Sometimes I Get To Look At Porn At Work, And It's A Little Weird

I leaned against the counter and took in all that giant schlong until I became aware of the fact that I was seriously aroused in public. Like, people could see me.

Jun 19, 2013 at 6:00pm | Leave a comment

 I work in an oddity shop, and we carry a large selection of books on erotica, fetish, nude photography and the like. Quite often, I find myself in the precarious position of looking at porn in public. And getting turned on by it.
 
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My boss brought in a stack of old Playboys. They were nothing special, and I threw them in one of our miscellaneous drawers for $2 apiece. Of course, before they went in the drawer, I spent some time looking at them behind the counter. I got this queer feeling in my belly—and between my thighs.
 
It reminded me of when this kid brought his dad’s nudie mags to grade school and I was excited by looking at the bikini white boobs and tanned shoulders of the women inside. I’d never seen women like that before, and I liked looking. It wasn’t just the nudity. Mom took showers, whatever, I’d seen grown up tits. These women were naked on purpose. You were supposed to get turned on.
 
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Most vintage pornography depicts women, so it’s not often we get pictures of sexy dudes—unless the target market is other dudes. I was pretty psyched when we got our copy of “The Little Book of Big Penis.” I leaned against the counter and took in all that giant schlong, panties slowly moistening, until I became aware of the fact that I was seriously aroused in public. Like, people could see me.
 
People even talked to me. They interrupted my reading to ask about merchandise, to buy things, and the whole time all I could think about was a big fat dick in my mouth.
 
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Being turned on in public is weird. My ex-boyfriend used to look at porn with his buddies and sometimes they did this when I was in the room. I tried to be cool and act like one of the guys.
 
One night, they sat down and watch a full porn film with me there, snacking on Doritos on their rancid couches from the side of the road. All I could think about was their half-hard chubbies (in a gross way, not in a hot way) and all of the unutilized sexual energy in the room. It’s the same thing with a strip club. They look, but they can’t touch, and usually they just take their blue balls with them back home to jerk off.
 
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Customers get turned on too, and that is even weirder, especially because I’m a female clerk and most of the people who buy this stuff are men. Some of them are regulars and they’ve known me for years. By way of an apology for looking at pornography in my presence—or worse, buying it!—they stand at the counter and talk at me for five minutes before they leave.
 
They could be talking about anything: their deck-building project, the garbage schedule, how shitty the parking is downtown. They’re just trying to normalize a completely abnormal situation: You know I was looking at porn. You know I’m horny right now. You probably know that I secretly want to have sexy times with you. I’m trying really hard not to look at your boobies. Ooops! I just looked at your boobies. Shit. Maybe if I tell you what my wife made for dinner last night it won’t be so weird that I want to stick my fingers in your pussy.
 
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I’ve always wanted to work in a porn shop. I’m really good at this part of the job, although there are times when it’s weird. Once a customer insisted on showing me a book he was really digging. I explained to him that I like the porn, he likes the porn, and I will sell him the porn, but I cannot actually enjoy looking at the porn with him. We have to stay on our respective sides of the counter.
 
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Women read that confounded awful fan-fiction-turned-bestseller "Fifty Shades of Grey" on the bus. I’ve read erotica in public too, and I’ve always found it kinda weird. What is the point if I’m not going to get some kind of satisfaction?
 
Sure, perhaps it’s part of an edging game I’m playing with myself, or an extended flirtation with my right hand, but in the end, aren’t we just going to masturbate? Isn’t getting turned on in public just like telling everyone you’re going to get off later? It’s like announcing to the world as you eat that this food is eventually going to make you take a shit. And like taking a shit, isn’t double-clicking your mouse something you do in private?
 
There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to sell that speculum from our vintage medical section and speculate (ha ha) if the person buying it is going to stick in a vagina. I’m going to think about sex all the time. I’m going to get turned on by looking at porn at work, and all I can do it go home and put my panties in the laundry hamper.
Posted in Fun, pornography, work, odd, erotica