Check out my guest-edited post on Dennis Cooper’s blog, just put up today: Five Credulous Books from the Satanic-Panic Era. I’ve been meaning to put this post together for over a year, since I started collecting these books. I’m proud of how it came out, so have a click and a read and let me know what you think.
“If she were here tonight, I would bust a nut in her after work.” Tom had a way with the girls.
I said, “Is that so?”
He replied, “Yes. I would bust her crotch wide open. I have not had any for the past few days, and my jock is aching for some attention.” He paused for a short time and continued. “I sure do need to find something to sweat this cock in tonight.”
Read “First Suck” by dicksucker_2000@yahoo.com
So there’s this recently-released anthology of sex stories called Coming & Crying, which was funded by a well-received Kickstarter project. I came across it while developing my own project on Kickstarter, and from the start I was perturbed by the editors’ stated intent, which is (partly):
We want to produce this book because we want to read it; it’s something we’ve been looking for for a long time and haven’t found yet. Compelling writing that doesn’t skip over the interesting parts, writing that is willing to go there, to be brave and to dwell in it, the way few published authors have. … The lack of good storytelling about sex in print feels ridiculous, bizarre.
The links in the above quote go to a video where the editors of Coming & Crying read some particularly heinous sex descriptions from respected male authors. I think I understand what they’re getting at – the British magazine Literary Review does an annual Bad Sex in Fiction award where they gamely pick on sex scenes by popular writers. (Here’s a choice line from the most recent winner: “…I laughed out loud, sperm still gushing in huge spurts from my penis, jubilant, I bit deep into her vulva to swallow it whole…”).
I’m well aware that there’s a lot of bad sex writing out there. But a “lack of good storytelling about sex in print”? That seems willfully ignorant, and even insulting to the many accomplished writers out there telling stories that attempt to give their readers a boner and/or explore the twisty back staircases of human desire (and yeah, I’m including myself here).
I put off mentioning this because I don’t fancy dumping on somebody’s project, however that project is intended. I know and respect some of the writers in it – in fact I respect all involved, editors included, because it’s ballsy to put oneself out there. And I’m not passing any judgement on the content of the book – I haven’t read a word of it.
But a few days ago I read Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show, and I was blown away by how utterly soaked with sex it is, and how in its descriptions of sex it’s uncannily perceptive and honest.
Here are just a few of the things that happen in The Last Picture Show (and I list these at the risk of reducing them to base acts; in context they impart eroticism, poignancy, and humor): 1) High school boys go out to a farm and take turns fucking a cow. 2) The middle-aged wife of the gay, closeted high school football coach experiences her first orgasm with one of the boys on the team. 3) A young man travels to Mexico and has a strange, sad encounter with a pregnant prostitute.
The Last Picture Show was published over forty years ago, and it features coming and crying in equal and substantial amounts. But it’s just one example. From the erotica anthologies of Susie Bright and Richard Labonte to the novels of Dennis Cooper, there’s a wealth of brave, intelligent, and intentionally-amusing sex writing out there, both classic and contemporary. I warmly encourage anyone, including the editors of Coming & Crying, to get out there and read it.
Repost from old blog, 5/14/2008
If you enjoy my porno stories, I strongly suggest you just click on over and listen to this before reading any further.
I heard this bit years ago on the Stern show and again tonight. Then I spent my evening trying to track it down, which I finally did (further proof that EVERYTHING IS ON THE INTERNET). It’s a bit off of Joe Rogan’s first comedy album. If comedy (or that Fear Factor gig) doesn’t work out for the man, he’d have a strong career ahead of him in writing gay erotica. For real.
But a few weeks without shooting, without having that sexual release, and we were all sort of looking for something to get us through this dry season. I think it was Brent, the stud rapist who caused all this trouble, who showed up one Sunday at my house with a dildo. He suggested that the three of us experiment with it and see if we could get any relief. Of course Jason and I said no way! We were working out in the basement in just our steel cups, as was our custom. As Jason and I said no I felt some ooze drip from my cup and thought I saw Jason dripping too, but of course it could have been sweat or even piss.
Brent laid down on one of the benches I have there and stuck the dildo up his hole. He worked it around and in and out and was gasping and grunting and had both pain and pleasure on his face, more pleasure than I had seen there since the big lock up. Well, very quickly we learned that we could have some fun with a thick rubber stick up our asses and so that became our little extra activity during our private workouts. We had to be careful that word didn’t get out about it. After all, being locked up was a bad enough rap to live with but we sure didn’t want anyone to know we were getting off with stuffing our holes.
Read “Jock Locked High” by Maletrain
Repost from old blog, 2/21/2009
A couple of years ago I was living in a tract of homes just outside of Upper St Clair. There wasn’t much to recommend about the area, and the only time I really spent outside my home was to come to and from work.
The houses all looked the same with subtle variations in structure and decoration – like many of them had window shutters, which weren’t shutters at all – just boards pasted to the exterior sides of the windows. They were just an option; they served no purpose.
One evening a summer storm knocked out the electricity in my office and I had to go home early. The storm had passed, giving the sky sort of a radioactive orange glow.
By now my cock was starting to thicken up: still hanging downwards but definitely growing chunkier.
He looked up at me, still smiling, and said, “I can smell where she’s dribbled into your bush, man. That means she must have ridden your cock. She sat on you didn’t she?”
Read “Desperate Daniel” by Sebastian Wallace
Think about this scenario. Imagine you’re having a boy’s night out at a friend’s apartment. Playing some poker, shooting the sh!t, all of that. Pop in a movie, have some beers, you know the drill. Now the night is getting to that point where everyone’s just completely chilled out, not an ounce of tension in the room. Then, you’re thinking, ‘man would i like to get off’. you’re just imagining how relaxing it would feel, how perfect a climax it would be to such a great night. Little do you know, or maybe you do know, that all your friends are thinking the same thing.
Brojob Rules: ”A BroJob isn’t just a free-for-all–it has rules.”
Bromance Consummated with Brojob:
Austin, TEXAS—A long-simmering relationship between two bros in this free-wheeling Texas college town was finally consummated, sources close to the bros reported. The consummation occurred sometime around 11:40 yesterday evening, after a Shins concert.
Two great new songs from two of my favorite bands = a good day:
Deerhunter – “Helicopters”
Belle & Sebastian – Write About Love promo (ft. “I Want the World to Stop”)
And while I’m at it, this one’s pretty great too (the song and the video) – Royksopp, “The Drug”
This isn’t going to be one of those stories.
You know that kind of story. The kind of story where some teenager with a fourteen-foot cock bangs his older brother and then all the neighborhood kids and Justin Timberlake join in.
Read “What’s Up, Dude?” by jpm 770
