On your own, you don’t look at the porn blog I started where I repost pictures that turn me on and also ones that actually don’t but that I feel like are stylish. It isn’t like you are a prude and dislike it, but I think that you never think to look unless I say, “Hey do you want to look at my porn blog?” Then we’ll scroll through together, with my fingers on the up and down arrows. I’ve seen it all, but I still pretend I’m interested in what’s onscreen and not your reaction. I look for some minute change in you, a previously unknown or hidden kink that your viewing a reposted picture pins into your mind. Changing you forever, or at least until we had obsessed over it for a while.
This possibility seemed worth the trade off I made in showing it to you. Before I did that, I erased everything I thought might weird you out even if it turned me on a lot. I made sure there were more pictures with guys being dominant than submissive. I deleted pictures that depicted women interacting with dicks that were unreasonably big. I hadn’t noticed how many dicks in pictures are so big until I looked at my blog after knowing that I was going to show it to you. I thought about Adam and Eve and the Tree of Knowledge.
As pictures with twentysomething tits, patterned tights, peripheral cocks, and girls artfully being beaten scroll by, you always like it all so regularly, so easily. You like some picture of a woman’s nicely shaped ass, you might tell me. We fuck or we don’t. We don’t think about it when I close the page. It disappoints me so much, this acceptance.
