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Pornman

by Patrick M. Ohana 5 months ago in fiction

The Man Who Lived in Porn

Image created by author with Canva

Morty loved porn. He was Pornman, after all. Pornman? The man who lived in porn. He literally lived in it as if it was a place. It was in his case. I should first tell you about his superpower. While sexual prowess was part of his aptitude, Pornman didn’t fly or anything like that. But I should start from the beginning. Chronology is never a given unless one makes it flow.

Morty looked like a prick and talked like a prick. Poor Morty, you may think. Lucky, Morty was. He sure was. Just wait until you read all about it. Read all about it! A man calling himself Pornman is the modern Don Juan. Casanova has returned to snap up all your wives. Wait! Correction! Pornman only seduces unmarried women. That’s commendable. Apparently not for the wives.

For crying out loud. Wait! Correction! LOL is the new meme. No one wants to cry any more. Laughing is the new norm. For example, RWE (Ralph Waldo Emerson) wrote that Earth laughs in flowers. I gather that the Moon can only laugh in dust. But what if there’s no one there to see it. We must send two astronauts. And then there’s space, as far as we can’t see without scientific savvy. I hate dust. The moon is still on my mind. Especially that I hate to clean it. Dust! What’s the point? It’s back like the dark. I love the moon.

And the sun? That’s easy. The sun laughs in light. But it’s not a laughing matter, no matter where you are, even when you only see the moon. Can you fault humans for having regarded the Sun as a god? Especially with the almost perfect calendar tied to its heat and warmth. One extra day every four years. It’s pretty cool. The moon, on the other hand, is only precise for ebbs and tides. No wonder that the lunar calendar is so archaically depressed, notwithstanding its extensive use even today as I type and whenever you read this.

As I was typing earlier, Morty loved porn, but only the smooth kind. He didn’t like to view pricks and their pricks, preferring women in twos, threes, and any other number that could bring more of their gifts to the foreground. But a woman by herself was up there as his favourite. She teased and he was pleased. Once in a while, he did tolerate a prick in the mix, but only when he wanted to feel as if it was him the prick in the scene or entire film. Sexuality is quite complex, and anyone who types or says otherwise is uniquely qualified to become an editor of some kind.

Morty’s excessive porn dependency any time of day and night as well as his encyclopedic knowledge of most porn — he skipped some so-called kinks — catapulted him to porn trivia master even though no one was asking any questions. He knew all their names; every pornstar or amateur, no matter where they performed their art and their part. Pricks, he didn’t follow but knew about the too-late John Holmes and the now-cuffed Ron Jeremy. What a bunch of pricks!

Where’s the ruler? For once I want to measure it in inches, not centimetres. So, how long is it? What a prick! I told you so. We have feet, yet some people walk with their pricks. Some women too, but in their case, they walk behind the pricks, and if lucky, beside them. What did you expect in a prick world? I typed it before, but I needed to type it again.

This addiction to porn changed Morty in a particular way. It happened once, but then it happened again. And again. Until it became his superpower. He didn’t even need for it to occur; he could just make it happen. Morty could live in porn. The first time, he was watching videos of lesbians — bless their parts — in succession until one specific duo of beauties (both of them) made him disappear from reality into porn, beside them, the two beauties making love. Oh, they were not fucking. They were making love and he could almost touch it. He could already see the love, hear its murmurs, and even taste and smell perfect love from memory, but he could never touch it, which is probably the worst.

Morty gathered that they couldn’t see him, that is until he spoke. Surprise! There’s a prick lurking about. Maybe he’s looking for a beer. I mean, a pussy, may have sparked in his mind when he was seen, but he simply told them, the duo of goddesses, and all the crew around them, that he took the wrong turn. However, that since he was there, whether he could help them in any way. That he had a big prick, he added. Of course, not for this scene. Never! A prick has no place in such happiness, he declared. It seems that the director was impressed and wanted to see his prick.

“See me at the end of the scene,” said the director.

I will! I will! replied Morty, excited by her smile. Can I stay and watch? he attempted.

“Not this time but maybe later,” replied the director.

I see. You want to see my prick first. You want to make sure it’s remarkable and marketable for porn. No worries! I’m an expert porno spectator, though I wish that I could also become a participator, that all this pleasure didn’t have to only happen in my head. You know what I mean.

“I do. What’s your name?” asked the director.

Morty. But I prefer to be called Pornman.

“That’s quite a name. I hope that you can live up to it,” replied the director with a long smile.

I wasn’t sure before but now, I almost know, more than 69% sure, that I’m Pornman. I’ll let you go back to your art.

“Thank you for calling it art!” said the director with a longer smile.

Even more than that. Life is imitating art and perhaps nowhere as much as in porn.

“I’m Dani. Please wait for me. Lilly, my assistant, will lead you to a waiting area. I should be with you within the hour.”

Take your time, Dani! You can’t hurry art, added Pornman and left the set, following Lilly.

“Please wait here,” indicated Lilly when they reached a small tight area, with what seemed like two comfortable chairs.

Thank you, Lilly!

“You’re welcome, sugar,” replied Lilly and left.

Pornman picked one of the empty places and sat down quite happy about his luck. Pornman in porn. How is it possible? I must be dreaming, thought Pornman. Can I appear on any porn set? I have some time. He fondly recalled one of his many treasured scenes and was instantly there, this time, next to the esteemed Savannah who had committed suicide in 1994 at the age of 23. Many pornstars die young, he lamented, their mean (average) age being around 37. That’s what happens to art when it’s all about the money, when there’s no money to be made by those that act, or when alcohol and drugs are stand-ins for well-being. Maybe I could save them, he dreamed on.

He remembered that to remain unseen, any word and perhaps sound had to remain in his mouth. It worked. He observed Savannah with tears in his eyes, and when he couldn’t take it any longer, after less than a while, he returned to the twin-beauties set, forgetting that he had been left in the waiting room.

“What are you doing back here?” asked Dani.

I’m sorry but again I took a wrong turn. I was looking for the washroom and ended back here again. I’ll return to the waiting area and remain there.

“Lilly, please show Pornman to the washroom!”

Thank you, Dani, replied Pornman and left the set, following Lilly again.

“Why did she call you, Pornman?” asked Lilly as they were walking to the washroom.

I have a big prick.

“Can I see it?” asked Lilly.

I guess that I can finally show it to someone in porn.

“You never did? So, I’ll be the first?” asked Lilly somewhat excited.

I’m supposed to show it to Dani but I don’t think that she’ll mind if her assistant sees it first.

“She won’t. I know her well,” replied Lilly.

OK, then! Where should I take it out?

“I know a quiet place. But don’t you have to go to the washroom first?”

I did but not anymore. It’s strange. I must be excited to show it to a woman like you.

“I’m flattered. We’ll be alone in this room,” said Lilly, unlocking the door to a private office and locking it as soon as they were inside.

Pornman saw a couple of desks with computers connected to cameras and other devices as well as a large sofa, but his eyes quickly returned to Lilly. Her name suited her well. Was she a flower in disguise or a flowering nymph? Pornman didn’t have to wait too long to find out.

“Do you prefer to show it here or near the sofa?” asked Lilly, standing by one of the desks.

What a beautiful question! thought Pornman. Near the sofa in case we have to sit down, replied Pornman, walking over to the sofa and lowering his pants and Hawaiian-motif underwear.

“Oh my God!” said Lilly upon seeing his big prick. “Can I touch it?”

Two firsts. I’m surely dreaming, thought Pornman. A woman in porn both seeing and touching it. Go ahead, replied Pornman.

“It’s really big. How long is it?” asked Lilly.

Between eight to ten inches (20-25 cm) depending on the circumstances.

“Let’s see if I can make it bigger,” said Lilly smiling, holding his prick in each hand before wetting it with her lips, rubbing it in top-to-bottom movements, and finally putting it in her mouth. “Oh my God! It tastes big as well,” added Lilly between the stroking and the sucking.

That’s good news, replied Pornman, both surprised and satisfied. That’s enough, though, added Pornman. It’s not fair if you’re not also being gratified. Can I taste your pussy?

“Sure you can,” replied Lilly and lowered her pants and almost-invisible panties.

You are what dreams are made of, said Pornman, contemplating Lilly’s wealth in the matter. Can I say hello to your pussy? asked Pornman.

“Baby, you can tell it whatever you want and it also understands some French.”

C’est formidable, ma fleur (It’s wonderful, my flower), replied Pornman, also feeling that he was home at last, that porn was his true calling. All those semen-saturated magazines and cum-claiming movies had ended up giving him the greatest gift possible. Pornman was going to become a pornstar. No! thought Pornman as his face disappeared between Lilly’s thighs. He had to stop to tell her that she was pussy-sweet as well.

“I know, Pornman. I tasted it myself and it was mentioned to me before more than a few times.”

I feel like singing, said suddenly Pornman. Yes! I can also sing, but I only sing dirty ditties. I type them, you know, and I even published a few online. People love dirty words, but it’s hard for many of them to admit it. But when you give it to them as a ditty that can be sung, they join in, and it’s best with a beer or some peppermint.

“Peppermint?”

It’s a long story for another time.

“Are you done with my pussy?”

I’m sorry, my flower! I was daydreaming again. My dream has become reality and I still dream of things that could be added, like a ditty for Lilly or a song for spring.

The door, suddenly unlocked, revealed Dani, smiling like a woman in control. “I see that you haven’t wasted any time. How is he, Lilly?”

“Hung like Hercules but talks a lot. He even wants to sing. I think that he wants to fuck in a Broadway show.”

“We could arrange such a scene if he can really sing,” replied Dani.

I didn’t say that I could sing, just that I wanted to. But you never know. I now live in porn, so maybe I can also sing. I can even picture our first movie together. You direct, of course. Lilly can play the maiden. And I, of course, play the prick, except that I don’t even need to play it since I’m already a prick, the principal prick, Pornman.

“You understand, of course, that I have to test you first,” replied Dani.

Like science, art requires retakes, retouches, different words, and in porn, no clothes. I want to feel you from the inside sounds more artsy than I want to fuck you. I’m ready to perform.

“OK!” replied Dani after re-locking the door. “Let’s feel each other from the inside!” she also added with a smile.

A threesome? Thank you, Venus! Thank you, Aphrodite! Thank you, Dani and Lilly! Pornman is ready.

“Don’t thank me yet!” replied Dani, taking off her clothes.

Can I help? I may be good at undressing women too.

“Go ahead! Show me what you can do!” replied Dani, looking intently at his prick, probably thinking that it was indeed big. Oh, she had seen bigger pricks, but Pornman’s prick looked pristine and pretty.

A pretty prick? Some pricks have all the luck. He took off Dani’s bra as if he was disarming a bomb, only that this one was going to blow him into breast bliss. He couldn’t even think straight when Lilly joined in and four nipples were suddenly staring at him. What luck, what privilege to be facing four beautiful breasts! Dani’s first. They were already in his hands, waiting to be handled with love and care. Dani moaned as he sucked on her breasts from every credible direction, looking for the perfect one. One other thing about Pornman was his perfectionism. Lilly was already perfect and Dani even surpassed her. Some pricks should be bronzed or mummified when they die. Pornman’s was surely a candidate.

He removed Dani’s stringy panties with his teeth, unable to detach his gaze from her ass. He had never seen such perfection up close. I love you, he thought. Such an ass required a lot of love and attention. He could spend hours showing it what love was, without even entertaining a thought about the anus, that almost-sacred spot. Number two should have been placed elsewhere. But no! Nature must have a sense of humour putting it next to the pussy and enveloping it with ass. It’s like a birthday gift, except that when you open the box, you don’t mind dying after tasting the sweets. And you don’t care which sweets since they all taste pussy. Life is like a box of chocolates? What a gumption-less notion!

Dani seemed to be beyond herself, with Pornman lost between her parts. Pornman, however, didn’t forget about Lilly, the blooming flower with a pussy of her own in need of love as well, with his right hand caressing, fingering, and tasting her pussy. It was mind-blowing tasting two pussies at the same time, bathing in their oozing sap, swimming in this instance of existence at the stage of primal soup. Pornman wasn’t a soup enthusiast, except for pea soup, but this stream of lust and love was stock on which Pornman could erect a relationship, even a career.

Pornman didn’t stop until Dani and Lilly orgasmed at least once, but by then they were all over his prick, managing it like a gourmet meal. He refused to explode in their mouth, dodging every attempt with fingers in anuses and a tongue in all other places. Places of worship, they were. Pornman only revered women and their offerings. There were some pricks that Pornman admired, but those he called men, like Nietzsche, Freud, Einstein, Charlie Chaplin, Woody Allen, Philip Roth, Milan Kundera, Christopher Hitchens, and a certain number more.

“You’ll be perfect for porn,” said Dani as soon as they finished singing one of Pornman’s dirty songs, A Dirty Pussy Ditty, which could be sung like, My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music.

I’m Pornman, after all, replied Pornman, sure of his craft. But I deplore the number of pornstars who end up dead from a drug overdose or suicide and I want to help stop it from happening to such a stellar underrepresented fringe of society, he could have added. But it may have been too early for that.

What else did you expect from Pornman?

Pornman’s adventure has only begun. Stay tuned (connected) for Pornman Two: The Man Who Continued to Live in Porn, coming your way before you can say, Pornman, again.

P.S. In case you’re wondering about the revolving device in the image above, it’s simply a constant recording of Pornman’s heart rate. It’s pretty regular. Better than a lighthouse, save, of course, the light. Pornman doesn’t shine but he can surely show a shiner or two. Pornman remains, after all, a prick.

fiction

Patrick M. Ohana

Medical writer who prefers to read and write fiction and some nonfiction, though the latter may appear at times as the former. anthi-and-m.com

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