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July 29, 2011
Pimps, Pervs & Sex Pigs: Dancing With A Man-Skank
by Shawn Baker
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Class: you don’t need money, titles, or status
symbols to have it, but — but — it’s either in you or it’s not. Some men move through life with a poised, quiet, dignified stoicism that’s magnetic in its gravity. Other guys, well… their big contribution amounts to throwing it around town like paperboys.

There’s countless epithets you can hurl at a woman’s easy virtue, and society tends to bifurcate the female identity into a virgin/whore mirror image, yet I found myself struggling to come up with derogatory terms to classify a less-than-courtly man in my title. We wouldn’t even have gay porn if it weren’t for a certain type of man with boundary issues who says “A daisy chain on top of a bar?! Where to I sign!?” with nary a reservation, and some men are just born with the perfect hustler mentality that allows them to take risks the rest of us would balk at. As bad as the cliche is, I imagine deep down that most of us crave a hot piece who’s a dreamy angel in the kitchen and a heat-seeking whore in the hay. (read the full article)

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A NIGHTCHARM CLASSIC
from May 2007

Arab men are now one of the hottest niches in gay porn.

The niche is not exactly new; it is the Arab nature of it — primarily those young Arabs who have flocked to Europe for work — that gives it a new face.

spacer Visual Aids? Above are several scenes from Arab Men (Part I), one of the most popular titles in this category; at right the porn star Huessein, who through his adopted porn name and porn bio promotes his Turkish ancestry and who set off a comments war in these pages when we dared to describe him — and please don’t start up again — as “a beautiful ugly man.”

But the niche itself — well, it’s a classic archetype of the erotic imagination.

The Great Dark Man, Quentin Crisp used to call this eternal figure. Not exactly dreamboats, but dream brutes.

The Great Dark Man, while never fully detailed in Crisp’s brightly-lit epigrammatic prose, could be readily inferred from the writer’s autobiography The Naked Civil Servant.

The politically correct reader is certain to disagree with me, but it seems clear that our fey, outre Quentin had a rather Jane Eyre-ish sense of himself — as a lowly, compliant substitute female — whom this Great Dark Man would set off, as black velvet sets off pale but completely artificial pearls. (read the full article)

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Fleshlightning (Extended Trailer) – watch more funny videos
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Hey, we’ve all been there, and if we haven’t, we will be soon.

You’re a die-hard Liberal graduate with designs on becoming a well-heeled urban sophisticate. Suddenly, your upwardly mobile life trajectory is derailed by a market crash, and you find yourself economically displaced, forced — forced! — to work among the common man despite your contempt for him. This is nothing like Wall Street!

You’re supposed to be moving dividends around, not hauling loads with your smooth, uncalloused hands that have never been reduced to menial labor, but fate abandons you and soon enough you’re toiling away in a ware…house with uncouth, lumbering men who say things like “supposably” and add a superfluous “s” to “you.” Don’t you roughnecks understand that the pronoun “you” is made plural merely by context?! By context! Oh, you may swallow your pride, but that won’t be all you’re compelled to swallow!

If you really draw the short straw, then you end up with towering Girth Brooks — beefy, hardscrabble, hirsute, and balding in the hot way — as your task master. What starts out with taunting and humiliation at your effete expense gets real when he one day crosses the line, whipping out his jawbreaker of a dick when you’re alone in his office — its vein as engorged and protruding as the one in a seething stock broker’s forehead — as he thrusts you down to your knees with his meaty paw. “Suck me off, bright boy!,” he exhorts, his lip drawn up in a mocking sex sneer. “Never!,” you defy. “This is a clear-cut case of sexual harassment, and it’s not even in my job description!” Grasping your hair, he forces his cock through your protesting lips. “Whatever, pretty boy! I didn’t go to readin’ and writin’ school! Now make it good and quick — I got an installation to installate!”

Before you know what’s happening, you’ve become his personal suck boy, taking it hard atop the desk and cowboying on his mammoth prick, your regular nooners audible to everyone who knocks at the door asking for Girth and is driven away by his gruff snarl of “We’re almost finished!” “I hate you motherfucker!,” you say through gritted teeth as Girth maneuvers you up and down that shaft before he finally sprays all over you. “You’ve turned me into a whore!” He makes you polish off that sex stick with your smart mouth, holds your face in his massive palm, and grins before zipping up and strutting off. “Yeah.”

Word gets out that you’re the work site slut, and by the end of your first month, you’re servicing everybody, each night going home sore-assed and defiled by all those surly, haunch-banging motherfuckers — sometimes in groups — who went to DeVry.

Now you know what capitalism is, boy.

Catch this entire scene NOW!

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“Dated”
— it’s such an unfair word.

Sometimes, being era-specific can be a virtue.

Gay porn doesn’t really date all that well — it’s amazing to see how polished and professional the medium has become since the days of the handheld video revolution — and I’m frankly glad for that. So much of “new” porn is striking me as rather bland; creative sets have fallen by the wayside in favor of these generic “porn house” locales, music is no longer sublimely terrible than it is just ambient synth, and context isn’t as integral to setting a scene’s mood anymore.

The joys of dated gay porn are about more than just the stars, though it is nice to know that there was a time when models looked like fresh, approachable extras on The Dukes of Hazzard or Melrose Place rather than overly-’roided-out, too-aggressive sex mutants who require a team of day laborers to lift their elephant-sized legs while they’re getting nailed on their backs (true story). No, it’s the sore-dick little details that might as well have pop-up captions over them — look at the pic to the right and tell me what jumps out to you — that pull you down the rabbit hole. (read the full article)

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I think we can all agree that movies and television have taught us that the world is chock full of beautiful, nubile girls ready to spread for vampires, werewolves, and other creatures who could very easily kill them.

It’s easy to overlook that we (the Gays) want to nail monsters too, and now we’re that much more able to approximate that dream thanks to the enterprising folks at Bad Dragon — purveyors of frankly awesome horror-, sci-fi-, and fantasy-themed sex toys perfect for those who like some monster wad in their Monster Squad.

Who hasn’t watched Fright Night or Xtro and thought, damn — I’d like to fuck that (guilty)? Forget about figurative devil dicks and monster cocks — check out David The Werewolf (above), Duke The Bad Dragon, and The Xenogen. The Tentacle can double as the perfect bookend for your Lovecraft compendium, and there’s even The Anthro Dragoness for all those troubled malajusts who like pussy (gross!).

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The same thing happened to me. Only it wasn’t DeVry. It was Barbizon.

And it wasn’t in high school with a teacher. It was yesterday. With my parole officer.

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Sometimes in porn you crave a certain subtlety
— a playful, coy quality conveying shy reticence or sweetness.

Other times you’re in the mood for a knuckle-chaffed sex ape who’ll beat his chest and clobber you over the head before bellowing “Want fuck now!” as you play possum and pray to survive.

For a brief time in the early ’00s, if you had a hankering for a manimal, Boston-born butch bluntfuck Jake Gianelli was your man-thing.

When I personify of the phrase “sexually threatening,” Jake springs to mind — in the sense that I think “This is gonna hurt” when he’s stripped and engorged for action. Looking rather like hot Frankenstein got a spray tan and made a career segue into pro wrestling, he just doesn’t come off like the kind of guy who’s too preoccupied with trivialities like personal space or expressed consent.

I like that.
(read the full article)

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