Sooooo…. I don’t know about you but, at least for me…. gay porn can get REALLY boring. I mean it’s the same thing over and over again: one dude is groping a hard, throbbing cock. Some face fucking, Switch of position, 69, maybe analingus. Whatever – I usually just click around on the bar until I get to the anal part.
I guess the stories can be different: jocks and coaches, the best buddies who end up butt buddies, the repairman, married dudes seeking escape from their wife (as well as married dudes who weren’t seeking escape from their wives but find it), bears, men in uniform, twinks, the frat bros who wanna blow a load, which by the way rarely even entertains me because it’s almost always softcore. I mean, the porn even hides the psychological battle these dudes go through: It doesn’t make me gay if it’s HIS mouth, right? It’s like their identity just tears at the seam and they can’t handle that dick is awesome: ESPECIALLY when it’s not your own.
Jacking off became so much tedious and time-consuming because I needed something more to excite me. So maybe it was the monotony of it all that got me on redtube watching school girls and milfs have their way with guys. I mean, if the bros get to say a hole’s a hole, why can’t I in this context say a cock’s a cock?
It was hot, and got me excited, and I went on with it for a while, but it started weighing down on me: was I turned on from thinking about fucking this girl? Was I bisexual? Was I straight all along? I was having an identity crisis because I couldn’t tell if my dick was throbbing for the dude’s cock or the chick’s cooter. I recalled that Pinar said in ’98:
Patriarchy is in one sense ... the reproduction of society" ( Hocquenghem , 1978, p. 92).
Anyways one night I had this crazy dream. Maybe it was the straight porn or maybe it was the soft power and hard power updates I’d produced for Fullerton’s massive heg file, but something happened.
So there I was outside this building guarded by bouncers. I only knew three things: I knew from a name badge clipped to my chest that I worked for the Endowment of Democracy, I knew that this was a sex club, and I knew how to get in. Before I know it I’m at the front of the line and the guard says: “You know the code to get in?”
And I did, so I looked him in the eyes and said “Resolved: The United States Federal Government should substantially increase its democracy assistance for one or more of the following: Bahrain, Egypt, Libya, Syria, Tunisia, Yemen.”
“Welcome to the Arab Spring, have fun and don’t be too good.”
Walking in I had no idea what to expect cause I’ve never been to a bathhouse. I was greeted by a woman wearing a leather outfit. “Hello sir. Would you like to have homosexual or heterosexual intercourse this evening? “
“I get to choose? Well gee, I think I’ll slay some pussy tonight!”
“Hall to the left: if you like what you see, go on in.”
There were 5 doors all open for me all with different names above them. I peeped in the room labeled ‘BAHRAIN’ and a veiled woman said to me, “Hey captain, why don’t you come put your fleet in my Persian Gulf?” Oppressed: NEXT.
I peered into the one labeled ‘LIBYA’ where a fully naked woman sat against the wall playing with herself, moaning. “Help me, sir! I’ve heard of you – I know about your Endowment. There’s a civil war going on down here that I’m trying to deal with, and you have no idea what horrors will be unleashed if you don’t intervene in Labia.”
A little more exciting but a little too aggressive. But the next door, holy shit: they definitely know how to make women in Yemen. She just sat there smiling at me with a veil burning on the floor nearby. I stepped in and she said, “You’ve chosen your ground. Close the door and lock it: you’ll be free to be with another option after you’ve had some Yemeni fun. “
A little aggressive, but I guess hey, you gotta obey the rules, so I did what she said. “So Mr. American… how big is your…. Democracy?”
I smiled: “They say it’s the biggest in town.”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she said, leaning back, grinning seductively. Growing hard I pulled down my pants, and dropped them and my underwear to the ground.
She paused a second and started laughing hysterically. “Biggest in town? Take a look for yourself!”
And holy shit was she right: it wasn’t the dick I play with everyday, it was a stranger to my body. I had a FUCKING CHODE! My penis! My manhood! My democracy! I felt for the first time ashamed to show off my member. As Bossio explained in 05:
The state often positions itself ... very notions on another culture (Hage, 2004) “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sure a lot of people think your democracy can assist them substantially.”
Somewhat consoled, I was resolved that I should fuck her and prove to her I had the best democracy in town. I go over, tenderly kissing her lips, hands groping her supple chest. Things heated up and her hands grabbed my wrists as she slid my hand down her body: her southern border unrestricted. But I felt something… something familiar… something hard. I stepped back, she smiled, and tore her clothes off, revealing the most monstrous cock I had ever encountered.
“Yeah, my democracy extends beyond the federal government… I start my measurement with localized individual relations. Bend over, faggot.”
It overpowered me and the next thing I knew I was tied up and she was toying with my anus topically, spitting occasionally to lube it up. A finger slid in and then another. I gasped: my anus had been closed, reserved as an exit only kinda deal, for some time now. This isn’t what I signed up for; how do I leave this activity? Who is this MONSTER and why is she in the Arab Spring? I could never have been ready for such an unpredictable event. But even though it came out of nowhere, it showed me how right Runions was when she said in 05 that:
Let me now turn to the way ... desire, fear and aggression merge. UHHHHHHHH-AHHHHHH!!!! It was inside of me!
My body was molding through her penetration and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was painful physically as I adjusted to its’ insertion but also psychologically because I was being terrorized by this monster fag. I closed my eyes: maybe this wasn’t a dream, the pain felt too real. My limits couldn’t handle this, I was going to die, the world as I knew it was going to end. And what was this thing: was it a girl because she performed and identified as one, or was she a he because of that oversized democracy? And what did that make me? What was my identity?
“You’d like it much more if you stopped closing up – just relax and try to enjoy it.”
And was that ever true, cause the male anus isn’t just about stretching: it also is home of the prostate, and was she ever assisting it. I was flooded with pleasure: who cares or knows what the hell I am? I am my anus: I’m malleable and not in total control. I’m an Other to myself. I felt my hatred subside and learned to enjoy the ropes constraining me, my democracy being revealed for what it was, and my limits being stretched beyond what I thought was even imaginable. My psyche, and not my anus, had shattered. As Dean said in 10:
The overwhelming of selfhood by ... is only ever intermittently personal.I woke up after the best pounding I’d ever had in a fantasy alive free from guilt. I learned to stop worrying and love my anus, for it is a site of pleasure in penetration and pain. But it seems I’ve reached the end of my time, so judge, opponent, I’ll leave you with this: There’s beauty in the breakdown, and let me tell ya: it hurts so good.
