Irony
The censored version of Daddy/Boy is now available for the Amazon Kindle. Buy it if you want, but I’m hoping to have the original version, containing (gasp!) incest stories, available on Smashwords soon. Below is the preface to the original version, now heavily ironic considering Amazon rejected it ostensibly because it included incest erotica. I wonder if some Amazon schlub had to read this, and what they thought? Probably it was just shoved into some program that parsed the words then sent out my form rejection email.
Desires are Human, Perversions Divine
Let’s get one thing out of the way: I don’t want to fuck my family. Not my parents, not my siblings, not my uncles (or aunts, for that matter).
Chances are you don’t want to fuck your family either. And while less than half of the stories in this collection feature relationships that are explicitly incestuous (the rest are of the intergenerational/power imbalance variety), the fact that you’re reading the preface to an erotica collection called Daddy/Boy suggests you must not be disgusted by the whole incest thing, at the least.
We’re a different breed, you see. Incest is boner (and lady-boner) kryptonite to a lot of people. Even most mainstream porn, both written and filmed, will court the intergenerational fantasy but steers clear when it comes to all-out incest. Is it worth it to ask why?
I think so. My first sustained attractions to real people started when I was eleven, to my ten-year-old best friend and his middle-aged father. Let’s call them Derrick and Paul, respectively. Derrick and I had many moments of near-experimentation, though my attraction to him was never reciprocated, as far as I know.
Paul was an interesting case. He had a body like the proverbial shit-house made of bricks. I’d be playing with Derrick and he’d come home from work, strip down to his tightie whities and wear that for the rest of the night, his hairy butch muscled body on display. He knew he was hot.
So did Derrick. It seemed natural to my young and hormone-drunk mind to fantasize about them together, though my sexual imagination at that time was limited. I’d picture them piling into their bathtub and sliding their naked bodies together.
It never occurred to me that I was eroticizing a taboo. I didn’t feel any shame around it – well, no more than I felt about having gay sex fantasies in general (which was a lot of shame, in fact). Sometimes I’d put Derrick’s older brother in that tub too, and why not? They were all pretty hot. They seemed hotter all mushed together.
They say a lot of your sexual interests are imprinted from what you encounter at a young age, and I think that’s true in the case of my relationship with these two guys: my love for big asses, muscles and cocky attitudes, for starters.
Incest, too. But there’s always a push to try to explain the taboo fetishes over the more culturally acceptable ones. You can pathologize a fetish all you want and it really won’t get you anywhere. Maybe I didn’t have a strong enough father figure in my life? Neither do a lot of people, and maybe we all want a big strong daddy to slap us around but I doubt it. Either way it ain’t no thang.
Still, there’s something interesting about the disconnect between our familial and sexual relationships. We’re as close to our families as we are to our sexual partners, yet we don’t have sex with our families. On both sides of the equation there’s potential for those feelings to get mixed up and confused.
Even as I got older and was able to process that the fantasies I was having were incest fantasies, it was always clear to me that it wasn’t my own family that I was fantasizing about, it was some mythically hot fantasy family.
Maybe that’s what’s so difficult for people to understand. The gag-reflex reaction that most people have when confronted with incest is one of those instinctual things, with good genetic reason. The fact that people like you and I are turned on by it proves that we’re able to overcome that animal portion of our brains.
Clearly, we’re more highly evolved.
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