How I stopped watching pornography. True story. Except the very last sentence. Of the post, not the title.

So. Sexuality is a beautiful thing, of course, and I was taught that it was something to be saved and given. A gift. A promise. A level of bonding that's beautiful.

I said I believed that, but I don't think I was in the position to make that claim up until I was in the position to get butt naked and make mayonnaise sandwiches and decided against it. But then I thought "Wow. You know what. I do want to save this." So I tied my nuts into a knot and hid them in my back pocket. That's why I cry extra hard every time I get my ass slapped.

So in this same vein, I decided, you know what ... I should stop watching this saline breasted 40 year olds get penetrated, because I want to save all levels of myself for when I give it. The process was arduous. I chose not to use hard on purpose.

But an amazing thing happened to your afro-headed negro. I got annoyed. Kn'amsaying. All the talking.

You like that? You like that? Uh-huh? Right there. Right there. Yeah take it. Take it. Okay. Okay. OKAY! You're so strong. You're so strong. Tell me you Love me. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. Bend me over. Bend me over. Yes. Spank me. I'm so bad you don't even know. I'm naughty. If you want that A you'll finish. If you keep quiet I'll untie you. See that horse? Et. Cetera.

Yo. No offense. But eff. Sensory over-load, my Loves. Enough was enough. So now I just look at billboards.