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On
an episode of The Sopranos, a hunk went to the bathroom,
where he died, and the camera caught the actor sitting in
a position with his pants and shorts down around his ankles.
It made me so hot I whacked off immediately. Later, I taped
the episode for that purpose. Also, I found a picture of an
opera staged in Barcelona where six men were sitting on the
can with their pants and shorts around their ankles. I found
that picture extremely hot. My question is, why do I find
these pictures so erotic? I’m just a garden-variety gay, so
I don’t find pleasure in pain (so the death of the hunk had
nothing to do with it), nor do I enjoy the sight or smell
of shit, so these pictures and my reaction to them puzzle
me. I hope you print this, as I’m sure I’m not the only one
out there who finds these images erotic.
—Hot
Pants
What
makes you so sure you’re not the only one who finds these
images erotic? I’ve been at this sex advice thing for a while,
HP, and you’re the first person I’ve ever heard from who gets
off merely at the sight of a guy sitting on the can with his
pants around his ankles. That means you’re special. As to
why this turns you on, well, why freaked-out stuff turns some
people on is nearly impossible to determine. Perhaps it’s
seeing a man at a moment of extreme vulnerability, a moment
when very few men wish to be observed. Perhaps the subtle
violation—the violation of a man’s privacy—turns your pervy
crank. Or, hell, maybe it’s something else entirely. Who knows?
What I do know, however, is this: There’s a scene in Johnny
English—one of the worst movies ever made—that you might
want to add to your growing collection of pants-around-the-ankles
erotica. In it, six or seven guys are sitting in a bathroom,
pants around their ankles, taking a bizarre communal crap.
Without a doubt, HP, you are the only person on earth besides
A. O. Scott, a film critic for The New York Times,
who will enjoy this movie. Scott gave Johnny English
a mystifying rave, and Scott is the reason I found myself
in a theater watching Rowan Atkinson, who was crawling up
a sewer pipe, get shit on by six or seven men taking a bizarre
communal crap. What Scott enjoyed about this film remains
a mystery to me, unless. . . .
Perhaps Mr. Scott enjoyed Johnny English for the same
reasons you no doubt will, HP, which means that you aren’t
the only one out there who finds images of men taking craps
erotic. I mean, is there any other explanation for that review,
Mr. Scott?
My girlfriend and I have only had sex maybe three times in
almost as many months. Under other circumstances this might
not bother me, but her total lack of interest in sex has worked
on my insecurities of late.
Last night as I was about to leave her apartment she noticed
that the knickknack box on her nightstand was open. She keeps
our condoms in that box. Then she noticed that there were
only two condoms in it. There were three the last time we
opened it. She asked me to empty my pockets to see if I had
taken one to use on God only knows who. (I hadn’t.) I dutifully
emptied my pockets and left without pressing the issue.
Why would there suddenly be one less condom if I hadn’t
taken it and we haven’t used it? Obviously, it would make
no sense for her to bring up its absence if she’s the one
that used it. So what’s the deal here? Am I letting my fears
run away with me or do I have reason to believe that she’s
being unfaithful? This wouldn’t be the first time that either
has happened.
—Insecure
and Suspicious
Here
are three theories that might explain the Case of the Missing
Condom: Your girlfriend cheated on you and accused you of
cheating on her to escape suspicion (a common enough stratagem
for cheaters); if your girlfriend has roommates, perhaps one
borrowed the condom (without returning it—shocking!); maybe
there were only two condoms in the fucking knickknack box
to begin with.
But the only mystery I’m interested in solving is this: Why
are you bothering with this woman? Between your insecurities,
her history of cheating, and your piss-poor sex life, it’s
not like either of you is getting anything out of this but
grief. Tell your girlfriend to shove her suspicions in her
little knickknack box, IAS, and end this farce already.
My boyfriend likes ass sex, so I decided to let him have
a go when I was drunk enough not to feel it too much. However
for the next week my poor ass was in agony. It hurt to shit,
it hurt to sit. I have since let him try it three more times.
Each time is still just as painful. I don’t have the heart
to tell him this since he enjoys it so much. Should we use
a different lube, or do I just have a freakishly small/sensitive
anal opening?
—Ass
Sex Sucks
A
freakishly small/sensitive anal opening? I doubt it, ASS.
It’s more likely that you have a freakishly insensitive boyfriend.
If you’re unable to shit or sit without pain for a week after
he fucks your ass, ASS, then he’s not giving you enough anal
foreplay—and kissing you and groping your ass doesn’t count
as anal foreplay, kiddo. More lube might help, ASS, but it’s
not the solution to your problem. He needs to get in there
and rim your ass, finger it, and use small toys on it.
Here’s your homework: Have “ass sex” this weekend—without
alcohol or buttfucking. Tell him do whatever he likes to your
ass, ASS, short of sticking his dick in there. He can use
his tongue, his fingers, your vibrator, some small toys, and,
for the big finish, slide his dick between your ass cheeks
and hump your ass crack until he comes, but without actually
penetrating you. While he humps away, work your clit with
your own hand or a vibrator. Keep this routine up for a few
weeks, ASS, and make sure he understands that you’re in no
hurry to get his dick back into your ass. The goal is to get
you to associate anal play with mind-blowing orgasms so that,
one day soon, you’ll be so hot for actual ass sex that you’ll
want to take another stab at it.
But he has to let you set the pace, ASS, and you need to tell
him that what you’ve been doing up to now hurt like hell.
Unless he wants to turn you off to ass sex forever, he can’t
rush or pressure you. And when you want to give it a shot,
ASS, do it sober. You’re likelier to get hurt if you’re “drunk
enough not to feel it too much.” You should want to feel it,
ASS, so that hopefully you can enjoy it or, if not, you can
call a halt to the ass fucking before you wind up unable to
shit or sit for another week.
mail@savagelove.net
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