Adult Demonesses

Yo there fellow White Voider. I’d like to celebrate today having been away from Internet Pornography for over two years. Wow. What a relief. I was hung up on the interracial gangbangers ever since I first got the web, aged 29 years of age. I class that as coming to the tossernet quite late in life, considering that now children have access to interracial gangbanging content at their fingertips virtually straight from the womb. As Cradle of Filth would say, “From the cradle to enslave.” Love it.

Before the web, I was buying porn like a real man from another real man in a real shop. Admittedly, I’ve still been doing that sporadically since I stopped my web addiction. It’s been roughly 4 months since I’ve been to the shop. I call it the loop shop, because I’m always there at different phases throughout my life. I used to fantasise about working there, with all those walls full of DVDs at my mercy. Now, I can hardly think of anything worse.

Something supernatural happens when I get high and watch porn. The only way to put it is that the Devil usurps all the actresses. Usurp means to take possession of. They begin talking to me, as though it’s a livestream, and pointing at me and waving and crap. Because the drugs make me stupid and put me into a trance, they ask me to spell words like Pinocchio and Aberystwyth, words I am usually familiar with. They make me look stupid (I’m the first to admit that I am when I do that). Then they get wicked and cruel about it, demanding and dominating, before saying things like they are locked away in chambers underneath my floorboards and that they’re going to hurt me when they escape. Because of the elasticity of the brain on drugs, I believe (at the time) everything they say to me. I fall into the Devil’s trap before being swallowed hook, line and sinker. It turns me on, women being cruel to me, in a kind of role-play reversal game. I can’t get enough of it! Then I take even more drugs to suspend the fantasy, to keep it air-locked somehow, so that it takes hours and hours to go away. And then when I stop they are still chatting bubbles, so that forces me to drink spirits and Go Kongers. I call getting pissed these days Going Kongers, because I think about the end of King Kong whenever I get emotional. It can even make me slightly weepy.

When I pull my eyes away from the porn stars, they go wild, acting like fevered puppets, until they can get my attention again. They really value attention from yours truly, it has to be said. Sometimes I’ll take one eye away from them just to see how they’ll react. It encourages them. They lick and slurp and suck more enthusiastically. It drives them barmy mad when I don’t look at them properly. They insist on steady eye contact in exchange for rewards which ultimately takes all my energy and power away from me. A reward might be an extra suck on the dude’s todger, or showing a little more boob, or something seedy like that, but I’m all for it at the time, in the heat of passion these little interactive rewards drive me insane with heated, frenzied lust. Love it in a way:  Hate it in another.