Sometimes, when I am supposed to be asleep, my sweet, kind, gentle boyfriend lays his head on my stomach as he dreams. It is during those late night hours, as my partner and I nestle into our cozy bed, that I softly stroke his dirty-blonde hair and look at porn. Hardcore porn.
This isn’t your average run-of-the-mill porn either, folks. No, for some ungodly reason it’s usually tentacles- ones that grip a squirming girl by her ankles and wrists, slithering up her creases as she wines in Japanese- that really get me going.
It isn’t the size of the trapped girls bouncing, milky, perfect breasts- ones so large that they could be considered a dangerous weapon in some countries. Nor, is it the length of the pulsating tendrils that snake their way up the crying girls naval, into her blouse while still caressing her thigh at the seam of a paper thin skirt- tickling up to her panties.