Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Pay for your porn? Work for your orgasm.

The recent news that someone posted Boris Johnson's victory speech on Pornhub has got me thinking - although not, I'm pleased to confirm, about Boris Johnson. But about porn.

I have, once, ordered hotel porn. I was staying on my own in a hotel room (probably one of a very few times I've stayed in a hotel!) in Nottingham - why I was there, I don't quite remember. Maid Marian Way (one of the main thoroughfares in Nottingham) had - it may still have, I don't quite remember - a Holiday Inn Express on the corner, which is where I stayed. I showed up, got a room, checked in... and only after getting to my room did I realise that I'd just paid far too much for one night. I made the decision, there and then, to make the best of it.

So I wrote out all the words to Shpadoinkle! from Cannibal! The Musical and left them around the room for the housekeeping staff to find. I went down to the bar to get a drink and nominated the girl behind the counter for a guest service award (and, eventually, wrote a song about her). I played on the trivia machine and ended up on the high-score table. I filled out all the guest satisfaction surveys before actually getting into my bed. I took a shower using all the free things in the bathroom.

And I ordered porn.

I'd never watched a porn channel, so I didn't know what to expect (or how long the porn would be on for). What I got was a series of five-minute vignettes which depicted sex happening (sans plot or character development; it's five minutes, you don't have much). Many of the scenes were lesbian, at which I was genuinely surprised (I ordered "porn", I assumed that the scenes would all be straight unless you specified otherwise). None of them were particularly good.

But the fact that I was watching porn in a hotel room was exciting enough. I perched on the very edge of my bed, naked, with the window open and the curtains not drawn, and masturbated frantically, pushing myself as hard as I could. I knew this wasn't the sort of thing I usually watched, but I was certainly hard enough, and the throbbing was becoming unbearable; what else was I supposed to do? I masturbated hard, and fast, growling through my teeth, from my vantage point at the end of my bed.

I came spectacularly, all over my hand, my thighs and the towel I'd placed on the floor (forward planning plus plus...) and lay back on my bed in a heap, riding out the waves of my orgasm, awash in the sounds of sex filling the room as the porn played on in the background.

I left the TV on as I (eventually) made my way to the bathroom to clean up. As I saw it, I'd paid for the porn, so I was going to leave it on. I did. It was still on as I showered, cleaned my teeth, towelled off and slipped into the (mercifully cool) bed. It was still on as I read the book I'd brought with me, and muted as I called my parents. And I left it on... on until the porn I'd paid for ran out and the TV turned it off. My porn stayed on for as long as it could.

Just how long that is I'll never know. I was asleep before it ended.

No comments: