THE STICKY-SWEET, BODY-WARM TASTE of pornography lingers in the soul long after the fires have been banked and the shades drawn. Where did it all begin? What ancient cave man drew the first dirty picture on the wall of his dank granite hole and then, cackling fiendishly, scuttled off into the darkness? Even today, deep down in our innermost recesses, there is a hot, furry little something that peers out at us with tiny, red-rimmed eyes, reminding us with its lewd chittering that we are still scrawling graffiti on the walls of our caves...
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