Reality, Really Reality, Is It Erotic?

It’s 0140 AM here as I write this and I am waiting on something.

Somewhere in Cape Canaveral, Florida there is a young lady in her twenties, Eastern European and a former mainstream model who is taking pictures of herself in a mirror with her cell phone.

I just got off the phone with her and she didn’t have any pictures I could see right away so she is taking them of herself with her cell phone. Then she will send them for me to judge, to tell her if she is pretty enough to be sodomized on camera, pretty enough to have have men ejaculate onto her face so that other men might look at the photos and video and masturbate while imagining that they are doing that with her.

The thought of her, alone in a small home someplace performing this act of photography is insanely erotic to me. It would potentially be sad if I hadn’t previously talked to her and heard the enthusiasm in her voice about wanting to do it, for fun.

She told me she had been a “good girl” all her life and it was exciting to her to be bad this once. She said she hopes she is pretty enough.

What exactly is she thinking as she stands, completely naked, in front of a mirror, taking pictures of herself to send to a judge, one she has never met before, who is in a position to make a decision that will affect the rest of her life.

This is a moment of reality, It isn’t the first time I have felt this way and it likely won’t be the last.

I just got the photos and she is beautiful, stunning even, and now she awaits my call. Sitting there thinking on whether or not I am going to make this fantasy come true for her, as pretty as she is, she is wondering if she is pretty enough. And while I write this she is anxious, nervous even, waiting to find out if she is pretty enough.

Now THAT is reality.