Real Men

I devoured magazines as a kid, this being the pre cable/satellite era, we had a selection of three channels showing essentially the same crap. Grocery stores always had the widest selection of magazines to escape the dreary routine of small town life. Whenever we went to acquire sundries I made a beeline to the magazine rack, especially looking forward to the first or middle of the month when the new issues were available. I went from comics, to martial arts to rock n roll mags, then graduating to the more brazen such as true detective, soldier of fortune, even popular mechanics. My grandparents always had a National Geographic and a Time magazine, I liked the Geographic better, it never failing to place you right smack dab in the middle of whatever exotic destination they happen to be describing.

However I missed the first generation of the men’s pulp magazines, before we crash landed in a world of airbrushed plastic, and tasteless consumerism. The pseudo homo erotic adventure stories, absurdly vivid tales of bosomy jungle women, excellent art work, these magazines would now be castigated for the politically incorrect portrayal of the post WW2 American male.

Sex Nerd

My preferred activity, second to tying Georgia then teasing her mercilessly with whatever kitchen tool might be handy, is consuming history of all eras. Primarily from academic sources, give me a thick text discerning the evolution of the fur trade in pre colonial america and I am as content as a masochist strapped to a table awaiting that first strike of the whip.

Recently I came across dissertation by Robert Bienvenu titled “The Development of SM As A Cultural Style In The 20th century“.  I am impressed by the substance of this dissertation,very articulate, it provides a snapshot into a bit of sociological history in an area that has received little historical documentation.

Though not talking about rope bondage per se, its focus is on the gay leather sub culture, pioneers of fetish photography, the origins of the beefcake magazines, and evolution of leatherman clubs.

You can find the paper here.

JM

His Sex Parties Were Off The Hook

So there is this book out that explores what Ghandi’s sex life might have been like. Surely a bit more enlightened than say, Martin Luther King’s reported shenanigans. Ever fascinated by history, not sure how much of the book is your standard tantalizing tales of non penetrative sex, but seems like an interesting read.

JM

Losing It

I was sixteen at the time, and it was summer, stereotypically supposed to be the best time of ones life, guess people who say that forget what its like at sixteen with all the angst, anger, confusion, the oppositional defiance. Which is like a vice slowly suffocating oneself when you grow up in a town of less than 7,000 people and everyone knows everyone else.

Anyway, I had a couple of friends that I ran around with all the time over at my house and were smoking some pot, watching MTV, and wasting time the way teen agers do.  One of my friends, who we will call C, had an older sister, she was 20 at the time if I remember right, and she was very attractive, skinny blonde, nice tits, every 16 yr old boys wet dream. I only saw her fleetingly at times, but would stay the night occasionally at my friends place, and she would be there. Myself inwardly going crazy and developing an instant erection. Having to resist the urge to grab her ass, or tell her crudely,  I want to fuck now !  As it happens she was going to the local beauty college, (remember those?) and learning how to cut hair. The beauty school was located close by my house, and one afternoon, she stopped by the house.

Her brother and our other best friend who I will call P, were there and she stopped in to say hey, and smoke some pot. I am pretty sure she had her own stash and it still to this day turns me on when a girl whips out her own stash of weed. As we puffed, we started flirting a little bit and resting our legs on one anothers. She asked if she could borrow  a t-shirt to wear instead of the hair dresser uniform. I obliged and we ended up in my bedroom together. A raging hard on in my pants, she sitting on the bed, me standing rubbing her tits, and kissing her. I didnt think my cock could get so hard. It was as if all my senses in my body were channeled to one spot, she let me lick her nipples and I felt like I was in a dream, could this really be happening.

“What are you going to do about that ?” she asked devilishly. Pointing at my cock with a cigarette between two fingers.

She teased and to this day I still dont remember getting undressed. I recall seeing her insert my penis into her, my thrusting and then a tornado of all that pent up elation going out of me. I was floating, laying there for a moment and watching her get dressed. I felt weightless, laying there and trying to comprehend in my mind what just happened.

Not what I imagined losing my virginity would be like. But on the one hand it got it out of the way, on the other, there is part of me that would like to get a chance to do it again, do it right, you know.

Certainly, and for those who might remember, lol, it wasnt quite as dramatic as this.

Later in life, a curious thing happened. It turned out a few years ago that the girl I lost my virginity too was the new hair stylist at the same salon as the one where I would go to get my haircut. She still works there to this day.

~Jay Morgan