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April 2005: PAUL SMITH’S DEVIANT’S DIARY - Super size (bits of) me.
9.34pm. Fresh from a hot bath, I settle down in front of the telly with a porn film. Nothing unusual in that you'd think. However, beside me are a pile of R18 DVDs and tapes, plus a stack of 'frank' magazines. I'm wearing my experimental hat again. This month's plan; to investigate the effects of watching 24 hours of hardcore pornography, non-stop. What follows is implausible, but entirely genuine.
Other than 'research material', I have other requisites within easy reach. Tissues - In case I get a runny nose. Snack food and soft drinks high in sugar. I've even arranged the furniture so when I go to the toilet I can still watch the TV. Both my 'phones are next to me and I have a duvet for when it gets chilly. The magazines are in case I'm called away from the feast of televisual smut for some reason. Perhaps because of fire or by someone at the door.
9.43pm. First stirrings, thanks to a 'pulling it out and teasing her with it' scene in Print Shop Pussy. Momentum's lost when it goes back to a more traditional in-out session.
10.21pm. I laughed out loud when a bald man performing cunnilingus made it look like the girl had three buttocks, thanks to the camera angle. Had some water as I've been told it'll be important to keep my fluid levels up.
10.52pm. The girls and guys are doing their stuff. Breasts are bouncing, moans are issuing but there's no reaction downstairs. And I don't mean I live in a Maisonette and the volume is up a bit high. Why am I doing this crazy thing? It's a challenge - both physical and mental. I was inspired by a film called Super Size Me, which follows Morgan Spurlock (a porn star name if I ever heard one) on his 30-day McDonalds-only diet. I don't have 30 days worth of porn, or that much time to commit to a project of this sort, so I'm limiting myself to 24 hours. I'd like to stress that this could change with proper funding.
11.05pm. Another twinge caused by a nice shared cum scene with two girls. Phew. I was worried there for a while. The last thing I need is performance anxiety while watching porn alone! But before anything has a chance to make like a Polaroid and develop the credits are rolling and I'm reaching for another tape.
11.07pm. It starts with a fast cut montage of stuff from other films. Some great looking scenes, but not a hint as to which movies they might be from, which is a shame. A trailer for Revenge of the Gang Bang Zombies makes me sit up and take notice - I like a good B Movie as much as an R18 Movie. The Shameless Desires preview makes me think it's a shame I don't have a copy in my wobbling tower of Jazz. I'm not sure what 'Experience the ultimate in wall-to-wall Gonzo fucking' might involve, but I can't see Frank Oz being at all happy.
11.18pm. When it gets going, Where The Boys Aren't 14 is film number two of the night. I like the talk-to-the-camera style of presentation and the sweaty atmosphere of the movie. The girl-on-girl theme is most satisfactory but I'm reminded how hard it is to shoot cunnilingus - Big hair gets in the way of the action. Arousal 4/10 and growing.
11.30pm. Oddly, I find myself concerned about all those long, beautifully manicured fingernails being plunged into pussies, which I can't imagine was what the director was hoping me to be thinking about at this stage of the film.
11.41pm. An actress is sucking a tap. You can be sure she never expected that to happen when she was in high school dreaming about becoming a vet. In a later fisting scene, some of those childhood fantasies are lived out. Except she's playing the part of the pregnant cow.
11.43pm. There ARE Boys! Admittedly they're just dancing about self-consciously in chain mail thongs, but this is Where the Boys AREN'T 14. Initially I wasn't quite sure about that title, but now I realise it's one of a long running series and I've visibly relaxed. Another thought - Big rings and anal finger fucking can't mix. Let me rephrase that: That's a hell of a scratchy looking rock.
12.10am. Another half erection off screen, but I've seen nothing to make me want to go the whole hog just yet. Am I pacing myself? Did I wear myself out earlier in the day? Neither to my knowledge, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed. I must just be tired.
12.29am. I've noticed how few toys there are in this female-only(ish) film. Thus far it's been fingers and pierced tongues all the way. Oh no, here they are with a fierce-looking knobbly double-ender. Are unusual toys ever marketed alongside films they feature in I wonder. You could even bundle them as gift packs.
12.32am. Another motion picture. Dick Hungry Débutantes is blessed with a German dialogue track and English voice-overs. I think it might be an erotic thriller which is not thrilling or particularly erotic. It seems I'm just not in the mood for titillation tonight.
1.25am. Time for a post-midnight feast of Skips. I fool myself I can feel the Potassium Chloride hitting the spot. On screen, the main male character has gone as red as his female co-star's sloppy-Joe. That's not a euphemism; it's a type of jumper.
1.49am. I'm watched a guy having his arse licked by one bi babe while fully enjoying her lady friend - from the loo. If only all nights could be like this and not so often wasted on all that unnecessary sleeping nonsense.
2.05am. Now he's vigorously bonking one girl and fingering another. I try rubbing my head and patting my tum for a while. Then patting my head and rubbing my tum. Perhaps it's easier than it looks. I'd like to see him carry a tune on the kazoo at the same time though. Time to take stock: I usually enjoy this sucky-fucky fare, but I had anticipated a certain amount of numbing, or desensitisation. To have started the experiment with so little effect is worrying though. I want to say, in my most red-blooded typing style, 'Got horny, took care of business. Eleven times'. At this point, I don't think I'm going to be making such bold claims. Certainly not with a clear conscience.
2.13am. My fourth flick is The Invitation. Starring Asia Carrera, it certainly looks inviting (sorry, couldn't resist) but will it live up to its salacious cover?
3.05am. Ah. For the record, arousal: 0/10. I check my pulse and am surprised but pleased that I still have one. Later, a little light bondage makes a welcome change. There's additional novelty of a more worthy sort when I see a condom being worn in another scene.
4.03am. High production values, gorgeous stars and beautiful locations didn't stop it feeling a bit clinical for my tastes. I slot film #5 in and hope for better things from Private Movies 10 - Sex, Lies & Internet. My penis is as small and soft as a free sample of French cheese when, without warning, there's lots of flashing lights to set the epileptics off.
4.11am. Already I'm getting into this one more as there's an edge to it. The grungy, thumping music adds atmosphere and if I wasn't so sleepy I could almost be turned on.
4.20am. Slowly but surely I'm feeling more 'engaged'. Then the action turns into storyline and I'm slowly returned to a state the BBFC would pass, I think. One thing I didn't bring to the living room is an atlas so I could take The Mull of Kintyre Test for myself.
4.40am. Bloody hell, it's Lee Evans! Not the original, but a German clone who acts as if operated by rods and levers. More than seven hours gone and it's been long and hard. The research that is, nothing else. Compared with a porn-free 24 hour test period I conducted the week before as a control experiment, this is statistically unusually low for me.
4.55am. At last! An energetic fellatio scene does its trick. Hooray! Naturally enough I fall asleep some minutes later.
10.34am. I wake with a fart and a start. I've slept five and a half hours against my will. I revise my plans and fast forward (it'd automatically rewound when it reached the end) the tape to where I remember and carry on, while resolving to not pass out again.
11am. An ATM scene in a public loo does it for me again, aided by the effect of my full bladder. That's all you need to know. More, probably. I'm certainly not going to say I prefer the two handed, interlocking finger method as this would make me sound like a golfer.
11.30am. The film has wound down and so have I. I eject it, load Magma Swing Party and decide it's time for brunch. Happy Faces might not be everyone's idea of a meal, but I enjoyed them, grilled to golden perfection as they were. The party is still in full swing and I patently wait it out while reading some of the magazines.
12.56pm. An oldie but I goodie, video six is Takin' it to the Limit 3 - Kickin' Ass, which has an 80's Hollywood look to it. I'm enjoying the interracial theme of one scene where the girl is making noises like a Sea Lion. Arousal peaks at 6/10.
1.33pm. Two thirds down and I feel like I did when I reached 3,000ft up Ben Nevis (4,408 ft) in 2003. Basically I want to turn back. On that occasion I felt stiff and a bit wobbly. Today I'm mostly just the latter. Then, it made sense to give up and turn back. Now I know I must go on. I gotta get through this - I don't think Daniel Bedingfield was thinking of an unstoppable orgy of sex though. As time ticks slowly by I know I've 'only' got 8 more hours to go.
2.14pm. Some newer stuff now, as I switch to DVDs to give my VCR a rest. I don't want it as buggered as the stars it's been showing. I start with the Collector's Edition of Pornutopia, although I'm not quite sure what that means in this context. It's erotic art motion picture number seven and some nice flashback stuff sets the scene.
2.47pm. I'm finding my eyes being inexorably drawn to spots on bottoms during a fairly boring anal scene. No pun intended.
3.35pm. Eighteen hours, or three quarters of the way through, I'm beginning to wonder if TVs are like ink cartridges. Will all this porn 'use up' my pink? Perhaps the only things to look right on my telly in future will be documentaries about rainforests, where red pixels aren't so much in demand.
3.47pm. I swap the disk for film eight, John Thompson's (I thought he was very good in The Fast Show) Die Sperma-Brotzeit, which translates as 'The Packed Lunch of Cum,' I'm reliably informed. It's dripping with man milk and the change of subject matter is a blessed release too.
4.21pm. My mum just called and I couldn't find the remote control to mute the telly before I picked up the phone. She heard 'noises' in the background and asked what I was up to. I tried to explain the best I could, but I don't think she believed me. I'm not sure I believed me. On the subject of the hard to swallow, I'm told the average length of time a man watches a porn film before orgasm is three minutes. Based on this I should have fired a round off twenty times an hour, or 480 times in the day. Even allowing for my 5 ½ hours sleep I'm well under that total, but I'm not disappointed. Reducing my body to a dry husk was never the goal of this experiment.
4.49pm. This film has more white ribbons than a shop that specialises in typewriting correction supplies. No wonder these girls have such good skin.
5pm. Dr. Loo and the Filthy Fucking Phaleks is a fitting film nine, since its inspiration has just returned to our screens. An all-girl masturbation scene perks me up while I think about Billie Piper.
5.56pm. A three-way DP with toys and ATM segment sends me over the edge again. Another hand shandy goes on my tab and I realise how hungry I am for something more than cheesy bar snacks.
6.39pm. A mere 3 hours to go now, and I'm basking in the afterglow of Yorkshire puddings and potato waffles smothered in ketchup. Sometimes it's the little things which make life worth living.
7.02pm. The small drama of a sprained ankle (the crunch it made initially made me think I'd broken it) takes my mind off the filthy fucking Phalek action, and I nurse it while whimpering on the floor. How the hell did I manage that in my front room? Might it be the result of sitting still so long? Perhaps my foot muscles were a bit relaxed and they just folded under my weight as I turned. All I know for sure is it hurts like bloody buggery.
7.16pm. It's swollen, hot and tingly. My ankle, of course. There's no way it's anything else while this growing oxymoronic painful numbness is oozing up my leg and around my body. I've never been so glad that I can still wiggle my toes.
8.12pm. How long is this film!? Value-for-money long, that's how long. Pound-for-pounding, I think this was my favourite movie so far.
8.15pm. A good flick to end on is Cum in my Ass, Not in my Mouth, judging by the juicy rectumed packaging. I make it number ten and I'm really looking forward to it.
8.34pm. Just one hour to go and I'm still immobile in my chair with a bloated ankle that's lighting the room up. Against a background of sour adrenaline in my system, the well-shot spanking and scenes of supported DP aren't making me horny. Visually I'm enjoying myself though.
8.53pm. There really are some lovely looking ladies in this one but it's all just wiggling and jiggling now, made just a little contemptuous by over-familiarity. For me, a slow dance would be more erotically charged. I feel even a weather girl might do it for me more than a porn movie now. I hope this condition isn't ongoing. The thought of a weather girl in a porn movie brings a reaction. Apparently there is still hope for me.
9.04pm. I'm clock watching now. I'm out of crisps (even the beef ones) and I just want this to be over.
While daydreaming of fresh air, I've realised all porn stars are bonkers. That's a joke, by the way. Light-headed thoughts of comedy lead me to mull over all those great funny film titles, like Shaving Ryan's Privates. What about an all-backdoor-action spoof of Love Actually, called Love Anally? It'd be a sodom-rom-com.
My respect for women is unchanged. I have lots, even if they can't parallel park for toffee. I don't feel particularly degraded and don't think the actors have been either. Perhaps the relative infrequency of my…you know… is down to how spoilt I've been in real life -lucky me- and I'm just a bit jaded; there wasn't a novel transsexual, innovative double-anal-fisting scene or Alsatian (a person from the Alsace province of France, naturally) to be seen in the selection of films I watched. While pressing a pack of McCain Smiles to my ankle I absentmindedly check my palms for hair. I can't see any, but that might just be my failing eyesight. I don't feel engorged with uncontrollable lust or inspired to misbehave with eighteen year old twins. Someone could twist my arm though. There's been no detectable damage to my moral fibre, so the most serious effect of my extended exposure to pornography is really not wanting to hear, "Oh yeah. Yeah! Oh. Ah. Wah. Yeah!" again for a while.
9.34pm - Experiment terminated. I'm off for a much needed bath, followed by a good, hard, frantic tape-rewinding session.
2710ish words on the effects of pornography, Dale. Yet another 'Thank gawd I don't need to do this again!'
Paul.