The Time I Took My Date To A Porn Cinema


Twenty20 / @BYONELOVE

When London announced the opening of a naked restaurant, I found my Facebook notifications filled with tags — from friends, colleagues, and people I hadn’t spoken to in 10 years. It was then that I realized it; I have a reputation. And not just for having a thing for men with beards, (although that too, is true) but for attending the weirder, seedier and, apparently, more naked events a city has to offer. Something that isn’t totally unfounded considering I was already on the naked restaurant’s wait list…

With my reputation as a pervert in mind, you would think anyone I asked on a date to the cinema would know to expect more than a trip to the local Odeon and a family sized bucket of popcorn.

James, however, apparently hadn’t anticipated that my plans for our evening together would revolve around large-scale cinematic penetration, projected to a room of willing strangers.

More fool him.

Now, when I tell people this story I think most of them envisage a dark, sweaty room full of frantically wanking men on wipeable seats — a place where sticky floors are nothing to do with an extra large spilled Coke.

But I am (for the most part) fairly careful to tread the fine line between entertainment-with-a-twist and all-out sexual debauchery. So, what exactly is half-way between a visit to a semen-covered sex den and a trip to see the latest Pixar?

La Freak Smut Cinema is a pop-up event that moves around predominantly East London, normally finding itself a home in classy-but-quirky cocktail bars with suitably dim lighting. The event is run by two madams – in their own words: “she’s the scholar and I’m the slut” – and is a naughty and fun alternative for people who are simultaneously too horny and too broke for Secret Cinema.

Upon arrival, it’s clear that despite the potential for manic masturbators, it is frequented mostly by trendy, middle-class couples who are probably looking for a sexy alternative to having a threesome with the babysitter. And yes, ok, I’ll admit it- there was one shifty looking bloke on his own, but his penis, at this stage at least, was nowhere to be seen. Anyway, when you are sat in a room watching porn with strangers, who can really judge who as being a pervert?!

Now, confession time (as if this entire blog wasn’t confession enough)- I had actually been to this particular cinema before, as a last ditch attempt to re-ignite the dying embers of a past relationship. It had worked like a Spice Girls reunion, i.e ‘for one night only’. But being a rather enjoyable and slightly saucy experience, I didn’t see the harm in coming again (no pun intended).

But there is a problem with attending a porn cinema twice: you look like a bit of a sex pest. Some things, like a love of Celebrity Big Brother or penchant for Pot Noodles, should remain hidden until your prospective suitor is invested enough that they are willing to ignore a vice or two… or eight… or ten… And so, I had neglected to tell my date about my previous public porn experiences.

Any attempts to keep this secret, however, were thwarted on arrival when, as my date suspiciously took in his surroundings, I was greeted by a swift paddle to the arse and an exclamation of “Darling, so good to see you again!”.

So much for patron confidentiality.

Cat out of the bag we headed to the bar, where I smiled sheepishly, shrugged and ordered a large and very alcoholic drink.

With two, probably quite shocking, revelations made in the space of about five minutes I was impressed that James was still standing. But with giant cocks about to be thrust in his face (not literally, of course) I was worried that a sensitive disposition may suddenly reveal itself and thought it best to change that, so we took our seats and settled in.

Of course, events such as this should, by their nature, attract people of a more free and easy persuasion. But no matter how liberal people consider themselves to be, once confronted by a room in which the loudest thing that can be heard is the unmistakable suction noise of a penis repeatedly entering a vagina, it’s very easy for them to revert to the typically British stance on publicly viewed sex — that is, that it should only occur when watching an episode of Game of Thrones.

To be fair, the challenge of acclimatization wasn’t exactly helped by the fact that the first film — which, to avoid being implicated in operation YewTree, I should point out was a CARTOON — focused on a little girl masturbating. We looked on quietly horrified, but again too British and too polite to protest, while she rolled around amongst the flower buds with a finger on her, uh, flower bud. After what seemed like a fucking eternity these enveloped her in a climatic ecstasy before she re-emerged, a fully fledged and, thankfully legal, woman.

It was, I guess, meant to symbolize sexual awakenings and burgeoning femininity. A theory that I was now desperately trying to convey to my probably-terrified date. I attempted this through what can only be described as a series of gymnastic eyebrow movements. This and the other, equally, if not more, important message of “by the way — I am not a pedophile”. Luckily, while obviously perturbed, his capacity for the downright-fucking-weird/borderline-illegal seemed strong, something that would stand him in good stead if we were to continue dating.

The rest of the porn was, all in all, less controversial — something not hard to achieve considering how we’d started — and catered to a variety of kinks, including bondage, dildo usage and gay sex. In places it was even arty enough to be considered cultural rather than simply perverse. An effort that was possibly wasted on me.

All of this meant that, despite a rocky start, I soon felt a hand on my knee. This was, of course, a welcome development but I couldn’t help but check that it was 1) who I thought it was and 2) an invitation and not a cry for help. And yes, on inspection, I found that James’ expression had changed from one of terror and trepidation to something like the look an extremely hungover person might give a Maccy D’s.*

*FYI- it’s less that James didn’t know how to give sexy looks and more that I don’t know how to write soft porn. Or maybe I think burgers are sexy. Whatever, don’t judge me.

And, actually, it wasn’t just him. It was clear to see that, for others too, the hormones had started to flow and the blood to pump. This, of course, could have been something to do with the wine that had flowed and the beer that had been pumped. Public porn watching, it could be concluded, is all about achieving the right level of lubrication — who would have thought it. Either way, people were horny as fuck. Myself included. Although I still kept a wary eye on the bloke on his own in case of any rapid and repetitive arm movements.

Now, if my experiences at weird events have taught me anything, it is to always expect the unexpected. But what came next shocked even me. And I had just been forced to watch cartoon kiddy porn for God’s sake.

Someone only went and fucking proposed!

I kid you not- down on one (probably quite sticky) knee, amongst a sea of twitchy hands and awkward public boners. I’m not sure who was more surprised: the gaggle of horny audience members or the blushing bride-to-be. But if she was hesitant about getting betrothed in front of a 20 foot vagina, or in any way wondering how she would relay this story to her grandchildren, she didn’t show it as she gleefully accepted. It just goes to show, sometimes the thing more shocking than a guy in a gimp mask having his testicles trodden on, is true love.

Overall, despite the multiple opportunities for awkwardness, embarrassment, and general fucking weirdness, the evening was a success. So much so that the audience, having revealed their true perverted nature, requested the porn reel to be stuck back on while we finished our drinks. Although we were informed, we were going to skip “the weird, pervy and paedophilic cartoon” from the beginning. It turns out even porn peddlers have their line.
And so, our date came to a close to the soundtrack of gentle moans and a now rather drunken Madame’s proclamations of “It’s alright for you lot, I’ve got to stay and clean up. You’re all going home to fuck each other’s brains out!”

Did we? A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.

She does, however, watch porn and write about it. TC mark

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