On the nights when I am alone, I go looking for her. It is harder to find her these days.

I’ve heard things over the years from people, about girls crying, real things you could sink your teeth into. Those days are gone, people tell me, long gone. No secrets anymore, everything gone underground.

Sometimes I search for hours. You can still find her, but when you do, It’s mostly unexpected, a wonderful surprise, happy early birthday.

When you find her, she is a self-made mess. It was her lucky day to make such a stunning amount of money in such a short period of time. I wonder what she needed the money for.

The magic moment generally comes early: The dawning realization that she is in over her head, discomfort, panic, terror even, if you are really lucky.┬áCoupled with it, another realization- that she did it to herself, orchestrated her own doom. Some stranger waved candy in your face and you followed him down the rabbit hole, silly girl. It was only what you do with boys anyway, with the eye of a camera trained on you, such a small difference. But the man with the candy isn’t like the boys at your school.

Sometimes there are two magic moments; the shock, and then the split, the girl’s eyes glazing over, the thousand-yard stare, I’m not here anymore, wake me up when it’s over. It’s hard to decide which of these moments are better.
Only exceptional videos have this quality, a kind of rightness that cannot be staged. When the rightness isn’t there, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. I can hear that it’s not right within seconds of the video starting, but on occasion I am fooled, the girl such a consummate actress that it’s only right at the end you realize you’ve been had, the girl’s mews of distress turning into pleasure, shutting the page like you’ve been scorched, your arousal wilting.┬áSometimes I’m too tired and disappointed to try again, searching from scratch, the upward climb from disappointment to orgasm impossible to attempt.

If you find the right one you can sometimes extend your pleasure by finding her elsewhere. Often these girls are never seen again, but occasionally they dig in their heels and become stalwarts of the industry. You can track their decline by seeing the evolution of their public persona, the films they star in, the ink on their bodies. Staring defiantly at the camera, at us, hardened, each year hollowing out their eyes.

Magic.

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