Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Apr 29, 2007
Generally, the initial reaction of a thwarted animal is to try harder to attain its goal. A starving chicken (Gallus domesticus) prevented from reaching its food by a wire fence will make increasingly frantic efforts to get through it. Gradually, however, this behavior is replaced by another which has no obvious purpose. When unable to find food, for example, pigeons (Columbia livia) will frequently peck the ground even if nothing there is edible. Not only will they peck indiscriminately, but they start to preen their feathers; such inappropriate behavior, frequently observed in situations of frustration or conflict, is known as displacement activity. Early in 1986, just after he turned thirty, Bruno began to write.
-Michel Houellebecq, The Elementary Particles
Karl Marx observed, with some humor, that on the eve of the storming of the Bastille, French intellectuals were still preoccupied with balancing the Estates, oblivious to the great transformation that was already well under way. Today we might refer to such behavior as rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Examples abound. The much-hyped political upheaval of November 2006, to name but one, brings to mind another of Marx’s witty asides about history repeating itself — the first time as tragedy, the second as farce.
But I don’t intend to drone on about politics; I long ago developed Cassandra syndrome, having learned everything I need to know about the future from the yellowed pages of Orwell, Dick, Burgess, Huxley, Gibson and Stephenson.
You see, during the winter months I found myself struggling to balance my own Estates. In Mexico I birthed all sorts of new ideas, and though I carried them around with me, largely unexamined, in the weeks that followed, I had by Halloween succumbed to postpartum depression. I’ve heard this is not uncommon, the return to reality being a jarring experience to freshly tanned and fucked swingers. I suppose this is why resorts like Desire get so much repeat business, why some people even make biannual pilgrimages. However, I am a stubborn, serious-minded hedonist. Banishment to a sex-positive ghetto, no matter how well appointed, is not for me.
I knew I had to move forward, to make some changes in my own life and, perhaps, inspire others (if I were more ethically flexible I might establish a cult or religion). But I was at a loss. I felt alone. Sure, Leslie and I made the rounds, sharing wondrous tales of enlightenment. And I would sit at my desk filing reports, sipping from a glass of straight gin, drawing out the process as long as possible, clinging to the memory of that feeling that came over me for a few days in late September. I, however, couldn’t be certain anyone understood me. Indeed, I’m not even sure I understood myself. “The problem is that we haven’t taught women — or men — how to say ‘no’,” I told someone at a cocktail party, “nor have we taught them how to say ‘yes’.”
People disappointed me. I fell back on old habits yet I couldn’t help but compare every experience to Mexico. Leslie confessed to me that our project felt like more trouble than it was worth; I agreed with her. I remember fooling around with an ex, aware that we were both too deeply embedded in our own narratives to truly let go. Now I realize no one was ever at fault. The conditions weren’t right. People can only join us when they are ready.
But as surely as a long winter must end, so must our confusion. It dawned on me I had been surrounded by people who understood me all along, that we sexual revolutionaries squandered so much energy emphasizing our differences we’d neglected to celebrate our commonalities. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who felt this way: it was as if we’d all woken up one morning with the same idea… and the resolve to do something about it.
By the time the last patches of dirty snow melted my Estates didn’t matter anymore. A new feeling came over me nearly overnight. No wall was torn down, no statues came tumbling to the ground, but it was a revolution nonetheless.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Snaps | Apr 27, 2007
Les & Nella
The girls showed up late to the Pleasure Salon but I didn’t mind; I rather enjoyed the sweet agony of anticipation, and so I attempted to make small talk while surreptitiously glancing at my watch. Where the hell are they? The nymphs, when they finally did arrive, had such an otherworldly radiance about them that not a single jaw in the room failed to come unhinged. Nella pulled me aside, opened her purse, and produced a formidable latex dildo attached to a strap-on harness. “I’m going to fuck your fiancée with this,” she declared, “and I want lots of pictures to show my husband.”
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Apr 24, 2007
A man approached us. He must have seen the three of us canoodling on the leather bench. Fascinated, he inquired as to how such a thing is possible.
“I like to share,” said Miriam.
That’s really all there is to it.
And later, addressing Leslie and I, the dirty blonde said, “I’m horny. I’ve been thinking about you two all day.”
“What about this week?” I asked. I needed to know how badly she wanted this.
“I’ve been having flashbacks all week.”
“Did you jerk off thinking about us?
Miriam laughed. “Oh yeah.”
“You know, every time you do that God kills a kitten.”
Delirious, we stumbled into a gay karaoke lounge down the street. Our friends were there. Leslie and Miriam embraced one another and kissed as they swayed on the dance floor. Eventually I spoke, “I think we should go. I don’t want to be all hetero in here.”
I couldn’t wait to unwrap my birthday gift a second time. I held Miriam’s leg, counting the rising street numbers on the way home, still awestruck, after many years, at how natural this life feels. People have told me it leaves them cold, that without love and certainty they cannot enjoy themselves. I have never understood this. There is an unquestionable beauty to these fleeting moments.
There is an unquestionable humor as well. Leslie struggled with Miriam’s bra strap. “I’m a girl!” she cried. “I should be able to do this.” But soon the thing snapped open and Miriam’s tits tumbled out. The crisis was over, and I watched as the women took turns between each other’s thighs. When my turn came I stood in front of our couch, biting my lower lip as the nymphs passed me back and forth, sometimes joining their lips together over the head of my cock. They peered up at me with lovely, wicked smiles. I was content.
I pumped Leslie from behind, her curvaceous frame draped over Miriam’s. Disengaging from my fiancée’s lips, Miriam said, “I want her to come while she’s lying on top of me.” And that was precisely what happened. “I want you to fuck me hard,” said Miriam moments later. Her chest flushed when I entered her, and no sooner had I flipped her over to enjoy her ample ass than she came, twitching, shuddering against my thighs. I fell upon Leslie again, her cunt hot and sex-jelly smooth. Miriam squeezed in beside us. There wasn’t much room on the couch.
I had every intention of falling asleep but then Miriam plopped down beside me on the comforter, spreading her legs wide and inspecting her pink parts. “Look,” she said, “my clit is swollen.” I wet the tip of my index finger and touched her there. She shivered. She sighed. I fixed my eyes upon hers, frowning. “I think I’m going to have to fuck you again.” I stood at the bedside, pressing against her back, forcing her torso against the mattress, spreading a buttock with my other hand as I entered her cunt in a swift, deep stroke. She gasped. I pulled her hair and spanked her ass red while watching her grip and release me over and over. Again, she shuddered against my thighs.
Leslie had been watching us. My penis exited Miriam’s plump little puss with a wet pop. I crawled toward my woman. She and I made scissors of our legs, slowly grinding together as Miriam hovered above us on all fours. The second orgasm is always more powerful than the first. When I came I reflexively slipped a finger up Miriam’s ass.
In the morning I emerged from our bedroom to see the two girls sitting on the couch and talking. “My pussy is sore,” Miriam said after awhile.
“Mine too,” said Leslie.
Upon hearing this I felt quite satisfied with myself. “So, I suppose you’re planning on killing some kittens this week, eh Miriam?”
“After what happened last night I think it’s inevitable.”
Posted by Lex Konrad in Snaps | Apr 21, 2007
Um…
Porno Jim: Are you going to Rubulad tonight?
Lex: I’m going to Bisexual Girls Club first. If, in my wildest dreams, I were to end up with, like, five girls at my apartment then I suppose I wouldn’t go.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Snaps | Apr 13, 2007
View from a Midtown high-rise, 6:30AM Easter Sunday
From the ruins, lonely and inexplicable as the sphinx, rose the Empire State Building and, just as it had been a tradition of mine to climb to the Plaza Roof to take leave of the beautiful city, extending as far as eyes could reach, so now I went to the roof of the last and most magnificent of towers. Then I understood — everything was explained: I had discovered the crowning error of the city, its Pandora’s box. Full of vaunting pride the New Yorker had climbed here and seen with dismay what he had never suspected, that the city was not the endless succession of canyons that he had supposed but that it had limits — from the tallest structure he saw for the first time that it faded out into the country on all sides, into an expanse of green and blue that alone was limitless. And with the awful realization that New York was a city after all and not a universe, the whole shining edifice that he had reared in his imagination came crashing to the ground.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
