Noticed Spaz had mentioned some quality 90s grot on another thread that got me misty eyed!
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0293934/
Not heard of ‘Stop! My Ass is on Fire!’ for donkey's years, for the uninitiated it was a classic series of straight forward, plotline thin quality grot that proudly propagated rough and prolonged botty sex as the new 'in thing', it was right up there with Hustlers fcuking jaw dropping Barely Legal series 1 – 130, a high quality, knuckle whitening affair on VHS tape that I witnessed near grown men fight over, it was another era straddling collection of game changing high end grumble that as far back as the mid 90s was firing out richly coloured films devoid of comedy dubbing and complete with a real time professional soundtrack, enormous beauty pageant style hairdos and 18 year old, tan lined and high heel sporting birds that were still wearing a bit of bikini friendly but well maintained lady fur, awesome stuff and all in amongst some fearsomely dire but genuinely p*ss funny plot lines, downside was that they came with the obligatory and lengthy, unhurried close ups of desperately concentrating male faces, bronzed and hairy man ass and pendulous scrotums driving their junk home and all interspersed with humorous and much imitated bits of scripted dialogue that sometimes put you right off your stroke, sometimes leaving you with just 2 options, either ride out the current scene full of bonk dialogue or attempt to maintain your reasonably solid state by quickly squeezing the blood filled base of your pan handle whilst furiously fishing around your immediate surroundings with your free hand for the remote control to fast forward to a more agreeable sequence.
It was a classic time though of turbo hetero male porn names as well, Dale Dabone, Brian Surewood, Herschel Savage and (my personal favourite) Randy Spears, it earned me an elbow delivered dig in the ribs once off her when I spat out ‘Randy Spears’ as my name to the receptionist booking us in one night at a hotel in Grassington that we stayed in after I slowly dragged/carried and encouraged her over Helvellyn to a soundtrack of constant moaning, I wouldn’t of minded but it was her idea to go for a wander, borne of a sense of guilt of doing nothing at weekends she moaned at me to find something appropriate to do, she stormed off once after 5 minutes at an indoor climbing wall after piling in repeatedly and then got a major sad on the weekend after when I wouldn’t let her win at squash. Anyhow I suggested a bit of a walk one weekend and hinted at a bit of mutual hip bashing in a hotel after, we partly succeeded in our aim in that we finished the walk but instead of some steamy hotel/intertwined in the shower sex action post yomp I chose to sit downstairs with a 3 day old copy of the Daily Telegraph and steadily drank all of the hotels supply of red After Shock and most of their bottles of Budweiser, many hours later after getting my head down I found myself being steered firmly back into our room by her after I had apparently slipped out, completely bollocky whilst still fast asleep and started leisurely p*ssing in the corridor.
Anyway I digress, the first 'Stop my Ass is on Fire' tape we passed round the room was in its actual original case (a rarity in the block if I remember right) with a leggy brunette bongo merchant called Jasmine St Claire on the cover, down on her knees, resplendent in red thigh high boots with her face pressed hard and side on down into the floor looking over her shoulder and expertly working the doe eyed and frightened look. To complete the image her bare arse was sticking up high and proud with a badly super imposed colour image of some very angry flames that were scarily reminiscent of the burning Kuwaiti Oil Field photos of GW1 fame spewing out from her hoop.
As was standard with any half decent skin flick that was rapidly doing the rounds it disappeared into thin air in that ‘porno roulette’ game you play in the block where tentatively lending out your finest skin flicks could result in you never seeing it again, which, as in my case left me short of primo shuffle material and that eventually found me having to fish out my own trusty 'old faithful' bit of grumble, a battered old tape with a grey blank sticker on it I had bought in school years earlier for a fiver and a flint less Zippo lighter with a Metallica badge on the front that I’d found in a derelict hospital we used to fcuk about in (well I say ‘fcuk about’, it was being prepped for demolition so we had immense fun at 14 sneaking in through the fence line and, whilst completely hidden in various positions on different floors and shielded from view throwing chunks of masonry at the sole portacabin on site that housed the 2 near octogenarian security guards who would huff and puff like fcuk up and down the many empty floors searching in vain for us until we got either got bored and snuck off to cause bother elsewhere or had ensnared them into chasing us around the entire site as if in some Ealing comedy.)
My ‘old faithful’ contained 2 full hours of the typical of period grainy British porn, all wobbly camera work and bad sound and with a seriously off putting and continual off camera 'cockney geezer' type commentary throughout, between the lead dick swinger and the cameraman they filled the tape pretty consistently with near identical in content, hotel based single set pieces of a grubby 40 something black bloke in baggy multi coloured tracksuit bottoms, a vest and a comedy pony tail called Omar who sported a hugely impressive penis pretending to pick up random howlers on the streets of London with just a bit of cheeky small talk, after a quick cut scene to them sat in a moving black cab with Omar gleefully rubbing their porky thighs they were then poised to begin, stood in silence in what looked suspiciously like a Forte Hotel room where he then simply rutted away for 20 minutes pausing only to flip, twist, turn and manoeuvre the clearly bored gronk, lathered in heavy makeup and sporting 10 square foot of decorative stretch marks and who close to the end grimaced as if having a flu jab in the eyeball when Omar spat out his stringy white offering over their upturned grinner’s.
Shame though, internet porn is a complicated minefield and you can spend more time looking for something satisfactory to tug along too than pulling on your pud itself! I miss those halcyon days when a straight forward girl/girl scene or a bit of euro double penetration would satiate your NAAFI break shuffle needs, now I can’t even raise a smile unless some birds asrehole is being stretched to the size of a fruit bowl and is being spat into by a succession of what look like World of Warcraft players or if its something like a very dodgy and borderline legal video of a questionably aged teen crying her eyes out taking on a roomful of old men completely bareback, in all holes and being slapped about continuously with the soundtrack from Frozen on in the background drowning out her cries.
What were your porn highs and lows?
