My first visit to a Pussycat Theater was in about 1981, as a nineteen-year-old. Though deeply intrigued, I hadn’t gathered the nerve to go to box office and buy a ticket. One night a few friends got the idea of going and so with the security of the group, I attended my first porn screening.
The film was in progress as we entered, and the sight which greeted us on the screen was a close up a hard cock pistoning in and out of a wet cunt, twenty feet tall. My blood rushed to my groin immediately. By the time we had taken our seats I had a throbbing erection straining against my pants, hidden by untucked shirttails.
We sat gawping at the big screen sucking and fucking for a while, trying to act as if the explicit sex had no effect upon us. I adopted a nonchalant expression while taking in the scenes and trying to store them in my memory for a later whacking session (what today is known as a “Wank Bank”). Though I was not a virgin, my sexual experiences at that point in my life were limited. I had, on the other hand, vast experience as a masturbator, usually aided by erotic imagery in the girlie magazines of the time. Here was a perfect situation for a little self-pleasure, except for it being a public place!
“Hey,” one of my friends whispered, “I think that guy is jacking off!” …..