Suck My Cock

There's a lot of cock on the internet.

I see it a lot, and usually it's pumping into pussy.

Unnaturally. Bald and shaven. A piston-like machanism that barely captures the deeper, primal, nerving and unnerving...

--liquid stir of orgasm and cum and roiling semen being urged.

--pumped and coaxed out, while...

--she feels the shaft hardening and pounding,... moving and gyrating,... stroking and stimulating up deep, along and cleaving,...

--a tightening of the loins as the cilia hairs flatten and rally to send electronic impulses to the center, to the glans, to the balls.

Depictions of fucking in porn are both explicit and objectifying, replacing sensation with image, to be beyond use. When I first started watching porn, on VHS tapes, I preferred lesbian scenes, because there wasn't any cock there - only pussies.

"Sweet Cakes," with the lesbian scene with sisters Brooke and Taylor, is still something that stirs me everytime I see it. Maybe once every 5 years now.

Now, I've come to realize that seeing and watching a hard cock pump a pussy is better, so much more horny and erotic, than 2 girls going at it. Lesbians - even if they have strap-on dildos - just don't seem to be getting into the fuck rhythym when they do each other. They're lickers.

Cock is an important part of fuck films. I love cock. It's aggressive, and male and organic. It squirts and asserts a blood-filled pumping bitch-slap to the pussies, mouths, and assholes being offered, opened.

The cock is me. The cock is skin, and all skin, hair, balls, and cum is liquid fluid love and amber.

It's the stroke, it's the thrust, it's the hit. The stroke, slow on my long erection, in which you rub and suck it with your lips, is more a turn-on than you opening your legs and showing me your pussy lips, your erect clit. Come down here and lick me, my glans and my shaft and grab my balls. Suck my cock and let it rudely point at you.

Let it drip as it bangs against your tight pussy. Let me cum on your stomach. Your pussy, split by cock. Hair on hair.

The Aesthetics of Mediation

An example of a webcam/amateur video clip in which there is no mediation by a 3rd party obvious or presumed. The clip is from a single and unmoving position, and the subject has set herself up, carefully framed to show us a priveledged view of herself playing with herself.

Her full body is in view, except for much (but not all) of her face. Her actual identity is obscured in this way by elision. Yet the video, as long as 4 minutes, is an uninterupted, and un post-managed document of herself.

The subject has also made no attempts to play "to the camera." There is no eye contact. She is not specifically showing herself to the camera or adjusting her position as it has already been positioned. Her activity is predetermined. She is not in a hurry.

The sense of time is close to "real." The strategy serves to create a meditative state in the viewer, to observe the clip as an entire entity, without change in focus, perspective, or subject.

Celebrities Nude

Here's a picture of Natalie Portman at a party in which a photographer managed to snap her with cum on her face. Someone has spent a lot of time making this hardcore shot seem to be populated with a famous actress - with her face covered with cum. A young one that many people fantasize about. A large amount of celebrity nude shots out there are screen shots stolen from films. That was never the intent of the scenes, to be frozen and studied in statis. FIlms afford quick and fleeting glimpses, in a narrative, yet they're strangely purient and unsatisfying. To a certain extent because the celebrities don't have as much sexually to offer... when we see them naked. They're acting after all. Lindsay Lohan, who's been a cute girl and generally can demonstrate a positive, vivacious energy on film, is someone I thought I'd like to see naked and in hardcore action. But her pussy here doesn't seem too appealing. It's been shaved and has a certain clammy tackiness to it. 

And to a certain extent, so does her recent life. It isn't good porn. Her recent hijinx with her girlfriend, which may or not be real, continues the dismay and dissatisfaction with following her career. The artist above goes by the name of Yovo and does this photoshop work to make a fantasy more real. Our hardcore fantasy made flesh. Retouch the photos professionally and carefully, using the proper and matching materials to make shadows, skin tone, pose of body work with the rest of the photo. And this work of creating "fakes" - there are thousands of varying degrees of professionalism - introduces a sexual and explicit element into our voyeuristic fantasies of the stars we watch, look at while they do not look at us back. Celebrity is a unique and privileged social and public construct. In these new and forbidden documents...they are presumably not acting. Celebrities, or at least the people that are well known to us, allow us to look at them. We are profoundly and instinctually interested in each other, in other people, and we can't stop watching. And they watch us to make sure we still are. Celebrities, who are often beautiful, or made to look beautiful, or certainly, made to be looked at (since a camera is pointed at them and the resultant images are relayed to us by t.v. or film or the internet), create their own awareness. We have a personal and unique relationship with these people who allow us to watch them and fantasize about them. They're larger than life in our minds and in our hearts. And their sexuality is unknown. It is forbidden. Usually kept a secret. These "celebrity fakes" change what might otherwise be a promo headshot of our favorite celebrity, and grounds it visually into the real, base, human and horny sexual realm. To an extent it makes them closer to real. We actually see Natalie Portman blowing, and getting blown on. And believe it for a while. Our relationship to the celebrity, of course, affects our response to these fakes. If we have fantasized over the prim doings of a young starlet, or if the actress has played loose and sexual roles in films, our shock and pleasurable surprise may be mitigated, dampened, or heightened. Here is Britney Spears, in another fake. It addresses our suspicions of her lack of control, and rhymes to a certain extent her lack of decorum in public. Although very explicit, it doesn't have the same power to shock. That may have a lot to do with how we think of Britney Spears as a person vs. as an unobtainable celebrity figure. We feel that here, even she is still watching us watching her. Does it excite us by exposing a hidden aspect of a public personality, a private exhibitionistic streak we're unable to access except through trickery? Or does it merely confirm it?

  

The Long Tail

The sex life of a couple changes dramatically from when it's first lit aflame, to the later years of familiarity and routine.

The first week - the first month - the two people can't get enough of each other. We fuck in every room, in every position, at every moment. In the back row of the movie, in the car, in the restaurant bathroom.

As we figure out what gets the other off. Or we confess what we'd like to try, some routine and regularity enters in. The same moves, the a to b to c plan, and the same time of day (always after dinner) or the day of the week (Friday is best, after the week).

I begin to crave the specific things my partner offers me. If she's a little heavy, I find myself looking at heavy girls, wondering, or rather - knowing how they look naked. And how they buck in bed. The folds behind their ass. The heft of their thigh.

If they have red hair, I lust after their pussy that I know I love, can make drip and cum. The thinned hair, barely hiding pink. Or dark-skinned girl? I have one just like you at home.

As my love affairs end and I find someone knew, my fetishes fade to be replaced by new ones. (The early ones, the ones that have been imprinted at an impressionable age, seem to stay. I still got a thing for red pussy hair. And being naked out of doors.)

You must have patience, and learn from your lover. You develop new techniques that are 60% familiar and effective, and 40% new and transgressive. It may be easy to do the tried and true, but there's benefit to pushing the envelope to keep it like that first sexy bitch blush of discovering a new fuck lover that first week. In which anything and everything goes, every position, no matter how awkward, because you're going to cum anyway.

"Can I do this today? I've never done this before - how does it feel now?" We all want to go right to what works. Is it still good? "Where did you learn that new trick?"

Mixing it up, and trying new things, keeps it interesting. Keeps you interested in your long-term lover. Your wife. Keeps you married. Keeps you hard and horny, wanting to fuck that ass, that tail, when she comes home and she's the only one you're gonna fuck.

So don't make a mistake. Make it yourself and make it good.

Two Men for Every Woman

There was a time during my first marriage when one day I was suddenly sure she had a boyfriend. I'm not sure how I figured it out, or even if I really did, but suddenly so many little minor clues and hints and strange behavior that I never noticed before all added up to some other guy on the days (or nights) when I wasn't there with her.

And the fact that our sex life had taken a constricted turn. She was unwilling to put out for me like she had, as if she had gotten tired of me.

Yet I never actually found out and confronted her. I would let her go on errands to go do laundry, and not say anything if she came home late. She would get defensive over little things I didn't bother to pursue. She would be over at the shop next to my work, and having a way too good conversation with the guys who worked there.

I didn't know how to confront her - or if I should. Or could. She was still my wife. I would push her to spend time with me, and then really come onto her, forcing her to have sex. I'm not sure if I had ever fucked her when a previous guy had been inside her - mere hours or minutes before. Perhaps my cock was pushing his sperm further up her love canal. Maybe that was why she was wetter some days than others.

The idea that the other guy's dick had fucked her had a weird attraction that made me visualize and conceptualize the details endlessly. Did she let him fuck her in the ass? Did he do her doggy-style?

I may have only fucked her 4 times more after that, although we were together another 9 months. But from that point on that pussy wasn't mine. It was someone else's. I was just using it occasionally.

The Blowjob

Now it's time to tell you about the gay blow-job.

It was my first blow-job - the first one I got that made me cum. The only one a guy did on me.

I don't want to make a big deal out of this.

I was walking home from a theatre after a double bill - I had missed the bus. A car pulled up and a young guy asked if I needed a ride to campus. I thought I recognized him as a fellow student, but didn't know his name and didn't have any classes with him.

I got in, happy not to have to walk the 2 miles back to the dorm. He began to talk about his girlfriend, and how she wouldn't have sex with him.

I told him I knew the feeling. He said just a blow-job, it wasn't really sex. Maybe she would get to like it. A good testing ground.

I agreed with all of this. I'm naive.

Then he asked me if I ever got a good blow-job. I hadn't had any blow-job of any kind at that point. Only casual tastings by my handful of partners.

He said, as safe as milk, if I'd like him to let him try on me.

I liked the guy, and he wasn't intimidating at all. I said no way, and he said he'd stop as soon as I stopped liking it.

I insisted that I wasn't interested in that.

He said that I didn't sound that convincing. He wondered if I would prefer to do it on him.

I told him no, I didn't know how. He admitted he wasn't an expert either. So I think I was inadvertently choosing to let him try it on me.

We pulled into an alley, and he leaned down and very carefully undid my pants, and fondled my genitals, which got very hard in his hand very quickly.

There was a moment or 3 there in which I was not making any decisions.

His mouth felt very good, and for the first 2 minutes I told myself as soon as my curiosity was satisfied I'd ask him to stop.

He gently stroked my balls while he put my cock into his mouth and licked. Quietly and attentively. And I soon came, and he licked most of it off my prick and his hand.

I felt good - then cold and shamed. He drove me home.

I wonder how it would have felt to have gone ahead and blown this stranger in his car instead.

I've never had another gay experience. I never wanted one.