Girl on the Net

The other night, I texted: “On way home. ETA 10 minutes. If you’re watching porn when I get through the door I will finish you off with my mouth.”

I stepped into the flat and crept into the bedroom on tiptoe, knowing he’d be in the living room further away with his headphones on. Stripped off my sweaty jeans and t-shirt, slipped on a dress I never wear that had given him an erection when I hauled it out of my wardrobe last week. Put on some high heels. Wobbled. Adjusted.

Went to find him.

When I walked into the lounge he was sitting with his legs spread open and his dick hard in his hand. Porn playing on the computer. I don’t remember the scene so much as I remember snippets: messy blow jobs and aggressive face-fucking. Wet cunt lips squeezed tight at the tops of thighs. Perfectly manicured fingers spreading ass cheeks. Moans and slapping and skin and spit and all framed by the edges of the screen.

He turned to face me when I walked in, and grinned. I got on my knees, one eye on the screen, and took his cock into my mouth to suck it. He tasted like a full day’s work with a hint of precome, and God how I love the taste of his dick.

We didn’t last long: we fucked. The porn that should have been good for ten minutes only really lasted us five – just long enough for him to drink in the scene while I swallowed the head of his cock and choked on my own saliva. Then he ordered me to turn round, dropped to his knees off the chair, and fucked me with long strokes. Gripping my arse with his hands, and rolling me back onto his dick, until the twitches of orgasm started in my cunt – in turn squeezing an orgasm out of him.

As we got dressed and grinned at each other, I started planning this post. Before the jizz had even splashed back into the gusset of my knickers I had this post half-written already.

I wanted something that would be quick and simple. A few hazy images of face-fucking, that bit about cunt-lips being squeezed together. The memory of his dick held casually in his hand, an easy pose that requires no practise, just a lifetime of obsessive habit.

The thick, solid texture of his dick, the taste of precome. The kick in my gut when I felt it slam into the back of my throat, and the rolling boil of desperation that I felt the second before he slipped it into my cunt.

Porn did this. Think of all the things which had to happen in order to get to this point.

Performers and producers had to gather in a studio, negotiating terms and deciding what to do. Camera operators and logistics people and caterers and venues: they all had to be paid and do their bit. Some of them had to do marketing, or accountancy, or STI testing, or any of the other boring tasks that are involved in making this come together.

And at the heart of it, someone had to have an idea. To think ‘this’d look hot on camera.’ They might have got that inspiration from another porn film they saw, and in making something new they’re feeding in to the same virtuous circle of porn: performers and producers, negotiations, logistics, camera operators, catering, marketing…

Some of those people might have got horny while making the film. Texted their partners to say ‘if you’re wanking when I get home, I’ll finish you off with my mouth.’ Others might write blog posts.

Porn can come in many forms: it might be a filthy text, a dirty picture, a full-blown scene acted out in front of your eyes. Or it might be lights, cameras, production teams and a marketing budget.

But it doesn’t stop, this virtuous circle of porn: each film, post, text, picture… will inspire more films, pictures, memories, and ideas.

This is the closest I have ever come to an explanation of why I write porn. I want to feed into this virtuous circle: to do my bit. To inspire people to watch or read it, and then fuck – themselves or each other. Beyond that to pick up a pen or a camera and make some of their own. Edit my sexy fantasies, and those of other people, creating something so fucking horny that those who read or watch it can’t help but spread their legs.

People hear the word ‘porn’ and think of a solo activity. One person sitting at a laptop, jerking off in private – in secret. But porn is so much more than that. You might watch it in private, but its creation is a group activity. It has a thousand contributors, from those who make the porn to the people who inspire and support it, as well as those who pass it on by writing meta blog posts about watching porn and fucking, which in turn become porn themselves.

Porn is not a solo activity. It’s a collective project.

A virtuous circlejerk.