I thought this thread was about JustErin's "Glory Holes."

PDogz said:

TheFreakerFantastic said:

^ So PDogz were you there as an employee or a visitor? Tell us more about what goes on...

Back in the days before VCR's (1981/82), if a young man wanted to beat-off to some porn, his options were either to do so in an X-Rated movie house (...like the chain of Pussycat Theaters in L.A.) Pee-Wee Herman style, or else in those private coin operated porn booths which played those 8mm films (called "Loops", because the movie, like those now vintage Swedish Erotica films which were only a few minutes long, would just start playback from the beginning once the movie was over), and as long as you kept feeding the machine tokens. Also, ABS's were the place where I'd pick up my monthly issues of Mandate, Honcho, Drummer, Numbers, Blueboy, or The Advocate, because keep in mind; not only wasn't there a VCR in every home yet, there wasn't any Internet either, lol. So, what was a horny young dude to do? For many, even in small cities across the nation, adult bookstores were IT.

So, patrons could either go in there to watch movies, or otherwise take part in the glory hole activity. Before I was an employee of an ABS, I never trusted that anyone on the other side of that wall wasn’t waiting with a sturdy set of hedge clippers once I stuck my Black dick in that hole, lol. So glory holes were never my thing.

The back rooms were also a common place for prostitutes to bring their Johns. It was cheaper than a motel room, and the prostitutes would work their trade in and out of there fairly quickly whenever it was convenient for them to do so. One of the funny things about those token operated booths was that the projector that was behind and above your head would only play the movie on the little screen in front of the bench customers would sit on for about 2 minutes per token. So quite often, guys would run out of tokens right during the hot part of a movie and BEFORE they could reach an orgasm. So, the guy would have to come out of the booth and back to the counter in the front to purchase more tokens with these huge hard-ons in their pants, before running back to the back room to finish the scene they were watching, and hopefully to bust a nutt before running out of tokens again. Trying to get a quick nutt in the pre-VCR/Internet days was a BITCH, lol.

Some of the worst patrons I would hate visiting the store were those I called "Painters". After coming in, purchasing their tokens and heading to the back rooms, you knew you were in for a Hell of a night when as they were leaving you'd notice their hair matted with feces, shit covering their clothes, hands, face, even feces in their teeth as they'd grin at you on the way walking out the store. On those nights after closing, you'd go to the back room to clean up and there'd be human feces covering the walls, bench, and floors of where ever the "Painter" was back there doing his thing. Ugh! That, on top of all the other antics that went on back there, the floors littered with used condoms, cum-stained nylons, syringes, cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles, it was easy to see how this was the beginning of the decade that would usher in probably the worst epidemic of our planet's history. Thankfully, I was never stuck by any of those needles, and we never so much as even touched a cleaning sponge without donning a hefty pair of Platex gloves. As JohnArt suggested, bleach, and industrial strength, hospital approved Wescodyne – a germicidal detergent, were our best friend.

Many nights after closing, I'd be back there with my mop and bucket just praying to The Creator to provide me with a better means to support myself. I never stopped searching for other employment, and sure enough after a few more months, I landed a job as a Bus Operator for R.T.D. (The Southern California Rapid Transit District) where I drove for the city for the next chapter of my life. By that time, I was making so much money that I wouldn't even need to cash one paycheck before receiving my next one, lol. I finally had my first major career (of the many I would hold through the years), had my own place, and life was good.

I still do not understand how Mr Herman got arrested; it was an adult movie theatre that he was in right? You mean to tell me he was the only patron with his hand down his pants? Wasn't that the point of going back in the day, to have something to watch while you masturbated? The only thing I can think of was that he had his bright white thing outside of his pants and was quite the exhibitionist with it.

By the way thanks for taking us down memory road with you but I will be trying to get those brown toothed "Painters" out of my mind all night, I can just tell, yuck, yuck, yuck!!!!

Deadflow3r said:

PDogz said:

Back in the days before VCR's (1981/82), if a young man wanted to beat-off to some porn, his options were either to do so in an X-Rated movie house (...like the chain of Pussycat Theaters in L.A.) Pee-Wee Herman style, or else in those private coin operated porn booths which played those 8mm films (called "Loops", because the movie, like those now vintage Swedish Erotica films which were only a few minutes long, would just start playback from the beginning once the movie was over), and as long as you kept feeding the machine tokens. Also, ABS's were the place where I'd pick up my monthly issues of Mandate, Honcho, Drummer, Numbers, Blueboy, or The Advocate, because keep in mind; not only wasn't there a VCR in every home yet, there wasn't any Internet either, lol. So, what was a horny young dude to do? For many, even in small cities across the nation, adult bookstores were IT.

So, patrons could either go in there to watch movies, or otherwise take part in the glory hole activity. Before I was an employee of an ABS, I never trusted that anyone on the other side of that wall wasn’t waiting with a sturdy set of hedge clippers once I stuck my Black dick in that hole, lol. So glory holes were never my thing.

The back rooms were also a common place for prostitutes to bring their Johns. It was cheaper than a motel room, and the prostitutes would work their trade in and out of there fairly quickly whenever it was convenient for them to do so. One of the funny things about those token operated booths was that the projector that was behind and above your head would only play the movie on the little screen in front of the bench customers would sit on for about 2 minutes per token. So quite often, guys would run out of tokens right during the hot part of a movie and BEFORE they could reach an orgasm. So, the guy would have to come out of the booth and back to the counter in the front to purchase more tokens with these huge hard-ons in their pants, before running back to the back room to finish the scene they were watching, and hopefully to bust a nutt before running out of tokens again. Trying to get a quick nutt in the pre-VCR/Internet days was a BITCH, lol.

Some of the worst patrons I would hate visiting the store were those I called "Painters". After coming in, purchasing their tokens and heading to the back rooms, you knew you were in for a Hell of a night when as they were leaving you'd notice their hair matted with feces, shit covering their clothes, hands, face, even feces in their teeth as they'd grin at you on the way walking out the store. On those nights after closing, you'd go to the back room to clean up and there'd be human feces covering the walls, bench, and floors of where ever the "Painter" was back there doing his thing. Ugh! That, on top of all the other antics that went on back there, the floors littered with used condoms, cum-stained nylons, syringes, cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles, it was easy to see how this was the beginning of the decade that would usher in probably the worst epidemic of our planet's history. Thankfully, I was never stuck by any of those needles, and we never so much as even touched a cleaning sponge without donning a hefty pair of Platex gloves. As JohnArt suggested, bleach, and industrial strength, hospital approved Wescodyne – a germicidal detergent, were our best friend.

Many nights after closing, I'd be back there with my mop and bucket just praying to The Creator to provide me with a better means to support myself. I never stopped searching for other employment, and sure enough after a few more months, I landed a job as a Bus Operator for R.T.D. (The Southern California Rapid Transit District) where I drove for the city for the next chapter of my life. By that time, I was making so much money that I wouldn't even need to cash one paycheck before receiving my next one, lol. I finally had my first major career (of the many I would hold through the years), had my own place, and life was good.

I still do not understand how Mr Herman got arrested; it was an adult movie theatre that he was in right? You mean to tell me he was the only patron with his hand down his pants? Wasn't that the point of going back in the day, to have something to watch while you masturbated? The only thing I can think of was that he had his bright white thing outside of his pants and was quite the exhibitionist with it.

By the way thanks for taking us down memory road with you but I will be trying to get those brown toothed "Painters" out of my mind all night, I can just tell, yuck, yuck, yuck!!!!

Be glad you didn't have to smell it, or clean it, lol. Although I had done some hospital work already by this time, I was getting tired of "shit-cleaning" being a regular part of my job description, lol.

I worked in both a nursing home and a hospital. For me the worst smell was gangrene from elderly folks who did not want there dead feet removed. The other was when colostomy bags were left unattended by previous shifts so they were gassy balloons that were ready to explode. However in both of these cases the elderly are not being spiteful like the shit painter .

Deadflow3r said:

I worked in both a nursing home and a hospital. For me the worst smell was gangrene from elderly folks who did not want there dead feet removed. The other was when colostomy bags were left unattended by previous shifts so they were gassy balloons that were ready to explode. However in both of these cases the elderly are not being spiteful like the shit painter .

PDogz said:

Deadflow3r said:

I worked in both a nursing home and a hospital. For me the worst smell was gangrene from elderly folks who did not want there dead feet removed. The other was when colostomy bags were left unattended by previous shifts so they were gassy balloons that were ready to explode. However in both of these cases the elderly are not being spiteful like the shit painter .

Yes, nursing homes can be an absolutely frightening experience. This one was in North Fulton County, GA and I am sure that most of the patient were low income. Just gross, gross, and more gross.

PDogz said:

TheFreakerFantastic said:

^ So PDogz were you there as an employee or a visitor? Tell us more about what goes on...

Back in the days before VCR's (1981/82), if a young man wanted to beat-off to some porn, his options were either to do so in an X-Rated movie house (...like the chain of Pussycat Theaters in L.A.) Pee-Wee Herman style, or else in those private coin operated porn booths which played those 8mm films (called "Loops", because the movie, like those now vintage Swedish Erotica films which were only a few minutes long, would just start playback from the beginning once the movie was over), and as long as you kept feeding the machine tokens. Also, ABS's were the place where I'd pick up my monthly issues of Mandate, Honcho, Drummer, Numbers, Blueboy, or The Advocate, because keep in mind; not only wasn't there a VCR in every home yet, there wasn't any Internet either, lol. So, what was a horny young dude to do? For many, even in small cities across the nation, adult bookstores were IT. Then judging by many of the characters that I'd observe working behind the counters in those places, I always had in the back of mind that it would be an easy job to obtain if I ever needed the extra employment.

I was a new Los Angeles resident at that time, and had just secured my very own apartment just two blocks off from Hollywood & Vine. Trying to establish yourself in any new town is difficult enough, but particularly so in a place like Hollywood because every young person on the planet was also there trying to get their name on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I mean seriously, everybody was walking around as if they were starring in their own music video, in which YOU didn't have a part, lol. Therefore, while by day I worked at Wherehouse Records (which was a chain of record stores in California at that time - and the place where I started to learn a lot about music of different genres), it wasn't enough to pay my rent AND eat at the same time. So, in my search for extra work, I did not omit the ABS's from my list of possible employers.

At the time, there was an adult bookstore on nearly every block of Hollywood Blvd, from Western Ave. to Highland. Within days of submitting an application to each one of them, I got a call for an interview. The interview was to take place up in Van Nuys, which is in the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles, and is the center of where nearly 90% of the nations porn is produced and distributed. The location was a huge warehouse that was as big as a small airplane hangar. Inside was the hugest collection of X-Rated movies, toys, creams, and accessories I've ever seen in my life. Aisle after aisle of stuff! One aisle would be shelves of movies piled to the ceiling; the next would be dildos to the ceiling, the next rubber dolls, and so on and so forth. Just imagine a Wal-Mart full of nothing but sex products, lol. After my tour and sitting down to speak with a handful of guys that looked like they could have easily starred on The Soprano's, I was hired to work as a clerk at one of their stores on Hollywood & Argyle (the store is no longer there, a big hotel is now in it’s place).

"Training" consisted of coming in 2 hours early on my first night and working with the clerk that was on the evening shift. I learned how to work the register, sell tokens, got an overview of the entire inventory, and that was it! By the time 9pm rolled around, the evening shift clerk went home and I was on my own! My shift was from about 9pm to about three in the morning when the store would close. That's when I would clean up then lock up the store. It reopened at something like 10 the next morning or so.

The store was setup in two major parts, the front section, and the back. The front part of the store was where all the retail stuff was - the magazines, the films, and the toys. I quickly became one of the stores top sellers because I had a way of making people feel comfortable when they came in. I realized from my own experiences that most people coming in the store were a little nervous. I learned that if I could make each individual feel more at ease, they would be more likely to buy whatever it was that drove them in there in the first place. Many Orgers here would be surprised at WHOM would buy WHAT when you made them feel at ease. I remember one young jock that looked like he could have been a football player, or a cop or something, came in the store, and after sort of nervously walking around and looking at things, I just casually mentioned to him that if there was anything I could help him with to just let me know. I pointed a few things out to him that were on sale, but then I left him alone and just went back to jamming to my music. I always brought my ghetto blaster into the store with me during my shift, and quickly established the routine where regular patrons knew they'd hear some really cool music when they came in during my shift. Usually I'd be playing some Prince (which was a rarity on the radio in those days) or even some Frank Zappa. I kept an eclectic mix of music playing at all times - remember I worked at a "wrecka stow" in the daytime, lol. Anyway, I digress.

Eventually, the hunky straight-appearing jock guy comes back to the counter where I'm at and places this huge 14", thick as an arm, dildo down on the counter to purchase. He's kind of holding his head down as he says to me almost shamefully "I guess you're surprised, right?". I just looked at him with a warm smile and said "Not at all, would you like some lube with that?", and that completely broke the ice and you could see a smile of relief come over his face. Word got around, and before you knew it, many would actually wait for my shift to come in and buy the things that they felt uncomfortable buying from others, because they knew I would not judge them. My sales numbers took off like a rocket! LOL.

Then there was the back part of the store that was lined with a maze of those private movie booths. There was a marquee in the back that featured all the movies that were playing, each assigned to a different channel. Once in the booth, you'd deposit your token in the machine and turn the dial to whatever channel it was that had the film you wanted to view. Each connecting booth had a glory hole in the adjoining wall. So, patrons could either go in there to watch movies, or otherwise take part in the glory hole activity. Before I was an employee of an ABS, I never trusted that anyone on the other side of that wall wasn’t waiting with a sturdy set of hedge clippers once I stuck my Black dick in that hole, lol. So glory holes were never my thing.

The back rooms were also a common place for prostitutes to bring their Johns. It was cheaper than a motel room, and the prostitutes would work their trade in and out of there fairly quickly whenever it was convenient for them to do so. One of the funny things about those token operated booths was that the projector that was behind and above your head would only play the movie on the little screen in front of the bench customers would sit on for about 2 minutes per token. So quite often, guys would run out of tokens right during the hot part of a movie and BEFORE they could reach an orgasm. So, the guy would have to come out of the booth and back to the counter in the front to purchase more tokens with these huge hard-ons in their pants, before running back to the back room to finish the scene they were watching, and hopefully to bust a nutt before running out of tokens again. Trying to get a quick nutt in the pre-VCR/Internet days was a BITCH, lol.

Some of the worst patrons I would hate visiting the store were those I called "Painters". After coming in, purchasing their tokens and heading to the back rooms, you knew you were in for a Hell of a night when as they were leaving you'd notice their hair matted with feces, shit covering their clothes, hands, face, even feces in their teeth as they'd grin at you on the way walking out the store. On those nights after closing, you'd go to the back room to clean up and there'd be human feces covering the walls, bench, and floors of where ever the "Painter" was back there doing his thing. Ugh! That, on top of all the other antics that went on back there, the floors littered with used condoms, cum-stained nylons, syringes, cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles, it was easy to see how this was the beginning of the decade that would usher in probably the worst epidemic of our planet's history. Thankfully, I was never stuck by any of those needles, and we never so much as even touched a cleaning sponge without donning a hefty pair of Platex gloves. As JohnArt suggested, bleach, and industrial strength, hospital approved Wescodyne – a germicidal detergent, were our best friend.

Many nights after closing, I'd be back there with my mop and bucket just praying to The Creator to provide me with a better means to support myself. I never stopped searching for other employment, and sure enough after a few more months, I landed a job as a Bus Operator for R.T.D. (The Southern California Rapid Transit District) where I drove for the city for the next chapter of my life. By that time, I was making so much money that I wouldn't even need to cash one paycheck before receiving my next one, lol. I finally had my first major career (of the many I would hold through the years), had my own place, and life was good.

Wow, thanks for sharing....you have a good writing style, that was interesting. It was gross about what the painters do...it's a disgrace how some people behave sometimes esp. when they don't have to clean it up.

Maybe you could write a book...Confessions of a Sex Shop employee or something...its seems that was a good experience to write about if nothing else...

[Edited 9/15/11 0:55am]

TheFreakerFantastic said:

Wow, thanks for sharing....you have a good writing style, that was interesting. It was gross about what the painters do...it's a disgrace how some people behave sometimes esp. when they don't have to clean it up.

Maybe you could write a book...Confessions of a Sex Shop employee or something...its seems that was a good experience to write about if nothing else...

Thanks for those kind words of encouragement. I actually have been writing parts of my life's story for several years now. The thing is; I've gone through so much in my life that sometimes I forget about interesting things like the story I shared here. Then what happens is that someone will just ask me to elaborate on maybe one line of something I've said... and it turns into a whole chapter, lol. At some point I do plan on putting all the pieces together into some sort of autobiography. Not ready for the publisher quite yet though - still too much on the horizon yet to be experienced.

^ That's ok PDogz....i think it's worth writing those things down while they are fresh in your memory like you have done.

A few years ago I wrote up an account of my time as a volunteer of a Kibbutz in Israel, it hasn't been published yet and i am now thinking of trying to get it 'out there', but at the time it was just cathartic to write it, I felt compelled to put pen to paper, in a way to make sense of the experience too.

What was the motivation of the 'painter's' in your view? No chance of being caught/prosecuted?

TheFreakerFantastic said:

^ That's ok PDogz....i think it's worth writing those things down while they are fresh in your memory like you have done.

A few years ago I wrote up an account of my time as a volunteer of a Kibbutz in Israel, it hasn't been published yet and i am now thinking of trying to get it 'out there', but at the time it was just cathartic to write it, I felt compelled to put pen to paper, in a way to make sense of the experience too.

What was the motivation of the 'painter's' in your view? No chance of being caught/prosecuted?

I think they's just some big ol FREAKS! And freaks aren't having a good time unless they're gettin' freaky! LOL. (...so much for 'no judgments', lol) I mean, honestly though? Everybody just has their "thing", theirs was scat. I certainly didn't appreciate having to be the one to clean that shit up, lol. But as far as what precisely would motivate someone to act out in that way? I would imagine any number of different things could, none of which I have a clue, lol. The idea or possibility of being caught or prosecuted is probably not even a consideration for someone this far on the edge. In fact, the one's I encountered were PROUD of their work, lol.

.

[Edited 9/15/11 4:09am]

PDogz said:

TheFreakerFantastic said:

^ That's ok PDogz....i think it's worth writing those things down while they are fresh in your memory like you have done.

A few years ago I wrote up an account of my time as a volunteer of a Kibbutz in Israel, it hasn't been published yet and i am now thinking of trying to get it 'out there', but at the time it was just cathartic to write it, I felt compelled to put pen to paper, in a way to make sense of the experience too.

What was the motivation of the 'painter's' in your view? No chance of being caught/prosecuted?

I think they's just some big ol FREAKS! And freaks aren't having a good time unless they're gettin' freaky! LOL. (...so much for 'no judgments', lol) I mean, honestly though? Everybody just has their "thing", theirs was scat. I certainly didn't appreciate having to be the one to clean that shit up, lol. But as far as what precisely would motivate someone to act out in that way? I would imagine any number of different things could, none of which I have a clue, lol. The idea or possibility of being caught or prosecuted is probably not even a consideration for someone this far on the edge. In fact, the one's I encountered were PROUD of their work, lol.

.

[Edited 9/15/11 4:09am]

When I saw Katy Perry's video for "Peacock' it reminded me of this scat fetish. There is dark paint smeared everywhere in the end. But damn, the TEETH???

Deadflow3r said:

I worked in both a nursing home and a hospital. For me the worst smell was gangrene from elderly folks who did not want there dead feet removed. The other was when colostomy bags were left unattended by previous shifts so they were gassy balloons that were ready to explode. However in both of these cases the elderly are not being spiteful like the shit painter .

Vera Donavan