Day 4 of a 30 day writing challenge on sexuality.
I saw the title, showcased on a magazine rack at a party store. I was maybe five or six. We were there for milk or something.
Playboy? Sounds fun. I am a boy. I like to play…
I curiously pulled back the black cover which concealed the magazine’s cover image.
And suddenly there I was, face-to-face with the image of a sultry woman.
I was so confused. Why was my face heating up? What was happening in my chest, what with some strange combination of euphoric warmth and chilling fear?
I felt like Adam and Eve when they realized their own nakedness. Ashamed, for some reason I had no point of reference for.
Mortified, I stepped away from the Playboy.
Even now, I can still recall the amused expression displayed on the cashier’s face. “You go boy,” the expression clearly chimed.
That was the beginning of the formation of my neural pathways for porn.
Years later, the first woman I ever saw naked online was Jenny Mccarthy. Someone in a chatroom was like, “Want a nude pic of Jenny Mccarthy?” I was like, “Yep.” And there she was, her picture slowly loading over the dial-up connection, top to bottom. Boobs. Bush. Did I suddenly have a fever?
When I turned eighteen, the first thing I did was buy porn. Maybe cigarettes first, but I was more excited about the porn.
Cherry Magazine, I think. Young girls. It wasn’t creepy, because I was young too.
Sometime after then, I developed my first fetish. Ready for it?
I was enamored by the concept, which I encountered in the letters section of a Playboy. A guy wrote in to tell the story of how a stripper paid him back for an inconvenience, by sitting him down in a chair. Pulling his cock out. Putting it between her boobs. Moving up and down. Spooge!
To this day. If you’ve got boobs and you get them near my dick, I’ll be yours stupidly and completely.
Actually, I like to think that’s not true anymore. But it might be. I don’t know.
Back in the late nineties, porn sites didn’t have titty-fucking sections. So, I had to dig through hordes of random porn to get to what I wanted. Such a crap shoot.
Once, I contacted a site’s webmaster. “If you could get a section for images of penises going in between breasts, that would be great.”
They listened. Now days, getting my fix is easy. Probably too easy. Now days, I can effortlessly find titty-fucks. They’re everywhere. Double titty-fucks (two girls, one cock). Underwater titty-fucks. Someone giving a titty-fuck on the back of a horse (if you can’t find it on Google, just contact a site’s webmaster and put in a special request).
While on the subject of turn-ons, I’d be a failure not to mention my attraction to videogame and cartoon characters in the buff.
That’s right. Why discriminate against someone just because they aren’t real?
Besides, fictional characters were more real to me as a child and teenager than most real people were.
The first cartoon character I ever fapped to was Misty from Pokemon.
If I were going to fap to an animated character right now, it would be Rosalina from some of the relatively newer Mario games.
I would pay good money for a titty-fuck from someone who looks and dresses like Rosalina. Extra for a double titty-fuck from a Rosalina and a Princess Peach, in Bowser’s castle.
How could I make this any more awkward? Is this awkward? I don’t know. I don’t feel awkward. If you feel awkward, maybe you’re the awkward one.
Off the top of my head, here are some of my all-time favorite porn stars.
Miss October in a late-nineties Playboy.
I don’t know. I guess that’s all I remember right now, name-wise.
But when it comes to memories of faces, breasts, vaginas, butts, eyes, and hair?
I remember hundreds. It’s nearly overwhelming. I have seen more dicks than you can shake a bag of dicks at. And 100% of them are bigger than mine. But that’s a topic for another time.
My neural pathways for porn are fully formed. Blown out, you could say.
This is not really OK. There have been times I watched so much porn that the images kept flashing in my eyes when I blinked or tried to sleep.
Sex loses its sacred feeling when approached so frivolously and compulsively.
It becomes pure hedonism. Meaningless pleasure. Reward systems on top of reward systems, for no reason. Being rewarded for nothing.
But if I could go back, I’d do it all again.
Because I like to cum.
And even more so, I also like to get better at life.
To get better at life, first you have to suck at it.
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