ABSTRACT
In delving through my memory banks, the first association I have with pornography comes at age ten, when I would "borrow" my mother's Readers Digests, Redbooks, and other magazines, searching through them for any vaguely sex-related articles ("I Am Joe's Testicle," "Secrets for Holding a Man," and one of my favorites, "What Do You Say to a Naked Man?"); I would take them to school, hide them, and then spend the half hour after school out in the football field, behind the fence, reading them over and over, while fierce erotic tingles raced through my body. I tried sharing them with my buddy Darren, but he didn't understand my arousal.
