4 X 4 Fucking

2-22-12 :  That is today.  Seeing all those twos, I of course immediately thought of all the things that start with a 4, because 2+2 and 2*2 both equal four:

Four Seasons

Four Elements

Four Points on the Compass

Four Corners

I could go on, but I'd been reading Thomas Pynchon's Against the Day and  I came across passage making a unique utilization of the imaginary geographic entity known as "The Four Corner's Region":

They took her down to the Four Corners and put her so one of her knees was in Utah, one in Colorado, one elbow in Arizona and the other in New Mexico -- with one point of insertion exactly above the mythical crosshairs itself. Then rotated her four different ways. Her small features pressed into the dirt, the blood-red dirt.

So in addition to the Mile High Club, I am now obsessed  to taking Vice and going down to the Four Corners and fuck her in all four states at once -- maybe even achieving four different states of consciousness in the process. Drilling my cock into her cunt right on the bulls eye, with our four arms and four legs intertwined as one flesh -- the four elements appear as well with the fire of our loins, the water of her pussy, the hot air of our breath commingled all on the earthy stone -- our heads point north along the Utah-Colorado border, our feet point south down through New Mexico and Arizona and the orgasm generating out from our genitals flows perpendicular to the East and the West completing a sexual mandala.

With all these fours running through my head, why stop there?  I  begin to think of a daisy chain foursome covering four states at once. Call the Guinness Book of World's Records: The world's first group sex held simultaneously orgasming in four states at once. Foursomes provide multiples of fours in legs, tits, arms, eyes, ears and balls. Of course, we would have to go in some type of 4x4 given the rough terrain of Southern Utah, with lots of extended foreplay on the close to 444 mile drive from Farmington, Utah to the closest city, Farmington, New Mexico -- both of which begin with "F", as does "Four" and "Fuck"

The debate about group sex is so misguided. (Here is where I get serious.) To understand and deal with the psychological implications of growing up either

1) male ;

2) female;

3) straight; or

4) gay

in a conservative religion, but one that urges a mystical union with the believers -- that urge to merge into the oneness.

Someone needs to do a sociological study on the sex habits of  those leaving conservative religious enclaves. How many sex partners? How many Tantra workshops? How many serial monogamous relationships? My guess is it is significantly higher than the average U.S. culture, because there is a spiritual, as well as a physical promise, that comes from the subliminally indoctrinated promise of a unified one-ness.

Think Acts 4:32:  (Acts 4 -- like it is telling me something)
All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.


One heart, one mind, one flesh -- if the symbolic oneness of the act of consummating and carrying out the marriage of a male and a female works for two, why not four, why not more? And of course being a guy, adding three girls would be fourtastically fun.

Think Acts 2:44  (Forty Four -- you can't make this stuff up.)

All the believers were together and had everything in common. 


(Sounds like an orgy to me.)1st Corinthians 6:16 (16 is 4 squared, weird):
Do you not know that he who unites himself with a prostitute is one with her in body? For it is said, "The two will become one flesh." 


And Adam and Eve were commanded to become one flesh in get this --- Genesis 2:24: (2+2 and 4):


For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.

Yet, at the same time I'm a puritanically chaste creature that feels extreme guilt and agonizes over my sexual morality. Everybody rants and raves about contraception. Everybody rants and raves about the Christian Victorian attitudes. Why aren't we discussing how those activities play out in our lives, our actions and our fantasies? It seems much more relevant than haggling over whether we need contraception or not -- we do.  Instead, we need to talk about why we fuck who we fuck and how often we fuck and what the fuck it is all about. (That was four fucks, in case you weren't counting and fuck has four letters. Please four-give me four I know not what I do four you and four you and four you and four you.)

Emoticon Seduction

Window Fucking

Dear Guest,


As a reminder, please be aware of the transparency of our guest room windows and that activity in your room, when the curtains are open, may be visible from the outside.  We appreciate your consideration of the patrons of the public park and surrounding neighborhood below.


Have a wonderful stay and do not hesitate to contact me should you have any queries.


Best,


General Manager


This was the letter on top of the Room Service menu at the Standard Hotel, when Vice and I stayed there.  The hotel played a prominent role in the movie Shame, with Michael Fassbender's character watching a couple fuck in the Standard's windows and then later switching from voyeur to exhibitionist as he fucked a woman up against a similar window.

This was playing on my mind when I visited Las Vegas and stayed in the Vdara Hotel.

Notice a theme?

Pricey hotels that play to your inner exhibitionist.  For the price of a room, you too can press her up against the glass and fuck for an audience that only needs to look up and observe.

We love to watch.

We love to display.

Maybe it is that overarching desire to connect, to get outside of oneself and join the throng while remaining at your most intimate and passionate.

Sex can be the time you feel most alive, the most connected and when the world makes the most sense.  Exhibitionism supplements the connection by bringing in the viewer into the mix.  It is the power of the stripper.  It is the power of the theater.  It is the power of the written word.  The mind or body projected out to other minds.  The observer can partially confirm the subjective experience of the observed.  Arousal begets arousal.  Pain begets pain.  Grief begets grief.

So our lives are metaphorically spent desperately fucking up against high rise windows, just hoping that someone will look up, spy us fucking and feel -- something.
  

Male Dominance

I wrote an earlier review about the movie, Shame.  Vice and I were discussing the movie again about the night of debauchery Brandon (played by Michael Fassbender) goes through towards the end of the movie.  The night is told through a series of flashbacks.  The first act of the night is cramming his fingers up the skirt and cunt of a girl at a bar.  Nothing I do here can do the scene justice, but the penultimate act is him sticking the pussy soaked fingers under the nose of the girl's boyfriend.  Extremely dominant male act and for me the most arousing scene in the movie.  The boyfriend concludes the scene by beating Brandon up -- lacking sexual dominance the boyfriend opts for physical dominance.

Yet for the male, physical dominance is sexual dominance, i.e. sports.  I daresay that men's sports/fan obsessions are attempts at obtaining, even vicariously some sort of dominance, but I digress.

Nowhere does male dominance in sexuality show up more than in the Kinsey-ian bisexual spectrum.  Vice informed me in our discussions that she saw me as a 3 on the scale of 1 to 10 in regards to same sex attraction.  In my raging hormonal youth I would have told you that I was more a -5, but I listened, partly because of our fantasy life and partly because I'm a little bit wiser.  My predominant sexual leaning is heterosexual.  My primary secondary characteristic is dominance.  If I can feel dominant, I get turned on, regardless.  Male homophobia is more based on fear of losing dominant male sexual status than a repulsion towards homosexuality itself.

After the physical beating in Shame, Brandon seems to need to reassert his dominance sexually and does it by going into a gay sex club and make a guy he has followed give him head.  The act was about exerting his sexual power over a male.  Still not enough, he proceeds to a threesome with two women, another sexually dominant act (I'm so sexual, I need two women).  All this, in part, felt like an attempt to regain the feeling of dominance lost in the beating.

I've written before about dominance in terms of cuckolding.  This morning I was reading a blog on paying for sex and the money is yet another form of male dominance, yet the money itself is a proxy for true dominance and it removes the ability to discern whether it was the green or the sexual power.  Paid sex thus provides only a fragile facade of dominance.

We ought to have a Kinsey-ian scale for dominance and submission.  I'd put myself somewhere around an 8 or 9 on the dominance scale, meaning I'm slightly more dominant than I am straight.  So you can all just suck me.

Fucking Writing

We start out as a cock spurt and later push our way out of a cunt.  We all have to start from scratch with nothing, the raw material spawned by a fuck and surely that limits us.  We are limited by where we begin and we are all literally fucked from the outset.   Every human is fucked into consciousness.  Every human has fuck on the brain.  And we don't understand fuck all about fucking.

What kind of fucks?

The bonding fuck.
The making love fuck.
The guilt fuck.
The pleasure fuck.
The revenge fuck.
The mercy fuck.
The compassionate fuck.
The fuck to end all fucks, but really I'm just fucking with you.

It is no wonder we are all so fucked up about fucking.  We don't have a fucking clue.

I'm actually being serious here.  I don't think we have a fucking clue about fucking.  We've fucked fucking with religion and law.  We've fucked fucking with our fucking neurosis and expectations.  We at least intuit that fucking is serious fucking business, but we surrender to the orgasmic rush or the afterglow of guilt and we can never figure out why we are so fucked up, because we don't really look at fucking very fucking closely.

From fucking, I've learned that the land of fuck is a much more mysterious and beautiful world than I could have ever fucking imagined.  And that is why we fucking write about it.

Where Is The Avant Garde?

In a fractured media landscape, where is the cutting edge? 

Sex Without "God" or Fuck an Atheist

Romney's support of the morning after pill for rape victims is one of the factors that led to him suffering today from a Primary Election day hangover. On the early morning butt end of Santorum's discharge of Mitt, the anti-sex conservative religious forces have again exerted themselves in Republican politics.

But that is old news.  Nothing we haven't seen before.  I have a much more pressing question.

Can you fuck someone who doesn't believe in God?  

Religious identity infuses that subjective experience of many humans and sex gets run through the same religious filter. So as a believer, does an atheist cock deliver semen that is distilled of the devil?  The atheist cunt may feel warm and wet as the tantric Buddhist cunt, but can you really be at one with that cunt?  Can belief fuck non-belief and survive?  What will their children look like?  

Sex, a physical spiritual experience, complete with spine tingles and visions of the heavens, is for the atheist a pretty damn cool side benefit of millions of years of biological evolution.  The subjective sexual experience is about connection and this is where religion interferes with fucking atheists.  The atheist will love your body and attribute all the pleasure received from your neurons, your skin, your cunt or cock, your juices -- all of your material body.  If you can live with that -- go fuck an atheist.  And out of politeness for the atheist's non-belief, please refrain from shouting out "Oh my God!"  and stick to "Thank you!"  Although, if you slip up and it blurts out mid-thrust, don't worry, this Atheist will understand.

Compersion, Frubble and Tertaliation

I love fucking with words.  Apparently, the polyamorous community, besides fucking around with other people, also likes to fuck with words.  If Wikipedia is to be believed, the polys have come up with two new words that I hadn't heard until last Saturday night:  "Compersion" and "Frubble."

Wikipedia defines "compersion" as a state of empathetic happiness and joy experienced when an individual's current or former romantic partner experiences happiness and joy through an outside source, including, but not limited to, another romantic interest.  Or the more simplistic definition, the opposite of jealousy.


"Frubble" or "frubbly" is defined as feeling compersion.  Of course both jealous and compersion can be experienced in simultaneity. 

So, I was wondering what two words the polys fucked together to make up "compersion." 

'Compulsive' and  'Immersion' fucked into 'Compersion'?

'Compete' and 'Dispersion'?

'Compare' and 'Confusion'?

'Compute' and 'Collusion'?

They need to be more clear on the etymological source of the word.

'Frubble is even more confusing --  

Fucking Trouble?
Fucking Rubble?
Fruity  Pebbles?

So today marks the birth of a new word in the poly community, a word to describe an emotion that is felt by almost all men, and I suspect many, if not all women:  Tertaliation.

Tertaliation: (noun):  [tur-sh-ey-le-ashun]
tertaliate (verb) tertalious (adjective) tertaliously (adverb)

        (1) The arousal derived from your intimate partner being desired by another.

Origin:  From the Latin for third 'tert' and for other 'alli' thus the source of the word 'third other' is also the source of the emotional response.

Now somebody go write me a Wikipedia article.

Super Bowl Sex Redux

This is my thoughts from Super Bowls past.  Don't know what will happen this year, but forget all the  violence and see what happens in the sexual realm . . .

Think Prince had a little inferiority complex playing for the Super Bowl halftime? Here let me project my big cock and balls up on a screen to show you that I am more manly than Brian Urlacher. Tears were rolling down my eyes as the TV screen flashed the ankh-guitar cum cock-balls. I couldn't stop laughing and only one other person in the entire conservative religious infested room understood why I was in hysterics rolling on the floor. You couldn't even see Janet Jackson's nipple with all the jewelry, even when you blew it up to twenty times the size, but Prince saved us the trouble, he blew his up for us.




So what does it say about the Family Values Football culture that a woman's nipples are enough to signal the downfall of Western Civilization, but a little pipsqueak rocker from Minnesota can project his wannabe cock to millions of Americans and not even a flicker of protest.

Apparently representations of the male genitals are less offensive than the female breast to our society. I'm just going to throw out an idea here and I'd love to hear your comments, but repressing female sexuality is necessary for maintaining conservative religious, political and economic control. The patriarchal control is phallic and in a symbolic and in a practical sense exposing female sexuality challenges the existing authority in a way that male sexuality does not. I realize it is not that simple.

Back twenty years ago or so, I remember a Time magazine article that made a bunch of people hot under the color because it described football in terms of sexuality. Tightly wrapped buttocks and genitals and enlarged head and shoulders battle to penetrate the opponents end zone -- something like that. Even spiking the ball after the touchdown, became yet another violative penetration. The homo-ification of football really seemed to bother a lot of people, yet given the Snickers Ad, I'd say that homo eroticism and football are still intertwined (not to mention Prince's rather androgynous appearance, despite his twelve foot cock with the pointy circumcised tip.)

FIVE YEARS AGO SNICKERS AD PULLED

The GLBT party line was that the Snicker's ad was homophobic. I responded by saying "Take a look at the guys face as he dives in -- pure lust. The entire thing was homoerotic, from phallic Snicker's bar peeled out of its wrapper to the deep kiss. Only the ending was homophobic."




This raises an interesting question, because the idea that two greasy car mechanics could be gay is against the gay sterotype and could be seen as a good thing. Snickers also apparently had alternate endings, which I found and have posted. The chest hair ripping was out of context for the rest of the commercial. The natural conclusion would have been for the two guys to acknowledge their mutual affection for each other and Snickers. Instead, Snickers played it for laughs and got snookered instead.

Rather than boycotting or asking the commercial to be pulled, the GBLT crowd should be asking for alternate endings. Have the commercial play when the two go off arm in arm munching on Snickers. The demanded apology or the moral outrage isn't nearly as effective as trying to figure out how to sublimate your message without in turn offending the very people you want to have understand.  


Which brings me to the Snickers commercial for Latin America.  Playing into Latin macho culture, so that a Snickers bar turns you from a klutzy Latina to just a regular skate boarding teen.  Go figure. 

Shame: A Review

Things are fucked up when your healthiest sexual relationship is with your sister.  Yet, this disturbed dynamic yields one of the most insightful movie treatments of sexuality I have ever seen.  In a movie with little dialogue, exquisitely bleak lighting and acting that  rips your clothes off, Sex is the leading character in this movie.

 Sex is the comforting character, an analgesic, bringing release from the agonizing existential brutality.

Sex is the co-dependent companion that reinforces destructive behavior.

Sex is the store clerk, handling a simple transaction.

Sex is the religious enforcer, bringing down, if not the wrath of God, the wrath of the man in the bar.

Sex is the confidant that shines a bright light on your worst faults, making you feel simultaneously awful and wonderful.

Sex is the only thing and nothing.

Sex is a reminder of how we begin and how we must all end.

Sex is the act of living, creating, bleeding and  dying.

The characters in this movie have dysfunctional relationships with Sex, but ultimately the shame they feel is the problem, not Sex.  Sex does what it does.  Shame twists and warps and ruins the plenitude that Sex offers.  Sometimes even the worst problems disappear when you shove your face into a lovely ass.

Fucking By and With Definitions

Swinger.  Poly. Slut. Bitch. Pig. Asshole. Whore. Lifestyle. Queer. Gay. Fuck. Make Love.

Definitions fuck with us.  I'm not going to go all Wittgenstein, but definitions fuck with people's ability to think.  Nowhere is this more apparent than in politics (free market vs. regulation, Republican vs. Democrat) and sex.  Define a term and suddenly it is impossible to think outside the definitional box.

Definitions Limit -- By Definition


I'm going to pick on the Swinger versus Poly debate as an example.  The poly community attempts to differentiate from Swingers by defining poly as being about love and attachment combined with the sex and sex is only proper with attachment, while Swingers are only about banal physical gratification.    Swingers on the contrary, see polys as non-Buddhist attachment mongers and whores, with all the attendant pain that attachment brings.  Sex should be solely about physical pleasure.

Frankly, the definitions are very limiting on the human sexual condition.  Sex with attachment is completely different than sex at the masked orgy.  Different feelings, different emotional states, different motivations, yet feelings, motivations and emotions that can easily be contained within a single, solitary consciousness.   By defining oneself as a Swinger or as Poly, you have essentially limited your view of the sexual light spectrum which extends from ultra Violet Blue to Infra Red Porn and carries all of the colors and shades in between.

Words Fuck and Change -- Just Like Humans


No word is as versatile as "Fuck".  If you have a grammarian in your midst, see how many parts of speech they can morph fuck into.  Hint: Almost all of them , i.e. Fuck! (implied subject You-fucker) fuck the fucking fuck fuckers fuckingly.  Any word that versatile is bound to have some use in the language.


Language evolves through societal intercourse, or fucking if you will.  Moral usage of a word depends on context and the accuracy of the communication, not on the actual word.  If your lover and you use "Cunt" and it is hot, loving and indicative of aggressive female power, then fuck her cunt hard and say, "I fucking love your Cunt."  Calling your child's first grade teacher a "Cunt" for giving the stick figure a frowny face sticker -- bad idea.  The extremes are easy, nuance takes skill and maturity.

The "Slut Walk" phenomenon is about women trying to recapture the word in much the same way the homosexual community co-opted Gay and Queer.  Or the Americans, "Yankee Doodle".  The epithet becomes the desired epitaph.

So, all you swinging, poly lifestylers with your gay sluts, queer bitches, assholes yelling Cunt and pigs leering at whores, forget how you define yourself and others and shut up and make loving fuck.

NanoBot Sex Toys

Being a far fringe member of Generation X (figure if I'm the same age as Coupland I can claim the same generational affinities), I have a slightly perverse relationship to technology.  I found this video from one of Coupland's tweets.  Hell, I have a slightly perverse relationship to most things.  The other thing I know is that robot geeks have a special kind of affinity for sex toys -- robotic Pygmalions abound.  Those who create (and are geeky) also want to fuck.

Any observant member of the male species notes with some chagrin the pleasure women can derive from latex.  Despite the plethora of erect male members cast about the digital seas like an overladen garbage barge, the pictures exhibit the inherent male fear that we won't be able to get it up.  Men are ever fearful that the latex can always get it up.

With that introduction, imagine what you could do with these little flying nanobots.  First, lets go with seduction.  The object of desire, the naked woman is placed on the bed, blindfolded and awaits the nano invasion.  Most sex toys fail at foreplay, but not the little nanos.  A fleet of flying nanobots with a feather dangling from their base, descend slowly on the woman's body, until the feathers tickle her naked body.  Run the feathers over her breasts, skin and cunt at varying speeds and directions.  The figure eight across the breasts and cunt, while crossing at the navel would be particularly pleasurable.

A more heavy duty nano, shall we call it the Dildobot, leaving the little nano's to tease the breasts and face, the dildobot flies in with its dangling appendage and begins to fly in and out from between her spread legs.  Unlike fucking machines that overcome the woman by brute force, the flying dildo is a lighter mechanical fuck, like holding the dildo with only two fingers.  A tight cunt woman could Kegel  hard and get into a little tug of war with her flying dildo-ace.  Flying nano fucks would have an airy quality.

I can imagine a fleet of crawling, vibrating and possibly electric stimulation carrying nanobots that could swarm over a body, entering orifices, stimulating the yummy bits and basically make you feel like you are being fucked by 3000 little fuckers.

Any nanorobot manufacturers that want to start a company to make sex toys, let me know. (www.nanofuckers.com is still available on GoDaddy.)

Post script:

A completely random thought to show you how fucked up my mind is -- in case you weren't already convinced:

Step One: I'm in the middle of reading Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov.  No one does crazy quite like Nabokov.  The creator of the most unreliable of narrators, such as in Lolita with Humbert Humbert, he has outdone himself in Pale Fire, with a pederast lunatic Charles Kinbote.
Step Two:  I write about Pygmalion and the Galaeta myth of turning a statute into a real living woman for this post because I'm imagining nanobots as fucking machines.
Step Three:  Combine Nabokov's nutty pederast and the Pygmalion myths and nanobots and I decided that Geppetto in Pinnochio is one fucked up old guy.