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I’m
a pretty normal guy except for one thing: I’m sexually attracted
to zombies. When I was a kid, I loved to watch horror films
that featured them. Then as I became a teen, I started to
masturbate watching zombie flicks. I fantasize about having
sex with zombies while trying not to get bitten but eventually
I end up getting devoured. I also fantasize about a woman
gangbanged by a group of zombies who then rip her apart and
eat her. Is this a form of necrophilia? Are there any other
people out there with the same fetish? When I was about 6,
my best friend and I discovered the dead body of a drug addict
in an abandoned house. Do you think that has something to
do with my fetish?
—Concentrating
On Rotting People Sexually Exciting
Last
week I promised my readers a column dedicated to advice for
15-year-old girls from adult women. But I’m afraid that column
is going to have to wait. In light of the passing of Pope
John Paul II, a column dedicated to female sexual and social
empowerment somehow doesn’t seem appropriate. So this morning
I went digging through my inbox looking for a letter that
better captured the Zeitgeist.
Okay, CORPSE, you’ve got a zombie fetish. That’s too bad.
Though you’re probably not alone, your fetish will complicate
your love life. While GGG folks will cheerfully indulge their
partners’ kinks, there are limits to what a kinky boy can
reasonably request. Naughty Catholic schoolgirl? Demanding
Mistress? Secretary of State? Those are role-playing scenarios
that any reasonably accommodating girlfriend would say yes
to. But animated corpses, violent gangbangs, gruesome deaths,
and cannibalism? The only women willing to go there will be
the ones who share your fetish. (And if they’re out there,
they’re online somewhere.) The sucks-to-be-you fact of the
matter is that very few people find death attractive—look
at how hard John Paul II clung to life. If a man who was convinced
he was going to Heaven was that afraid of death, how do you
think the average bar slut will feel?
As to why are you a zombie fetishist, CORPSE, that’s harder
to say. Could it be all those movies you watched as a kid?
Maybe, maybe not. Lots of kids watch zombie flicks but only
a few become zombie fetishists. Was it the dead body you discovered
at age 6? Maybe, maybe not. Did the kid you were with grow
up to be a zombie fetishist too? Probably not. I’m afraid
there are no easy answers, CORPSE, no good explanations why
one kid exposed to zombie flicks winds up with a zombie fetish
and another kid who watches the same zombie flicks does not.
People are weird and sex is a fucking head-trip. What can
you do?
Okay, speaking of weird and perverse head-trips: This will
come as a shock to many of my readers but I’m Catholic—in
a cultural sense, not an eat-the-wafer, say-the-rosary, burn-down-the-women’s-health-center
sense. I was so Catholic that I attended Quigley Preparatory
Seminary North, a Catholic high school in Chicago for boys
thinking about becoming priests. Along with my classmates
I got to meet the pope in 1979 when he dropped by our school
during his visit to Chicago. We gave him a soccer ball.
I would be lying if said I wasn’t pleased to see John Paul
II’s papacy come to an end. On one of his other visits to
the United States the pope condemned an “[American] culture
that seeks to declare entire groups of human beings . . .
to be outside the boundaries of legal protection.” That’s
rich coming from the same man who ordered bishops in the United
States to oppose civil rights laws that protect gays and lesbians
(including hate-crime laws), leaving us “outside the boundaries
of legal protection.” In 2003 a Vatican screed condemned not
only gay marriage but also adoptions by gay and lesbian couples.
Allowing gays and lesbians to adopt children, the Vatican
said, “would actually mean doing violence to these children.”
(Hmm. Violence against children . . . perhaps we should defer
to the Catholic Church’s expertise on that subject?) And two
days before my boyfriend and I celebrated our 10th anniversary
in February, the pope rose from his deathbed just long enough
describe gay marriage as part of an “ideology of evil.” Gee,
J. P., you shouldn’t have.
What’s maddening about this pope’s signature gay bashing is
this: When the pope—the dead one, the next one, the one after
that—says something stupid about homosexuality, straight Americans
take it to heart. The church’s efforts have helped defeat
gay rights bills, lead to the omission of gays and lesbians
from hate-crime statutes, and helped to pass anti-gay-marriage
amendments. But when a pope says something stupid about heterosexuality,
straight Americans go deaf. And this pope had plenty to say
about heterosexual sex—no contraceptives, no premarital sex,
no blowjobs, no jerkin’ off, no divorce, no remarriage, no
artificial insemination, no blowjobs, no three-ways, no swinging,
no blowjobs, no anal. Did I mention no blowjobs? John Paul
II had a longer list of “no’s” for straight people than he
did for gay people. But when he tried to meddle in the private
lives of straights, the same people who deferred to his delicate
sensibilities where my rights were concerned suddenly blew
the old asshole off. Gay blowjobs are expendable, it seems;
straight ones are sacred.
So forgive me if I can’t get behind the orgy of cheap and
easy piety that’s greeted the death of this pope. Watching
the talking twats on CNN pay their respects to this “universally
beloved man of God” (how many of them have had premarital
sex, I wonder?), to say nothing of the suddenly so reverent
assholes on Fox News (Bill O’Reilly didn’t have many nice
things to say about the pope when he opposed the invasion
of Iraq), is making me want to throw a bottle of lube through
a stained-glass window.
Yeah, yeah: I’m sorry the old bastard’s dead, I’m sorry the
old bastard suffered. But I’m not so sorry that I won’t stoop
to working John Paul II into a column about zombie fetishism.
I don’t want to be a total asshole, however, so I’ll close
this week’s column with a subject John Paul II approved of
mightily: male chastity.
Here is some more info for CHASTE, the young man who wondered
about the health consequences of spending a great deal of
time locked in a male chastity device and being denied orgasms
by his Mistress:
1. The long-term inhibition of erections will lower your testosterone
levels and make you calmer (and more subservient). 2. Your
penis will shrink, and you will not get hard enough for intercourse.
3. However, your orgasms from oral or manual teasing will
be incredible—multiple also.
—Chaste
Boy
I
can’t imagine a lot of men are going to be clamoring for male
chastity devices after reading your letter, CB, but thanks
for sharing.
For the record, folks, not every guy under lock and key is,
like CHASTE or CB here, going for long stretches without erections
and orgasms. Some women lock up their men’s cocks only when
they are not in use or when their husbands are out of sight.
One of these women, writing at the male chastity website www.tpe.com/~altarboy,
paints a slightly more enticing picture of male chastity devices.
Locking up her husband’s cock has brought them both “greater
sexual pleasure by channeling his sexual energy away from
masturbation and to having sex with me,” she writes. “A woman
will find that after her guy uses one of these he pays more
attention, his erections last longer, his orgasms are more
intense, and he can have more of them while making love.”
mail@savagelove.net
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