It’s interesting to discover the things that make will make our pulse race. What would be the first sign of arousal? The sudden dryness of our lips? A bead of sweat on the forehead? A dilation of our pupils? We hope no one will notice our furtive glances but it soon becomes obvious as the anticipation builds, and we can’t wait to reach out and touch the object of our desire with trembling hands.
I’m lucky in that I don’t have to go out and search, my secret vice arrives in the mail. You might be surprised to learn that there is no plain brown wrapper, no plastic covering, nothing to conceal the contents from an unknowing observer. I wonder how they can let it pass by without so much as a second glance. Pornography truly is a matter of perception.
Once it’s in my hands I’ll spend hours perusing my treasure; admiring the colors and contrasts, the blatant displays designed solely to appeal to my baser instincts. It’s all so rich and ripe looking, spread out on the glossy pages before me. I can’t help but stare at the play of light and shadow that reflects the work of a careful and dedicated photographer. I’ll even do more than just look at the pictures, (isn’t that what we all say?). I’ll take the time to read each descriptive narrative and compare each offering to best of my ability.
It may take hours, but eventually I’ll collapse upon my couch. Sated, for the moment, but ready to pick it up and start all over again. I might have missed something, you know.
Goodness knows if I’m this bad with the office supply catalog, don’t let me near the garden and seed annual.