Its been a long while since I bought a porn mag/ tape, but back in my adolescence my porn was as hard to find as a WMD in Basra. Video cases were discarded, labels ripped off and the tape itself hidden in a shoebox, under the shoes, in the bottom of the wardrobe, with a load of clothes stacked on top. Mags were folded and stored in the box my N64 came in, with the epilespsy warnings/ forthcoming games leaflets on top. This box was then stored at the very top of the closet, wedged to the top. Seems we guys can get pretty ingenius when it comes to this sort of thing; did anyone else have really secret stashes? If not of porn, then pot, or whatever contraband you had.
I’ll lay some good odds your mom still knew where it was.
We only think we are clever. Father may know best, but mom knows all.
My mom found a magazine I had when I was thirteen. She told me to get rid of it, but did not turn it into a huge issue. (My dad would have worn out his belt on my behind.) She finally told me in my twenties that she knew where my stash was as a teenager. (Just don’t ask how that became the subject of the conversation.) By then, she considered it a sign of growing up. I would guess that depends on how old you are also at the time.
SDMB moms? Any input? Have you ever found your sons/husbands stash? What did you do?
The best hidding place was in plain sight. I would replace the edge label with a name too boring to attract any attention… something no one would want to watch, and place it in the rack with the rest. 
I never had the balls to try this.
Well, most of my early porn was digital in nature, and since both of my parents are terminally computer illiterate (my mom’s gotten better; my dad, inexplicably, had gotten worse) there was never any real “danger” of them finding it. But then, my parents didn’t care if I had porn in the first place, anyway, so even after I started getting hard-copies, I never took extraordinary measures to hide it, just kept it out of sight to maintain a sense of decorum.
Even so, that didn’t always work. One time when my three year old cousin was over, she was told to find a video to watch to keep her quiet. She went into my room and came out with a copy of Butt Sluts 23.
:smack:
Hmmm. That would either keep her real quiet with her mouth hanging open, or she would be rapidfire “Mommy! Why are they doing that! Mommy! Where are their clothes! Mommy! Daddy’s penis hangs straight down and is floppy, but that man’s penis looks like its made of steel! Why? Mommy! He sneezed on her! From down there! Why?”
Hmmm. But there would be the future hilarity of hearing a cheerful three year old singing cheesy porn theme song music “Bum chicka bum baaaaaa…” at pre-school.
And digital porn when you were younger? Kids today. We had to make do with a purloined Penthouse that we found in the woods. And digital porn was somethign that was done with your fingers…
My brother was a step up from that. He worked at a video store and had a moive collection like no other. Yes, a number of porns were in that collection as well. In alphabetical order no less. Now that takes balls.
** Clerks **
** Debbie does Dallas **
** E.T. **
:eek:
Heh. I always used to joke that the you can always tell which tapes were a guy’s porno stash because they always had two distinguishing factors:
- Really boring labels written on them in pen or marker (Aunt’s Wedding, Rock Videos, 14th Century Bavarian Cabinet Building, etc) and
- An incongruous level of use–battered case, scratches, etc.
Ha, you want to feel really old? I say more or less the same thing to people younger than me. “Dedicated porn websites with streaming video? Kids today. We had to make do with swapping low-resolution gifs over all-text BBS that we connected to with our 24.4 dial-up modems! And we liked it!”
Oh the days when surfing the web for pornography consisted of finding multi-part text files on Usenet binaries sites and linking them and converting them to pictures. Took about 3 minutes per boob!
My Dad, I guess, thought he had his porn pretty well hidden, and no one in our family ever really talked about it until after he was gone, but it turns out that that everyone in the house knew exactly where to find it.
Now, I live by myself, so if I’ve got any porn around (and I’m not saying I do :rolleyes: ) I don’t really have to do all that much to hide it.
Everyone knows it’s wakka chikka wah waow, wakka chikka waow."
My DVD collection is pretty small at only 34 movies and one series but it’s arranged in alphabetical order and is bookended by A is for Asia and Waikiki Wackoff, my only porn.
Clearly you’re unfamiliar with the Butt Sluts ouevre. As should be obvious from the title, it’s all about the “bum chicka bum.”
I had a pretty ingenious hiding spot that only poor craftmanship revealed:
In the bathroom, above the toilet, was a wicker cabinet that my mother had painted and hung up quite sturdily to store hand towels and washcloths on. By pulling on one side near the bottom, one could create a large enough gap to fit a magazine, which could be recovered by pulling the other side away from the wall.
Of course, I won’t get into the added convenience of having my stash in the bathroom…
I forgot all about it eventually and years later while visiting my mother, I at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth and she in the doorway talking to me, the cabinet succumbed to time and fell from the wall and broke apart, leaving the magazine stuck to the wall (not because of that, you perv) for a good 30 seconds before it too finally fell.
When I was 17, I pretty much took care of my own stuff. I mean I did my own laundry, changed my own bedding, dusted, cleaned and vacuumed my room. I did this to give my parents no reason to spend any time in there. Tacked up on my clset door, right behind where my bedroom door opened, was a pullout centerfold from Exposé (Motto: Hides Nothing! An out-and-out lie! There were black dots all over the damned thing. Including one on this particular picture, just over, well, never you mind what it was over). One day I left my sportcoat downstairs. You wouldn’t think such a small thing would turn out to be such a huge mistake. Nevertheless…
The rest of the magazine I had were wedged into my Ambassador[sup]®[/sup] Stamp Album. My copy of Oui with the blonde in the motorcycle outfit was in France. The Playboy with the female surfing champion went in the “Pacific Nations” section. Exposé was in Libya, IIRC, just for balance.
Tell me about it. Back in my day, we use to be happy with stealing a Playboy from our older cousin.
My porn was ingeniously hidden in a empty shoe box under my bed. This is deceptively simple since I also had about a dozen other shoe boxesfilled with photos, knick-knacks and old shoes. A spin on the too obvious to be true logic.
These days I have my porn ingeniously hidden in a place I like to call my F: Drive. Curiously, if I still lived at home this would be the equivalent of a bank vault to my parents.
If you take out the bottom drawer of your dresser you have a nice space to story the scores of magazines I had acquired.
Also good was inside the couch. You push down on the sides and you can slip them up into the arm or the back.
But my best stash was my dads. Videos and everything. These pornos all had that cheesy 70s music that was like a rip-off of the Carpenter’s or what not. Some were pretty catchy. I had to make sure I never, ever sang those though.
For the longest time, my best friend and I had a deal: if one of us died while still living with her parents, the other would do her best to purge all of the porn and/or pot from the dead girl’s bedroom before her parents found it. She was the only one who knew where all of my stashes and keys and things were, and vice-versa.