By Russell Nolte
Special to YNOT

MALIBU, Calif. – My name is Russell Nolte and I’m a porn addict. By the grace of God (and, to a lesser extent, the strict internet usage-monitoring performed by the dedicated staff of the recovery center where I’ve spent the past two months) I’ve been porn-free for almost nine weeks now. I must say I’ve never felt better in my life.

For me, one of the biggest struggles with porn addiction was the way it affected my thinking and emotions around the clock — not just when I was actively watching the stuff while fervently tugging my penis, but even as I simply went through my daily routine.

Due to porn’s insidious influence, I spent the past seven years unable to control or contain my sexual thoughts and fantasies. It got so bad, I couldn’t even go to the bank without imagining two or more of the attractive young tellers entwined in a Sapphic embrace, fingering each other vigorously in full view of the customers, or imagining myself slipping into the vault with one of them to make a quick “deposit,” if you catch my drift.

All of that is behind me now, thanks to expert counseling and the healing presence of my higher power. For a while, I thought maybe the tea they served every day during lunch at the rehab facility had something to do with my increased self-control, but the doctors here assure me it was just regular green tea, with a small splash of a sweetener called “LHRH,” which I’m pretty sure stands for “Lipton’s Healthy Rehab Honey.”

Six days out of rehab, I’m still going strong, making my way through the day with nary a stray sexual thought, no matter how sexy the world around me insists on being. For example, yesterday a beautiful young woman stopped me in the street to ask for directions, and I barely even noticed how stiff her nipples were, straining against the light, thin fabric of her nearly see-through blouse.

Even though she had exactly the sort of trim, fit body, prominent cheekbones and thick, pouty lips that used to drive me crazy during my life as a porn fiend, I had no trouble making eye contact with her instead of staring at her gorgeous, natural breasts. Hell, I did so well during our conversation, I almost didn’t notice she wasn’t wearing a bra until I got a little view of side boob through a crease in her shirt.

Back when I was a porn addict, I wouldn’t have been able to get this girl out of my mind — especially her tight, round butt. During my porn days, I wouldn’t even have made it home before needing to masturbate. I probably would have found the nearest public restroom, dialed up a mobile tube site on my smartphone and beat my meat like an unruly stepchild right then and there.

I’m cured now, though, able to put sexy women out of my mind as easily as I’ve forgotten all those old porn scenes that once burned in my brain like so much prurient pyrography. For example, I haven’t thought about my favorite Lisa Ann blowbang scene at all today — until just now when I wrote this sentence, obviously.

Now, the images of Lisa Ann’s cum-covered face that once thrilled me to no end are permanently erased from my brain, to the point where I don’t even remember the way the third cumshot in the sequence of 10 ran straight down her forehead to her luscious lips, or how she deftly flicked out her eager tongue to catch a big gob of spooge right as it was about to fall from the corner of her mouth down to her massive, bouncy titties.

Nor do I clearly recall either of Lexi Belle’s much-awaited anal scenes, what happened in them or who her male co-stars were.

This is especially true of the scene Lexi did with James Deen, which has retreated so far from my conscious mind I can no longer even vaguely remember the precise number of times James spanked her, much less recall the distinct sound of Lexi’s squeaky voice as she alternated between biting her lower lip and emitting short bursts of ecstatic noise in response to the rigorous anal penetration in progress.

Yes, it’s true: Where once my mind was a wasteland of filth, depravity and perversion, now my thoughts are as pure as the pile-driven snow.

I’m sure there are skeptics reading this post right now who will question whether I’ll be able to sustain my porn-free lifestyle now that I’m no longer in rehab. Personally, I think a lot of them are porn addicts themselves. Unable to confront their own addiction, they will denigrate my triumph, or declare it a temporary victory that is certain to reverse itself as soon as I get to feeling horny again.

While I will admit I visited a few porn tube sites the other evening, I assure you I did this solely for research purposes, training for my new passion: raising awareness of porn’s evils and helping other addicts with their struggle.

After all, how can I speak to porn’s evils if I fall behind in terms of knowing what those evils are? In order to be an effective anti-porn warrior, I must know my enemy. And since I’m no longer able to clearly remember, off the top of my head, whether it was the third volume of Battle of the Asses that features Jada Stevens, I’m forced to surf and watch the very porn to which I was once addicted in order to effectively help others not watch it.

I know many of you reading this are struggling with porn addiction, too, as well as the deep denial that comes with it. Friends, trust me: You need help. Porn addiction can’t be defeated on its own. It requires professional help, the development of steadfast self-discipline (like mine) — and, possibly, an occasional glass of green tea.

Russell Nolte is a recovering porn addict who has been clean and porn-free for nearly nine weeks seventeen minutes.