Pornography and Sex Parties
My parents were very hip in the Seventies. Like everyone else in the know back in those days, they went to see Deep Throat on the big screen. I sometimes wonder what the conversation was before they went. Was it, like, “honey, let’s go see that Deep Throat movie tonight. I heard it got great reviews”? My mother’s only comment on the movie years later: “it was so repetitive.”
Having porno-quality sex used to be among my highest erotic aspirations, an ambition fueled in part by my at-best sporadic access to porn during my adolescence. And, really, what man wouldn’t want to have the occasional go at outrageous circus-sex? I still remember coming across that first grainy downloaded still of anal sex and thinking I have to try that. Now, of course, anal sex experimentation is mainstream and the big producers have proceeded to up the ante with things like pile-drivers, ass-to-mouth, double-penetration, bukkake, and even water sports. And now it’s no longer enough to simply view anal sex. We have to see GAPING HOLES, as if the act isn’t real unless it leaves a trail of rectal devastation in its wake. One can only wonder what’s next for mainstream porn.
Recently I’ve started to loathe pornography. Well, perhaps loathe is a strong word, but I’m getting bored of the stuff. Sure, there’s still that instinctive base-of-the-spine response when I see two porn sluts double-teaming a penis, but the projected fantasy pales in comparison to the psychological whirlwind brought about by the real experience. Unlike real sex, pornography has little to reveal to you about yourself. Porn videos are simulacra: copies without originals. Not so much a representation of an actual event as a desperate attempt to prove the event happened at all. Hence the emphasis on the money-shot, the gaping holes, and anything else that attests to real people having been affected by the experience. Viewing pornography in circus-sex environments is an established ritual. Even people who are new to the scene ask us to have some kind of porn running in the background. I’m not quite sure what its intended function is during the sensory overload that is group sex. Am I supposed to somehow get turned on by the representation of a fantasy threesome when a real one is unfolding before me? Perhaps it’s simply reassurance that someone, somewhere has done this before and you’re not such a dirty pervert after all. Which is fine, I suppose. It’s just so repetitive.
I called Jessica today, a cute brown-haired girl we met at the party. She was one of the first women to get body painted. She has nice perky tits. As one of those elusive single bi-curious females, Jessica was naturally extremely popular at the party. She told me she’s never watched people having actual sex before. I’m really not terribly good at phone conversations so I always have this phobia that I’m making a bad impression. I don’t want us to come across as one of the many couples looking to turn a young woman into some kind of marital aid—a sex toy to be used up and discarded at will. It’s not about that. I invited her to join us at the loft party on Saturday.
I think I’m going to go watch some porn.
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