In the midst of a shuddering orgasm, a flash in the face can really fuck with one's head. It's how hard and long you can fuck. Drowned in the stickiness of the situation, there's nothing quite like a wet ear produced from the fuck-crazy breath of an impatient lover. And the more cum-stained the sheets are the better because then you know the temperature was just right. I am no pornography dealer, mind you.
Pornography is perverted, produced solely for the purpose of getting people off.
They're here to get fucked and get photographed. Their thoughts match mine simply in the fact that I have to match their shudders with the shutter speed of my camera. They can't see it in my eyes, but they know in that moment, I truly love them. And they do it not for the money, not for the unspeakable sexual pleasures, but for that millisecond of pseudo-love they feel wash over their entire bodies. I'm not getting paid, I'm not getting fucked, and I'm not keeping my thoughts inhibited from the public eye.