Texture. I love that. I love when pictures make me feel. Evoke skin. This is the whole point of my exploration with pornography. To discover people that, with the exact same technology, with the exact same narrative resources, manage to evoke more. Touch. Desire. Yearning. There’s so much yearning in our desires. A longing that needs a canvass, a whole body, a person, hours, many, many fucking hours to be expressed entirely. A craving that needs more than just a few thrusts. Who cares if it borders on romance, or if it’s just casual sex. That is not relevant. What is relevant is our bodies exploring each other, driving each other to limits they knew not of. To feel everything that we are capable of feeling. To feel alive. Suspended. And to manage to represent that. Those seconds. Those gasps of air. Hands, electrified, about to release their fury. Backs, arched in absolute ecstasy. Mouths, half-opened, half-breathing, half-alive, half-god-knows-where. Us, humans, in all our erotic glory. That is the whole point of pornography.
Well, it should be, anyway.