Porn

A friend learning that I’d never seen any porn insisted on taking me to one of the shops. We went into a booth, he inserted a corner and for maybe a minute a clip of a homely heterosexual lad masturbating flashed across the little screen. Twenty-five cents could almost pay for a pack of cigarettes back then so it seemed real waste of money.

Though I’d later meet the iconic Casey Donovan / Cal Culver the bookstore clip long remained my only exposure to porn.

Several years ago I found that when Charles moved in we’d accidentally packed one of his former roomie’s porn tapes. On it were two Jeff Stryker movies. Stryker was one of the most famous gay porn stars of his day.

Eventually I tried watching both films. While I thought sodomy on a swing clever - and beyond my abilities - I could only endure fifteen minutes of each. I just couldn’t connect with what I was seeing on the screen. (My idea of exciting erotica is watching Peter Paige wear cute outfits as Emmett on Queer as folk.)

A few months back I bought a couple of old gay BDSM videotapes to watch with my then lover. I thought they might prove mood builders. We never did see them. These tapes were cheap and offered hope of being acceptable because the actors were mostly twinks. Neither one of us would’ve cared to see macho slabs of meat knock one another about.

Recently I decided to view the tapes, they were already paid for.

The first tape opened with two twinks together. Momentarily I felt confused: which would I project myself into (in my same sex relationships I can be guility of something not unlike sexism). Well, one was a little bigger and darker.

But it proved to be just ordinary sex: the bondage gear was costume jewelry. Eventually each masturbated himself to orgasm. Bleh.

The next scene opened with a guy in a cage. Ah, that seemed promising. He was stroking himself. After a couple of minutes I realized that was going to be all he did. I’m sure there are plenty of tops that would enjoy having someone in a cage wank for them. But it wasn’t what I was after. Out went the tape.

Yesterday I tried the second tape. The case said it was the story of a young submissive guy who visits an older top for training.

The young guy shows up and is ordered to strip. Pure blonde twink goodness. Again I’m momentarily confused: unable to identify with either character. But when the master takes the blonde to his knees for boot worship I start to get into it.

The scene shifts to the basement with the blonde bound and bent over a table. The bondage draws me in. Oh damn, it is time for screwing. A smooth blonde on his belly pushes me into to (vanilla) top space if is just going to be cheerful sodomy. The scene is clearly going to go on so I open a book and read.

Next the youth is muzzled and bound to a St. Andrews cross. Again I start to feel what I want from the tape. Until the master starts whipping him. The strokes wouldn’t sting even lightly. As S&M goes it is laughable.

Next comes clothespins. But my suspension of disbelief is dead. The clothespins are the big kind: they don’t apply much pressure. And I’m wondering if they were pre-stretched to insure they don’t hurt at all. Back to my book.

Now it is fellatio time. I don’t need a movie for that. Out goes the tape.

I decide to re-watch Teenagers from Outer Space.