C O R N   P O R N

Well, We finally got a bus and are moving again. After an ordeal worthy of Hercules, we are slowly pushing westward towards Cali. I won't rehash our two days in a truck garage in Pontiac, MI. Suffice to say it was a nightmare. Now we're in Peru, Ill. As usual, I'm the first one up, drinking coffee, eating doughnuts and watching porn. I know I told you in a previous story I disliked porn, I do... in principle. The guys purchased this tape last night in a truck stop in Indiana. I believe its called Hot Rods and Tailpipes, you figure the significance. So I'm sitting here, writing, looking out the window... hmmm... corn... porn...corn... porn... , both are equally compelling at this hour. I believe I know this girl on the TV. She's presently getting it up the asshole. Hmmm... I believe I'll subscribe to her newsletter, odds and ends. She's got a pierced clit worth a big ol' ring in it. I watch without the sound on, I don't need to hear their crocodile tears of pain and joy as they go through the motions. I think we ALL know what's going on. They gotta make a living; I gotta watch. I feel a little funny watching porno alone, however. Does this make me a weirdo? I mean, any more than usual? I watch with this dispassionate stance, no hard on, like a fucking stenographer or lab technician. The guys all like porno, so I too will like porno, shout out the obligatory ohhs and ahhs and the money shots and poopy parts, so be it. I look on. Some chick's got some ugly tattoo on her navel area which takes away somewhat from her sodomization. No... wait... she's getting it stinkbug style, let's rephrase that, advanced stinkbug style, while the camera and world looks on. Her ass shakes like an unbaked pie. The guy's doing her with no rubber, a definite no no.  A close up to her face, her anguished grimace of pain, I almost believe she even knows there's a dick up there, could be an arm, or a midget in a wet suit, or a chain of grocery outlets, or a small star cluster, still she bangs on. From this angle, her pussy lips look like bacon strips frying in the sun (stop me when I get too gross) and now the final coup d' grace, the money shot, a final gift from the sperm fairy, the girl shuts her eyes in anticipation of the goo, she's done this before, obviously, wipe that shit off your chin, darling, or no dinner and a movie tonight. And still it goes on. I look out the window, corn, corn... now the TV flashes to tits. Big, stupid, fake tits. Girls, please, let's call a halt to this invasion to the boda-bags. I'll say it once again, YOUR TITS ARE FINE. We love your tits, we really do. We love your ass too. It bothers me when girls rationalize getting fake tits cause they feel like they have to compete with these chicks on TV right now. Your tits are fine, they don't need to look like twin jiffy poppers ready to explode... Two girls sucking a mans dick... His scrotum looks funny, like there's no balls in there. It looks like a fucking shar-pei, creepy... can't look... must look... torn... can't decide... look at corn, look at corn. Someone else just got up so I must take an even more disinterested attitude towards the orgy going on, like I
don't care EVEN MORE. Truth is, I don't.