A Few Clicks Away

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 16, 2018

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Submitted: April 16, 2018

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When he first discovered masturbation, he didn’t need much to get off. He would wait until his parents were out, then sneak upstairs to their bedroom and turn on the computer. The rest was easy: just go on Google and type the words ‘naked women’ in the search bar. That was all he needed - still photos of dames in provocative posses, staring at him through the digital cobweb. Of course, the stare only served as an invitation to the main feast, a reminder that he was desired by these women; in order to keep the ritual going, he had to leer at their curves instead, thus rendering their eyes irrelevant. In less than ten minutes he would climax with his mouth half-open, penis in hand, fingers covered in sperm, his t-shirt stuck to the back of the swivel chair. 

That was the summer of grade seven. 

As he unearthed more secrets about his body, he became desensitized to conventional means of pleasure. Seeing naked women no longer satiated his thirst, and the sight of two bodies fucking bored him to tears. The positions all began to repeat themselves, not to mention the vacant expression on some faces - it was all too artificial and predictable. So he decided to search for things that leaned toward the unconventional. To achieve this he sought out submissive women, those who would get down on their knees in a heartbeat and open their mouths for him. But soon, even that wasn’t enough. Now the women had to talk dirty and mean every word of it! It wasn’t enough to simply have them on their knees begging for semen and satisfaction, that was too simple. His pleasure lied in the unknowns and the what-ifs.

After a while he chose to devote all his time to watching pornography, and found out that he’d barely scratched the surface of what was out there. The more he discovered, the more desensitized he became, until he could no longer find anything that turned him on. Masturbation turned into a tiresome chore rather than an indulgence, causing him to develop a hatred toward pornography and anyone involved in it, and he hated himself even more for not being able to put this habit aside. He hated what he saw but watched anyways, in search of that perfect release he hadn’t experienced in so long. But this downward journey led to nowhere, and the perfect release never came. 

Pornography evolved with times, pushing envelopes to satisfy more demands, but our consumer put an end to his own emotional growth. 

After all, why would he need to grow when his favorite girls were only a few clicks away?


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