Schooled In Porn- Part 1

images (1)Woodfarm High School, ah yes, when I think back, some happy years spent in that place. From the age of 11 to 15, a transition of sorts from primary, or elementary school, into senior high, which was to come at the age of 15 1/2. Situated in a leafy suburb of Glasgow, right in the  center of a middle class housing estate, where I lived and all of my pals lived too. We all went to the same school, all of us, except Howard, whose parents had their sights set on him being a brain surgeon. He attended a private school called Hutchesons Grammar, a school which I had the privilege of attending for 8 months before being kicked out. But that’s another story. The best thing about going to school were the stories that everyone used to make up and then dream about. The number one wish amongst all pupils was the hope that their school actually would one day, burn down, and this, believe it or not, was just what happened to me at Woodfarm High. In my final year, one night, the school was raised to the ground. Amazing!!! But really not too good. It destroyed all of us. I used to walk 3 minutes to get to school and then, half way through that fateful year, poof! It was all gone, and, after a two-week hiatus, we were all being bussed 10 miles to a stand in facility, filled with over crowded class rooms. It did nothing for my education and I ended up becoming more than just a below average student, I ended up a Porn star, or perhaps it was a Pimp of sorts. I like to believe I was just a librarian, but that’s a moot point all these years later.

Before you jump to the wrong conclusion, let me explain. I wasn’t born with a 12 inch penis, huge testicles, or indeed a Charles Atlas body. I never had the best looks in the world, the nicest hair, or a fabulous mouth. I was however blessed with the best sense of entrepreneurship known to mankind. The kind that never goes away, the sort that other people can only admire enviously from a distance. I was, Donald MacTrump, Larry McFlint, all rolled into one, and I was about to get very rich for a 15-year-old who had nothing but huge cajones.(read balls, for all you ignorant non-Spanish speaking immigrants out there)

Sitting in math class one afternoon, Gary McVey, who always sat in the seat next to me in that particular subject, turned round and asked me a very simple question. We were both 14, had never kissed a girl and were as raw and ready as we could be for any action either of us could get at that age. Some of the boys in our year had boasted of their sexual exploits, most of which had turned out to be complete BS, but it would be several years before I would find this out or they were man enough to acknowledge that fact. Gary was very close to a girl called Fiona and was desperate to go out with her. In those days, we were too young to drive, too old to be taken by our parents, so it was a kind of ‘stuck in the middle’ age, where you did what you could and you dared what you had, in order to get a feel or a kiss or just hold hands in the play ground at recess. The teacher, Mr. Finlay, commonly known as Mr. Knob, AKA Penis, was at his blackboard, placing incomprehensible equations  in white chalk, for all of us to see and then solve (no chance!) when Gary turned to me and said these immortal words.

“If we get erections, what do women get?”

Without even thinking, and only because I’d been allowed by my parents to watch a James Burke special,(he was the science correspondent on the BBC at that time), on venereal disease and unprotected sex, I turned to Gary and said out loud, “Their nipples get hard”.

Gary looked at me, Mr. Knob placed his chalk on his desk, Fiona, Gary’s future never-to-be girlfriend, who sat right in front of us, turned her head towards us, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment.   And then, the never to be forgotten words of Mr. Knob, resonated, not only across our math room, but right down the corridors of power into the principles office. We called him Headmaster, not principle.

“Zoltie, do you have something you’d like to share with us this afternoon?”

“Nope”

“No what?” came his stern response.

“No Sir!” and underneath my desk I clicked my heels together, thinking out loud, ‘fucking Nazi’

Mr. Knob and I were now in a power play, and Mr. Knob wasn’t about to lose. He called me out in front of 32 other pupils, took out his forked tongue leather belt and asked me to place my hands way out in front of my chest. The belt, ah yes, the belt. An antiquated form of school punishment, outlawed in the latter 1970’s or early 1980’s by the EU. Kept in the teachers top drawer for occasions just like this one. The secret when receiving three lashes, was to dip your top hand (you had your hands crossed, one palm underneath the other),towards the floor in one fluid motion on the downward swing of the belt. The downwards stroke from the teacher with his belt, barely touching the downwards motion of your palm and thus inflicting little pain and minimizing each blow. Mr. Knob however knew this and boy did he whack me!

Head down, wry smile and self-esteem intact, I returned to my desk, where Gary had drawn, or should I say attempted to draw a set of woman’s breasts, in pencil, on his notepad. He’s placed long erect nipples right in the center of each one, and he whispered to me, “let’s go and buy some porno mags” And that, my friends, is how my porn career began. It happened by accident, and it happened so fast, but when it did happen, it turned me from a quite shy and withdrawn child into a porn icon, respected by not only the boys, bullies included, but the girls too. A magical transition, worthy of a Disney movie. Well, perhaps not Disney, more Wicked Pictures. Within weeks I was destined to go from a complete unknown into Mr. Cool. I was also on the verge of making a fortune, a fortune I had no idea what to do with or how to behave. It was something so unpredictable, so enthralling and so incredible, that when it was all over, I looked back and really said, ‘did that just happen to me?’

Not only did it happen, not only did I live it, day by day, but my bank balance grew larger, my reputation grew more plausible and my head grew into one very savvy of it’s purpose in life. I thanked God every night for Playboy, Mayfair, Fiesta. All very inexpensive but also highly inaccessible porno magazines, for anyone under the age of 18. My entire life, its course, its purpose, came to fruition, all because of that one stupid question that Gary had asked. And this ladies and gentlemen is what happened next……

To be continued next week.

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