People Porn Power

When I was a gay college boy in the midcentury midwest, I treasured a tiny collection of gay porn. I poured hours of my post-adolescence into it, kneeling too close to the family TV and masturbating again and again, focused intently on Al Parker’s penis and everything he did. It was magical, naughty and absolutely me time. 

Porn was then about scarcity and precious secrets. It lived in material things—video cassettes and books and magazines—things that could be hidden and treasured and infused with the danger of discovery.

In high school, I had erotic literature or “dirty books” as they were commonly known. Well-worn paperbacks with dog-eared pages of my favorite passages. Reading was where I developed my sexual imagination and began to discover what I was really into beyond just being attracted to guys.

In college through the late ‘70s, VHS invaded the culture and being a tech geek, I had to have a video deck and the porn industry was demonstrating that it was going to forever be the vanguard of new media by providing their product to the masses in the way the masses were going to be consuming. The porn industry has always been the sector that best embodied Steve Jobs’ ideal of “skating to where the puck is going.” 

I loved receiving those plain envelopes offering brochures full of explicit photos from Colt, Falcon and Maverick Studios to market their products. The brochures alone inspired countless orgasms but I scraped up the money I needed to get a couple of the most promising tapes to play for myself in private and in full motion and living color. I loved my porn even as I was finding real sex with real men in the real world. From age 19 through my twenties I had semen to spare both for the holes of the willing and my own two hands.

Through the years, erotica has remained part of my life in varying degrees and in evolving forms but there has been one massive shift in its universe for all of us: the ability for me and you and everyone to make our own porn. We ourselves have become the source of the most authentic erotica available and the professional industry has struggled to compete with us. 

What has evolved at this moment of erotic history is what I call people-powered porn. The range of variation is as broad as the populations of people with smartphones. From selfies have come dick pics (and yes, I am a dick-centric homo so that’s my focus, but I know perfectly well that women are making selfie porn too) and all manner of artful to artless erotica that we can and do make with the production tools now in our hands.

I am a fan of “amateur” porn, the views inside erotic reality that people are making and sharing out of pure passion rather than profit. Inside that world is the spark of creativity and originality that has created new, artful-while-still-wildly-hot erotic filmmaking of Noel Alejandro and Antonio da Silva, as well as the pro-amateur efforts of Proud Bator (sadly, now retired) and countless others.

Now, as I near 60, I have found my taste, my preference in erotica and it is the non-professional exposure of genuine male sexuality I see on Tumblr and BateWorld. I no longer want to see shaved bodies, six-pack abs and porn professionals. I see them as artificial, staged and insincere. The mere fact of classic, idealized physical beauty (according to the popular esthetic of any particular time) isn’t enough for me. If I’m not actually touching and being touched by a genuine man IRL, I want him evoked in my erotica. I want to see imperfect men displaying frank, sexual joy in the actually awkward way that real men do. I want to see men who embrace their everyday magic and expose that to the world.

And when I record video of myself making love with myself, I’m doing my best to not act for you, but to expose my reality, just as I am now. What I make is what I want to see.

This is one of the aspects of living in this moment of time that gives me gratitude and optimism. We can actually create and share intimate sexual chronicles of our moments and lives and expose ourselves to the whole world. Yes, we still have a long way to go before our idea of sex is foundationally about joy rather than shame, sin, weakness, crime and danger—a very, very long way to go—but putting our bodies and faces out there and exposing our joy is a critical step forward.

Seize your power to spread the plainest human truth: Be authentically sexual and joyful, make a photographic and video record of that truth and expose it. This is another example of being the change you wish to see in the world.

The long and the short of it.

Yesterday was for me a rare Saturday alone. It’s usually “Our Day,” the one, weekly, designated day that my husband and I put everything else on hold and spend all our waking hours together, brunching, chatting, seeing films, napping, talking, making out and anything else that we want to do. We’ve considered it a sacred part of our relationship since we began shaping it back in late 1991.

You may have noticed a missing item on the “Our Day” menu: Sex. We haven’t had sex for quite a while. It’s definitely a concern for both of us, although we continue to adore each other and cohabitate with rare ease for any couple. We both miss our naked boner-time and we’re working on it… but that’s not what this entry’s about. It’s about my solo day.

He took the dog with him so I didn’t even have to deal with letting Jake out or playing tug-of-war. It was just me in the empty house and nothing planned. As you might guess, I recognized an opportunity…

Marty is my go-to bate buddy. He’s truly got all the features I love in a bator. He’s a furry cub with a light, easy attitude and he really values masturbation, loves his penis and understands edging. I’ve had lots of amazing sessions with him and while a penis might go occasionally into a mouth or hole, we’re both very aligned on spending the great majority of our time together stroking our own and each other’s penis. We always ejaculate together and that always happens with hands on penises.

I texted Marty early and it was a little while before he replied and we set it up. It was determined that I would go to the gym and check that off my list before heading over to his place. Without asking, I didn’t shower after my workout, just cleaned a few key areas before gearing up for the gym. I was going to have some scent on me when I arrived and if he preferred me freshly showered, I could take care of that there.

It was moments after I arrived that we were touching each other, easily rubbing bulging crotches and feeling rigid dicks. There was no hurry. There’s never a hurry when I’m with Marty.

We chatted, stroked ourselves and each other, gradually undressed and alternated touching and sucking each other, simply being with the fact of our easy connection and arousal. His penis responded without hesitation to my fingers, hands, mouth and mine was similarly engaged. 

Over the next two hours, we stimulated each other and repeatedly edged skillfully and naturally. There was no question that we were going to just ride the curve of the edge with an occasional crest, and put off full ejaculation until we felt like wrapping our lazy afternoon up.

Over two hours after I arrived, I chose to cum and we rode up the ramp together, locked together in a pretzel of presence, fully able to take in each other’s penis, scrotum, assholes, faces, breath and the totality of energy that is sex. We rode up and over the crest and I shot hard all over his penis, stomach, thighs and one foot. He followed me only a moment later, ejaculating his seed all over himself to mingle with mine, moaning and breathing together.

We lay still, relaxing into the oxytocin fog, both dozing off briefly before rousing and standing up from the couch to lazily wipe up the coconut oil and cum. Happy apes after beautiful, bonding sex. We looked at each other and smiled, appreciating our unique friendship and hugged warmly and long before dressing and parting ways.

This basically is our relationship. We are passionate bator buddies. We speak easily about whatever we like, there is seemingly no romantic interpretation of our affection or desire for it. We just fit well around this intense, human experience.

I go home, smelling of the gym and coconut and pheromones, and ready myself for an evening out with my husband, who I am to meet up with briefly later. I go in the back door, strip and turn on the shower, glancing behind me at the image of my naked body reflected in the big mirror… and I pause. 

Here is my 59 year-old flesh. Here is the over-generous waist, the aging skin, the still-swollen shoulder and arm muscles. Here is my somehow still shapely butt. Running my hands down my ass cheeks and thighs, I marvel at the silky smoothness of the naturally hairless expanse, remembering that while I am most turned on by the sensation of body hair, this is my own body and it is good too. I think, “This is me,” and I’m alive and still loving my life and I am so fucking grateful for all the sexual joy in it. It’s wonderful and I want to cry from the gratitude.

Instead, I twist my body a little and look at the reflection of my resting penis. It is small and spent and beautiful. I reach down with my left hand and cradle my penis and balls in the cup of palm and fingers, just feeling the weight and warmth of the gift between my legs. It starts to swell and I watch as it thickens a little and extends itself forward.

Licking my palm, I wet my penis and begin masturbating it, smiling at the delicious pleasure growing again with my full erection. It has been a long time since I was ready so soon after an orgasm and taking a big breath, I stroke myself with full abandon and just feel my body spring back to life.

The shower continues running and I have no goal here. I’m just pausing to love myself with my hands, running one hand over my pecs and stomach as the other masturbates the happy penis. I feel so good and I’m barely thinking of anything but my body responding and breathing into that moment and in minutes, with no edging or hurry, I am ejaculating a massive, spraying gush of semen into the air and onto the floor and my stomach. Slowing my cadence, I continue stroking up and down the full length of my penis and tight scrotum, sperm and saliva mingling and slick on my skin. 

For the second time today, I clean up my cummy body, step into the shower and prepare for the evening. This is the sex I have today. It is mine and it is nothing short of glorious.