Having just read the stories on your website, my stomach is turning right now. I don't want to think about the girls and women who suffered at the hands of sexual criminals who were porn addicts.

As a man, I want to talk about why porn is bad for men.

The first time I remember seeing porn is when I was six years old. I found my father's stash of dirty magazines, and I was immediately and irretrievably enthralled. I began a love/hate affair that would last until today, more than 20 years later.

While still in elementary school, I cut some choice pictures out of my father's magazines and brought them to school to show my friends. Somehow -- I don't remember exactly how anymore -- I was caught. I can still remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom as my mother, with my father looking on beside her, removed each picture from the paper bag I had brought them to school in, unfolding them, and laying them out in front of me in a humiliation I will never forget. I was about 10 years old.

When I was 14, I discovered my father's stash of porn videos. I was in heaven. But I could not believe what I saw.

My fascination and obsession continued through my adolescence, but not until I went away to college was I afforded the privacy to really indulge my burning desire. Even though I had a girlfriend who practically lived in my dorm room, I bought dirty magazines and kept them stashed in a dresser drawer. Then one day I sent in a reply to an offer for 4 porn movies on one videotape for $5. I was hooked. Soon came another video, and another. I was ecstatic. Nothing could be as sweet as this. But I always needed more. Just writing this now calls to the mind the unrivalled euphoria of those moments, better even than the best sex. But the sensation wore off after a while. And the promise of the next sex scene, which would no doubt be more erotic and more arousing, with women and men who would be more gorgeous and the sex acts more appealing, was always beckoning, assuring me that the next one would be even better. I could not resist the pull.

Pornography on the internet was still in its infancy in those days. But I still grabbed whatever I could get my hands on, even going to a friend's dorm room to download porn on his computer.

In the last couple of years since I have had a computer, I have spent probably thousands of hours scouring the web for the best porn pictures and movies, free and premium, on the web. I like to think that within a couple of seconds I know how to access a mother lode of XXX movies and pictures -- and I think of little kids all over the country doing the same.

I have realized that my tastes have gotten harder, more exploitative, even more abusive. When I first started watching porn, I only liked rather gentle sex with two partners who seemed to like each other. I hated sex where it seemed like the guy was being too hard or the woman didn't seem to enjoy it. These days, I have realized it takes more to get me excited. And it seems likes the porn industry has accommodated. Today, every almost every sex scene involves anal sex, an act which seems to me -- although I now find it intriguing and stimulating -- to look like an act of domination: my pleasure, your discomfort. Gangbangs, multiple facial cumshots, double and triple penetration, swallowing have all become staples in my nocturnal endeavors. And I have come across things on the internet, like forced sex and much, much worse, the sickest forms of perversity imaginable, that their very existence on the web seems to testify that they must be acceptable. If not, wouldn't the people who make them and distribute them be arrested? Why is it that anyone anywhere can download this stuff free, anonymously?

These days, I still wrestle with this demon that won't let me go. I still have dreams -- wonderful, beautiful, incredible dreams -- of discovering porn somewhere in the house -- a hidden treasure! Or of stacks and stacks of videos piled high on a big screen TV and the whole house to myself. I wonder, why am I dreaming of porn instead of dreaming of sex? I realize this is not normal. I am in prison. Living in a fantasy world. Trapped.

My friend told me about SA, Sexaholics Anonymous. I looked through their book. Looks interesting. But I am not ready to show up to a meeting yet. Maybe I will one day. Maybe not. But I do know one thing. Porn is a killer. I feel like it is eating me from the inside, destroying my soul, pushing me away from the spiritual forces of good in the world and shackling me in the grips of evil. I can't get out. Maybe one day I will. I am still single, but what will happen when I get married? Will I ever be free of this slavery? I am afraid.

I want to tell people that porn kills. It is not a joke. It is not harmless. It is not none of my business what you do with yourself. It is poison. It pollutes the world, it pollutes society, it pollutes your children, your brothers, your fathers, your husbands, and maybe even you. Think about it. How much porn do you look at? Is it really OK? Is it really not hurting anybody? Or is it really destroying our society slowly, quietly, patiently, like a black cancer that spreads undetectably until that fateful day in the doctor's office when that lump turns out to be more than just a lump?

I just read an article a day or two ago called "Erotica Runs Rampant" that says how porn is becoming an acceptable part of pop culture, popping up in movies, on popular TV sitcoms and specials, music, everywhere. When will we start to wisen up? When will we realize we are on the road to ruin? I sincerely hope, and pray, before it is too late.

Think about it. Do what you have to do. Make the changes in your lifestyle. Talk about it with others. Do what you have to do. Don't let this silent killer destroy us.

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