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ROKU AND INSIDE DEEP THROAT

Miscellaneous By: batfish
Mystery and crime



A quick review of INSIDE DEEP THROAT - DOCUMENTARY and a related short story.


Submitted:Mar 14, 2013    Reads: 59    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


I don't how many of you out there have a ROKU or maybe some of you don't even know what the hell a ROKU is - it's a little plastic device about as big as a hockey puck that streams online content to your TV - but I picked one up at Best Buy and I just love the little bastard.

Anyway, I streamed a great flick on there from NETFLIX called INSIDE DEEP THROAT. It's a documentary made back in 2005 about the porno classic DEEP THROAT. The damn thing cost only $25,000 to make and to date has grossed over $600 million bucks.

DEEP THROAT was made long before the VCR hit the market so you had to go to the theatre to see it. It was the first porn flick that went mainstream and had lines that went around the block at the theatres it was shown at and movie stars and other celebrities in major markets would often be seen standing in line. I guess it made it cool to been seen at a porno theatre although that didn't work out to well years later for Pee Wee Herman.

Banned in 23 states it was basically owned by the mob and theatres who screened it would have a couple of shady characters show up once a week demanding half of their weekly take in cash. Refuse and risk getting your legs broken or your establishment burnt to the ground.

The plot was assinine - Linda Lovelace was a hot chick who supposedly has her clit down in the back of her throat thus giving her the excuse to give deep throat head to all the dudes in the film - but that's beside the point. I always thought in her day old Linda was quite a babe and how many skin flicks have you ever seen that had a good plot?

Anyway, this film is highly rated and well worth checking out - make sure you get the NC-17 cut.

Linda Lovelace and DEEP THROAT actually helped inspire a chapter in SNORTING THE DEVIL'S DANDRUFF - I've included a chapter sample....

......Bobby responded by opening his mouth and

barfing a geyser of beer and bad Mexican food all

over the old queer. We both vaulted off of our

stools and ran out the door screaming and laughing

like hyenas and tore down the block until we found

ourselves, like a vision from God, in front of the

legendary PussyCat theater. Deep Throat had

played non-stop there for years. It was a double

feature, the second show was called I Cream On

Jeanne. I was hoping that Barbara Eden was really

in it. She had been the subject of many of my stroke

dreams. Thinking back, how in even my LSD

addled mind did I think that Barbara Eden would be

performing in a porno film?

"I gotta see this flick," Bobby said, "I heard

this chick Linda Lovelace can go down on a mule

and not bat an eye."

After getting our tickets I went to take a leak

while Bobby went to the concession stand. Like I'd

eat anything that was sold in a porno theater. The

walls of the bathroom were covered with graffiti

and with the phone numbers of men who either

wanted me to call them so they could blow me or

visa versa.

"What in the hell is wrong with this

goddamn town," I wondered as I pissed all over my

shoes looking at all the amateur porno scrawled on

the walls. The majority of them poorly done

renditions of stick men with massive cocks, balls,

and exposed assholes. If the theater was showing

just regular old porno flicks - guy on girl, girl on

girl - why was all the graffiti homo related? Another

question for the ages.

Bobby was waiting for me in the lobby,

rocking from one foot to the other. He had bought a

box of World War II era malted milk balls and was

eating them with his mouth wide open. I had to

swallow back my gag reflex. What a disgusting

sight!

The theater was one of those old time places

that had gone to shit and now showed only skin

flicks around the clock. Fucking place must have

held two thousand people at one time in it's glory

years and now there were about fifteen in the whole

joint. Me and Bobby, eleven single men, and two

either really ugly women or two transvestites who

were wildly making out.

I didn't give a shit though! Man, once I

started to watch that Linda Lovelace, who was short

in the tit department but fine in the ass and bush, get

down with old Harry Reems, I was sporting a piece

of wood that Rod Carew could have used to knock

out a homer at the old Met stadium. The urge to

jerk-off off was intense. I just had to beat my meat,

just had to, but I couldn't with Bobby next to me.

What shitty luck I was having.

"Look at them ugly chicks swapping spit,"

Bobby yelled out. No one in the audience as much

as turned around. "Goddamn that ain't right! What

would Jesus do if he saw that?" (If that dumb

asshole had only been able to see into the future he

could've thrown a trademark on that one.

Advertising firms could have dosed Bobby with

acid and he would envision future marketing

slogans). Suddenly without warning he stood up and

stepped out into the aisle and hurled a milk ball as

hard as he could at the two spit swappers. It shot

over their heads by fifteen feet. The place was

cavernous, no one even heard it hit. Or cared for

that matter.

The next time he wound up like he was

trying out for the Yankees, even going through the

whole wind up with the kick and everything, but his

throw was way over their heads. Eventually

throwing the box empty, Bobby turned and ran up

the aisle for more ammo. Eureka! I took the

opportunity to un-zip and pull out my crank. I'm

sure this was illegal but since I had noticed about

everyone in the place appeared to be either beating

their hogs or someone else's it must not be too well

enforced. I was really getting into it when out of the

corner of my eye I spied Bobby moving down the

center aisle firing malted milk balls like a submachine

gun. His hand would dip into the box, he'd

fire, and then take another step down the aisle. The

acid in my brain gave the milk balls the visual effect

of being shout out of a bazooka along with a bright

orange tracer. Very cool looking. But he was still

way off the mark and I was about on mine when

suddenly...

"What the fuck?" someone shouted. The two

transvestites were out of their seats and running up

the aisle towards Bobby. Obviously he had finally

hit his target. The sons of bitches were a lot bigger

than they looked sitting down. They charged up the

aisle looking like linebackers wearing nylons, wigs,

nightclub dresses, and high heels. The three of them

went down in a pile of punches, curses, and kicks.

I don't know if it was the combination of the

acid, sweet Linda up on the screen giving it her all,

or the adrenaline of the fight - but I shot to my feet

and shot a wad that arched

over at least two rows and landed right on this old

dude's neck!

He stood and shrieked like a wounded deer,

with his pants hanging down to his knees, his white

ass glowing in the dark as white as the moon.

"What the hell was that?" He screamed out again as

if battery acid had been poured on his neck.

Without stopping to look, I bolted up the

aisle as I jammed my prick back into my jeans at

the same time. I ran straight through the lobby and

out the left side lobby doors just as two cops came

in the right side of the lobby. I sprinted like an

Olympic track and field star packing a full load of

steroids, all the way back to the hotel.......





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