3 Eroticas: The Movie

Ok, rewind.

Coupla years ago, a few of us at the magazine decided to watch a hardcore porn movie together. To this day, I can't recall why we thought it was a good idea. Or why we felt like it was like any other outing like dinner or company paintball.

Ok, fast-forward.

We’d just finished dinner at SS’s place and she was breaking out the alcohol. I don’t think she did it to make us braver or more relaxed or anything. Any gathering with SS had alcohol as a prerequisite (which is why I rarely attended). There wasn’t any preamble or small talk to lead up to the movie. SS just asked ‘So, shall we start?’
Enthusiastic nods all round, check.
Hardcore porn flick on VCD (DVD hadn’t come into vogue yet), check.
Dimmed lights? Check.

Ok, press play.

The movie was Tarzan X, with Rocco Siffredi playing Tarzan. I think you can guess the plot. Minutes later, Tarzan’s already making the two-backed chimpanzee with Jane. Personally, the whole making-chimp-sounds-while-fucking was a mood breaker. And him prodding around and preening Jane? Dude.
But I digress. Our little party had bigger problems.

The guys for one thing, all started looking around nervously for cushions. The men were definitely not as cool about this as we thought we were. I also noticed the parts the guys tended to look away or shift in their seats during the scenes where Tarzan was going down on Jane (I’m sorry to put it so indelicately, but I’m trying to get through this). They just had trouble dealing. One guy took to looking at magazines.
But the ladies. Well.

Ok, pause.

Rocco Siffredi doesn’t have a penis. I don’t mean he’s an amputee or anything. But a penis to me needs to at least look the part. Fit certain dimensions.
Rocco Siffredi has a baby’s arm where his ‘nads should be. As it turns out, the magazine I worked for ran an article on porn legends (‘The Monsters of Cock’) and Rocco comes in at 10-full inches (thankfully, no picture – to scale or otherwise).

And when he unleashed his caveman’s club, the girls let out this collective moan.

Ok, resume.

So. After about half an hour of seeing Rocco get with the monkey love, we see the tribe divide itself:
Fellatio shots: The girls lean forward, mouths slightly open. The guys find sudden fascination with floor / imaginary lint on clothes / old copies of Cosmo lying about.
Full-out-screaming fuck shots: The girls get closer together, occasionally whispering. The guys suddenly need to go the toilet, or out on the balcony for a smoke.
Money shots: The girls watch like it a baptism. The guys actually flinch like they were watching a dog getting fixed.

Ok, eject.

I think somewhere around the 40-minute mark, the guys were desperate for a way out. Everyone else was in some private psychological hell. So FB – the guy who brought the movie – said in a bored tone that wasn’t fooling anyone, “I’m bored. Maybe we should go to the mamak.” It was the opening we needed. We practically leapt from the couch (which had become like an island of sexual conservatism since it all began) and grabbed keys, sneakers, anything to get the hell out.

The girls were a bit surprised at first, but they’d prolly had enough as well (a girlfriend later told me girls are less prone to repeat viewings of porn cos ‘it’s all the same moves.’)

We all went to the mamak and by the time drinks arrived, we were ourselves again.
By ‘we’ I mean the guys. We slipped back into our usual macho bullshit (‘Seen better / Girl’s tits looked fake’).
But the girls were changed. They were smiling and distracted and all touchy-feely. Over this thing that was supposed to be the pissing ground of (straight) men, the women had bonded. I think as guys we’re definitely missing something valuable here. Something inherently different in the support of a female network. Something good.

Ok, stop.

Wait, rewind.

Later, FB called each of us to ask if we’d taken his Tarzan X VCD by accident.
Everyone said no.