Porn at the Garage

We often stop at a certain garage on the way to work, to pick up some food for the day. They’re a good supplier of Haribo, which my colleagues require feeding regularly to stay productive.

Sam complimented the woman who works there every morning on the selection of magazines, saying it was better than usual. She said that they’re still a bit poor, because they just insist on sending loads of porn. “52 porn mags I’ve returned to them, just this morning!”

We had to agree that this sounded like a lot of porn. “Do you sell many of them? I can’t imagine anyone coming in here and asking for them.” asked Sam.

“Oh yes,” she replied, “lots of them. We’ll sell out of what we’ve got pretty quickly, I just don’t want to have too much of that in here – it’s not really what we’re about.”

She then enlightened us further – “There’s one guy who comes in and buys them, then goes through the car wash. To, er, use them.”

“You don’t mean… No… He, er… How do you know?”

“There’s a camera in there, video recording it all. I told him one day when he came in – you do know you’re on video tape in there, don’t you?”

We suggested she sells the videos on the Internet. If there’s a fetish for wanking in a car wash whilst being watched, there’s got to be a market for videos of it.

As we left the shop, someone was just leaving the car wash. I hope he hasn’t been worrying too much about why the two of us stared at him for a while, looked at each other, then laughed.