Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Hot Buttered Broadcast

Last night I was glued to Hurricane Sandy coverage when JB announced he had to get up early for work. With a kiss goodnight and a mild warning not to stay up too late, JB retired to the bedroom as I flipped between news channels on TV and news apps on my iPad.

Around midnight I decided to give my brain a break from the increasingly repetitive superstorm updates. I turned the channel to "Family Guy" to see what hilarious mischief Stewie had gotten himself into this time. (Is it bad my role model is a cartoon baby?) Yet most of my attention was focussed on my iPad.

I was thinking about a conversation I had with a friend earlier in the day about Halloween costumes. We were bemoaning the fact that slutty cop costumes seem to be all the rage lately for women but, sadly, not for men. The conversation ended with my offering to help him find the uniform clothing and accessories required to complete his "bachlorette party stripper cop" ensemble.

Google was as helpful as ever when entering search terms like "police uniforms" and "hot cops" and "sexy police stripper". As the links I clicked devolved from law enforcement wholesale suppliers to eBay uniform fetish retailers to, finally, a series of increasingly prurient Tumblr streams, I gave up any pretense of trying to help my friend with his costume. I decided to end the day by treating myself to a scene or two from a video I stumbled upon titled "Hot Buttered Cop Porn". It was a long day and I'm a sucker for a clever spoonerism.

As the obligatory, thirty second backstory gave way to steamy cop-on-cop foreplay, I couldn't help but feel something was missing. Yes, the butter. But also the sound. I started with the iPad volume on mute because I didn't want to bother JB while he was trying to sleep. Or maybe I just didn't want him to know what I was up to in the living room. Not that he'd have any problem with it. Unless his mood was swinging toward the estrogen side of his cycle, when he'd be feeling unattractive and under-appreciated. I felt it wise not to risk it, and turned on the sound to the lowest possible setting.

I don't know what horny people did in the olden days, but silent porn has to be almost as bad as no porn at all. In my teenage years I was able to get off just imagining the word, "porn". Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or maybe I've gotten trapped in a porn de-sensitivity loop, but these days I find it helps to get as many of my senses teaming up as possible to get the job done. And my ears seem to pull as much weight as my eyes in this regard. I bumped up the volume of the video one more notch.

I could tell from the cops' facial expressions and lip movements that I was missing crucial dialog required for a full appreciation of this movie's finer plot points. I kicked the volume up some more, keeping in mind typical porno dynamic range. I've been startled by screamers before. The last thing I needed was an unexpectedly boisterous moan to wake JB on the other side of the bedroom door. But I knew I had some overhead, as the sound was still barely audible. I turned it up two more notches.

Sometimes I think it would be fun to work in gay porn. But then I imagine having the tedious job of holding up a big dry-erase board and checking off each position as the actors execute them in the order prescribed. Then erasing my checkmarks to do it again for the next scene. But what a porno lacks in creativity and spontaneity (and sound quality) can often be redeemed by the enthusiasm of its actors. And these guys sure looked enthusiastic. Too bad their growls, howls, shouts, slaps, grunts and moans were decidedly muffled.

I had my sound volume pumped up to at least 85% by the time my penile volume hit 105%. Just as my nasty cops and I simultaneously reached the point of no return, the bedroom door swung wide open.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on??" JB demanded.

If the question wasn't intended to be rhetorical, the ongoing state of affairs rendered it so. It was only after my senses returned that I noticed the sound of heavy sighs emanating loudly from the bedroom behind my grumpy hubby. And music... the unmistakable beat of porn music...

Whocka-whocka-wow, chicka-BOW-wow-wow.

Confusion gave way to realization. A memory. Earlier in the day while listening to hurricane updates, I used the "AirPlay" feature to wirelessly stream my iPad's audio to the bedroom stereo.

And I forgot to set it back.

Always remember to turn "AirPlay"
OFF before watching porn. Unless
you need the full, rich sound of
5.1 Dolby through JBL speakers.

4 comments:

  1. Loved the story! So did your hubby get upset or just let you finish your duty? I am always afraid of that situation happening to me with my hubby...

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  2. Perhaps JB thought he was in the middle of an extremely realistic dream? Especially if image #1were present....

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  3. OMG - that is hilarious. I'm not sure who I feel more badly for you or JB.

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  4. Nice! Yeah, always change the speaker source back to "computer".

    And I love the "Hot Buttered Cop Porn" title!

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