Philadelphia Story

by B'Ellana Marie Duquesne

 

This story begins over twenty years ago in Philadelphia. It was a time when my first wife and I had just been transferred to Philadelphia from FT. Wayne, Indiana. We both had been hoping that we would be sent somewhere closer to Washington D.C and there were tears when we found out our next home would be in what she called "dirty, filthy" Philadelphia. There were a lot of tears all the time back then. The marriage was coming to an end, even if we didn't quite know it then, and the transfer was just something else to add to our problems.

About a year after the transfer, at the end of a business trip, I found myself at Penn Station. It was one of those majestic monuments to early twentieth century capitalism located in Center City Philadelphia at 33^rd street and Market St.

You see, I have a special thing for train stations. I grew up in New York. My dad ran a restaurant inside the Long Island Rail Line's Station in Brooklyn. I broke up and said goodbye to my first love underneath the high ceiling arches of Penn Station in New York. My grandfather was a fireman for the Atlantic Coast Rail Line. I adore train stations!

Train stations give me a feeling like no other place can. It's a feeling that I find difficult to describe. Just like Arlo Guthrie's song "City of New Orleans" there's a groove, a controlled excitement at a train station. It's a rush, but it still has such a soothing rhythm. As the different sounds of the arrivals and departures hum there own steady rhythm of footsteps and doors opening, and airbrakes, and wheels churning, all the time keeping a schedule with clockwork precision. I'd listen to it all, and in my mind I'd hear Guthrie singing "As the sons of Pullman porters, and the sons of engineers, ride their father's magic carpets made of steel."

Sitting there. Humming that song. ("This train's got the disappearing railroad blues") Staring at the marble carvings around monstrous pillars that easily extended forty feet into the air only to empty into arches crossing into up and over and around even more marble sculpture, I was remembering the day I said goodbye to Colleen my very first true love.

I was only seventeen. Having a girlfriend at all when you attend a boy's only military school requires considerable effort. (Military school was my dad's answer to his son's curiously feminine interests) Getting an "away pass", finding time and transportation, etc., was sometimes impossible. Now, Colleen was moving away to White Plains, N.Y. about a hundred miles away which might as well been thousands, for all we'd get to see each other. There we were in the rain. Me still in my school uniform, looking like some WWII GI riding a train off to fight for the girl next door (or in White Plains), feeling like Humphrey Bogart standing in the Paris train station after he reads Ingrid Bergman's note telling him she won't be meeting him in Casablanca. I just love director Michael Curtiz's shot of Bogy staring pathetically at the note, as the rain-washed the ink from the paper.

I'm sitting there running this scene through my head, trying to figure out how my director's eye would have shot my parting kiss with Colleen. (I was leaning toward a Hitchcock style like the one he used with Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart in "Vertigo", and Brian Depalma used later in "Body Double") when I heard the words every train traveler fears.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I call your attention to track 2. Train number 69 - Amtrak train, - Broadway - with service from Washington D.C. to New York City has been delayed for at least 4 hrs".

"Four hours" I thought, feeling a little smug because I had decided to go to New York the night before my morning meeting. I was patting myself on the back for being smart enough to allow time for such a problem in the schedule, and at the same time upset because I had four extra hours to spend in Philadelphia instead of New York. I thought about the bar in the station. (What's a train station without a good bar?) But the place was starting to get full, and alcohol has never been my drug of choice. What has always been my drug of choice was waiting for me in the ashtray of my car. I had a little "toke" on a joint before I entered the station. To sort of help me catch the rhythm of the train station. No longer needing to possess intelligence for at least another four hours, I figured a little more "help" catching the rhythm wouldn't be such a bad thing.

So on a rainy day, sitting with the windshield wipers moving to the beat of Grover Washington, smoking a joint, I saw a sign that would begin a twenty year film going experience…., SEKA & JOHN HOLMES IN "BLONDE FIRE" - RATED XXX.

Now here was an opportunity. I had tried to see "Deep Throat" a few years back, but the state I lived in when it was released (Virginia), only permitted an edited version that made a bad movie that much worse. I had seen "The Devil in Ms. Jones" the year before in New York and was suitably impressed with the production values and the performances. If there can be such a thing as a golden age of erotic film, it began with "The Devil in Ms Jones". I had seen a few 8mm silent shorts at Frat smokers and bachelor parties, but nothing like Ms Jones's Georgina Spelvin giving head. Alternately, kissing, licking, stroking, sucking an elongated stiff cock. All the time, speaking to it. Offering a soliloquy delivered with a convincing depth and passion that could rival Olivier's Hamlet. Demosthenes taught his orators by having them speak amidst the roar of the sea with marbles in their mouths. Wonder how he'd feel listening to Georgina convincingly talk of her love for "this long hot cock" as she runs her mouth all over the biggest rod I'd ever seen. Not to mention a blowjob I never could have imagined in a thousand years. It had athletics – I'd never even read about someone "deep-throating" and then extending the tongue to massage the balls. There was passion – her performance had you really believing that this was the best cock in the universe. She kissed it lovingly, slowly, quickly, long wet kisses, short firm kisses, she spoke to it between kisses, up, down, around. She spoke in between the sounds of slurping, and licking, and the wonderful sound of a woman's voice talking with a mouthful of cock!

I hadn't seen any other adult films since that day in New York. Now, I had four hours and even if it was a terrible movie, I figured could always leave. It was a time before the VCR (can you remember?) when adult theatres were still in any neighborhood and across from the station was convenient enough. Besides I had a very good "buzz" on.

One of the first things I learned about adult theatres that day was that it doesn't matter what time the film starts. "Continuos showings" the sign said. The ticket taker just said, "Go ahead in".

I waited for my eyes to adjust and then found an aisle seat in a sparsely occupied row. I finally focused on the screen and saw the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in any adult film. A young Seka with a make up and hair treatment that made her look angelic, was writhing in ecstasy. It was an overhead shot on white satin sheets with enough blue lighting to accentuate the blue eyes and the light blue bra and garter set. There was a lighter blue lace across the top of the blue satin bra and at the edges of the garter, which she attached to white lace-top stockings and a pair of white sling backs. Holmes was massaging her nipples as he loosened the bra. They strained against the lace as he licked each of the nipples alternately, and then freed them from their beautiful lace prisons so they could be massaged by him and then her. Her face was full passion and so much empathy I clearly began to identify the female "character" (There was some plot about a detective and a diamond but Porn plots aren't exactly memorable).

I am mesmerized by the camera's new point of view, which is essentially the female eye. Looking down you could see this cock entering and stroking in and out, I was watching not sure if this is some incredible directorial device or if I'm just plain stoned. I'm stoned enough and the film is good enough I cease to care and reality is suspended enough for me to get lost in the images that move before me. I 'm happy to enjoy the point of view. I look down with her as she extends two perfectly manicured fingers down her stomach across the garter and scissor-grips the cock moving in and out of her, and in one smooth motion bringing her fingers up to massage her clitoris.

I could feel the fire in my own crotch and just when I thought both she and I were going to explode, she moved off the actor's cock and begins to suck his cock with a technique beyond my imagination. A few homophobic alarms went off, but this vicarious experience was to good to be stopped by thinking too much. I just sank into the darkness imagining it was me like Seka who was taking that huge stiff dick and moving that big head over her lips. I imagined moving my mouth back and forth and taking a hand and stroking the lower shaft. Lightly stroking those beautiful nails along a tight scrotum.

The camera mercifully pulled back so I could see her beautiful legs under her ass. Down on her knees, her round ass on top of those heels. I watched in amazement as the cameras panned over the lace-topped stocking and the matching blue satin and lace garter and bra with those beautiful breasts popping out over the loosened bra. She ran her mouth and tongue along the underside of his cock and then managed to get both hands on the huge cock stroking it while sucking and licking the head. I could tell Holmes was ready to explode.

It was right then that I saw my first (what I later learned the industry calls) "facial". Holmes shot right on her lips while she was kissing the head of his cock. Out spurted a huge load of jizz as she continued to stroke and suck his cock. She might have swallowed some I couldn't be sure. She was convincing though. Her face was soon covered with the stuff as she milked him dry, sucking him between strokes that would produce another shot of semen. It would then spurt over her face. Semen kept running back onto the huge cock, which she would then suck, and toward the end, pull and milk until she had produced a "pearl" on the end of his dick. She then and licked and swallowed the pearl after slowly running her tongue underneath his cock from the base to the tip catching the pearl the end.

I could spend the entire tale telling you about that movie but this story is about my love of erotic film and a later episode in this theatre in particular. That scene was actually toward the end of the film, the cinematic climax so to speak. The movie ended with the obligatory group sex scene.

What was notable though, were the "coming attractions". I've always loved movie trailers. There is a wonderful exhibit at MGM Disney that shows the movie previews from all the great MGM films while the tourists wait the usual 30 minutes to ride the "Great American Movie Ride". The trailers in porn theatres (if they still show them) reduce porn films to their "cum shots" letting the patrons know the stars and the various types of acts they might expect. Myself, I made sure there were plenty of black nylons and high heels being worn when I perused the trailers for possible future viewing.

So I will leave this scene with one last image, that being the first time I saw the actress (in my humble opinion, a real actress not just a porn "star") Vanessa Del Rio for the first time. Vanessa was a big voluptuous Latina woman probably a 5'10" or taller, size 12/14 with 40–26-38 measurements. In my imagination, I could see myself as her. I would later see every one of her films, which she would make over the course of the next 10 – 15 years, a remarkable run in that business. Because of her looks, I was so intrigued by how easily I could identify with her. She was also blessed with a clitoris the size of most women's thumbs. (I do not exaggerate). The preview they showed was a porn film classic called "Her Name Was Lisa".

What I remember to this day is the shot of Vanessa straddled over a cock, as her male partner lay on the bed with his knees at the edge of the bed and his feet on the floor. She stood there at the edge of the bed a vision in her black nylons and 3inch black pumps. Stroking his cock and rubbing the head of his penis against the head of her enormous clit. She then took a perfectly manicured finger from her other hand and rubbed the fingertip at the underside of the cock making small circles at the spot where the circumcised hood meets the penis opening. It was if she was fingering her clit by remote control. The sight of Vanessa In her beauty standing there with that cock in her hand the subsequent cum shot with the head of the penis exploding and drenching that lovely clitoris with cream, will live with me forever and remains my female sexual fantasy. If I ever find myself in a female sexual role (who knows what fate will bring) I envision myself duplicating that scene and drench my own "clit" with my partner's love juice.

I continued to go back to that theatre for about a year. I made note of the coming attractions and often checked their ads in the local papers. I eventually stopped going there. First because, after about a year of attending this theatre without a word being spoken to me, I was propositioned in the men's room by a fellow film aficionado. (Homophobia at work again I suppose) Secondly, I was transferred to Cleveland and bought a VCR (not necessarily in that order).

What I really wanted to tell was what happened almost 15 years later. You see, I was scheduled to travel from New York to Atlantic City but I decided to stop over In Philadelphia. Rent a car, and drive to Atlantic City. I traveled by train whenever I could make my schedule fit. So as I pulled my rented car out of the Philly train station train station, I drove down Market Street fully expecting my favorite old theatre to have been turned into law offices or something, and there was the theatre marquee… Jeanna Fine in "Shocked" rated XXX.

Not only was the theater still there, but one of my favorite films was showing. It was a rare film effort in the era of videotape. Featuring one of my favorite new breed porn stars and a film that I had always wanted to see on a very large screen.

Of, course part of the reason I wanted to stop over the night before my meeting was the opportunity to dress. I often packed my "other suitcase" while away on business travel, but I rarely left the hotel room, particularly if the hotel would be one associated with my job. Most likely I would order room service in. Get dressed. Smoke a joint, and have a quiet dinner alone followed by an in-room movie and then bed. (And perhaps a session of what Bernadette Peters called "making love alone") That night, however, I would be going out to the movies!

I checked into my hotel on Ben Franklin Parkway and changed immediately. I had shaved my legs and chest before I left town that morning. I had just bought a black nylon "body stocking", and while it made bathroom trips a little complicated, it did a great job giving my legs, ass, and tummy a decent shape. It also did a good job of holding my male member in place down the side of my leg. (No many how many times I've tried, even with a "gaff", I just can't get that thing comfortably tucked between my legs – straight down works best for me) The sensation of the smooth black nylon all over my body was so delicious I could barely finish getting dressed. It was early fall and I put on a black sleeveless low cut knit dress underneath a red double-breasted blazer. The dress fell about three or four inches above the knee, short but not ridiculous. A little surgical tape and makeup provided serious looking cleavage and helped make the neckline/bustline very sexy. After a little time, I worked with my hair (no wig just a blow dry styling change from curly to straight adding about two more inches to the length) and makeup till I felt secure enough to brave the hotel elevator and lobby. I slipped on my favorite pair of shoes ever (2 ½" sandals with two thick ankle straps and criss-cross strap heel- given away -sigh! to my hairdresser during a purge). I ordered dinner. Then I rolled and smoked a joint while I waited for my nails to dry.

I left after dinner. I'd usually spend a little time enjoying the sensation of after dinner appetite satisfaction, often just smoking and enjoying the feel of the nylon on my crossed legs rubbing against themselves. Tonight though, my heart was pounding with anticipation. My first anxious moment was in the elevator. Three business types got into the elevator right after I did. I was a little reassured because so little eye contact was made. I had done a good job with the tape and the chest makeup. Wearing the above the knee length hemline, and a 40 D bra, I don't think any of the other three pairs of eyes on the elevator made it above my bustline. I particularly enjoyed the way they all deferred to me and let me leave the elevator first. I could almost feel their eyes staring at my ass as I walked to the lobby. If any of the hotel staff had me "read" they certainly didn't let on. I left the hotel as one of the bellmen got a cab for me.

"Penn Station" I said in my best female voice. I really haven't mastered a second voice for myself, but I've found cab drivers to be an agreeable group in general and are usually polite even if they might have read you. I walked into the station and almost made it to the inside of the bar, but anxiety took over and I decided that I wasn't ready for the Penn Station bar just yet. Instead, I walked the block and a half around the station parking lot and over to the theatre on Market Street.

I paid the admission and was met by a uniformed usher. I hadn't remembered ever seeing an usher in years back, but I went mostly during the afternoon hours, and it was late evening now. So I thought, maybe they keep one on duty in the evenings to discourage "Hi-jinks". He pointed his flashlight at an aisle seat and I took it. The film was just starting. Jeanna was doing the Marylyn Monroe scene where she begins singing Happy Birthday to the film's protagonist and ends up begging him to let her suck his cock. The scene ends in a slow motion "facial" just as she removes her blond wig to reveal she is not the Marylyn Monroe fantasy icon but actually a raven tressed Jeanna Fine. Director, Michael Ninn's style is superb (although a little to "anal" for my taste), but I was just a little too wound up to pay too much attention to what was on the screen.

I crossed my legs so I could see my shoes over my knee in the dim movie light. Goddess how I loved those shoes! I looked around and noticed that the immediate area surrounding my seat was becoming very popular. As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that the nice little porn theatre I remembered had certainly changed. More than a few men were openly masturbating!

Immediate panic set in and I got up to leave. Walking up the aisle I met the usher who told me "don't worry miss, no one here's going to bother you". He took his flashlight and pointed to an area of fairly empty seats and I took another seat on the aisle. The usher took a seat about three rows behind me and used his flashlight to keep the flow of new theatre patrons and old ones changing seats for a better view of moi at a respectful distance of 3 or 4 seats.

It didn't take long for the action around me to become as intense as the action on the screen. I can't really describe the sensation of being surrounded by about twenty men all stroking themselves with me being the center of their attention. It certainly isn't arousal. Fear, panic and sanity doubting are only the beginning. I actually found a little pity for these poor slobs. I noticed that while all of them were stroking themselves, only a few had genuine erections. I sank into my chair. Crossed my legs so my heel was in the aisle and slowly ran my nails over my calf that f aced the aisle. I could distinctly hear the increase in breathing on the other side of the aisle as I repeated this "scratching".

I was beginning to experience a bizarre sense of power. I experimented with crossing and uncrossing my legs. Leaning toward one side of the aisle then the other. Each movement would produce hushed sighs and moans and the occasional unmistakable sound of orgasm. I didn't know what to make of it. I was drunk with the power but scared shitless!

I was just about to leave when a young man sat in the seat directly in front of me. I don't know if anyone asks for ID at the door but this young thing didn't look the 21 years old it said on the front door. But he immediately caught my eye in the pale movie light and I looked at him and his cock, which he produced almost as soon as he sat down. His eyes were pleading asking for something. His penis had not gotten hard yet and I was sure he was silently asking for something. Well! Even if I were going to make him my first, it certainly wouldn't have been there in that place, but his look kept me from leaving.

My favorite scene was about to start. The movie's heroine (I actually forget her name. I haven't been able to keep up with the new performers as well as the old stars) begins a scene of some sort of initiation ritual. No dialogue, but a great New Age music sound track. Pretty lush for porn complete with string section and at least 32 studio produced tracks. A fairly nice piece of music beginning softly as our heroine is delivered to the front steps of some country estate obviously dedicated to equestrian pursuits. She is received by a hostess dressed in Classic English riding gear complete with jodhpurs, riding crop and riding hat with a sexy black lace veil draping down over her eyes. In typical Michael Ninn slow motion and soft focus, the music builds as our traveler is led to a room surrounded in mirrors. There a team of maids dressed in their oh so sexy maid's uniforms (black lace stocking tops and garters peering out from the short petticoats of a French maid uniform has always been special for me) slowly and carefully undress her. Leaving her wearing nothing but her own black lace topped stockings and 3" patent leather pumps.

The maids lead her naked to still another room this one filled with about a half dozen of the most beautiful women modern medical technology can produce. Each of them wearing some PVC vinyl stockings that formed a boot with their own 3' heels. On their heads they wore some sort of hood, all of them with a long black "pony-tail" coming out of the top of the hood and a matching long black tail emerging from a bright red butt plug that each of them had in their asses. The action is still in slow motion with the rhythm of the music developing a synchronicity between the actresses and the music. The main character is gently led by the hand and delivered from the maids to these equestrian priestesses. They immediately begin stroking her body making sure there is not a single inch left untouched by their hands or mouths. Our very willing sacrifice opens her legs as they insert a shiny metal probe into her vagina. The probe is about the size of a dildo but smooth and polished bright like silver. It has a second section with a metal ring and a plunger (like the inside if a hypodermic syringe). The women insert the probe and pump the syringe as if extracting the juices from her womb. Then they would remove the inside of the probe leaving the outside sheath inside our heroine and licking the oval shaped ball at the end of the long metal insert like some sort of metallic tootsie-roll pop. They would alternately pump her pussy for the juices sometimes inserting them inside into an already placed probe. Sometimes removing the entire silver dildo probe, stroking as they placed a probe into her cunt followed by the insert, then sucking on the inserts or placing one of the shiny cock substitutes into their own vaginas and removing the inserts and presenting them to their new initiate to suck.

The live action around me was also starting to get intense. My young friend in front of me had ceased any pretense of watching the movie. He had turned completely around so that I could see his still flaccid member right in front of me. I could still see the pleading in his eyes as he stroked furiously but I was too terrified to initiate any contact. Instead I began to sink into my chair and as the film character was being fitted with a set of nipple rings that were connected across her breasts and shoulders by a fine silver chain with leather "reigns" looped through rings in the back of the silver nipple harness.

I started to tweak the front of my blouse where my own nipples would be if they were attaching the nipple rings. The film's equestrian theme got even more surreal when they placed a silver and black riding bit into her mouth. I leaned back placed my finger in my mouth and let out a low moan. My young admirer began to show signs of arousal. The more animated I became, the more aroused he became.

Now I was at the point of putting on a full-blown show. I moved my hands over my body. I shifted my legs out to the aisle and saw that more than a few of the men in the theater were standing to get a better view of me. I was more than a little scared but I was completely into being the object of so much desire and passion. My young friend was showing that once he was with the program, so to speak, he had reason to be proud. His member could favorably compare with most of the dicks that had been on the screen that evening.

I looked back at the aisle for my usher friend and could still see him standing four or five seats back keeping the rest of the theater patrons at a safe distance. I also saw him stroking his own long thick cock in the middle of the theater aisle.

I looked at the screen and waited for my favorite scene. One of these pony-tailed vixens was being saddled for a special ride. An English style saddle with a 10" thick black leather cock standing straight up in the middle was placed on her while the main actress straddled the saddle as the cock slowly disappeared and reappeared during her special ride. I started working my hips off the theater chair. I too wanted to give the performance of my life.

You can only imagine the strange detachment I felt at that moment. I felt almost as if I was watching myself as I watched the actress on the screen. I was emotionally detached as well. I was trying to look as aroused as possible but I felt nothing sexual at all. Once again I found myself more concerned about the vicarious sensation of "knowing" the emotional detachment of a sex performer. It wasn't about me being aroused. It was about watching the absolute hunger in the eyes of two dozen guys all standing in a theatre stroking themselves knowing you are the center of that lust without reason or conscience.

I had seen the film enough times to recognize that this sex scene was coming to an end. The star would get off of her saddled "pony" and lie in the middle of a circle of this equestrian academy that only Dali could have invented. Pretty soon all of the ponies sporting full foot long dildos would begin the best "cum shot" in erotic film history. Michael Ninn's music video background really shows. The surreal scene, music reaching a peak, ends in a shower of who knows what from the special effects crew, drenching our star in gallons of creamy liquid shot out from the dildos strapped on to the stable of beautiful ponies. All of this shot in fabulously lit and edited soft focus shots of liquid splashing against lips, and then breasts. Her stockings were soaked with the stuff, which gave her wet legs a shine like nothing else. The women kept shooting the milky liquid from the plastic cocks and Ninn filmed it from every angle and speed.

I myself had no desire to find myself drenched in anything. At about this time I also wondered if I had suddenly developed a desire to get gang raped or murdered in a Philadelphia porn theater. I also knew that my theatre patrons were waiting to release their own little wads of DNA when the aforementioned cum shot began. I moved quickly and was out of the theater exit faster than I would have thought possible. I could faintly hear groans from the audience as I rushed up the aisle like some psychopathic surreal Cinderella. The sound was the sound you hear in movie houses when there is some technical problem with the film. I remember that sound and the sound of the voice of the usher calling out "Please! Miss! Wait!"

This story can end right here. I can go on to tell you that I spent that night and many other nights wondering if my TG nature was going to get me killed. I also wondered whether a trip to the funny farm might also be in my future. A major "purge" followed and it was years before I put on a pair of heels again.

In the years since I have avoided adult theatres and book stores. Aside from the prurient attraction, I think I once considered those places safe because my TG nature was never a subject of inquiry. I have since discovered other ways and places to explore this part of myself. Although a visit to a town's red light district always seems to be an exciting place for a boy to be a girl, I've since found places and friends less seamy and just as sexy to spend my girl time. That night, however, will remain one of the most powerful experiences of my life. A night when it was I had the power to produce uncanny sexual energy. A night that I will always fondly remember, with both excitement, and anxiety.

  

  

  

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