A Welcomed Inconvenience





     I'm laughing so hard, I can barely breathe.  My friend continues his belligerent rant, scaring the good people at Taco Bell, "So I told that motherfucker, you're gonna have to call the police or give me my fucking refund!  Thirty days, my ass!"  I was with him when he caused the scene at Wal-mart and I dreaded the day he'll tell this story.  The re-cap is always more embarrassing than being ushered out by the security.
     It's funny how three black men can be louder than everyone else in the entire restaurant.  It's even funnier seeing everyone shaking their heads in disapproval of our inappropriate humor.  I chime, "When are you gonna get to the part when you stopped all that yelling once the security got there?  You got real proper then, punk ass!"
     "Whatever, man, they better be glad I couldn't afford bail or I would've," a melodic ring comes from my pocket.
     Taunting him while checking my text, "You would've: what?"  Reading the colon next the right parentheses made my dick jump in my pants.  A smiley face from his phone number always manages to takes me from flaccid to super-stiff.  Finishing him off, "Speaking of bullshit, I gotta drop some off."  I try to slide from the booth's seat without anyone notice the large bump in my jeans.  It had to look strange turning the corner so sharply.
     Reaching the restroom, I get my phone ready; he doesn't like to wait.  Fumbling to turn the camera on, I lock the door behind me.  Thank God he rang while I was at a Taco Bell, they have a private bathroom.  Unbuckling my belt, I pull my shirt up and clinch it between my chest and chin.  I could feel the chemistry coursing through my body as my dick starts to throb in the open.  I don't know why, but I can't catch my breath.
     Aiming the camera phone downward, I make sure I get a good shot.  Close enough so he see the veins.  Far enough so none of the inches are lost.  He hates it when the picture cuts out the base; he has a thing for pubes.  I also make sure the lighting was right, I swear, these camera aren't made to capture big, black dicks.  I get nervous as my phone makes that loud, phony camera sound; I forgot to set it on silence.
     Since I had it out, I went ahead a took a piss.  After washing my hands, I returned to my friends eating they're burritos.  Creating an alibi, "Those fucking Baja Blast's make me go, like, every ten minutes."
     My quieter friend, slurps on his Mountain Dew in between bites, "Tell me about it."
     The loud one jumps up, "It's because it's crack soda!  Bean Burrito plus Baja Blast equals don't step foot in the bathroom after I'm done unless you gotta a death wish!"  As he hurries off to the bathroom, my phone rings and vibrates on the table.  I damn near choke on my taco as I see another colon/ right parentheses...shit!
     Breaking me out of my daze, he asks concerned, "Everything alright, who's texting you?"
     "Ah," I had to clear my throat, "No one, this damn phone bill's due tomorrow.  Feel's like I just paid that bitch yesterday."
     "I know what you saying, one bill after another," my mind is racing, trying to figure out where to do this.  Even if I wait until my homeboy's finished with the bathroom, it'll be hard to stay hard in that kind of funk.
     "Yo, man; I think I left something in your car.  Can get your keys?"
     In between bites, he pulls out his keys and drops them on the table, "Thanks, man."  Rushing out, I keep a hand in my front pocket to mask my excitement.  Pretending I'm checking my phone, I set up the camera as I swing the door open.  I hope he didn't notice how much force I used.
     Sliding into my friend's backseat, I quickly undo my pants again.  Using my finger, I press my dick toward my thighs and snap a a couple of pictures.  I get even harder as I realize I'm in a car with no tinting on the windows in broad daylight.  Pulling my pants back up, my stomach turns from blue balls.  I can't wait to get home to let the load out.
     Walking back indoors, I sneak in a few squeezes from my front pocket.  This dude has me twisted, I didn't notice my friends standing right in front of me, "I need my keys, homie."  I know I have to look weird.  I can't even look them in the eye.  I'm holding an erection in one hand and I'm juggling my cell phone and his car keys in the other.  After tossing his keys to him, I slowly but quickly turn around and head for his car.
     Sitting the backseat, my phone goes off again, my friend shouts, "Dude, your phone is going off every fucking three minutes!  What's up?"
     Trying to keep it cool, "Man, none of your business.  Your Mom's Metro got turned back on and we got some catching up to do."
     Sarcastically, he laughs, "Ha ha ha; my Mom weighs about three hundred pounds; unless you're a chubby chaser, I doubt she's the one giving you that woody."  The car explodes with laughter; I'm glad black men can't blush.  Looking down at the phone, I'm relieved to see a picture of his hand wearing a pearl bracelet next to a softening white cock.  It would've been hard to take another picture.

Neophilia: The Future of Intelsexualism



     This year was phenomenal.  In 365 days, I've lost everything and gained a pristine, new world.  Without doubt, the pinnacle of this year's events was the creation of "Journals of an Intelsexual".  Never in life have I had such a sufficient creative outlet.  I sang.  I screamed.  I came.  And then I came some more.
     The greatest aspect of this blogging experience is the overwhelming support I've been receiving from my fellow intelsexuals.  Because of their superb perspectives and provocative stances, I have gained a new degree of insight.  By reading their comments and visiting their respective blogs, I feel that I've become part of an astonishing society.  For that inclusion, I am forever grateful.

What does 2010 hold for this blog?

     I've been thinking long and hard about which direction I'll take this movement.  I've been dreaming up ways of adding dimensions to this site without separating my mission.  As a result of this pondering, posts in the future will be more multi-media, there will be more eye candy and food for thought.  I want to include more sounds...not necessarily music.  I also want to do more serial postings, a string of articles that follow one particular concept.

You want a whiff of the future?

Hierophilia
The sexual attraction to religious and sacred objects.

     Add blasphemer to my laundry list of titles. (LMAO)  I've been writing erotica inspired by the Bible and other holy texts; I look forward to sharing.  Since arousal is the highest form of reverence, I'm sure I have God's permission.  Speaking of, I also want to get more involved in sex magick and Tantra; this section would be devoted to that journey as well.

Narratophilia
Sexual arousal from the telling of dirty or obscene words.

     There will be interviews.  But my brand of journalism will be more...shall we say...lascivious.  I am interviewing regular people with extraordinary fetishes.  Instead of boring text articles, there will be voice recordings.  You ever wonder what perverts sound like?  Beautifully, just like everyone else...

Dirty Technology

     I look forward to featuring my favorite sex toys and apparatuses.  From a masculine perspective, I want to explore the use and sensation of all kinds of tools and technology.  Bondage.  Vibrations.  Insertions.  This section isn't restricted to what fits up my bum or wraps around my dick, but also inclusive of cool recording devices, new ways to watch porn and so forth.

I, hereby, coin 2010
The Year of the Intelsexual




The above art is from "SuperLover" by David Manson

View the entire set:
Here

Chremastistophilia: The Brighter Side of Being Burglarized



     While in Berkeley watching a new movie, "Red Cliff", my brother started to call my phone.  After ignoring it three times, I walked out of the theater to answer the fourth time.  My jaw dropped to hear that my apartment has been broken into.  My iPods, lap tops, jewelry and cash has been stolen.  A deep sensation of violation filled my core.  It's a terrible feeling to have something of yours taken.  I felt betrayed by The Universe at large.
     Getting home, I walked into my bedroom to find it in shambles.  The culprit went through my drawers, closet and under my bed, searching for everything of value.  Taking inventory of everything taken, I was shocked to see that the thief has also scavenged through my beloved "Sexbox 360"!  Instead of turning the box upside down and dumping out the contents, I could tell the burglar went through each item...

Magnum Condoms
Cock Rings
Leather Collars
Leather Chastity Belt
Vaccuum Pumps
Hitachi Wand
Beginners' Bondage Kit
Vibrators
Anal Beads
Lube

     As terrible as I felt, I couldn't help but feel a little relieved he/she decided to take a few of my cock rings, lube and condoms.  In a very strange way, I felt appreciated for my secret stash.  I wonder what the thief thought of my porn collection stored on my laptop?  The thought of turning someone out with my pornographic tastes arouses me a bit.  If he takes even a glimpse, he will never be the same...unless he's already into that kind of thing...
     Overall, this experience ruined my Christmas.  I hope the asshole pays for his/her sins in a deep, painful way.  However, I've learned to applaud my ability to convert everything into sex.  I'm quite sure it's my natural way of coping with upsetting circumstances.  Turning madness into fetish is my specialty.  Thank God for a twisted, yet creative, mind.
     The craziest thing about this: I kind of hope it was someone that knows me.  I want to see the blush spread across his cheeks as he remember his dirty discoveries.  An awkward smile would speak volumes.  God forbid, witnessing a tell-tale erection...for my digital pornographic library is, indeed, dirty...

Partialism: Lips

I didn't mean to...

     The room was really loud, you were speaking too softly and I had to lean closer to hear what you were saying.  Powder and perfume filled my nostrils.  The mango mojito was still fresh on your breath.  I couldn't understand what you were saying because I wasn't listening.  I was reading your lips in an entirely different way.
     The beads of light bouncing off your lipstick dazed me.  To scarlet luster of your smile called out to me.  I didn't mean to...  A sweet interruption occurs.  They feel as soft as I imagined; my lips are soothed attached to yours. 

I savor the mistake.
My jaw clinches as I wait for you to pull away.
You haven't.

     We exhale in unison, attempting to vent this tension within us.  We're unsuccessful.  We're uncomfortably comfortable.  Why did I do this?  I didn't mean to make things complicated.  I just felt a gravity between our lips and fell.  My impulses out ran my judgement. 

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Apotemnophilia - "Quid Pro Quo" (2008)



I just stumbled upon this thought provoking film; it is truly an intelsexual's delight.

     "Quid Pro Quo" centers on people who experience apotemnophilia; those with perfectly functional bodies who desire to become disabled. Some have fun with wheelchairs. Some find leg braces sexy. But there are some who are transabled, who actually want to have their limbs amputated or purposefully disrupt their ability to walk, see, speak, ect.
     What makes this movie so intriguing is its warmth. Instead of loading this movie with kinky, perverse undertones; the director, Carlos Brooks, fleshes out the humanity of the "wannabes". Delving deep in the myriad of psychological phenomenons that could trigger this desire; it becomes evident that we all desire to be special...one way or another. I also love that the film doesn't attempt to make sweeping diagnoses; it is made very clear that this fetish/lifestyle varies in several different degrees and origins.
     I strongly suggest that everyone watch this movie. If not for the provocation; then to lay your eyes on the adorable lead man, Nick Stahl. Rarely do I find grown men cute; but he's dreamy for sure.

Funniest line...

"You must think that I'm fucked in the head."
"No; I think you're gang banged in the head!"

Please watch and share your thoughts...

zSHARE video - www.filmikz.net Qid.Pr.Q.avi.flv



"Tissue" by Tomek Jankowski



"You have clothed me with skin and flesh,
and knit me together with bones and sinews"
- Job 10:11
"For you have formed my innermost being,
you knit me together in my mother's womb"
- Psalms 139:13

If Christians were sexier they would use this as pro-life propaganda...


     Photogtrapher, Tomek Jankowski, has an intriguing series called "Tissue".  In the photo set, he simulates embryotic episodes using adult men and women; emmersing them in cloudy fluid and layering their bodies with meat, bones and tissue.  Very sensual, but very hearty. 

Is it wrong to find adults imitating fetuses sexy? 

The photos view here are just the tip of the iceburg...
View the rest of his thought provoking collection:







Xenophilia: Sexy/Strange


     So Awkward
     So Alien
     So Arousing

     I have a fixation for foreigners.  Beautifully bizarre, authentically weird; it's so stimulating to be within the presence of something else.  I crave new concepts, new cinema, new cuisine, new culture.  I should tattoo the word "xenocentric" on one of my ribs.

     Let's make love upside-down
     Let's dance to music without a melody
     Let's wear something strange

     My love/lust for the unknown is driven by the discovery of similarities.  In spite of our cultural and aesthetic differences, its amazing to find things that draws us together.  So many things remind me that we all can be traced back to Pangaea. 

     Laughter pervades language 
     Smiling can be severely involuntary 
     We're all pink and throbbing on the inside 

Check me out @ Ka-os|theory



     A few days ago,
I contributed a piece exclusively for Ka-os|theory
It is based on agalmatophilia;
 arousal from mannequins, statues and other motionless figures.

Click Here

Many thanks to my blogger crush,
Garcon Stupide
for knighting me a Ka-os|theorist!




Male Evolution: Are Gentlemen the New Ladies?



     There is an interesting shift taking place.  Women are beginning to earn more money and handle more assets.  Meanwhile, there is an upswing in male conviction rates.  There is an increase in single parent households where women are the sole provider.  If you do the math, eligible bachelors are beautifully outnumbered by bachelorettes.  Key word: eligible; attractive, available men without familial baggage.
     Women are searching high and low for worthwhile men.  The tables have truly turned.  Women are taking men out and paying the tab.  Women are proactively securing men and taking good care of them.  Men are starting to have more interest in physical attractiveness to land women of a higher caliber.  All we need is a feminine alternative to chivalry and the transformation would be complete.
    
Isn't it cool to be the center of attention?

Partialism: Hands


Are you a musician or a surgeon?

     Your hands look as though they're accustomed to delicate performances.  My mind wonders, imagining other actions that'll require your precision.  Tender parts of my body that requires a skillful touch.  Your palms read soft and your cuticles: professional.  I pray you are the manual strategist I've been searching for.

Are you an officer or some kind of authoritative figure?

     Your hands look as though you're accustomed to taking charge.  Sometimes, my stubbornness gets the best of me and submission is difficult: I could use your assistance.  I've been blessed with long, strong limbs that doesn't bend easy; I have a latent flexibility that could be awakened under the right pressure.  I hope you can handle me.

I could eat out of your palms...

My skin could melt beneath your fingers...

I've learned all this from a single handshake...

Intelsexualism: Creative Arousal




Have you ever read a book and fell in love with the unknown author?
Surveyed beautiful art and developed a crush on its creator?
Read the erotic thoughts of a blogger and wanted to help fulfill his/her fantasies?

     Lately, I've been feeling so charged by the creative endeavors of others.  Invisible jazz musicians, enigmatic writers and reclusive artists are stealing my heart left and right.  Is it healthy to feel so strongly towards people you've never seen?
     The interesting aspect of this form of excitement is that my intellectual arousal is reciprocating into creative inspiration.  For example, I fall in love with a blogger.  I become so enchanted with the point of view and interesting points that I start to feel some sexual tension.  Unable to contact the blogger in mind (the way I desire) my subconscious starts to lace my future posts with the sexy things I've read from my new crush.
     In another capacity, I've felt this way before.  As a musician, I've collaborated with other creative giants.  Speaking for myself, the intimacy and intuition involved with working artistically with others creates this chemistry.  Imagine becoming so in tune with someone, your improvisations becomes perfectly in synch with each other.  Then you remember, they're just playing their respective instruments; it isn't as flirtatious as it feels...or is it?  Sitting at the keyboards, some jam sessions gave me severe hard-ons!  To keep my secret, I had to stay seated until the chemistry wore off.
     I guess what I'm trying to say: don't stop.  Let's continue to fuel each other passions just by exercising our gifts.  Open up wider and give me deeper access.  Keep churning out jewel after jewel.  I'll gobble up every last pearl and, as a result, create something beautiful. 

This, my friends, is sex at a higher frequency.

Question of the Day: What's Your Sexual New Year's Resolution?




New Year's is on it's way...
We all need to lose weight...
We all need to focus on our finances...

     But this year, I wanted to add something I would actually do to my resolution list. I want to make a sexual new year's resolution. I want to put one of my fantasies on the front burner and give myself 365 days to pull it off. I'm really excited to see what 2010 will bring!


What Will Be Your Sexual New Year's Resolution?

Praise of a Darker Shade


How do you thank God for being molested?
Would my psalm prove sicker than sweet
if I praise Him for that turning point?
He have delivered me into the hands of monster after monster
with a divine purpose in mind
Why else would He align the shade and shadows so perfectly?


How do you thank God for innocence purer than the dirty floor?
Blessed with the event of standing up dusty yet remaining pristine
Blessed with eight-year-old jaws
strong enough to swallow the dark truth of the world
Blessed with the gift of interpreting the truth out of perversity
Discovering the humanity is wickedness


I am truly thankful because I wouldn’t be me without it
I wouldn’t have the strength I now possess had it never been tested
I wouldn’t be so flexible had I’ve never been bent
I thank God for the shade and shadows,
for it gave me a chance to see my light shine forth


How do you thank God for being molested?
Simply by praising Him for the monsters’ company
and the power to not become one
Simply by praising Him for the severance yet walking away whole
Simply by praising Him for the man I am today
Not broken, but indestructible
Not a victim, but a leader
Not dark, but brilliant


Amen

Sexy Shame: What Have I Done?



     I've felt dirty.  My impulses got the best of me and took over the wheel.  I drove aimlessly, seeking to find refuge in the shadows...warmth in the heat of a stranger.  Cruising with a vacant mind, the hunger was painful.  I felt so filthy and I needed to come clean.  I sought a confessional, whether it was an alley, bathroom stall or night shaded park.
     Have you ever felt this way?  Lately, I've been revisiting those feelings of shame and secrecy.  As bad as it sounds, it aroused me to no end.  To take a voyage into the forbidden, to take a risk; I could explode right there in the drivers' seat...sometimes I did.
     There's something about the state your body slips into; somewhere between caution and vacancy.  My heart would bang through my chest as I developed cottonmouth; my hands would start to move on their own.  The Bible would refer to this as "Double Mindedness" where there is a true division between the flesh and the spirit.  My logic and reasoning would scream out as my body took on a mind of its own.

"You don't know him!"
  "It's so dark in here, you can't even see what he looks like!"
"What if you're caught?"
"Caught with your pants down in some bathroom stall!"

     For some reason, I needed it.  Like some kind of vampire that needed to draw from the energy of others.  I revealed the monster deep inside of me and compared it with his; our similarities made me warm inside.  It was excruciating and exhilarating at the same time; to act on the fantasies plaguing my mind all of the time.  It was a relief, to unfurl the side of myself that stayed tightly tucked away.  Casting away all sound judgement, I needed to express something that I could've never spoken of.
     Yes, he had his way with me.  Ugly parts need love, too.  For the first time, there was light where the Sun doesn't shine.  Swallowing deeply, I felt blessed to have access.  I could touch, taste and inhale to my heart's content.  His moans were like music to ears, I was doing something right for a change.
     I longed to be eaten alive and not rejected this time.  I was so deperate for contact; I went through incredible lengths, dove into daring depths, until I hit the highest height.  We came quietly.  Quickly, I pulled up my pants and exited the bathroom.  I remember walking away feeling both disgusted and satisfied, hoping that'll tie me over,  Deep down, I knew that it wouldn't.
     Every now and again, I'll play a familiar song and revisit that sexy, shameful feeling all over again.  I like to explore that acute gratification of doing wrong.  In this mood, the vile and verboten sparkle like diamonds in the dark...and I'm not so bad after all.

Question of the Day: Which Animal Do You Identify With Most?




Which Animal Do You Identify With Most?

     Sculptress, Kira Od, masterfully creates bronze scultures of "Hybrids"; part human, part animal.  I have such an affinity for sculptors because they create three-diminsional fiction.  She does a great job at translating their personalities, giving each creature a soul.  Some of them exude sexuality, others raw strength; it makes me wonder which qualities shine from me when I'm walking around.
     If I could afford it, I would pay her to create a Man-Octopus Hybrid.

You can enjoy more her art:








Video - "The Garden of Eve"

video

This is the closest I have ever been to hypnotised...

It's a beautiful kaleidoscope of sex, sounds and jazz...

ENJOY

Katoptronophilia: Love for Mirrors



Don't we all love mirrors?

Witnessing delicious new angles, new perspectives
Playing both exhibitionist and voyeur
Gaining a whole new appreciation of the love we make...

     Mirrors are probably my favorite sex toy.  If I had it my way, my bedroom would be covered wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling with big, seamless mirrors.  It's something about being in that third person point of view.  Masturbating with small hand held mirrors are especially fun, watching my erection from a cocksuckers' point of view.  I also like to insert anal beads, amongst other things, and watch myself pull them out slowly.  I sometimes don't recognize the reflection as myself; I get captivated by the show reflected in my hand. 
     I biggest fantasy: having an orgy in front of mirrors, multiplying our naked group into a crowd.  Wouldn't that be a beautiful visual?  Hundreds of people making love in unison!  I'm becoming aroused just thinking about what that would look like.
     Technology is also expanding on this fetish; live stream cameras, multiple cameras, big screen monitors.  I would be interested in setting up a cameras focusing on weird areas of the body during sex.  For example, capturing a close up of her dangling foot as it bobs up and down from the momentum of us fucking.  Or I could set the camera underneath us and watch our penetration on the big screen.  The possibilities are limitless!

Memories of the Original Sin



Reach back with me...

     Remember the first time your impulses lead you astray?  Feel the tension build in the pit of your stomach as you are swept away into the shadows.  Remember how your pulse raced as your mind was wiped clean, but Mama's voice still rang from your bones as you did otherwise.  Or, rather, as it was done to you...
     Limp arms relinquished the rights to your body.  Closed lips and muffled moans translated perfectly to "Yes".  Tilting your head back, you've eaten the forbidden fruit without biting...without chewing...yet vividly tasting.  Closing your eyes, you stared into the heavens as the morsel swirled in your mouth, slid down your throat and warmed your belly.  It felt good, remember?  You couldn't stop shaking, yet you couldn't awaken from the living dream sliding up your shirt...down your pants...around your waist.
     Remember the first time you wanted to run away?  Revisit the betrayal as your legs does the opposite and walk closer.  Remember how wrong it felt to do what was right.  The seductive grip tightens, saving you from having to make a choice.  Laying you down, the choice was made for you.  Kissing your inexperienced flesh from head to toe, the choice was made for you.  Removing that last, silky garment standing between innocence and nudity, "Yes," was spoken for you. 

Reach back with me...

Should Beauty Take A Backseat?


     A fellow blogger, Cogent Ascending, recently wrote an article that really made me think.  In a post titled, "A Matter of Taste," he questions the maturity of his criteria for choosing bed mates.  Furthermore, he challenges his tendacy to limit the romantic possibilities of the intelligent, interesting men who lacks physical attractiveness.  The following quote is an abridged version of his article, you can find the full, unedited post on his self titled blog.


     In my slowly declining attempts to pursue other men on a romantic level, I come across certain people from time to time that are interesting or with whom there is a spark of chemistry.  If I am extremely lucky, and as happens only every once in a great while, these people pass what I think of as an internal litmus test for becoming potential bed mates. 


Clean Finger Nails
Good Clean Teeth
Sweet Smelling Breath
 A natural scent which compels me to explore further.
No Gut
 No Man Breasts
 More or less, someone who looks no less attractive physically than I do myself.
preferably, a man without a micro-penis.

     I have a practice of making the really intelligent and interesting ones who lack sorely in the looks department just friends.  I have been told this is an immature approach to seeking a romantic bond with another person, that looks will eventually fade even from the most attractive suitors and that in the end all that remains will be the conversations and that original chemical spark.


Is good sex only for the beautiful?
     Although the tired saying, "It's the insides that count", does ring true.  I think, the aforementioned attributes are actually indicators of something deeper, in spite of their vain delivery.  Have you ever stopped to think about why we're attracted to certain physical appearances?  Arousal is naturally occurring, but there are also mental impressions attached to certain characteristics.
     Manicured hands and nice teeth can be symbols of something beyond beauty.  When he flashes that pretty smile at him, his conscious minds says, "Look at those white, bright, sexy teeth!"  However, his subconscious mind could be saying, "Look at that commitment!  He looks like he bushes three times a day with regular trips to the dentist!"  He could also further assume that he tends to his other responsibilities equally as well.
      Not to underrate intelligence and other immaterial qualities, but isn't the physical body the proof in the pudding?  Could six-pack abs and well defined muscles be evidence of discipline?  Could great hair express his attention to detail?  If you think about, many of the features we praise and drool over are direct manifestations of health and virility.
     Should beauty be placed on the back burner?  I think not.  If we can become more conscious of why we find beautiful, I think it will shed new light on what we are really looking for in a partner.  By being aware of the deeper indications of our arousal, we can the discern the difference between eye candy and compatibility.

"Seperation" by Erwin Olaf



     I love the premise of fetishists living normal lives, is there anything more true?  These photos are actually stills from a film by Erwin Olaf.  My interpretation of this work: Olaf is displaying the thin line between fetish and culture.  Think about it.  In our modern world, so many things are considered commonplace today that at one time were considered to be very kinky. 

Love, simplicity and innocence can co-exist in a fetishist world.





Adultery: What's the Big Deal?



     They’re calling it a P.R. disaster…A crisis…The Story of the Year. I’m referring to the ‘scandal’ involving Tiger Woods and his adulterous affair with a cocktail waitress. Watching the amount of news coverage and the rapid updates, I can’t help but wonder: What’s the big deal? He’s a professional athlete that cheated on his wife, that doesn’t surprise me in the least bit; even if it is squeaky clean, he’s young, handsome and a millionaire. Remember Kobe?
     Gatorade, Nike and Gillette have unanimously decided to keep their endorsement deals intact. He was fined a whopping $164 for running over the fire hydrant. Am I the only one that thinks this is blown way out of proportion? Don’t we have more important matters to care about? The real scandal in my book: what kind of wife would risk the fall of their empire over some side lovin’? She should’ve sucked it up and dealt with it in a more private way. Extra-marital affairs should be expected and facilitated properly. Now he’s giving public apologies and everyone is weighing in on CNN. And I still fail to see what this has to do with golf.
     In the December issue of Details Magazine, they’ve conducted a study providing some statistics about infidelity and marriage. According to their study, 44% of marriages have at least one spouse who has admitted to have had an affair; keep in mind, there’s still the third variable of the couples pleading the fifth. They have also found that 31% of these marriages have lasted after the infidelity has been discovered. I gather from this study: (1) Adultery happens; it’s occurs more often than not, (2) Adultery isn’t the end of the world. The relationships that I have seen last a lifetime, have all had rough patches where someone wasn’t playing fair. Those durable, old fashioned relationships where they truly believed in “until death do us part”; regardless of the bullshit, they stuck together. (They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.)
     My take: I think there is too much of an emphasis on sexual fidelity, which leaves other levels of loyalty underrated. What about emotional fidelity? What about professional and financial fidelity? In spite of sneaking around with another woman, I think it’s abundantly clear where his allegiance lie. They have a joint bank account, giving her access to millions. When he could’ve chosen anyone in the world, he selected her to be his bride and to share his dynasty. Whether their relationship succeeds or fails, he is still forever linked to her financially, emotionally and paternally. Remember Nas and Kelis? That’s a commitment!
     I think there is way too much of our self-worth wrapped up in relationships. Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe an individual’s value is completely independent of his spouse’s fidelity. I think that’s where the sting of betrayal kicks in; we feel that our partner’s satisfaction is a direct reflection of our contribution. From my perspective, we all need to lighten up and not take it so personally. Hopefully, one sweet day, we could finally be honest with one another about our appetites for…something else. A fact of life: sex and love are famous for parting ways; get over it.

On another note:

Why is it such an abomination for Chris Brown to do what he did, but it’s okay for Mrs. Woods to go upside Tiger’s head with a nine iron?

Embracing Sin


     This Thanksgiving, I returned to my Midwestern hometown. It’s been nearly three years since my departure and, upon return, the many reasons I left have resurfaced. Driving down the near vacant streets, passing the dust settled landmarks, I find it hard to believe that I was actually born and raised here. As offbeat of a man I’ve turned out to be, I must’ve been born this way because I see no catalyst here. (Granted, there were some childhood events that happened, but we’ll talk more about that later.)

     Flashbacks of dark, hidden adult book stores flooded my mind. Within the city limits and beyond, I would search endlessly for rare straight and gay pornography. I would even go to ‘Borders’ or ‘Barnes & Nobles’ and shoplift the gay-themed magazines because I was too afraid to purchase them. I feared, “What if someone I know catches me?” I dreaded the thought of my family, friends or pastor bumping into me in the architecture section, finding me flipping through the pages of “Unzipped Magazine”.
     Back then, I was devoutly Christian; I was even a youth pastor. Two nights a week, I would preach to kids about the perils of lust and fornication. I wouldn’t say that I was living a double life; it was more like a secret addiction. I would have a porn binge, masturbate to my treasure, then throw it all away only to come back to my senses and dig the videos and magazines out from the garbage. I really believed that Satan was after my soul, I could hear The Holy Spirit whimper at the sight of my abominations. I honestly felt the demonic forces drawing me closer whenever I saw the blinking, neon lights of the sex shops. There was a constant battle between my “spirit” and “flesh”. It was a strange phase in my life.
     Driving past the same shops today, I didn’t feel the same gravitational pull. Seeing the neon lights flickering, I wasn’t hypnotized. I find it very interesting that I have found ‘deliverance’ by embracing the sin. By acknowledging my bisexuality, my proclivity for porn and my twisted take on life, I have gained control. I’ve given myself the license to be both wholesome and wicked! I am the same mama’s boy that everyone loves and ‘Forbidden Light’. That gives me a world of freedom and a peace that surpasses all understanding.

To myself, I pledge allegiance:

I indulge in what makes me happy
I discipline myself for my most good
Whether straight & narrow or dark & crooked, I am content with the course my life takes.
I am wicked
I am wholesome

I am perfect the way God designed me…

Really Casual Sex


     I have a thing for casual sex. Not the kind of sex that teenagers are warned about in PSAs, but really casual sex. Sex that takes place while company is over, sex that becomes a sidebar during a movie; I love the notion that sex doesn’t have to be the center of attention but an ornament. It takes a special group of people to overlook sex as they sip their tea. It takes a special atmosphere to concurrently accept conversation and oral service, without letting one interfere with the other. This is where I belong.
     I guess it’s the hedonist part of me. I am in love with the idea of watching a movie with a group of friends while receiving (or giving) head. I fantasize about being a part of a great debate, putting in my two cents as I come up for air from tonguing a chubby clit.
     I know this to be possible, because I have been a part of scenes where sex was so liberal it became pedestrian. I remember vividly, talking to a fully dressed Jamaican man about “Smallville” while receiving a rim job from an older white man. Between briefs moans, I maintained a great conversation about the differences between San Francisco and Kingston.
     I find this concept so endearing because everything is out in the open. The environment would be very conducive to honesty; being I’m partially naked and exploring my preferences, there isn’t much left to hide. Furthermore, if sex is widely available, we could all drop the facades we’ve created to capture it. Everyone would be able to be themselves.
     Or, at least, I’ll be able to be myself. I wouldn’t have to suggest anything about myself through my wardrobe. I wouldn’t have to depend on my car to lengthen my seven inches to ten. I wouldn’t have to confirm my masculinity because it would be abundantly evident and enlarged.
    

Hang-Up #1: Humiliation


     As much as I hate them; everyone has hang-ups, myself included. Some things will forever lie beyond the scope of my freak. There are certain acts that I could never allow in my bedroom. Beyond the normal stuff that nearly everyone finds repulsive (i.e. bestiality, pedophilia, scat, ect.), I have a handful of hang-ups that will wilt my summer sausage into a Vienna link. Number one on that list is: humiliation play. A lot of people love to be put down, but that is where I draw the line. I cannot be the source or the recipient of humiliation.
     It isn’t the act itself that’s humiliating but the spirit behind it. For example, I wouldn’t mind wearing a pair of little pink panties; alternatively, I would hate it if my partner started blurting, “You like that, pussy-ass faggot? Take that, bitch! Give me those fucking panties!” Whatever sexy, delicate feelings I may have had are instantly dissolved into a note of inferiority.
     This hang up with humiliation is the sole reason why I’ve never gotten in the BDSM community. It seems that submission and degradation goes hand and hand. Don’t get me wrong, I find great arousal at the thought of being bound at the mercy of a master; pain and pleasure makes a powerful combo. But, I would hate to trust someone enough to bind me only to have him/her slap me, spit on me and make me feel substandard. Every aspect of BDSM could be just as stimulating, if not more so, if the humiliation was replaced with praise. Ranking high on my list of fantasies are scenes that combine torture with worship.
     A major turn-on for me is the sanctity of sex; I believe that we are all Temples of God and reverence is in order. Whether the stimulus is pleasure, pain or denial, for me to enjoy it, it has to be administered in the context of value. Humiliation play is in direct opposition to my core beliefs. Some people may like to be called sluts, bitches and fags; but if you must refer to me, call me something in a respectful light. Some prefer to be embarrassed, belittled and scolded, but I cannot accept anything less than being exalted.

Fun with Polyamory: The Feminine Void



     Update: I have fallen in love with a couple. I’m sweetly confused because I like each man individually, yet loving their union much more.  One being a Taurus and the other a Cancer, I fit snuggly in between with my Gemini contribution.  Do I provide balance?  Or am I fun third wheel?  It is very strange, how being involved with a triad gives me the freedom and acceptance I so sorely need.  Revolving around them, I occasionally land for a night or two, only to fly back to my single life as usual.  No one’s lonely or requesting more; it’s quite perfect…almost.
     When you cross three, versatile men, you can imagine the infinite possibilities.  I’ve been bent into every direction, every dimension; I’ve been the recipient and the projector, sometimes simultaneously.  Every time we make love, I feel as if something of cosmic proportions happens; as if I mailed a package to God’s Address…and He signed for it!  I feel so charged when I am around them; I can’t keep my hands to myself.  Alternately, I am so fulfilled when I go home; sex/love is the last thing on my mind…unless the number three pops up.
     There is one thing that has kept me perplexed since we’ve been together: There’s a small void.  We’re all bisexual, thus, to a degree there’s still enough room for a woman.  Isn’t that amazing?  Despite the advanced trick where I open my mouth wide enough to take both their cocks.  Despite the ever revolving, four handed massages which leave no one left out. 

Despite the 69-ing/1 & the gay-sex-cubed, there’s still unknown variable: woman. 

     What's the value of this variable?  I don’t know.  Now, I'm famous for intelsexualizing the bare basics and missing the point entirely. I’m ashamed to admit that pondering a woman’s worth is giving me a headache.

(1) It’s beyond sexual, for we have all of the orifices we need.
(2) It’s beyond domestic, for everyone can cook and clean very well.
(3) It’s beyond sensitivity and understanding, because we have expanded our masculinity to include it.
(4) It’s beyond everything I’ve been taught that women are supposed to provide.

Yet the void persists…

     I really hate to pose this question, but what's so special about women? I know there has to be some value, but it’s hard to not see a man with those same qualities. Outside of childbirth, beautiful breasts and soft skin, I am short on answers.  For example, I truly love my mother, I think she is an incredible person; but can her qualities be attributed to femininity? Or is she independently great outside of gender?

Could someone help me out with this?

What's So Special About 30?

(The above photo is "Body Voice" by Erwin Olaf)



     I am currently caught in a paradoxical phase in my life. While racing to fulfill my fantasies, I restrict myself to become more responsible and stable. I can’t wear certain clothes ever again, but I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been. I want to splurge and travel and experience the finer things in life, but I want to fiscally prepare for a family. I am so tired of life, however, I am on the cusp of living.


What’s so special about turning thirty?

     I guess, 30 is the median of life expectancy. Plus, 30 marks the end of wild, idealistic behavior. Do I kill myself now or look forward to life with a wife and kids? Should I bury my dreams of being a best-selling author and rockstar? Or do I postpone them until I sixty? Will I still crave pussy, cock and rock n’ roll once I’m elderly? Probably not. But, on the other hand, 2025’s pharmaceuticals should do wonders! I'm sure, there will be a miracle drug that keeps my dick hard and my mind sharp.
     Writing this blog, I decided to ride this dream until the wheels fall off. I don’t care if I’m thirty, I’m gonna keep wearing my spike collars and small t-shirts, maybe even get some piercings. To think of it, there’s tons of old guys at the Folsom Street Fair…that I don’t want to look like. No one wants to be that old man in the ass-less chaps! There has to be a happy, radical medium. There has to be a way to stay edgy while keeping my saggy cakes to myself.
     Okay, here’s my plan. I’ll cruise along this tangent and, along the way, impregnate beautiful women on accident. I’ll be amazingly wayward and satisfactorily stable, letting God sort out the rest. I’ll live recklessly enough to die early, but disciplined enough to leave a genius body of work behind. And when my loved ones go through my possessions after I’ve passed on, hopefully they’d discover a kick-ass porn collection.

I look forward to living a Wikipedia-worthy life!

Fashion Victims: My New Artist-Crush Erwin Olaf



     I have been crushing on Erwin Olaf for a week now!  His photography is so good, I will be posting posting a collection a day from him.  The photo above is actually a self portrait.  His "Fashion Victims" collection speaks for itself; this actual his most tame work.  His message is pretty evident in the following photos.  The funny thing, however, is that his self-portrait makes me want to get further involved in fashion.

I am in love with this man and his art!
You'll really see why in the days to come...








Share

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails