Or not.

I look around for a subject, a woman who catches my fancy and who triggers that little tingle in my cock that often gives rise to a paean, an appreciation of beauty, sexuality, individuality.

But on some days, I find no one. Everyone I see looks… uninteresting.

That could be my luck of the draw, the pervert’s equivalent of a drive through monotonous suburbs dotted with strip malls. But, more likely, it’s something different, a reflection of my own internal state, a deadness, an immunity to the charms of others.

The paeans I write often are appreciations of spectacular beauty or sensuality. But more often, they’re reflections of my ability to perceive beauty and desirability everywhere, in nearly everyone.

Years ago, I became obsessed with a porn site called either California Pimp or Netvideogirls. Its conceit was interviews with women who thought they had responded to a legitimate calendar model ad, but found, instead, a photographer intent on their sucking his cock on film. The conceit was gross, playing on the (artifice of) deception: these women had been misled, but were nonetheless willing.

At the peak of my obsession with the site, I would evaluate every woman I saw through the lens of that site: would I be willing to have that woman (every woman) suck my cock. And, at the time, the answer was a resounding “Yes.” It was rare for me to see a woman I couldn’t imagine enjoying on my cock.

On some days, that’s not where I am.

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