Is Porn Bad For You? OR Can You Have Too Much of a Good Thing?
When I was about fourteen and in high school, I bought Young, Dumb, and Full of Cum #32 from a guy in my gym class for five bucks and first recognized the thrill of actually watching the two-backed beast perform his dance on-screen.
This was the beginning of my relationship with people fuckin' on film. I watched it about ten times, and then was asked for it back (with refund) because the guy from gym class sold it too cheaply, according to the older guy who was running the porn-selling racket he was in.
Fast-forward several years later and I've got a DSL connection and have moved out of my parents house. It was all pretty much downhill from there. I didn't eschew all contact with real females--far from it--but unloading on a hot girl's face was something that I knew would be a rare opportunity in my actual sex life, and it kind of put a damper on things for me mentally.
Physically it seemed, I was a beast. When I got it on with my girlfriend, I was hard and fast and seemingly unstoppable.1 But at the same time, I was confused.
"Why isn't she screaming 'Shove your fucking cock in my tight little pussy, you filthy fuckmule?'" I wondered to myself as she rode me. "And why does she storm out of the room and yell 'What the hell do you think I am?!' when I try to do a simple ass-to-mouth?"
These were the problems I encountered when I began my nearly-obsessive ritual involving internet pornography. By the time my triple-x hard drive library was equivalent in size to the law library at Harvard, I couldn't get off unless I fantasized about, well, let's just say "other things".2
Fast-forward yet again to the present day. I spent six months living in New Zealand that were basically porn-free, and have spent the last month in a completely porn-free environment, traveling around Australia. I actually did meet some girls on this trip unbelievably enough, and to put it mildly, I wasn't the superman that I remembered. I mean, I won't say that I blew it, or deflated the situation, because I didn't. But I did find myself thinking about baseball and singing "Yankee-Doodle Dandy" in a way that was previously unknown to me.
I've convinced myself that at least part of it was that I was previously abusing myself upwards of three times per day on a regular basis. That, in addition to seeing Jenna Haze and Mary-Kate Ashley getting skewered by Vince Voyeur and Erik Everhard as an everyday occurance while I was supposed to live a non-Southern Californian-porn star's life was reason enough to take the spice out of every-day sex for me.
But there's one other reason that I thought of recently that I might not have been considering: the death grip.
Dan Savage, of the popular advice column Savage Love, says that the death grip can kill sex for young males who masturbate too often. It isn't frequent masturbation, he contends, it's the fact that guys who jerk off a lot tend to choke their dongs so hard that they begin to lose sensitivity.3
A couple of weeks ago while with a young lady and rounding the verse in "Yankee" where ol' Yankee Doodle sees that the men and boys at camp were "as thick as hasty pudding", I began wondering whether or not I preferred holding my breath and picturing the real reason the Michael Jackson proceedings are actually happening in the first place in order to not blow my load to the familiar scenario of using the long-memorized scene of Taylor Rain getting assplowed by Brandon Iron in order to complete the task at hand. I realized I preferred the former, but also realized that picturing the real reason behind MJ's trial succeeded only in making me lose my erection entirely.
All things in moderation, I said to myself as I stalked to the bathroom, sweating, to pick up a towel. And that includes porn, intensity of the jerk, and frequency of self-abuse.
"Can I use this one on the towel rack?" I called out to her.
1Whether or not I was seemingly unstoppable because I had jerked off three times earlier that day to Ashley Blue's scene in Buttfuck Sluts Go Nuts Vol. 7 is a matter that is up for debate.
2Things that may or may not have been inspired by watching Lauren Phoneix's scene Fuck Dolls #1.
3Which may explain my lack of excitement when a girl once dripped hot candle wax all over my cock. I am not making this up.
This was the beginning of my relationship with people fuckin' on film. I watched it about ten times, and then was asked for it back (with refund) because the guy from gym class sold it too cheaply, according to the older guy who was running the porn-selling racket he was in.
Fast-forward several years later and I've got a DSL connection and have moved out of my parents house. It was all pretty much downhill from there. I didn't eschew all contact with real females--far from it--but unloading on a hot girl's face was something that I knew would be a rare opportunity in my actual sex life, and it kind of put a damper on things for me mentally.
Physically it seemed, I was a beast. When I got it on with my girlfriend, I was hard and fast and seemingly unstoppable.1 But at the same time, I was confused.
"Why isn't she screaming 'Shove your fucking cock in my tight little pussy, you filthy fuckmule?'" I wondered to myself as she rode me. "And why does she storm out of the room and yell 'What the hell do you think I am?!' when I try to do a simple ass-to-mouth?"
These were the problems I encountered when I began my nearly-obsessive ritual involving internet pornography. By the time my triple-x hard drive library was equivalent in size to the law library at Harvard, I couldn't get off unless I fantasized about, well, let's just say "other things".2
Fast-forward yet again to the present day. I spent six months living in New Zealand that were basically porn-free, and have spent the last month in a completely porn-free environment, traveling around Australia. I actually did meet some girls on this trip unbelievably enough, and to put it mildly, I wasn't the superman that I remembered. I mean, I won't say that I blew it, or deflated the situation, because I didn't. But I did find myself thinking about baseball and singing "Yankee-Doodle Dandy" in a way that was previously unknown to me.
I've convinced myself that at least part of it was that I was previously abusing myself upwards of three times per day on a regular basis. That, in addition to seeing Jenna Haze and Mary-Kate Ashley getting skewered by Vince Voyeur and Erik Everhard as an everyday occurance while I was supposed to live a non-Southern Californian-porn star's life was reason enough to take the spice out of every-day sex for me.
But there's one other reason that I thought of recently that I might not have been considering: the death grip.
Dan Savage, of the popular advice column Savage Love, says that the death grip can kill sex for young males who masturbate too often. It isn't frequent masturbation, he contends, it's the fact that guys who jerk off a lot tend to choke their dongs so hard that they begin to lose sensitivity.3
A couple of weeks ago while with a young lady and rounding the verse in "Yankee" where ol' Yankee Doodle sees that the men and boys at camp were "as thick as hasty pudding", I began wondering whether or not I preferred holding my breath and picturing the real reason the Michael Jackson proceedings are actually happening in the first place in order to not blow my load to the familiar scenario of using the long-memorized scene of Taylor Rain getting assplowed by Brandon Iron in order to complete the task at hand. I realized I preferred the former, but also realized that picturing the real reason behind MJ's trial succeeded only in making me lose my erection entirely.
All things in moderation, I said to myself as I stalked to the bathroom, sweating, to pick up a towel. And that includes porn, intensity of the jerk, and frequency of self-abuse.
"Can I use this one on the towel rack?" I called out to her.
1Whether or not I was seemingly unstoppable because I had jerked off three times earlier that day to Ashley Blue's scene in Buttfuck Sluts Go Nuts Vol. 7 is a matter that is up for debate.
2Things that may or may not have been inspired by watching Lauren Phoneix's scene Fuck Dolls #1.
3Which may explain my lack of excitement when a girl once dripped hot candle wax all over my cock. I am not making this up.
posted by Chris Cusack at 11:36 PM
1 Comments:
I've tried this on two separate occasions, and I'm here to tell you: It takes a special kind of lady to enjoy watching porn. (And to become my own personal buttfuck slut, for that matter.)
In the first experiment, she actually initiated the idea that we watch it while we get it on. I readily agreed, and she suggested that we might watch the porn, and then do whatever they do on film. As I watched to take my cue, she slowly became less interested in the porn, and more angry at me for watching the porn and not paying attention to her. It ended in an argument.
The second experiment was a bit more successful. We watched Jules Jordan's Flesh Hunter 2, and things were going pretty well . . . until the anal scene.
"What the fuck is he doing?" she asked.
"I can't say for sure, but it looks like he's fucking her in the ass."
"If you ever try to stick anything up my ass without telling me first, I'll cut your dick off."
(Audible sound of erection wilting.)
The cum shot was another story entirely. She laughed so hard I thought she was going to shit the bed (which, incidentally, would have been a good way to make sure that I didn't stick anything up her ass).
"Do guys actually find this shit to be a turn-on? Look at her! (Intense giggling.)"
I like the way you think, gabe--hopefully one day I will find that special lady who can do it all.
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