Johnson St. Theater
Standing there naked as a jay bird, pants around his ankles, shirt off revealing his gray chest hair, I realize this man is old enough to be somebody's Grampy.
It's been slightly tame around here lately and Sean asked me to maybe come in here and tear the site a new asshole. I think I did one better in that the following article tears the site a new asshole and then fills that asshole with a pony plug. Enjoy.
Let me start off by saying I?m no perv. Porn isn?t my bread and butter; to tell you the truth I?m not even a big fan. I realize looking back at my history as a thingsihate contributor It might seem like that, but trust me it's not. It's just that -- and I mean no offence to any of you believe me -- I?m not about to post my dreams or some lame story about baking on this site. A story has to have something, so I wait until something happens, or else what?s the point? Unfortunately, what usually happens makes me look pervy. That being, said let me tell you what I did in Portland a few Saturdays ago.
Where I am a few Saturdays ago at 2 a.m. isn?t somewhere I?d go alone in a thousand years. Where I am, well, I go there cause I think this is all going to be a joke. And it is, but it's more like an educational field trip when I think about it. Where I am is the Johnson street theater.
This theater its not half so dark as any other theater you?ve been in. Its not dark because the people aren?t here to see a movie. Your local art theater might be this small but I doubt it. In this theater they have a concession stand but that?s not the reason there are napkins all over the floor. Spilled soda pop and misplaced junior mints aren?t the reason I?m praying to God that my slightly tipsy girlfriend doesn?t stumble to the ground.
Why I?m here is that I decided to spend a week of my winter vacation in Portland with Miss Y and Miss X. Saturday night Miss X is reading a web site about the anonymous gay sex scene in Portland, and in between the articles about the glory hole at the airport and glory hole maze at Zippers Down (which I also hear has a paramilitary sex club in the basement, complete with heigh appropriate glory holes) she finds the a blurb about the Johnson Street porn theater, and then decides hell or high water she?s going tonight. The reason I tag along is 'cause I?m such a good guy that no way will I let a lady go unescorted to a porno-theater in the middle of the night in a big city. Well, that?s 90% of why, anyway. So after Miss Y has a few drinks for courage we headed off with a plan to spend an hour at the theater and then meet Miss X?s non-porn-theater-liking friend Miss Z, who lives down the street.
So a few minutes later we?re in my car and zooming towards downtown Portland. I find a parking spot right out in front (I suppose because no one else wanted to be seen parked in front of a porn theater at 2 a.m.). We go in and pay our eight bucks, and along with that we also have to sign a release form absolving the theater if anything should happen. The manager also explains about how they have two theaters (strait and gay), and then about couples and singles seating. I figure that couples seating means away from the masturbators in some sort of private area so I?m trying to opt for that, but the guy at the desk tells us since this is the first time we should sit in the general audience. This creepy muscley guy, who I assume is some sort of bouncer, refers to me as ?the third spoke?.... which I don?t really understand, exactly, and we go in.
As I mentioned, the theater is small and dark, with way more napkins on the floor than you usually see in a theater. They?re playing a porn movie about women pretending to love semen over a video projector. The crowd consists of about fifteen guys (a third of which have their guns drawn) and maybe six ladies (of which 4 or 5 are drag queens). We take a seat near the middle, as far away from everybody else as we can.
Ten minutes later, after the initial ?I?m in a porno theater? whatnot has worn off and I?m feeling a little bored, it happens. WHAPP!!! WHAPP!!! I turn my head and see two drag queens in the couples section, one bent over the other spanking her with a ridding crop. WHAP WHAPP WHAPPP it continues for a few minutes, way past funny and if you?re into that sort of thing well beyond the point where it would be erotic. After about seven minutes I just feel really sorry for the drag queen's booty. What I don?t pick up on is that while this drag queen is getting the worst spanking I?ve ever seen, it's really like a fuse is being lit -- a porn fuse!
But before I tell you about the porn bomb going off, let me tell you what I learned that night. Now I guess the thing about porn theaters that I didn?t really understand prior to this night is that thanks to technology anybody who wants to see porn stays home and rents it, and the people who go to porno theaters aren?t there to see a movie and grease the pole anymore. What they?re there for is to see and be seen, and maybe to pick up people. The movie doesn?t even really matter, which is something I should have realized when I noticed the free condoms at the theater entrance (lubricated and flavored).
That being said, a woman hops out of the couples section and starts talking to some guy in singles. They hit it off and in a minute she?s got her shirt off and a minute or two later there is a group of men encircling her, and all of them are preforming a one-handed pants less salute. One old man stands up in the middle, drops his pants, and pulls off his shirt for some reason. Standing there naked as a jay bird, pants around his ankles, shirt off revealing his gray chest hair, I realize this man is old enough to be somebody's Grampy.
Luckily by this time we had moved over to the isle to get a better view of what was happening n the circle and were far away from the old man. We did bump into a few people, it being crowded and all, and I guess I learned that bumping into someone while they?re masturbating -- that is, bumping into someone and then looking down to see them hard at work -- isn?t quite as embarrassing as you?d think. A couple began going at it in the couples section, a man in drag and a woman. While this is interesting, we?re running out of time for our rendevous and we decide to see what the gay theater is like. So we step across the hall but it's empty. We sit down and a drag queen who looks a lot like Iggy Pop comes in, but by that time we?re out of time and have to leave, but not before Miss Y added a few phone numbers to the bathroom wall.
We walked down to Miss Z?s apartment but she wasn?t home. She had decided to meet us at the theater and by the time we got back she had chewed out some stranger who came out of the building. I guess the contestation went something like:
Miss Z: What! What the fuck are you looking at?
Stranger: I was just going to ask if you knew what time it was.
Miss Z: Yeah right fucker.
I like that conversation.
Then we went and got something to eat. But I did learn a lot.
Let me start off by saying I?m no perv. Porn isn?t my bread and butter; to tell you the truth I?m not even a big fan. I realize looking back at my history as a thingsihate contributor It might seem like that, but trust me it's not. It's just that -- and I mean no offence to any of you believe me -- I?m not about to post my dreams or some lame story about baking on this site. A story has to have something, so I wait until something happens, or else what?s the point? Unfortunately, what usually happens makes me look pervy. That being, said let me tell you what I did in Portland a few Saturdays ago.
Where I am a few Saturdays ago at 2 a.m. isn?t somewhere I?d go alone in a thousand years. Where I am, well, I go there cause I think this is all going to be a joke. And it is, but it's more like an educational field trip when I think about it. Where I am is the Johnson street theater.
This theater its not half so dark as any other theater you?ve been in. Its not dark because the people aren?t here to see a movie. Your local art theater might be this small but I doubt it. In this theater they have a concession stand but that?s not the reason there are napkins all over the floor. Spilled soda pop and misplaced junior mints aren?t the reason I?m praying to God that my slightly tipsy girlfriend doesn?t stumble to the ground.
Why I?m here is that I decided to spend a week of my winter vacation in Portland with Miss Y and Miss X. Saturday night Miss X is reading a web site about the anonymous gay sex scene in Portland, and in between the articles about the glory hole at the airport and glory hole maze at Zippers Down (which I also hear has a paramilitary sex club in the basement, complete with heigh appropriate glory holes) she finds the a blurb about the Johnson Street porn theater, and then decides hell or high water she?s going tonight. The reason I tag along is 'cause I?m such a good guy that no way will I let a lady go unescorted to a porno-theater in the middle of the night in a big city. Well, that?s 90% of why, anyway. So after Miss Y has a few drinks for courage we headed off with a plan to spend an hour at the theater and then meet Miss X?s non-porn-theater-liking friend Miss Z, who lives down the street.
So a few minutes later we?re in my car and zooming towards downtown Portland. I find a parking spot right out in front (I suppose because no one else wanted to be seen parked in front of a porn theater at 2 a.m.). We go in and pay our eight bucks, and along with that we also have to sign a release form absolving the theater if anything should happen. The manager also explains about how they have two theaters (strait and gay), and then about couples and singles seating. I figure that couples seating means away from the masturbators in some sort of private area so I?m trying to opt for that, but the guy at the desk tells us since this is the first time we should sit in the general audience. This creepy muscley guy, who I assume is some sort of bouncer, refers to me as ?the third spoke?.... which I don?t really understand, exactly, and we go in.
As I mentioned, the theater is small and dark, with way more napkins on the floor than you usually see in a theater. They?re playing a porn movie about women pretending to love semen over a video projector. The crowd consists of about fifteen guys (a third of which have their guns drawn) and maybe six ladies (of which 4 or 5 are drag queens). We take a seat near the middle, as far away from everybody else as we can.
Ten minutes later, after the initial ?I?m in a porno theater? whatnot has worn off and I?m feeling a little bored, it happens. WHAPP!!! WHAPP!!! I turn my head and see two drag queens in the couples section, one bent over the other spanking her with a ridding crop. WHAP WHAPP WHAPPP it continues for a few minutes, way past funny and if you?re into that sort of thing well beyond the point where it would be erotic. After about seven minutes I just feel really sorry for the drag queen's booty. What I don?t pick up on is that while this drag queen is getting the worst spanking I?ve ever seen, it's really like a fuse is being lit -- a porn fuse!
But before I tell you about the porn bomb going off, let me tell you what I learned that night. Now I guess the thing about porn theaters that I didn?t really understand prior to this night is that thanks to technology anybody who wants to see porn stays home and rents it, and the people who go to porno theaters aren?t there to see a movie and grease the pole anymore. What they?re there for is to see and be seen, and maybe to pick up people. The movie doesn?t even really matter, which is something I should have realized when I noticed the free condoms at the theater entrance (lubricated and flavored).
That being said, a woman hops out of the couples section and starts talking to some guy in singles. They hit it off and in a minute she?s got her shirt off and a minute or two later there is a group of men encircling her, and all of them are preforming a one-handed pants less salute. One old man stands up in the middle, drops his pants, and pulls off his shirt for some reason. Standing there naked as a jay bird, pants around his ankles, shirt off revealing his gray chest hair, I realize this man is old enough to be somebody's Grampy.
Luckily by this time we had moved over to the isle to get a better view of what was happening n the circle and were far away from the old man. We did bump into a few people, it being crowded and all, and I guess I learned that bumping into someone while they?re masturbating -- that is, bumping into someone and then looking down to see them hard at work -- isn?t quite as embarrassing as you?d think. A couple began going at it in the couples section, a man in drag and a woman. While this is interesting, we?re running out of time for our rendevous and we decide to see what the gay theater is like. So we step across the hall but it's empty. We sit down and a drag queen who looks a lot like Iggy Pop comes in, but by that time we?re out of time and have to leave, but not before Miss Y added a few phone numbers to the bathroom wall.
We walked down to Miss Z?s apartment but she wasn?t home. She had decided to meet us at the theater and by the time we got back she had chewed out some stranger who came out of the building. I guess the contestation went something like:
Miss Z: What! What the fuck are you looking at?
Stranger: I was just going to ask if you knew what time it was.
Miss Z: Yeah right fucker.
I like that conversation.
Then we went and got something to eat. But I did learn a lot.