Forrest gets sex-education lesson from a porn star

[ForrestGump]

I had an adventure today.

She was a very tall -- statuesque, I guess is the word -- rather beautiful black woman who pretty much exuded...well...sex, actually. I could feel her caught in the Elvis babe-capturing tractor beam and, sure enough, over she came. She was pretty touchy-feely from the outset -- this isn't unusual in Vegas, and certainly not when you're hanging out dressed like Elvis.

In fact, as an aside to single dudes out there, I heartily recommend that you move to Vegas and become Elvises if you want to become major sex machines of the shameless one- or two-night-stand variety...people come here and their inhibitions just fly out the window, often along with articles of clothing. They believe the marketing stuff that claims "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." I haven't once partaken in any of the opportunities presented me, despite part of me (guess which part) sometimes wanting to, because I am too chaste for my own good, and have been so even when my heart (and other pieces) were not soundly spoken for as they are now. But, really, that just leaves more for the rest of you. Come here to Vegas, baby, and become a sex symbol. Or a stand-in for one of the biggest, anyway. :D

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. So the usual amount of overt fondling went on -- not as extreme as some episodes in which I was lucky to escape with my renewed virginity intact -- and then she squatted down in front of me for a close-up look at my jumpsuit belt...she stayed down there an awfully long time (I began to wonder if, perhaps, she'd assumed this position before), her rather significant pectoral assets kind of mammogrammed out for my review by virtue of her position. Speaking of positions, I began to grow acutely self-conscious of our physical juxtaposition vis-a-vis the attention of others in the vicinity who were perhaps wondering what she was doing there, squatting before me at belt level. What a tease. She finally let me off the hook and took her jacket off before giving me a big hug (what she had under the jacket didn't cover much and I told her she'd better not take anything else off or we'd be arrested -- actually, I'm not even sure that's true in Vegas -- and I covered her near-nakedness with my cape when someone tried to get her picture with me). That's when she told me that she was used to being on film because she was an adult-movie actress and has done a lot of films.

There's a big adult-video convention in town here right now -- today's the last day -- and I didn't see too many of the people associated with it this time around (it gets pretty wild, with women running around in outfits slightly more scandalous than the norm here and some older producers who all look stunningly like Burt Reynolds and who actually wear big medallions that nestle in dense chest hair), but I spent quite a while today talking with a porn producer. He was a very interesting dude, a quadriplegic who's good friends with actress Nina Hartley (who sounds like a very intelligent, supremely cool, and charismatic lady -- something I've heard about her before). Anyway, my little (well, not so little, actually) friend was also with the convention. She was pretty cool, actually...I didn't mind the hanging all over me and all that because...well, because I'm male and I'm not dead, but also because she was just having fun and teasing and I'm pretty used to that sort of thing by now and don't take it especially personally. Actually, she'd fit right in here in The Lounge. :-) She mostly complained about how the stilettos she was wearing (that made her not a whole lot shorter than me) were killing her feet.

One funny thing was that, when she showed up, I was talking to a lady from Greensboro, NC, who started talking about churches and asking me churchy-type things...she told the stiletto babe that she was very beautiful but sort of retreated quickly and went away the first time that my friendly neighborhood porn actress began bumping and grinding up against me. I kind of liked the church lady, too, but I wasn't well prepared to talk about Baptist church groups, so it's probably just as well.

Anyway, this is where I got sexually educated: my new friend saw a joke sign that said something like "Pocketrocket Boulevard" and she asked me if I wanted to see her pocket rocket. I said "sure"...not having a clue as to what a pocket rocket was. She rummaged in her purse and came out with this thing that had a chromed ovoid ball attached by a wire to this rectangular unit. She placed the ball in the palm of my hand and turned it on...um...okay...so that's what a pocket rocket is. :blush:



Visual for anyone else as clueless as me -- this sucker vibrates pretty hard, too!

She compounded my blushiness by telling me that she uses it all the time and is always walking around with...well, let's just say that at that point I'm flirting with getting this thread locked, though I can say that I wondered if she'd washed it off after she last used it. This was a level of intimacy that I was not used to and I got a little discombobulated. She finally left, having educated (and embarrassed the hell out of) an Elvis for the day, and when she came back later she had no more sex toys to share with me, thank goodness. She did give me a kiss, though, on the cheek (I turned a little at the last moment to make sure it was on my cheek -- I've become very practiced at this!). :-)

This is a surreal place. I can't help but like it, weirdness and all. And freaky pocket rockets.

Seriously, all you unattached dudes looking for hedonistic '70s-style rampant sex, move here and be Elvis. Or a porn star...whichever. The attention is still a novelty for me, and I admit to getting a kick out of most of it (not all of it...some women go way too far and some of the really drunk ones sure get carried away and get scary). Given my history, it's probably therapeutic. It's interesting, too: I have met (and sometimes gotten to know, a little bit) people from all walks of life, from prostitutes to porn people to con artists to swingers to impersonators of all sorts of other stars to strippers to church ladies. A few days ago I even met the man in the moon -- yes, he seemed to be rather serious about it, adamant that he was the man in the moon that we see when we look skyward. Cool. It's amazing, the diversity of people here.

Yesterday I spent some time with a very cheerful boy who had no arms and no legs -- it looked like a congenital condition -- who is crazy about Elvis. He had a lot of family members with him and I was so happy that he and they were having fun and that I'd apparently made his day just by being done up like Elvis and talking with him, taking pictures with him, and all of that. It was sad, too -- I can't help but feel some of that -- but he really made my day with his spirit. Much as I enjoyed the flirtatious porn star, it's moments like those with that kid yesterday that really shine for me.

Viva Las Vegas, baby.