Monday, September 28, 2009

On Roman Polanski

So you might have heard that Roman Polanski got arrested in Zurich, on a 30-year-old warrant issued in the United States for 'unlawful sex' with a 13-year-old.

Both France and Poland are asking for his release, while we're waiting to see whether the US will request Polanski get extradited and stand trial for his crime.

Now, I like Polanski a lot - one of his films, Bitter Moon, is a personal favorite of mine. I also acknowledge that he got a really bum rap with his trial judge, Rittenband, who basically double-crossed him by reneging on a plea-bargain.

But let's get one thing straight... 30 years ago, Roman Polanski got a 13-year-old girl drunk and stoned on Quaaludes - and then screwed and sodomized her. There's nothing okay about that, because she was thirteen.

Polanski invited Samantha Gailey to his house to photograph her - so he knew how old she was. Even ignoring the ethical implications of having sex with a drunk, passed-out girl - Polanski should have known what he was doing was wrong from the very beginning.

Samantha Gailey was apparently 'no angel' - but that's really not relevant (how come a girl's sexual history is always brought up, to somehow suggest that she 'deserved' what happened to her?)

Even if the courts consider the girl to be a 'raging whore,' making an overt and deliberate attempt to seduce a guy, it's still wrong to sleep with her if she's only 13-years-old!

I mean, there's no ambiguity there. It's just a case of 'right' or 'wrong.'

And Polanski didn't just have sex with this girl - he got her drunk and high first. While I think it's fine to pour champagne and pills down a willing girl - it's only fine if the girl's not 13!

And there's some debate as to whether the sex was consensual, or if she passed out and Polanski just decided to have vaginal and anal sex with her while she was unconscious. In my mind, both scenarios are wrong because of her age.

If she was drunk and high, but willing and horny, she was still 13! No way, no how, should Polanksi have thought that was acceptable!

And if she was actually unconscious - actually unable to consent - than that's a whole new level of 'wrong.' That's rape.

Now I'm normally pragmatic about this kind of thing. If the girl had been 18, I'd have been willing to give Roman Polanski the benefit of the doubt - but she wasn't.

She was 13-years-old. Which means that whatever happened that night, Roman Polanski had already made one deeply questionable moral decision when he had sex with her. Why wouldn't anything else that happened that night be equally morally dubious?

So I'm not saddened by Polanski's arrest. Whatever his contribution to cinema, or his achievements, what he did was wrong. If the US hadn't have pursued this, it would have been an unspoken message that it's 'okay' to have unlawful sex with an underage girl if you're rich and famous.

Friday, September 25, 2009

An Erotic Education: Or how I learnt that Brains trump Beauty


Her name was Marissa, and she had an ass like a firm, ripe peach.

As far as I was concerned, this Long Island lovely was pretty much the pinnacle of my dating career. She was the classical ‘actress-slash-model’; five feet and nine inches of toned, tanned loveliness that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of any mainstream men’s magazine.

Every inch of Marissa was manicured to perfection; French-tipped nails, honey-blond highlights and a twice-monthly trip to Mystic Tan that left every millimeter of her athletic body dyed a delicious mocha brown.

But within hours of bedding her, I realized that appearances weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

Marissa, it turned out, was limited.

She wasn’t dumb, by any means. She had an eidetic memory for names and faces (as long as your name or face regularly appeared in film, print or television.) She maintained her body with the pragmatic philosophy of a master mechanic – and could tell you to the exact kilocalorie how much food she’d consumed that day – and how much she’d purged in Gold’s Gym.

But when it came to those things that didn’t directly affect her, she had absolutely no interest whatsoever.

She could tell you the names and home cities of any American Idol contestant, but couldn’t name a single Supreme Court justice. The only book she owned was The South Beach Diet. Her favorite movie was ‘the one with all the dogs in.’

But where her focused attention was most frustrating was in the bedroom.

Marissa had a body that was just built for sex. When she peeled off those almost-nothings she wore to bed, it was hard not to howl like the horny wolf from a Tex Avery cartoon. Her breasts were like firm cantaloupes, her hips curved like rolling hills and her backside was firm enough to bounce quarters off.

But she knew nothing about sex.

Like her blowjobs, for example. The thought of those plump, perfect lips wrapped around my cock was so exciting I almost blew a blood-vessel. After the mandatory ‘three dates,’ when I finally lounged back in bed, watching this tight, toned tigress position herself between my thighs, I thought I was about to experience heaven…

But instead, she blew.

She literally blew me; like she was trying to inflate an airbed. Then, rather mechanically, she stretched those plump, pink lips and began to bob her head like a chicken pecking for corn.

In and out of her mouth my erection plunged – barely touching her lips and tongue.

The sex itself was nearly as bad. When I peeled her away from me, she obediently flopped back onto the bed and braced herself for what was coming.

It was like fucking a corpse. However gorgeous Marissa was, in bed she was like a limp rag doll, lying there lifelessly while I thrust in and out.

I tried it all; hooking my elbows under her knees, to practically bend her in half. I threw her ankles behind her ears to fuck her fast and deep. In the end, just to elicit a response, I gave her a sharp nip on the nipple.

Ow! What the hell?”

Eventually, I rolled this limp, but lovely fuckdoll onto her tummy and took her roughly from behind. She still didn’t move, but the sight of her firm, fine ass and toned, tan back excited me enough to detonate inside her. Panting, I flopped back onto the bed and turned my face to hers.
She looked at me rather blankly; offering a polite ‘that was nice.’ Then she got up and headed to the shower.

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. Here was a girl with a body as finely sculpted as a Ferrari – but underneath the hood, she packed about as much performance as my grandpa’s Buick.

And then there was Ashley.

Ashley was exactly the sort of girl you’d think I wouldn’t be interested in. She was pale, with a bottom-heavy body shaped like a ripe conference pear. But she was pretty and smart and when I met her, in the line at Barnes and Noble, there was something about the bookish brunette that fascinated me.

So I bucked the trend and dated the ‘smart girl’ for a change.

Boy, was it an education.

For a start, I learned that you shouldn’t judge a librarian by her cover. After taking her out for Indian food, she breathed hot, curry-scented breath into my ear and confessed; “I fuck on the first date.”

With Marissa, it had been the industry standard three.

Ashley took me back to her studio apartment, to a twin-sized bed overshadowed by towering bookshelves. There, she gave me an education into just what an educated girl is capable of.

For a start, Ashley looked a lot better out of her clothes. As she peeled off her pantyhose and unbuckled her bra, I discovered a generously proportioned body that was as pale and perfect as porcelain. Sure, she didn’t have a beach body like Marissa did, but there was still something scintillating about the softness of her skin and her firm, fleshy femininity.
And it got better…

Her blowjob technique blew more than my world – it took all my self-restraint not to blow my load as well.

She literally feasted on my cock; lips, tongue, fingers and fists kneading, nibbling, licking and lathering my shaft with saliva.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, as she juggled my balls between her lips. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“My mom kept a copy of ‘The Joy of Sex’ hidden under the bed when I was growing up,” she confessed, her lips and chin glistening with saliva. “I’d memorized it by the time I was fifteen.”

My education didn’t end there… A heartbeat before I detonated into her softly sucking mouth, she pried her lips apart with a sticky ‘smack’ and threw me back onto the bed.

“This is from the ‘Kama Sutra’,” she told me, responding to the mystified look on my face as she entangled me in an elaborate position. “This is called ‘the Scorpion.’”

She was straddling me now, facing away as she eased my hardness inside her. “It hits my g-spot so well from this angle.” She came twice in the next ten minutes, with me barely having to do anything. She was clearly a girl who knew what felt good.

Ashley didn’t introduce me to just ‘the Scorpion’ that night. I met the whole menagerie: ‘The Elephant,’ ‘the Eagle,’ ‘the Crab’ and, to finish it all off, the very appropriately named ‘Goddess.’

I was sitting up in the position, my back against the wall. Nestled snugly in my lap, Ashley rocked her hips back and forth, grinding herself against me.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, feeling an imminent explosion building in my balls. “What else did you learn from the Kama Sutra?”

“This…” Her flexible fingers stretched between our sweaty bodies – and a moment before I exploded in sweet release, I felt her probe my perineum with her fingers. Like she’d defused a bomb, I felt my cock stiffen and swell – suddenly ready to continue this round of raw, sweaty sex.

That night, I learned things I’d never even dreamed of. New positions, new techniques… Things I’d never have considered before. I must have come six times – the last time most intensely, as she introduced me to something called a ‘prostate massage.’

“You can’t stick your finger there!” I balked.

“Oh, trust me, baby,” she bit her bottom lip. “You’ll be pleased I did.”

Twelve sleepless hours in Ashley’s bed taught me a world of pleasures – but the most important lesson was this:

If you want to be well bed, find a girl who’s well read.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

If my sexuality was a bunch of sexist vintage images, it would look something like this:

Part of the origin of 'Champagne & Benzedrine' was my love of the cheesy, excessively sexualized seventies.




Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Why feminists shouldn't condone male circumcision

It's outlined in United States Code Title 18, Section 116:
Whoever knowingly circumcises, excises, or infibulates the whole or any part of the labia majora or labia minora or clitoris of another person who has not attained the age of 18 years shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than 5 years, or both.

In applying subsection, no account shall be taken of the effect on the person on whom the operation is to be performed of any belief on the part of that person, or any other person, that the operation is required as a matter of custom or ritual.

This law expressly forbids any elective alteration, cutting, surgery or mutilation of an infant girl's genitals - even for so-called 'religious' reasons. It's America's statement that female genital mutilation is absolutely outlawed in the United States (and thank God it is.)

Yet while a baby girl's genitals are quite rightly sacrosanct, male infants are routinely circumcised in American hospitals - raising a very interesting question about why a girl's genital integrity is taken as a matter of course, but a boy's isn't.

One of the most disturbing aspects of this part of the circumcision debate is how feminist dogma isn't just unsupportive of a little boy's right to keeping their genitals intact - it sometimes actively opposes that principle.

I find it deeply worrying that the feminist movement - supposedly intended to bring equality between man and woman - fights viciously to reinforce the mindset that a boy's right to genital integrity is somehow less than a girl's. It's the anathema of everything feminism is supposed to be about.

Many feminists argue that any negative discussion of male circumcision is offensive. It detracts from the horror of female circumcision - a disgusting practice designed to exercise power and control over a woman's sexuality. To suggest that male circumcision is 'undesirable' is to suggest that it's somehow equivalent to female genital mutilation - which it's not.

Female genital mutilation differs from male circumcision in three regards:
  1. It's physically far more traumatic than male circumcision.
  2. It's only purpose is to reduce a woman's sexual pleasure and maintain dominance over her.
  3. There are no reported health benefits to female circumcision, unlike male circumcision.
To this end, many feminists bitterly attack any attempt to even discuss the ethical implications of male circumcision - shutting down the debate before it even begins. I've encountered more than a few so-called feminists lately who condemn female genital mutilation while simultaneously defending male circumcision.

This is wrong.

This is offensive, dogmatic and it flies in the face of the so-called principles that feminism supposedly stands for. It's time people stood up and demand that their voice be heard - that they be allowed to speak out about this issue without being muzzled by outdated, sexist feminist rhetoric.

What do we ask for? A level playing field.

Simply that the genitals of little boys are viewed as possessing the same legal rights as those of a little girl. That the law which protects a girl from elective genital alteration equally protect a little boy.

Equality between the genders. A principle feminists should support, not oppose.

And if little boys and little girls had the same rights, what would that mean for the practice of male circumcision?
Whoever knowingly circumcises, excises, or infibulates the whole or any part of the genitals of another person who has not attained the age of 18 years shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than 5 years, or both.

That anybody who surgically alters an infant's genitals would be committing a criminal offense.

What about those who'd wish to circumcise their child for religious reasons?
In applying subsection, no account shall be taken of the effect on the person on whom the operation is to be performed of any belief on the part of that person, or any other person, that the operation is required as a matter of custom or ritual.
They would equally be committing a criminal offense.

United States Code Title 18, Section 116 contains a clause about medical necessity - as in, if there's a pressing medical reason to perform surgery on an infant's genitals, it can be done.
A surgical operation is not a violation of this section if the operation is necessary to the health of the person on whom it is performed, and is performed by a person licensed in the place of its performance as a medical practitioner.
But does male circumcision represent a 'necessary' procedure for the health of the infant?

There are arguable health benefits to circumcision. It reduces the chances of being infected by HIV through heterosexual sex - although so do condoms. It reduces the changes of penile cancer later in life - although the chances of developing that are already infinitesimal.

In fact, the benefits of male circumcision are largely hypothetical - and certainly nothing that's either statistically significant or which couldn't be accomplished more effectively with responsible behavior upon reaching adulthood.

The fact is that male circumcision is unnecessary surgery performed on a child who is incapable of consent.

If the current law was applied to boys as well as girls (which, by everything America stands for, it should be) than male circumcision would most certainly be defined as a criminal offense.

So why are we treating boys and girls differently? And why do some feminists insist on perpetuating that double standard, instead of fighting it?