You pass them daily. You pass them hundreds of times. On your way to work. On your way to the bar. The private "viewing booths" in the rear of adult book stores. What a wonderful idea--a closet-sized booth where you can pay a quarter a minute to masturbate while viewing pornographic films. Men file into the booths like horny lab rats. They wander around in three-piece suits and dirty Camel shirts. Around and around they wander. Desperately... hornily...they wander. Waiting for the booths to open. No eye contact with one another. Not a word. The only sound is the squealing of the ripe young blonde being stuck like the pig she is. Behind the doors, you can hear the grunts and the moaning. You can hear the slapping of skin from every booth.

I approach my booth like Babe Ruth walking up to home plate.

Pornography is the perfect mistress. She is the only mistress that never sleeps. Who is never on the rag or suffering from PMS. The only whore who will keep her fat pie-hole shut. She's always willing and always ready. The viewing booths in adult bookstores are like a harem of different holes into which we can plug our fat, veiny dingitty-dongs. It's perfectamundo, hombre. Pornography welcomes all, from midgets to the obese. Jealousy plays no role. At the push of a button, you can mentally fuck more than a hundred holes in a minute. In your mind--your sick mind, to be sure--they all want you. They all want you to coldly mount them and spew your thick, stringy seed all over them. They don't want you to take them out for coffee. They don't want to buy you flowers. They only want your cock. The best part is when you open the door and walk away, assured she won't chase you out the door, begging to be cuddled some more. And she'll be waiting for your return.

So now it's up to you. Where can the earnest P-Town porn-hound find a pristine wonderland of carnal self-abuse?

I sampled the wares of three adult stores, yet I only found one good enough to bless with my precious seed. Although there are shitloads of adult bookstores in Portland, I chose only ones that seemed intimidating.

I set some goals for myself:

* I'd spend at least $4 in each jerkoff booth;

* I'd review each establishment from the perspective of sanitation and hygiene;

* I'd sternly judge the character of each porn clerk;

* I'd give the reader an idea of what sort of porno films to expect at each emporium;

* I'd determine the quality of snacks and beverages available for the hungry-and-thirsty masturbator's enjoyment.

So sit back, grab the lube, and allow me to ejaculate the truth about porn-store viewing booths.

TIM'S HIDEAWAY ADULT ARCADE (330 SW 3rd)

The faggiest place to jack off ever! In fact, this place is so fuckin' gay that it sports glory holes, primitive three-inch holes drilled between the booths so some faceless stranger can stick his pecker in there to have it sucked...or perhaps even lovingly caressed, snuggled, and rubbed along the cheeks...of some down-on-his-knees homo boy. This was a terrible place to masturbate! It provided no treats or beverages for me to enjoy while I abused my body. The movie selection was mainly fag porn, which doesn't turn me on, I swear. I would be more comfortable burning crosses in front of Popeye's Chicken than jackin' off here. Stay clear of this place, bro! It's a one-way ticket to Homoville.