This is a hard one for me. It goes against everything I believe in, and yet there’s a nihilistic part of me that loves the image. Unfortunately, it is an image and a fantasy, not a reality of people cavorting in the sunshine, fucking whoever they want whenever they want. It’s work. It’s standing around naked in the cold, holding onto your dick, trying to keep it hard for a few moments of pleasure.
Ah, I’ve talked myself out of it. Give me a real woman (i.e., my wife) who is enthusiastic about me (at least sometimes) and willing to go… well… somewhere, if not everywhere and who is safe, medically speaking. That is much closer to the fantasy than working in the porn industry is.
Perhaps the fantasy doesn’t really exist anywhere. Even the old guy with goat legs running around in the sylvan glades, skewering the young innocents on the end of his supercharged phallus doesn’t exist. Mores the pity.