Decided to give Adult World a whirl today and thought I’d write a candid and honest review of the place. Admittedly it was pissing down with rain, but I often find that spending time in dark seedy place sheds you of any feelings of guilt if it is a fine Summer’s day, which are getting few and far between in this country. Actually this was more of a nostalgia trip for me, so you can describe me as being a veteran when it comes to surveying the sex industry in Birmingham. I frequented the place back in the day when it was called ‘Sunset’ and they were playing reel to reel films of Danish pornography. In fact, when I handed over my £10 to the guy behind the counter, I answered as much when he asked had I been before.
Whilst we were negotiating the lucre, there was a young woman who told him that she had bought her on CD, I presume for the dance that she was supposed to be doing at 12.00 pm. I have to say that I passed a cursory glance at the young lady, and at the array of sex toys and DVD’s aligning the neatly stacked shelves in the shop. He handed me a ticket, that was like the one you might find in a Raffle, and told me where the cinema was and the toilets. The layout was pretty much as I remembered it, rows of wobbly cinema seats, a large screen and stage with the ubiquitous pole, two TV monitors displaying the same film on either side.
After banging my shin on a seat that had been left down, I decided on a mid ‘terrace’ position, and joined two lone ‘gents’ to watch the film. I placed my hand inside my jacket and tweaked my right nipple, rubbing my crotch in the hope that it would have the desired effect as it used to back in the day! However, the porn film that we were watching delivered the same old tropes; A single blonde, enhanced breasts, spray-on tan, American being fucked silly by two usual, circumcised large and rigid cocks. All holes inclusive, with so much of that deep drool blow job stuff going on. So one in the arse, one on the cunt, then alternating between both. I wanted to yawn, and my pecker had no response whatsoever. Have I become desensitised to this kind of pornography? Has the internet provided me with the kind of pleasures that I used to get in places like this, back in the 1970’s and 80’s?
Then the young woman entered the arena, introducing herself and almost apologising for the fact that we were ‘saddled’ with her today. “I’ll be with you in 15 minutes”, she yelled in a rather quaint Brummie accent, at least she wasn’t Romanian, I thought to myself. An old guy shuffled in and placed his mac on his lap. Then the film stopped, and on walked the girl. The stage was lit red, so any detail was lost, apart from the fact that she was clad in Ann Summers. Her CD played, it sounded like Beyonce, but it was a cover, and I thought that she had made a cool choice. She snapped off her stockings, leaving the Basque and bra. She was festooned with tattoos, (not to my liking), and made all the right moves, leaping up the pole a few times, and writhing on the floor even more. She was petite, no breast enhancements and a tidy little shaved slit. Beneath all the skin decorations I’m sure she’d be classified as a right little ‘goer’. The strip lasted the length of the song, perhaps 4 to 5 minutes. Bathed in the red light, and naked she made another announcement; ‘Ok fellas, if you liked what you saw, my name is Candy and you can come back for more, just pop into the shop and ask so and so if you can have a private dance.
Well, I had the expectancy of buying a £20.00 private show, but a young guy up front, got in there first, and I wondered what the scenario would be with more than one. I’m sure that ‘Candy’ would have made for a fine show, but all that body adornment kind of left me cold, sorry luv, but you’re absolutely a lovely girl, but why, oh! why did you have to ruin a perfect little body like that. I thought about staying until 2.00pm, but it may have been the same girl, so I decided to leave and carry on my nostalgia trip to the Taboo Cinema down on Park Street. I have to say that my last visit was probably about three to four years ago, and I swear that I sat right next to a woman who was being fucked by her husband in front of an audience of masturbating pensioners, and I managed to get a handful of tit, as she was literally on all fours straddling the cinema seat. I suppose that in the back of my mind, I might have encountered a similar situation.
Another wet walk from Hinckley Street to Moor Street, beneath the viaduct on Park Street and a quick sprint up the steps. Familiar, the little reception hatch, an old guy slumped on the sofa in the ‘lounge’. “Have you been here before?”, I caught sight of a healthy looking MILF ironing a T-Shirt in the back…be lovely if she joined us! (I thought to myself). “Many years ago”, I replied. “New Membership then”, he said, a rather slimy and oily individual it has to be said. I faked a name, address and used an old post-code from a previous residence. I entered the ‘den’, the screen on the right hand side, I glimpsed what looked like an old Queen of a TV, rising semi naked, but for a frilly Basque and Suspender Belt. Clearly, not a woman, so I veered to the screen on the left, a few old blokes stood gazing across at an Asian guy openly masturbating. Again, the film was boring, this time two Middle Eastern women, going through the usual straight fucking, anal, deep drool blow job scenarios. I did audibly here an old guy yawn this time.
A slight whiff of cock in the air, cruising gays, and pensioners who had not taken up on the internet getting their kicks from screened US produced porn. No one seemed to settle, shuffling around, searching for cock, I guess, whether it was straight up and gay, or some daft old geezer clad in a girly frock. I mean, come on, make an effort, haven’t these TV’s seen Grayson Perry!? He/she was laughable really, so after I witnessed a gay blow job right behind me I decided to do a little shuffle myself and spent a good 30 minutes in the other screen. At least the films were marginally better, and I found myself getting a bit of a semi at the sight of a big black cock sliding in and out of a pretty blonde before my eyes. Thinking to myself that at least the wet sheen on his cock may have signified that the girl was a little ‘wet and lubricated’. Plus, no sign of tattoos, perky small tits, and speaking English, with a bit of narrative, borrowing from those property docs that you see on TV these days.
I waited in vain for a sign of a couple entering the cinema, but all reviews confirmed my suspicion that Taboo was simply a gay cruising place, certainly most of the guys in there were totally disinterested in the films. I left, a little lighter financially and on walking back to the car park in the miserable wet weather, followed behind a shapely bum of a young woman and her child, a fleeting moment that gave me more of a ‘twinge’ than the past couple of hours put together. I threw my ‘temporary’ Taboo membership card in the bin, safe in the knowledge that I would not return to either cinema ever again. That’s not to say that I have had much better times and memories of both places during the 1970’s and 1980’s. It is those memories that are worth cherishing, and I can still get a buzz thinking about them. The internet has seriously surpassed anything that I had tried to experience today. Would ‘Candy’ have performed to my expectations? I doubt it, but I hope that the lucky lad who parted with twenty quid found what he was looking for.
