So, lately I've been really getting into Vintage Erotica Forum because I stumbled upon some old porn that I slaved over back when Shinders was around. Beyond Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler, the holy triumvirate of porn mags, there were these other magazines, smaller in size, but were as perverted as the worst of those three. Moreover, I noticed that they were European. Most of these fuck pictorials (which usually were boy-girl and involved, like, passengers on a bus or two members of a rock 'n' roll band suddenly doing it -- you know, non-marital sex, the best kind) had these incredibly skanky narrative. It was like the old Penthouse, except that 1) there was also text in other languages such as Spanish, French, German and Dutch; and 2) the English was broken. The pictures weren't all that great, either, but you could always count on stripping of clothes, sucking of dicks, licking of clits, and sex in the raw (sometimes anal!) before a cum shot right across the slut's face. The combination of no-holds-barred fucking and the public, taboo situations where they stage these sex scenes (while practicing ballet, a cop pulling over a speeder on the highway) were indelible images to me.
I rediscovered those mags online on VEF. I stumbled upon some of these pamphlet pornos on a click, and then I was sent back to when I was a directionless young'un who had no problems whiling away an afternoon reading porn. Not much has changed except that now, Shinders is no more and I can see these pages online as generous pervs have gladly scanned these magazines for free. And for the past two or three days I've gladly shed my clothes in my bedroom and wanked to my heart's content over these European low-fi spank mags.
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In the meantime, Father had the roof of our house replaced. Such jobs are fast these days; I was woken up by a doorbell around 7 Friday morning, and he said that they were down reshingling the roof in six hours. So now he needs my help recovering some more money from the insurance company now that he has an invoice and a certificate of completion. (I don't know how it works, since he already received a check from them, but apparently the company said that he was eligible to get more money after the repairs.)
He seemed to be more worked up about this than I thought he would tonight. When he came upstairs after dinner, I told him that I looked though his papers and didn't see an address to send the invoice and certificate to. Undaunted, he told me to call the claims adjuster tomorrow (which is technically today, Monday). But then, about an hour later, he came back upstairs and, shouting through the door of my bedroom, he wanted me to find an e-mail address or fax number because those would be easier to send the needed documents.
One problem with that. I was totally naked, totally enjoying onanism because I was on VEF and jerking off to the pamphlet porn. I needed to make absolutely sure My Fucking Father didn't just turn the knob of my door and open it and see me whacking off. So, while My Father was talking to me, I quickly jumped up, put on my clothes, and stepped out to see him face-to-face.
He was already done talking at the point, though, and while talking through a front door probably isn't the most sane thing in the world, me jumping up and seeing him at the end of a conversation looks kind of weird, too. Moreover, there are two things that make me think he knows something's going on behind closed doors. One, the clothes I took off and rapidly put back on were right at the door. He may be hard of hearing these days, but there's a chance he could have heard all that rustling from the other side of the door. If anything comes up, I could say that I was indeed putting on my clothes because I was really, really hot and the air conditioning didn't kick in.
It's the second thing that scares me. He's hard of hearing, but I don't think he's hard of seeing, plus, if anything, he's farsighted, not nearsighted. I made it a point to only open the door just enough for me slide through. And the laptop cannot be seen from the front door. However, I didn't put away my jerk-off towel. And if My Fucking Father was so curious as to why I couldn't just immediately open the door right after he began speaking with me, and his farsighted eyes could see past me and to the towel that was on my bed, he could harken back to the time my fucking parents blindsided me and came home without telling me. There, my porn and my jerk-off towel was all splayed out for anyone to see, and he would know I'm in there touching myself again.
That would be embarrassing. But he if did see anything, he didn't say anything, at least not then. Goddamn, I should've just thrown the towel into the closet. But for God's sake, why did he keep talking about the fucking insurance claim three to me this evening?
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