The Jefferson Theater
The Jefferson Theater
by Enrico Giamondi
PORTLAND, OR
This place really exists... The Jefferson theater. It is a full-fledged movie theater with 24 hour porn. I'm in Portland on business, and a colleague represents this place and tells me that I just gotta see it.....so, across town we go....
The Jefferson is the place to go when your home plasma-screen TV just doesn't give you the visual satisfaction of 5 foot tall genitalia. But five foot tall cock images are not the disturbing part.
I walk in, and I am slammed with the odor of poo. Feces. Shit. I thought I was gonna puke....but I suppose that nobody ever said that being a lawyer was easy. I cowboy up and continue.
To my left is a relatively attractive young female patron, on her knees, on the floor, sucking the dimunitive cock of a fat old man. Surrounding them is a group of troll-like perverts, leering, some of them drooling, some are beating off. They are all scary.
Scattered around the theater are some lone guys jacking off. Very matter-of-factly. As if there is nobody else there, just spankin' away with joy. Well, I don't know if I would call it "joy." I guess, its kind of like the way that plants face the sunlight - they don't seem happy, they just seem like that is how they should be. So this is what these perverts jacking off look like to me - plants - masturbating, sweaty plants that are exactly where they are supposed to be. There is something right about it - despite how utterly wrong the place sounds.
To my right, there is a creature. I would have thought it was an albino sea lion. But, I could tell that it wasn't because of the stretched out tattoos all over it. No, it was a fat tattooed woman.
Naked.
Getting gang-banged by five or six guys.
I can't look at it long enough to count how many are there, but it is certainly enough to satisfy this horny broad. She's moaning and shaking so much that I cannot tell what the image is that is tattooed on her floppy right breast. Bang, bang, slap, slap, squish, squish, flop, flop. It looks like this whole white tattooed bag of ectoplasm is about to bust open as the rolls of fat fall in between the nasty seats and the cock fiesta just skewers her.
Lets just say it wasn't arousing to watch. Well, not in a sexual way. More like I was aroused to wanna gag.
Every few minutes one of the guys unloads a cumshot on the sea-lion's face. Splurge. Splurge.
She gives an indication that I'm invited to join in the fun. I will admit, I am a perv., but even I have limits, and this display finally found the bottom of my barrel. I guess I should be flattered that a stranger wanted me to bust a baloney oyster on her face, but I actually try to politely back away. Back away like the way you back away from a rabid dog. Somehow I thought harm could actually come to me if the sea-lion bag of ectoplasm covered in random jizz wads got angry at me for not face-fucking her.
Oh, I'm pretty sure it gets worse, but I lost my ability to explore this place any further.
Behind a velvet curtain is the "gay room." I don't want to have to get therapy, so I don't venture in there. However, I can hear the slapping of balls on asses, so I guess that the poo smell is the byproduct of some very spirited gay sport fucking.
So, how was YOUR day at work?
-Enrico Giamondi
by Enrico Giamondi
PORTLAND, OR
This place really exists... The Jefferson theater. It is a full-fledged movie theater with 24 hour porn. I'm in Portland on business, and a colleague represents this place and tells me that I just gotta see it.....so, across town we go....
The Jefferson is the place to go when your home plasma-screen TV just doesn't give you the visual satisfaction of 5 foot tall genitalia. But five foot tall cock images are not the disturbing part.
I walk in, and I am slammed with the odor of poo. Feces. Shit. I thought I was gonna puke....but I suppose that nobody ever said that being a lawyer was easy. I cowboy up and continue.
To my left is a relatively attractive young female patron, on her knees, on the floor, sucking the dimunitive cock of a fat old man. Surrounding them is a group of troll-like perverts, leering, some of them drooling, some are beating off. They are all scary.
Scattered around the theater are some lone guys jacking off. Very matter-of-factly. As if there is nobody else there, just spankin' away with joy. Well, I don't know if I would call it "joy." I guess, its kind of like the way that plants face the sunlight - they don't seem happy, they just seem like that is how they should be. So this is what these perverts jacking off look like to me - plants - masturbating, sweaty plants that are exactly where they are supposed to be. There is something right about it - despite how utterly wrong the place sounds.
To my right, there is a creature. I would have thought it was an albino sea lion. But, I could tell that it wasn't because of the stretched out tattoos all over it. No, it was a fat tattooed woman.
Naked.
Getting gang-banged by five or six guys.
I can't look at it long enough to count how many are there, but it is certainly enough to satisfy this horny broad. She's moaning and shaking so much that I cannot tell what the image is that is tattooed on her floppy right breast. Bang, bang, slap, slap, squish, squish, flop, flop. It looks like this whole white tattooed bag of ectoplasm is about to bust open as the rolls of fat fall in between the nasty seats and the cock fiesta just skewers her.
Lets just say it wasn't arousing to watch. Well, not in a sexual way. More like I was aroused to wanna gag.
Every few minutes one of the guys unloads a cumshot on the sea-lion's face. Splurge. Splurge.
She gives an indication that I'm invited to join in the fun. I will admit, I am a perv., but even I have limits, and this display finally found the bottom of my barrel. I guess I should be flattered that a stranger wanted me to bust a baloney oyster on her face, but I actually try to politely back away. Back away like the way you back away from a rabid dog. Somehow I thought harm could actually come to me if the sea-lion bag of ectoplasm covered in random jizz wads got angry at me for not face-fucking her.
Oh, I'm pretty sure it gets worse, but I lost my ability to explore this place any further.
Behind a velvet curtain is the "gay room." I don't want to have to get therapy, so I don't venture in there. However, I can hear the slapping of balls on asses, so I guess that the poo smell is the byproduct of some very spirited gay sport fucking.
So, how was YOUR day at work?
-Enrico Giamondi
posted by Enrico Giamondi at 2:39 PM
10 Comments:
That is awesome! I'm going alone just for the smell of poo!
The theatre isn't really all that bad. Just depends on what day you go there. Not to mention, they are getting better about the whole cleaning thing. So no more poo smell. Email me. Twirrly_bird@yahoo.com
Don't get me wrong. I fully approve of the Jefferson Theater. In fact, I love the fact that it exists -- and I'd be disappointed if it were ever shut down.
You should try the Oregon Theater... its got bizarely stained couches instead of theater seats. Its the only other porn theater in portland. Being a woman I tend to avoid both places cuz the guys are pretty scary.
Just reading this I am beginning to smell poo!! Gross!! If you wanna see something really gorgous check out my sister's blogspot, www.danssara.blogspot.com and www.redrode.blogspot.com..some of it is in swedish though ..
I was there once and enrico's description is pretty much right on the money! (except for the "poo" smell...i didn't smell any)
It was like being in a dream...zombies with cock in hand staring at the very few women/couples in the theater, slowly milking their smallish and only semi-erect members...well, you know...
i'm from seattle and i'm heading back down there soon...i thought it was a blast! btw, I didn't touch or get touched - i just watched. but still, it was unlike any experience i'd ever had.
oh baby, can't wait to get back down to portland!
I gotta tell you...I love your writing and writing style. You had me laughing...a very witty commentary about a very unusual place.
Believe it or not, some very bautiful women play at the Jefferson. But, for the most part , the clientele is fairly representative of the human race. And, as Jack Nicholson siad: "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth."
That is friggin' hysterical. Well written, even. I've heard of this place before, but never been tempted to go. Now I'm even less tempted to go for any sort of sexual satisfaction, though my perverse sense of curiosity may get the best of me, in the same way that I get some sick entertainment out of searching Limewire for the word "funny" and finding videos like "Guy gets gored by bull; really funny!"
I am SOOOO tempted to go there---just need to plan my entry and escape. The thought always enters my mind---do I park on this street? do I wear shades at night and enter? :)
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