DEAR DIARY: The Deleted Scenes, pt.2

:May 25, 1968:
Porn on the laptop before bed has become routine these days; a nightcap or a warm cup of milk (no pun intended) before fading off into a lonely, dreamless slumber.
Here’s my problem though. I have no shame in putting myself to sleep by showing myself who is boss or in watching complete strangers have ridiculous sex on a computer screen . I do, however, take issue with this thing that is called the “money shot,” the final price to be paid by a 29 year-old “ teen virgin.”
Every time I end up feeling dirty and used and seeing it on a nightly basis makes me question whether or not there is any decency left in my soul. The mere fact that I feel guilty about this situation tells me that there must be a snippet of hope, of faith, of life, at the very least, hanging on if not with both hands, then by a thread. At the very least.
This knowledge keeps me from swearing off self-abuse.
So, when exactly did this behavior become de rigueur and why? Is it thrilling? At no point in my sexual life has this type of behavior seemed the proper and just thing to do. I am only speaking for myself here. I realize that lots of people probably do this, the pulling out at the last second and the frenzied jerking off on your partners face. It is just something I have never ever been compelled to do.
Yet every night I see it.
I am a firm supporter of the notion that I would never ask anyone to do something that I was not capable and willing to do myself. Regardless of the fact that I am not actually asking these girls to do this and that I don’t get anything at all out of the facial, and that I sadly have no immediate plans on quitting porn, this tells me that I should experience a milky baptism myself.
I know, I could make the same argument for triple penetrations and fistings, but these are easy to avoid therefore I don’t see them. I am only compelled to pony up and experience this one element of porno. All that other shit I will leave to the bukkake and gang bang fanbase.
Let them exorcise their own demons.
Now how to go about this? Of course, I wasn’t about to go find some muscular, freakishly endowed douchebag to drop a load on my face, nor was I feeling like it would be acceptable to ask one of the roommates to jack one out on my head. So, my only real option was to do it myself…
[ed.- sadly, or fortunately, the entry ends here as does the diary.]