Okay, I can’t speak for this extremely fucked up example, but in general it’s very simple:
see shape which sufficiently resembles (partially) naked woman, maybe in suggestive pose
neuron activation
you are now horny
There is no need to imagine any fucking, seeing the image is enough to get you into the mood, looking at it long enough (or at different images for long enough) will get you most of the way there, and the hand can take care of the rest
Wait, you don’t imagine elaborate narratives where, say, Adrien Brody’s car breaks down in a stretch in the wilderness with nothing but your cabin for miles. So he walks toward the only structure and I’m there studying mosses and it’s so remote I have a sat phone I let him use to call for help, but it’ll be a while so I make him some tea and we get to talking. Night falls before help comes so I light a fire in the pit and let him borrow a sweater I stole from an ex and pull out a bottle of whiskey I was saving for something special but it’s special enough. It keeps us chatting untill the early hours when a tow truck finally shows and I see him off. When I get home from my studies I find a package waiting for me—it’s the sweater he borrowed, a thank you card, and a bottle of fine whiskey?
(I’m uncomfortable sexually fantasizing about real people.)
Okay, I can’t speak for this extremely fucked up example, but in general it’s very simple:
There is no need to imagine any fucking, seeing the image is enough to get you into the mood, looking at it long enough (or at different images for long enough) will get you most of the way there, and the hand can take care of the rest
Wait, you don’t imagine elaborate narratives where, say, Adrien Brody’s car breaks down in a stretch in the wilderness with nothing but your cabin for miles. So he walks toward the only structure and I’m there studying mosses and it’s so remote I have a sat phone I let him use to call for help, but it’ll be a while so I make him some tea and we get to talking. Night falls before help comes so I light a fire in the pit and let him borrow a sweater I stole from an ex and pull out a bottle of whiskey I was saving for something special but it’s special enough. It keeps us chatting untill the early hours when a tow truck finally shows and I see him off. When I get home from my studies I find a package waiting for me—it’s the sweater he borrowed, a thank you card, and a bottle of fine whiskey?
(I’m uncomfortable sexually fantasizing about real people.)
hm I see. That’s not how it works for women (usually)
That’s really just describing gooners and teenagers… I don’t think most of us not permanently online guys think like that
That is fair, I’m only a few years out of my teens. I guess it’ll require more intent in the future once puberty completely wraps up?