Like most things, porn seemed way simpler in my day. Hanging out after school with Paul and Ross, thumbing through the several issues of Penthouse that Paul’s dad tucked away inconspicuously on his bookshelf, right behind Winston Churchill’s A Gathering Storm.
Obscenity laws were loosening up and the lads could see close-up what a woman’s parts looked like years before we’d experience the real deal. Porn was, to quote an ad of the day, “the next best thing to being there.”
And then, along came the internet, which changed just about everything, including an explosion in the production, distribution and availability of porn catering to every imaginable taste.