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Category Archives: cave of many cocks

SUP, BITCHES? Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Shit’s been slow at the store, and the crazies have been keeping it down to a dull roar. Lame.

Halloween, however, was pretty fun. It wasn’t horribly busy, but we did get a few people come in to buy dildos for their costumes. I got two Brett Favres, and one couple going as John and Lorena Bobbitt. Remember them? She chopped his dick off while he slept, and then he did porn after. Classy!

I also got a lot of drunk dudes asking if we had any five-dollar porn deals.  No, we do not. If you’re not willing to pay at least twenty bucks for porn, go back to your mom’s basement and use her credit card once your dial-up internet finally connects.

Halfway through the night, a ‘good ol’ boy’ couple walked in. Husband and wife who look like they live in a trailer and yell about “hatin’ the guvmint’ while waving around a shotgun because you drove by and ‘was eyeballin’ my land’. Those types. They walked around looking at stuff for a while, then came up to make their purchases. The husband noticed the gay movie we have sitting on the counter and sparked the following conversation with me while the wife browsed:

 

Joe Dirt: to his wife, “Heh, I’m surprised Johnny didn’t pick this up yesterday!” to me, “My son, he’s queer as a three-dollar bill. He was in here yesterday, he told us.”

PSG: Awesome, now he’s going to rant about how his son’s an evil sinner. “Oh?”

Joe Dirt: “Yeah, he come home swinging’ that black bag around, all “Pop, look what I got!” One of them bigass dildos, with a suction cup on it. I say to him, “What’s that for, hands-free shower fun?”

PSG: Overshare. Awkward. “Haha, yeah, that’s mostly what those are intended for.”

Joe Dirt: “Yeah, took us awhile to get used to, him being gay. But you know, to each his own, and all that. We love him just the same.”

PSG: Awww! “Wow, he’s lucky to have such open-minded parents!”

Joe Dirt: “Yup, we got over it.” Spots the Viagra knock-offs next to the movie. “Hey! Are these dick pills?”

 

I was quite pleasantly surprised. That’s what I get for judging a book by it’s cover. It’s nice to have your faith in humanity restored every once in a while…

 

…until you go to check that the cock cave is empty for the night, and find a Subway sandwich wrapper with dirty napkins and condom wrappers on it.  “Eat fresh”, my ass.

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Three words for you. The most terrifying combination of words I’ve had to use in this blog so far:

Crossdressing trucker’s escort.

YEAH. THAT FUCKING HAPPENED.

The Bouncer, my friend Momo, and Momo’s brother were all in the store. The Bouncer was returning some movies and browsing for more, and he always ends up staying for like a half hour longer, minimum, to just hang out. He is one of the few customers I don’t mind doing this, as he’s one of the sane and one of my favorites, much like Latin Queen. Momo and MomoBro, I’ve known for probably just short of a decade, and they were in town for some reason or another and stopped by to visit. Momo’s met The Bouncer several times before, as she lived with me for about a month and used to visit often.

So it’s about 10:30, and they’re all hanging around the front desk as I’m going about my work. I see someone approaching the front door and, seeing my eyes widen in terror, the others all glance over and look equally terrified.  In walks a skinny man in his fifties. In a tank top and waaaaay too short miniskirt. With a really bad wig and poorly applied makeup. Oh dear god.

Now, let me make it clear- whatever your gender/sex preference is, as long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual, that’s a-okay by me. If you’re a Hell’s Angel and wearing lacy women’s underpants is what tickles your pickle, go for it.  but in this case? This is what we’re looking at here:

oh dear god

Looks like Victoria's having a little trouble keeping her secrets.

I don’t care what your sexual preferences are. If you’re transgender, genderqueer, or a third gender, high five! Seriously, one of my favorite things in the world is people who are comfortable enough to publicly define and be proud of their sexuality.  But if you look like you did your makeup in the dark and your wig looks like you shaved a small dog and taped it to your head, I reserve the right to laugh my ass off at you. Especially if you act like Mr Ma’am here.

So Mr Ma’am flounces in, shortly followed by Trucker Dude. Trucker Dude heads up to the counter while Mr Ma’am sashays immediately into the arcade. Big no-no here. Store policy is that you need to buy tokens before you head back. I immediately lean over the counter and say loudly, “Excuse me! You need to come out and buy tokens before going back.” I hear silence. Oh hell no, bitch, I KNOW you heard me.

I walk over to the doorway and say it again louder. Still nothing. I brace myself, hold my breath and step in to the back room. “EXCUSE ME. THE LAST PERSON WHO WALKED IN HERE, YOU NEED TO COME OUT AND BUY TOKENS.” Mr Ma’am peers out from a booth, all “Who, me?” , heaves a big sigh and follows me out. Then the following exchange happens:

PSG: “Thanks. As the sign says on the front desk, you have to buy the minimum tokens before you go in the back.”

Mr Ma’am: accompanied with a hair flip and a flourish, “OBVIOUSLY you’re new here-” Oh hell no. Don’t you even try to pull that shit. “-because this trucker here is going to buy my tokens for me.”

I look over at Trucker Dude with eyebrows raised, as it didn’t appear they were together when they walked in. He nods and hands me six dollars.

PSG: “That’s fine, but regardless, you need to have purchased tokens in your hand before you go back. Store policy.”

Mr Ma’am rolls her eyes and sashays back again, Trucker Dude in tow and tokens in hand. The Bouncer, Momo, and MomoBro are all sitting there stunned. The Bouncer, since he’s seen a lot of stuff like this before, recovers first with probably the best summary: “Welp, just another night at the circus, I guess.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mr Ma’am and Trucker Dude walk out and start wandering the store. While Trucker Dude peruses the magazines, Mr Ma’am grabs a bottle of warming lube and heads up to the counter.

Mr Ma’am: cheerfully now that she’s clearly gotten her rocks off, “So what’s your pretty lil’ redhead name?”

PSG: Fantastic. “It’s pornshopgirl. What’s yours?”

Mr Ma’am: “Well hello! I just love that song!” My real name is one of those that’s featured in a popular song from back in the day. She started singing. Badly. “I’m Jack, but when I’m dressed like this I go by Jill. Here, I’ll let you see what I look like!” Begins to take off wig.

PSG: That’s really not necessa- okay, that’s terrifying. This isn’t awkward, not at all. “Ah, thanks?”

Mr Ma’am: resettles wig, perches head on hand like we’re BFFs at a slumber party. “So when did you start working here? I’ve never seen you. I normally come in during the day when Neoboss is here, though.”

PSG: “I’ve been here a couple months.”

Mr Ma’am: “That’s nice! Say, do you know anybody named Lauren that comes here?”

PSG: “Nope, sorry.”

Mr Ma’am: “Darn! I’ve got an ad in a back of the men’s magazines here-” Gag. Did not need to know that. “-and somebody named Lauren keeps calling and saying she saw my ad here. Oh well. When my truckers are in town, I like to bring them by here since it’s so nice.” Turns to Trucker Dude. “Isn’t it nice, sweetie?”

Trucker Dude: Nods and goes back to his magazine. Apparently Trucker Dude doesn’t like to talk.

Mr Ma’am: “Well, we better get going! Nice meeting you honey, see you soon!”

And she flounces out the door again, Trucker Dude following.

Welp. Just another day at the circus, I guess.

A lot of people have asked what exactly I do all night at the porn shop, thinking that every single night involves some crazy shenanigans and hardcore creepers. Honestly, not the case. Here’s a play-by-play of Saturday, June 12th, from 5pm to 12:30am.

5:05pm- Rush into the shop looking frazzled with bedhead, because I woke up late from my nap (Don’t you judge me, I work two jobs, one of which I start at 4:30am. Naps keep me from getting all stabby. Let me nap and you can keep your kidneys.) Start shift change with T-Mama

5:20pm- Finish shift change; spend a good chunk of time talking with T-Mama about her weekend, which involved dislocating her shoulder in a frenzied effort to keep her kids from walking in on her and T-Papa.

6:00pm- T-Mama leaves. I grab an old copy of Penthouse Letters and settle in to read.

6:10pm- Latin Queen and his boyfriend NotEngvall walk in (LQ’s boyfriend is a super nice white dude in his mid fifties. He looks a little like an older version of Bill Engvall, hence the name). The stay and gab for a bit, and buy a Boobie Dodgeball for LQ’s nephew, whose high school graduation party they’re headed to.

6:20pm- LQ and NE leave. Over the next hour and a half, a few of the arcade regulars come in, one or two customers come in and buy stuff, but nothing worth mentioning happens. I read Penthouse Letters for an hour and laugh at the horrible grammar and word choice of the writers….”pooper” for asshole and “mambos” for boobs. Really? You expect your story to be erotic and jerkoff-worthy by writing “I shoved my dick up her pooper and gripped her mambos for leverage”? Not so much.

8:00pm- Bored of Penthouse Letters. I walk the store and make sure nothing needs to be restocked, rearranged, or tidied up, and I notice something awe-inspiring, terrifying, and hilarious: SOMEONE BOUGHT THE RAMBONE. We only had one in stock, and it’s a toy you notice right away is missing. Between my closing shift the night before and the beginning of that current shift, somebody actually bought it. Good luck and happy trails to whoever bought it, I guess.

8:15pm- I call Neoboss to let her know that LQ picked up his Boobie Dodgeball, which we had been holding for him, and to chat for a bit. I tell her about my hellish day the day before that caused me to be late to my shift (which involved being locked out of my car for an hour and a half and getting soaked in Dr Pepper). We chat for a bit, confirming some shift changes. We’ve also gotten a new scent of incense in that for the past couple days, nobody could pin down what the smell reminded us of. I finally figured it out- Pez candy. Exactly like it. I told Neoboss and she shouts over the phone, “THAT’S WHAT THE FUCK IT IS! FINALLY!” Our lives, they are exciting.

8:45pm- I finish Penthouse Letters and move onto Hustler Variations. Same shit, different name.

9:30pm- My good friend Lady Captain stops in on her way home from work, killing time until her boyfriend Captain is off work. We gossip for a good two hours while I work, since the token business is picking up at the night gets later.

10:45pm- A slightly drunk dude walks in. He asks how the arcade and preview booths work, I explain. Somehow he doesn’t get the difference between the two, so I end up explaining about six more times. He finally decides to buy tokens and heads to the cock cave.

11:00pm- Drunk Dude comes back out to buy more tokens. He asks LC and I if we live in town. We say yes, and he immediately asks, “Why the FUCK would you live here? This town fucking sucks.” Dude, you asked. He wanders back into the cave.

11:10pm- Drunk Dude wanders back out, runs to the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later. I’m busy ringing up a customer, so he walks up to LC.

Drunk Dude: “Here, throw this out.”

Lady Captain: “Uhh, I don’t work here, dude.”

Drunk Dude, turning to me, “Hey, I’m gonna set this here, just throw it away.”

He sets down a full can of beer on the counter and walks back to the cave. It was somehow still cold. LC and I are real confused.

11:30pm- LC leaves after we make plans for dinner and booze with Captain and a bunch of our other friends later in the week. I start my closing duties.

11:45pm- I do “last call”- I flip on the light switch in the cave of cocks and announce “The store will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please use the last of your tokens and exit. Store closing in fifteen.” This is to start the process of kicking people out so I can close up, and also ensures that by the time the store closes, I don’t have to walk in on anybody jerking off or getting a blowjob. Drunk Dude answers “Okay.”

11:50pm- The only other dude in the back room, one of my gay regulars, walks out and cheerfully wishes me goodnight as he leaves. My last actual customer leaves, so it’s just Drunk Dude in the back room. I do more of my pre-closing stuff while I wait for him to finish up.

12:00am- Closed. I go to the doorway of the back and say “The store is closed, please exit the store.” Most of the time, when I say this, guys will either immediately leave, or say “Shit! Just a sec, I’m sorry!” If the latter is the case, I can wait- generally, that means they’re quickly cleaning up and straightening their clothes. It usually takes only a few seconds to a half a minute, and they’re always perfectly polite and apologetic about it. That doesn’t bother me; I don’t mind waiting, since I means I won’t have to see your dick.

What bothers me is when they try to pull shit like Drunk Dude, who heaves a big sigh and mumbles “No, I’ve got five more minutes left.”

EXCUSE ME? No. I gave you a fifteen minute warning that you responded to, so I know you heard me and understood. Fuck no.

“NOPE. It’s midnight. You need to leave NOW.”

He heaves another huge “Ugh, you’re such a bitch” sigh and I can hear him shuffling around. He takes another thirty seconds to straighten his clothes and walks out. Glaring at me, he walks out grumbling under his breath at me. I lock the door behind him, and he walks away with no further incident, thank god.

12:05pm- I finally am able to start my actual closing duties and get ready to leave. While I don’t have to clean the back (THANK GOD), I do have to go back there and open two of the doors for the janitor in the morning.  As I walk towards the very back corner by the emergency door and one of the doors I need to unlock, I always look straight down and watch my feet. This corner is the security camera’s biggest blind spot. This is where dudes are usually hooking up. God help the person who shines a blacklight back there, because their eyeballs would burst into flame from the reflection.

I’m walking fast, because I’m eager to get to a friend’s place for boozing after, so I quickly round the corner….and stop short and nearly fall over, yelling “FUUUUCK, THAT WAS CLOSE!”: there’s a pretty big puddle on the floor. It’s not pee, and it’s definitely not water.

EW EW EW EW EW.

I navigate around it and unlock the door, then VERY VERY carefully walk back up front.

12:30am- Finish closing duties, lock up, and leave.

12:35am- BEER.

Such is the life of a pornshopgirl.

In relationships, they say you’ll never forget your first kiss, or your first serious boyfriend/girlfriend, or your first time getting laid.

In the adult sales industry, there’s a first you’ll ALWAYS remember: the first customer who brazenly asks questions about your sexual habits.

It’s to be expected that a lot of the customers, particularly the ones who have been coming to the store twice a week for several years, would be curious about the staff.  As with all customers, 99% are normal. While Neoboss was training me, if a (sane) regular came up and started to shoot the usual shit with her, she’d introduce me, and from then on out, we’d be able to have a perfectly normal conversation whenever they came in. The sane ones are a HUGE relief during a long crazy shift; it’s nice to look up when you hear the door open and know immediately that you can chill, that there won’t be any weird shit going down. One of the regulars, The Bouncer, even is the unofficial “bodyguard” for the staff (though, thank GOD, I’ve not had to ask him and hope I never will)- if he’s in the store and a creeper is lurking around, The Bouncer, will stick around until they leave, and will even stand guard in the parking lot while we close to make sure nobody follows us home. The Bouncer, like many of my customers, is a legit nice, normal dude.

For every nice guy, though, there’s a weirdo to keep you on your toes.

I was chilling at the front desk reading a magazine when an older dude came up. By “older dude”, I mean he was probably old enough to be my grandfather. A normal-enough looking big man with glasses, he’s the kind of guy you wouldn’t be surprised to see pulling on a Santa suit at Christmas for the youngest kids in the family. He paid for his tokens, gave a nod and said “Thanks, darlin'” as he walked to the back room. Nothing strange there- while the weirdos will pry for your personal info, the sane ones realize you probably don’t feel comfortable giving out even your name to a customer. As a result, it’s not unusual to hear “Hey doll, how’ve you been?” “Excuse me, darlin’,” “Thanks, little lady,” or “Have a good one, sweetheart” several times each during my shift. Like you’ll hear a lot here, 99% of the time, it isn’t creepy in the slightest; it’s more like how they’d probably address their usual waitress at their favorite restaurant, you know? Only instead of asking for a Denny’s Lumberjack Slam, they want to know if they can rent “A Lumberjack Slams Denny”.

Anyway, back to the old dude, the grandpa type. Normally, once they buy their first set of tokens (we require you purchase a small amount at the front desk before you go to the back room) they’ll stick to the machine that’s in the back room if they run out. This guy, however, kept coming up to the desk instead, and kept making idle chat as I rung him up. Like I said, not creepy behavior, just a little off the norm, if a porn store can have a norm. The last one, he decided to get personal. WAY WAY WAAAAAAAYY too personal.

(Note that anything italicized and in parentheses are my own thoughts, not part of the conversation.)

Old dude: “So, how long have you been working here now?”

PSG: “Just a couple weeks.”

Old dude: “You like it here, the store? Nice place to work?”

PSG: “Yeah, not too bad. Pays the bills and all that.”

Old dude: “I like it here, it’s a good store. I like to watch the movies, you know, ‘cos of the girls.”

PSG: (Odd…most don’t talk about their preferences unless they’re asking for a specific movie or something…) “Sure….”

Old dude: “I like the ones where the girls receive oral sex.”

PSG: “….”(Oh man…old dude’s breathing heavy...)

Old dude: “So, do you like oral sex?”

PSG: “….,……..” (you are the same age as my GRANDFATHER this is WEIRD)

Old dude: (clearly not noticing my complete horror) “You know, receiving it? Oral sex?”

PSG: “……………………” (A;SLDKJFA;LDSKJF;AL OH GOD WHY)

PSG: (in a polite, offhand tone) “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m uncomfortable discussing my personal life with customers.”

Oh yeah. That happened. Grandpa Breather tried to ask about my sexual habits. And then after? TRIED TO ACT LIKE HIS QUESTION WAS AN EVERYDAY CONVERSATION TOPIC.

Old dude: (surprised tone) “Well, it’s just a fact of life, you know. Everyone has oral sex, it’s just a fact of life.”

PSG: (still polite) “I don’t discuss my personal life with customers, sorry.”

Old dude: (starts walking out the door, mildly huffy tone) “….fact of life, everyone has it.”

A few weeks later, we got one of our weekly DVD shipments in, and what’s one of the new releases?

“Barely Legal with Old Men”.

No joke, that shit will HAUNT you.

So our store is set up pretty much like any other adult store. For those of you who are pretending you’ve never been in such a place and are asking what it looks like anyway, here’s the layout:

The store is set up into thirds. One third of the store is the movie section. These are organized into New Releases, Sale, and then categorized into either production studio or genre. We only have the cases on display; the actual movies are kept behind the desk until you purchase, rent, or preview them. The movie section, since it is most visited by males, also features male toys: the Fleshlight, jackoff sleeves, and penis pumps.  And I gotta admit, every time I go by that section, I can’t help but think of Austin Powers…”One Swedish-made penis enlarger pump.” I don’t think any of ours are Swedish though.

The next third of the store is the toy section. There’s two huge racks for magazines, a small wall for condoms and cockrings, a display for lubes and lotions, a display for miscellaneous stuff, and an incense rack. All of the walls here display different sex toys, by category: anal, dildos, vibrators, rabbits, bondage, stimulators, lingere, party gags, and clearance. Personally, I include the front desk area as part of the toy section, since it’s closest to that and has more products up there: sexual enhancement pills and creams, some candy novelties, hairdye for your downstairs (because you KNOW you want a purple pelt), and some random toys we have overstock of. Behind the front desk, we’ve got all the actual discs from the movies, batteries for testing toys before they leave the store, the DVD players and small screen for previews, and all our miscellaneous crap.

The last third isn’t actually on the main floor of the store. In professional terms, it’s called an arcade. Personally, I call it “the back room”, “the booths”, or “the cave of many cocks”.  There’s an open doorway next to the front desk leading to a dark back room- the arcade. In here, there are nine regular booths and three preview booths. In the regular booths, there are sixteen channels, each with a different movie; put tokens in and pick a channel. The preview booths work a little differently. For movies under a certain time limit, a customer can watch the whole thing for a flat rate of a few bucks. If he decides to buy it after, we knock that fee off the price of the DVD.  This is called a preview; we keep the DVD players up front and start the movie for the customer, who can then fast forward or rewind at his leisure. We have a small screen up front to make sure the movies are set up and playing properly, but there’s no sound. That can be pretty amusing. Since one of the first things a person sees when walking in is me, right next to a tv screen with frantic fucking on the screen, a lot of my conversations with first-time customers go a little like this:

“Customer: Oh god.

PSG: ….what?

Customer: Is that….is she….

PSG: (follows their line of sight to the screen) Oh yeah. Sasha Grey is definitely banging a dude who’s wearing a bear suit.”

Yeah, we’re not horribly professional here. It’s kinda hard to be when you’re talking about dicks all day. Who’s “we”, you ask? That’d be the porn store crew! There are four of us total: Neoboss, Bond, T-Mama, and me, PSG.

Neoboss is the manager. She’s in her mid-thirties and chill as all get-out. She works the morning shift Monday through Friday, and she’ll usually call in at least once during our shift to just chat and see how things are going. She’s amazingly organized and determined to run a successful shop, which we are- she brought the store up some 15 percent in sales last year. There’s no “if you have time to lean,  you’ve got time to clean!” nonsense here. She gets that you can only wipe a counter so many times before you start rubbing the varnish off, so as soon as our basic cleaning chores are done for the day, we’re done. We can read during our shifts, but only if they’re store magazines, so either the skin mags like Hustler and Penthouse, or the industry mags, like Adult Video News or one of the toy catalogs behind the desk.  She doesn’t yell at us for swearing or talking back at rude customers…mostly because she does it more than any of us. She’ll be the first to chase down an asshole for flipping the bird as he walks out, just so she can give him what-for as he drives away.

Bond, the assistant manager, is the lone male of the store. No, he’s not called Bond for some pervy reason, you dicks, it’s because he’s your average late-twenties dude who loves James Bond movies. He’s the first one to snap up the Bond parodies when we get them in the store (employees get free rentals). My first shift, one of our regular customers, Spoof, came in and asked him how the Octopussy 3-D parody was; they had a good ten-minute discussion about it. Bond is the store’s movie guru; if a customer wants a recommendation or asks how this or that movie was, we call Bond over.  Whenever we do shift change, there’s usually a dance party involved, or excited discussions over this week’s “How I Met Your Mother” episode.

T-Mama and I are on the low rung of the ladder, the clerks. T-Mama’s in her late twenties with three kids, and she also cracks me up. Bond, T-Mama, and I make up and evening and weekend shifts. Most of my and T-Mama’s shifts overlap for shift change, so we see each other all the time. She’s also quick to call out customers on their rudeness, and she’ll forewarn me of any creepers in the back room to prepare me for their antics.  Out of all of us, she’s the one who most often takes advantage of the employee 40% discount- girl buys stuff pretty much every other shift.

So, that’s our happy little family in our twisted little home.  Tune in a couple hours from now for more on the Regulars and some creepy dudes!