Enough about me... let's talk more about me

2.18.2003 Pleasure Video

“The last we left our heroes, the female was about to be set off into the throws of heated ovulation, whereas the male was … well, the male was to assume the part of the supportive rambunctious stud. This has been Ted Koppel reporting.”

The final injection was in her system releasing the ripened eggs from their stems, and thrusting Elizabeth into her fiery ovulation state. And of course, we were to take advantage of this joyous event where, more or less, we were to do it like wild gorillas in heat.

There is a two-day window; 48 hours. My swimmers had to be ready, willing, able, and also, plentiful. Easier said than done. They say the human male peaks at age 17. It’s true. And 17, for me, was also long and gone. Now, there’s a little 48 hour window where only one of my swimmers, just one, has to have the energy to tread through the waters against the downward current, dodging all the obstacles that may surpass, penetrate through the fortress walls of the kingdom of egg, to implant himself as king.

Just one.

But we’re going to give it about a thousand tries. This is the part that worries me. And this is the reason why humans created the true gift of marital aids—porn.

Yeah, that’s right—I said it, porn. And, Elizabeth and I were going to venture out and get us some of that.

We ventured into the somewhat abandoned neighborhood of Industry City, Brooklyn—where the elevated highway, the Brooklyn Queens Expressway runs overhead. This area consists mainly of factories and old warehouses and the streets are almost too suspiciously barren. About once every half mile, there’s a flashing neon sign from the *special* video stores, all boasting about their wide selections. First and foremost, it’s also dark and seedy, just ripening to be New York City’s new Red Light district.

It was late into the evening and already pretty dark out. We drove up and parked the car near the chosen store, called Pleasure Video. Not to be too obvious, we didn’t park directly in front, but instead, a few car lengths back. I shut the engine and asked Elizabeth, “You ready?”

“Umm ... I’m not going in.”

“You’re not? … You mean, you want me to go in by myself?”

“Yes. That’s fine.”

“…Alright, but what do I choose? Which video? How would I know if you like it too? Do you have your cell phone on you? I can call you and…”

“That’s alright ... just choose something. Anything ... no girl on girl thing though … and no Asian girls. I don’t want you looking at any other Asian girls.”

“No girl on girl. No Asian girls. Got it.”

I told her to lock the doors, keep a careful lookout, and I stepped out of the car. Hearing the echoing of the cars from the highway overhead, I could feel how barren the area was. Taking a deep breath, I entered the enchanted doorway of Pleasure Video.

Ring, ring, ring—the bell attached to the door rang. Immediately, a man perched at the top of this elevated cashier’s platform picked his head up and proceeded to scrutinize me. I tried to ignore him, but it was difficult. Along the walls were all these sexual toys. I saw this odd shaped thing and curiously walked towards it. It appeared to be a two-ended rubber dildo about three-feet in length—half of it was colored dark brown whereas the other half was just peach. Looking over to the man, I nodded, “I was just curious … not for me. Videos?”

He motioned over to the next wall. There stood a doorway with a makeshift curtain drawn made of old multicolored beads. Taking a deep breath, I drew the curtain aside, and entered. ‘Was the curtain really necessary?’ I thought to myself. ‘Okay. Okay. No girl on girl. No Asian girls.’

Take note—when one is eyeing the new releases at Blockbuster’s, there is this almost uncanny anxiousness of possibly finding that movie that got away—that movie where one was just dying to see in the theatres, but just didn’t get the chance. And surprisingly enough, it would be laying on the shelf propped up nice and tall just waiting for you to snag it. Nice feeling. Oddly enough—that feeling, or any other relevant feeling while one is thumbing through stacks of porn is just slightly different. There is no reference point. There is that once in a while, ‘Look at that! Holy moly, how do they do that?’ Other than that, one was pretty much left at the mercy of the video box artist.

I came across this one series. His name was Peter North. I figured this probably was worth it—he had a neat first name, a whole series of videos, the women were attractive, and of course, didn’t see any girls on girls, nor Asian girls, nor Asian girl on Asian girl. Just plain old Peter on all these women, one on one.

I purchased the video, exited the store, and walked back to the car. Elizabeth inspects the package and nods to me her approval. I start the car and we proceed homeward.

(I'll sacrifice you the details of the hot gorilla action).

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...One thing is that no matter how old I am, I probably will not like being called sir or mister, for they have always seemed too far out of reach...




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