an edition of Chicken Soup for the Gay Soul