Holy shit. Look at me go. Look at the dates to my last posts…think I have a few items I’ve been waiting to get off my chest? For Christ’s sake! No one’s even seen the blog yet! Or ever, or whatever. Who really cares. If you’re reading this, you’re another person on the journey to my self-reflection and I’m sure you’ll eventually be disgusted with me. Then again, you’ve probably seen some worst shit on the internet. I’ve never shit on anyone’s chest. Truth.
On that note, I like porn. It’s not an obsession or anything. I’m not too sick. I’ve got enough skeletons without someone having to tap into my browser history to find yet another one. The first time I saw porn was when I was home sick alone as a girl. My TV picked up Playboy, but it was a grainy, ghetto cable sort of signal that just told me I was doing something wrong. That, and there were bouncing, grainy breasts on the screen. I remember thinking….”WOH”. I remember it being the first time that I felt sexual. I got off my first time then, too. It sent shock waves up my spine and every hair on my body stood up. My body said “WOH!”, and it hasn’t said anything remotely close to that since. Come to think of it, I think the signal disappeared a few weeks later. I popped my cherry with my hairbrush when I was 15 to a similar signal on a night without the ‘rents around. That, or it was my first boyfriend fingering me…I remember wondering which one it was. Both hurt and were in the same few weeks.
I watched porn with my first love. He had a video that he got as a “gag” on his 17th birthday. We’d watch it and fuck and masturbate in front of each other. Then we got experimental and made our own. God, I wish I kept it. We had a good, long relationship for the most part, despite the yelling and pushing and jealousy – okay, maybe we were just really good together in bed. Very comfortable. Plus, I had a great body in high school. Anyway, when we broke up, there was this super awkward moment when I was standing at his bedroom door reeling the magnetic tape out of our amateur video. I kept pulling it out further and further, and he just stood there. I was heartbroken and so was he. I felt like I was physically destroying the memory of us. I know he hasn’t had that good of sex since. He started dating a girl right after me and I started dating some guy. There’s nothing as good as all those “firsts” and I’m sure he knows that now. I know I do. He emailed me recently to see how I’m doing, but just like the grainy cable porn, it’s another lost signal.
These days, I find myself watching hardcore, light s&m, lesbian, gang bangs…anything that seems like it will never happen. It’s because it feels like they’d all be “firsts” for me, in a way. Because I’ve never tried those things, I still have a fantasy about what it would feel like. I know kissing a girl was just as good as I imagined. Sex was too. The problem is, once you do it, it starts to define you. It’s no longer a voyeuristic tendency. You become the judged. Now I consider myself bisexual. Just like that. The “curious” aspect was erased as soon as her lipstick was pasted on my neck.
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