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- a member for 15 years, 7 months and 26 days
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» Food sex
Hunt the sausage
I once worked in a soft porn studio for a dodgy sky channel. (sounds like a dream job but its a really smelly late night shift). The producer decided to do a food special. Off tripped the junior runner on a shopping mission to find phallic shaped food for that nights show....
Fast forward to later that night. "Run VT Run VT!" called the desperate producer. No more live naughtiness for the viewers that night. The remaining hours of saucy phone calls and nipple fondling was replaced by VT while we took turns to try and fish out broken bits of battered saveloy from an old slapper's chuff.
(Thu 6th Aug 2009, 14:45, More)
Hunt the sausage
I once worked in a soft porn studio for a dodgy sky channel. (sounds like a dream job but its a really smelly late night shift). The producer decided to do a food special. Off tripped the junior runner on a shopping mission to find phallic shaped food for that nights show....
Fast forward to later that night. "Run VT Run VT!" called the desperate producer. No more live naughtiness for the viewers that night. The remaining hours of saucy phone calls and nipple fondling was replaced by VT while we took turns to try and fish out broken bits of battered saveloy from an old slapper's chuff.
(Thu 6th Aug 2009, 14:45, More)
» Customers from Hell
Seedy men and their video nastiness
Many moons ago, I was a young shop assistant in a large camera store. The golden age of camcorders had replaced the polaroid camera in the pervy world inhabited by a certain type of crusty middle aged man. (A demographic to which, I suppose I have now joined ranks). One particularly swarthy individual was suspiciously persistent in wanting his camera tape back after I had liberated it from his tape chewing camcorder. I explained it was in the bin, nothing but a crinkled mass of magnetic particles. A certain knowledge passed between us. I knew that he knew that I knew that if he pressed any harder to get said tape back from the bin that he'd know that I knew that there was something WRONG on that there tape.
He walked out of the store backwards, smiling, like a gun slinger from a bar. I did not see him again. Well in the flesh anyway. Of course the tape was rescued and repaired and we enjoyed a stomach turning display of secretly filmed home-made porn of swarthy man on his pervy holiday and his many prostitutes. We laughed and cried and felt secretly disturbed of the shots of him wiping his dripping wanger in-front of the camera while the cheapest and hairiest woman-fare in Europe picked nasty things from their thatch. It was truly awful imagery which has burnt itself in to my retina for all time. Thankfully, the tape was confiscated from the hands of us mucky boys by the camera store's equivalent of Captain Peacock.
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 17:59, More)
Seedy men and their video nastiness
Many moons ago, I was a young shop assistant in a large camera store. The golden age of camcorders had replaced the polaroid camera in the pervy world inhabited by a certain type of crusty middle aged man. (A demographic to which, I suppose I have now joined ranks). One particularly swarthy individual was suspiciously persistent in wanting his camera tape back after I had liberated it from his tape chewing camcorder. I explained it was in the bin, nothing but a crinkled mass of magnetic particles. A certain knowledge passed between us. I knew that he knew that I knew that if he pressed any harder to get said tape back from the bin that he'd know that I knew that there was something WRONG on that there tape.
He walked out of the store backwards, smiling, like a gun slinger from a bar. I did not see him again. Well in the flesh anyway. Of course the tape was rescued and repaired and we enjoyed a stomach turning display of secretly filmed home-made porn of swarthy man on his pervy holiday and his many prostitutes. We laughed and cried and felt secretly disturbed of the shots of him wiping his dripping wanger in-front of the camera while the cheapest and hairiest woman-fare in Europe picked nasty things from their thatch. It was truly awful imagery which has burnt itself in to my retina for all time. Thankfully, the tape was confiscated from the hands of us mucky boys by the camera store's equivalent of Captain Peacock.
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 17:59, More)