Source unknown – Title unknown (201X)

I think this video may be the porn clip that I have watched the most in my entire life.

Technically, it’s flawed. But the technical doesn’t matter so much when the sex is so thoroughly and legitimately haute.

From their seemingly coordinated ink: his Judge me, her Justice; to the inversion of the porn trope where the starlet furious rubs her clit while a muscle-bound stud uses his erect cock more like a gas powered chisel than a tool meant (among other things) for providing sexual pleasure; and–my personal favorite, the way she licks his semen off his tummy and then gives him a sample of the mess he’s made.

Unffff. (Also, this clip gave me a thought for a performance piece I’d like to enact at some point. I think it could be positively scandalous…)

Source unknown – Title unknown (201X)

I have no idea where these images originated and that’s truly unfortunate. They’re hardly flawless–the poses are a bit too marked by self-conscious contrivance; however, they do feature carefully coordinated lighting design, a clear sense of purpose and although perhaps not intentional: there’s a sense of reflexive connection between content and context (i.e. the incisive sense of well-worn procedure in tandem with the carefully considered attention to detail).

It’s possible I’m projecting my own OCD tendencies onto this photo set. I’m very much a creature of habit. I’m very predictable and if someone knows my schedule, you can predict where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing with 100% accuracy give or take a seven or so minute deviation on either side.

I’ve always been like this. It’s part of how I’ve learned to survive in the desert of the real. There’s comfort in knowing the train arrives at this time and takes this long to get me where I’m going. Any delays, deviations, etc. cause me intense stress.

I get agitated when folks with a hippy bent preach new age/Buddhist mindfulness at me. It’s like my default setting is what such folks actively pursue. I’m constantly trying to be less aware of every goddamn little piece of sensory input screaming for a piece of my immediate focus.

What’s ironic to me is that my all this rigorously circumscribed need for order, predictability and certainty is less about iron fisted control. It’s like that Baudelaire quip about remaining boring, ordered and dull in life so that you may be exceedingly violent and unpredictable in your creative work.

The regimentation I cultivate in my own life is really a means to an end. To return to the metaphor of trains–with their timetables and presumed correlation to said timetables–it’s almost always the days where I’m merely going through the motions out of habit, and am following a particular thought that takes an unexpected turn that captivates me. I’ll completely forget that I’m on a train and end up four or five stops beyond where I meant to disembark. (As much as I crave order and hate when things go awry, I never mind these lapses. What they offer in insight is more than equal to the resulting frustrations of missing my stop and running late to appointments.)

What does this introspective speculation have to do with anything? Well, I think my need for predictable rituals as a defense against the mundaneness of daily exigencies is an itch that I don’t usually feel gets scratched by explicit depictions of sexual expression. Except these images appeal (a great deal, actually) to the order seeking side of my brain.

And I can’t help but think how aspects of my own sexual expression are similarly circumscribed. As an adolescent, masturbation was highly ritualized for me. (I’m not sure if it’s the OCD tendencies or being raised super religious… I think I could also point to my druggy years with all that focus on set and setting.)

It reminds me of something my friend Amandine said to me about attraction. Trying to seduce someone by making them want you is the wrong course of action. Instead it’s better to make them feel comfortable sharing time and space with you.

That’s the other thing about this that appeals to me. So much pornography hinges on a sort of heteronormative checklist of activities being ticked in a proscribed order. It’s about showcasing particular information–without any sort of consideration as to why this information as opposed to that information. In other words, matters of inclusion vs. exclusion are dictated by notions of what will appeal to the broadest set of viewers possible.

I’m much more interested in things that interrogate why something is being showcased over any number of other things. And these images have a strong feeling of what I’m being showed are not just things that turn the author on, there’s a great deal of effort put into presenting those things as a series of decisive moments in an erotic progression.

So yes, the attention to detail in the set design and lighting orchestration speak to creating a sense of context. The presentation of decisive moments fosters a sense of documentary objectivity. (This isn’t exactly well-managed from the point of the subjects–whose poses seem self-consciously contrived.) But it does seem to be about creating a comfortable space as a starting point and emphasizing concrete ritual procedure in a carefully considered fashion. And that feels honest and affirming of my own experience in a way that porn never really offers me.

Source unknown – Title Unknown (201X)

Giving or receiving assplay of any sort is not exactly my cup of tea. But on a limited experimental level I’m down for just about anything except anilingus.

I do have a teensy fetish for pegging imagery. Less for the act depicted and more for the inherent gender-fuckery and while the power/control vs submission of BDSM tends to be a huge turn off for me, there’s a sense of being completely at someone else’s mercy that appeals to me.

In the case of this clip, I love that his touching and she’s caressing him. The smirk on her face as she thrusts suddenly and then savors his response is exquisite.

The same expression also makes me inconsolably sad. The only sexual pleasure I’ve experienced for just shy of the last six years has been self-driven. And one of the primary differences between masturbation and sexual intercourse, is that with the former there’s inevitably a point beyond which one cannot advance–not unlike the impossibility of self-tickling; but with (a) sexual partner(s), boundaries tend to stretch until they shatter completely.

[Source: REDACTED]Title Unknown (201X)

I’m less than convinced posting this isn’t an ill-advised misstep: it’s irredeemably pornographic. produced by a pay-porn site whose ethos aren’t exactly in line with my own (or this blog) and it’s desaturated from the original (an marked improvement, actually).

Also, I am sure if I bothered to watch the video of which this is a part, odds are I would be repulsed.

Yet, this scratches entirely too many itches I’m feeling right now for any decision to exclude it not to smack of a certain degree of dis-ingenuousness. 

Frankly:  it really fucking turns me on.

Why?

I’ve noted previously my affection for and belief in the artistic potential in the visual dynamism of the ejaculatory act.

And although I am not every going to be first in line on ass play day, depictions of pegging appeal to me insofar as they implicitly flip the gender stereotypical, heteronormative script.

From what is glimpsed in this two second clip, my guess is this video flips the scripts but then amplifies the staged physical and verbal abuse to a level that would result in castigation were the gender roles not so clearly inverted.

What gets me about this clip–and I think it would’ve been enhanced in a wider shot–are the muscle tremors playing over his stomach. After all, he’s been brought to orgasm with an enormous dildo compressing his prostrate. His ability to exercise autonomous control over his body is effectively short-circuited; he is completely at the mercy of his partners.

It’s that feeling of being at the mercy of someone I trust completely is what I miss most about sex. Being pushed up against a wall and told in a whisper almost too soft to hear: you’re boundaries are bullshit. If you say ‘no’, I’ll stop. But you won’t say ‘no’.

And my desire to share that experience–to know the give and take of mutual needing–makes me thing this isn’t a two second clip but a much longer one. Where the woman continues to stimulate the man, reminding him there’s no such thing as too sensitive

cute*blueBubblegum Lovers (2013)

I really, really, really, really, really like this a lot.

I am not really into ass play– for reasons. But I do try to take a don’t knock it till you try it/don’t try it till you knock it take when it comes to sex.

This is maybe the first thing I have ever seen that has made me crave switching places with these folks.

The reason for that shift is probably due to the real and meaningful communication. I loathe the the masculine assertive, i.e. take that dick and the feminine receptive, i.e. fuck me, fuck me, fuck me tropes.

And most of the imagery I see depicting pegging does little more than flip the same old gendered script. Major turn off.

But the way this shows these partners checking in with each other is really, really, really, really, really hot.

Top: Most pegging shots focus on the shifting of the power dynamic. You won’t hear me argue that is not a part of it but it is not what interests me—I am not interested in the pain so much as the openness to sharing a side of oneself ones lover might not otherwise known. This is the only images mostly met my blog worthy criteria. I do like the way she is grabbing his ass—both holding and spreading it. Also, that she is watching attentively to how he is responding to is being done to him is great.

Bottom: I have problems with this image: the framing dismembers her body, the focus is on her expression, left nipple, bare vulva and erection partially inserted into her asshole. I’ll allow that at least she does have some sort of pubic hair. The reason I am posting this is its aesthetic is one of those rare occasions when form and content complement each other perfectly. I am not sure if it is a filter or if it was snapped with a smart phone off of a monitor, but I love the way it distresses the image without deteriorating it—as if it knows how sleazy it is so in shooting for that aesthetic, it manages to almost, but not quite, transcend it.

In film school there were some actors and actresses I made do some pretty absurd things toward the end of realizing my ‘vision’.

Looking back I am struck by how little of what I more or less convinced others to do willing would have been things I would have ever considered doing myself if the roles had been reversed—if I was put in front of the camera and told to enact the fantasies of someone hidden safely away behind it.

Morality is arbitrary at best and usually total horseshit. But there is dishonesty and disingenuousness in asking someone to do something I wouldn’t do if I were in their shoes—it makes the situation, no matter how carefully conceived or well-intended exploitative.

That’s really what I think of anal sex in the vast majority of heterosexual porn: the anus is presented is just another tighter hole that you just need to ask her to let fill with your rock hard cock.

I know all about the fact that it is four degrees warmer and has four more working muscles than the vagina. That’s great. But unless you are okay with being on the receiving end first, you really should not be thinking about what it might be like to find yourself on the giving end.