Mid-Life Suckage.

Kinzy Jo

I can feel my libido dying a slow death. I’ve noticed it now for about the last year or so, and funny enough, it coincides with my need to wear glasses when I read.

It also coincides with the beginning of my fourth decade, which is just a fancy way of saying I’ll be 42 soon.

What the fuck? Is this common? I mean going blind and not caring a whole lot about bird dogging some beaver? Will I suddenly feel the need to drive a Corvette? Shit! Suddenly, I’m not feeling the need to beat off 3 times a day, nor do I find myself daydreaming about sex. Maybe this is a good thing? My eyes still wander when I go to the Safeway store near campus; the coed cuties that walk around 1/2 naked in the frozen food aisle still do it for me. Nipples everywhere! I even took a picture from my camera phone…all stealth-like…of two heets in line buying food. Then, I sent it to Spring Thomas just to hear her reaction; she text messaged me back something like “you old pervy bastard” – and that made me feel kinda ok.

I don’t even really get that turned on when I’m shooting a scene, even if it’s hot new talent. Shit, I didn’t even really care when I shot an interracial lesbo movie; even when the girls both took turns getting fucked.

What’s wrong with me?

Take, for example, the latest photo set I shot with barely-legal Kinzy Jo. She’s dangling her bra at you right now. I think she’s a cutie-pie, and she’s really nice, and she’s got great tits, and blah blah blah…but I realized, as I was shooting the set, nothing was going on whatsoever. I mean I coulda been moving a pile of rocks from one side of the yard to the other. Or selling a car. Or teaching some students. Or shooting a really cute barely-legal with a shaved pussy and perky teen tits. It’s all the fucking same to me these days.

I can’t believe this is happening.

Here’s another winner of a story – I get a late-night call from Spring Thomas. She’s at a bar, and some dudes are hassling her cause she’s Spring Thomas. Turns out the dudes are all my little brother’s pals. (My little bro is 15 years younger than me). She’s upset, and she wants me there to ask them to stop. So I show up. I say hi to them, and ask them very nicely to leave her alone. And to my surprise, they get hostile with me. Really hostile. Like they wanna kick my ass. They’re pimping me, and making fun of me, and elbowing me really hard as I’m trying to talk sense to them…and it was then I realized these fuckers not only could give me a run for my money…they could beat me up. One of the last times I saw them, it was 1992 and they were in front of my parents’ TV set, wrestling with Legend Of Zelda; now, they’re wrestling a gin and tonic and they’re getting ready to wrestle me down to the ground.

So I did the best I could, and I called Little Bro for back-up. If I was 25, this wouldn’t be happening.

But I’m not 25. I’m almost 42. And trust me – losing your sex drive, losing the ability to read anything smaller than a 14 point foint, as well as the ability to pound the shit out of loud-mouth punks – sucks balls.

Maybe it’s time for a little testosterone therapy. Those little booster shots you get from the doc to take things up a few nothes. Anyone here have any experience with them? Cause it’s either that or continue my drive down Pussy Lane. Which is right down the street from Whimpy Drive. Near Pansy Avenue.

You get the idea.

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