Randomly, he plucks one of the picture albums off a shelf. Like all the others, it is stuffed to bursting with pages of Polaroid photos of naked women posing for the camera: dishwater blondes and fire engine redheads, bolt-on boobs and myopic tits, hairless sphinxes and seventies pies, crazy-eyed speed freaks and fresh meat waiting to be cleaved, illegal Thai girls and Ukrainian housewives, street-corner hustlers and the born freaky, moonlighting call girls and ingénues killing time, Midwestern innocents fresh off the bus and Southern dumbbells bored by their mothers’ pearls, somebody’s mother who likes to fuck and yesterday’s cheerleaders who’ll fuck anything, ready to drop and ready to die, apple-bottomed honeys and albino hippies, the totally tattooed and one who is cross-eyed, lost girls and married swingers, alone and stripped to the bone, terribly happy and unbearably sad, too-long unknown and stars-to-be, lapsed angels and love dolls.
-- from my novel, PORN HAPPY