It used to be the case that if you wanted to see a woman naked, or in any context that was at all sexually charged, you had to actually know the woman personally, get to know her spiritually, and then, if you were lucky, you could finally see her in a context where she had no clothes and you could know what it was for her to pant and moan alone naked in a room with you. And once upon a time, you couldn't do any of this without first getting the approval of her parents. In fact, you couldn't do it without marriage.
In today's world, naked women are as easy to see as grass. Not only that, but these women can be seen in a variety of sexual contexts, doing almost anything you could imagine them doing. The thing about what pornstars do, is that they are things that any women could do if she was willing. The difference between an attractive woman who is a pornstar and one who isn't isn't a difference in skill, but in activity. The pornstar is so valuable to us, not because of how she does something, or how well she does, but because she's willing to do the thing to begin with.
And this is where our moms come in. Our mom's are no different than any other women. They have all the same equipment that give men pleasure. The only difference is they refuse to use it. This is especially frustrating if you're mom has what it takes to be a pornstar. It feels like such a waste that that ass in her jeans can give the world so much pleasure, pleasure which she refused to give it.
Now, I'm not writing this to say the moms are wrong and the sons are right, or vice versa. I'm only documenting what is obvious. Pornstars have set a new standard for young men and their imaginations. And regardless of whether they're justified in having that standard, they will have it none the less. Given that moms will fail to live up to the standard, it will obviously come to pass that sons will take matters into their own hands. Like I said, I'm not here to promote or condemn that. I'm just here to understand it and even give voice to these sentiments through my stories.
I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that our conception of the mother as something that is sacred and untouchable is teetering on a leaning hammock, with one bare foot on the dirty ground. It won't take much more leverage to overturn the hammock itself, and send that delicious fat ass to the ground below. When it falls, it will fall with a cloud of dust to celebrate its arrival. And the dust will settle on that big, bare ass. And us professional masturbators, in the quaintness of our own rooms, will know that we were here at the start of it all, waiting with bated breath for gravity to do its job. And what a job it will do.