Pegging, for real this time

At some juncture three or so years ago, I stopped regularly watching pornography. My consumption hadn’t been that egregious I thought. I only watched it while masturbating and, even then, not every time I pulled out my tools. On average, I was probably a monthly viewer, maybe biweekly in particularly frentic periods. Yet, this still put me in the minority of women in the UK, or at least the 15% of women who were willing to admit to YouGov in 2022 that they frequently engaged in such a grubby business.

I can’t remember when exactly I put the incognito browser down. Clearly, it wasn’t a conscious decision. But I’m sure, on some level, there was a growing awareness that such behaviour was likely conditioning a link between my arousal response and porn, even if the association was mild. I’d also noticed a telling difference between orgasms achieved without porn as a stimulus, as opposed to when it was present: if I got over the edge using porn, that was it. Show’s over. The images playing in front of me were instantly rendered obscene, the entire act grotesque. Post-nut clarity was brutal and unavoidable.