I am such a fucking dork that I enjoy reading porn more than watching porn. Actually, it's just my brain. All it thinks in is words, and I guess it processes words better too. Can't help it man.
It used to be a dream of mine to write for Penthouse Letters, until I realized they didn't have writers, just people mailing in stories they made up themselves in the hopes of getting a free t-shirt. Penthouse Letters is different from Penthouse Forum, which is a smaller digest-sized magazine that has porn product reviews and less stories. The Penthouse Letters magazine is a full-sized magazine, and unfortunately, due to the internet or the way modern man thinks, often veers into strange territory that is not so exciting, like "Last weekend, my wife had sex with 17 Mexican black strangers with no condoms and now might be pregnant with triplets and I want her to do it again so I can videotape it." I don't understand that. And at the same time, as I scour the perv letters for something that I do enjoy, I become afraid that I'm desensitizing myself and eventually I'll want to let a dude use my mouth as a dick holster.
I have found that recently I think I developed a flannel pajama bottom fetish, if the woman has a nice round ass. This obviously comes from always being sexually attracted to my wife too much, who commonly will put on flannel pajama bottoms after the kids have gone to bed, to kick it in at night. The other day I was at the laundromat drying our clothes since our dryer is still broke, and some young woman, like 20-something and buxom bottomed, carried in her laundry wearing flannel pajama bottoms. It made me feel happy spiky in my insides. It's unexplainable crap like that that worries me about reading Penthouse Letters that are gross too often.
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