Cocktail Franks, Part 1

How can it be objectification to stare at a woman’s ass while running on a cardio device at the gym? I mean, for God’s sake, she’s right there in front of you, like a cardboard hare before a greyhound at the track and, unarguably, that canine is not objectifying a hare, he’s subjectifying a sculpted plank of hare-shaped cardboard.

Likewise, I would not get off my cross-trainer until this object turned toward me and revealed features that would subjectify it; eyes, nose, mouth… The hint of gloriousness implied by a geometrically compelling object at its end made me want, nay need, to turn it into a full-fledged she and to see who she was.


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