Some kid brought pics that now are retro porn to school. A Catholic private school no less. Yes know yuo nowere I can writs crecckt.
Anyway. The boobs on that babe. TO THIS DAY I still want to see those pics. Long, firm, pointing, heavy. Oh so crotch grabbing.
I bought art prints of nude women. My mom found them in the laundry one day where I quickly shoved them while I was in the bathroom. Then I let her blame them on her boyfriend.
Coward De Custard. She was pretty vicious though, so...
Then there was this mofo many years later. I was hitching. I get into a BMW. The fat effer tells me to look in his briefcase for cigs. And wots do I find. A porn mag. Not just any porn mag. Oh no. This one is glossy. Like a book. A clothed guy next to a nekkid woman lying down. I don't know what it was, 'cos to this day I still don't get the same feeling, but it was like my breath was snatched away. Something literally tore at me inside. It was so beautiful. And sexy. Liberating, in a now we got you kind of way. I wanted to look at it. All of it. Drink it in. But, being the shy polite little boy that I was I told him I couldn't find the cigs, pretended I saw nothing, then returned the case to the back seat. He said nothing.
OHFFURK$$)%&*@@!!*. I could have probably made a fortune helping to distribute illegal porn. (It was illegal where I was in those days). And I probably could have been in porn. I was so gripped by it. Meaning I coulda been rich by now. RICH! Anyway.
(And unhappy).
The way everyone hates male porn stars, though, I'm glad I wasn't. Actually, I'm really glad innocence won the day, or night actually, too. Or embarrasement. Or lack of courage. Or just plain whatever.