Archive for October, 2013

Hi guys. I think it’s time we had ”the talk”. I’m sure most of you know how babies are made (incidentally much the same way as STDs are contracted), but how much do you know about other types of ahem sexual intercourse? Now I myself have naturally only had sex in the missionary position for procreation purposes, but some people (or so I’ve heard) do other things to enjoy themselves. Because we will be talking about “the sex” this might be NSFW for some of you, not for me as you will soon learn, but maybe reading this where someone may look over your shoulder is not a good idea (or maybe it’s an amazing idea if you want to be known as the office pervert).

You might not believe this, but gay guys talk a lot about sex, a lot! Straight people talk about sex too, but this is on a completely different level. Straight guys will do the “I totally banged her!” or maybe even the “Man, her blowjobs are the most amazing things ever!” Straight girls will go a little further and talk about their sex toys and how big their lovers uhm “piece” is. Gay guys though, gay guys will talk about it all. They leave nothing out (you could say they try to fit as much in as possible…)

As a bartender in a gay bar, a watering hole for the gays, a place of rest for the homosexually inclined, a peaceful little corner of the world for the people who put the homo in homo sapiens, I naturally hear many interesting things, but at times I am privy to some pretty amazing conversations about the strange things people find exciting. Sometimes people will even find it in their hearts to divulge the sordid details of their sex-lives to me. This is good on several levels. Firstly I get the reputation of being open and free-spirited because I listen and take part in the conversation. Secondly I learn so much and thus people find me to be an encyclopedia of strange fetishes, a very useful thing in a gay bar. Thirdly when people talk a lot their mouths go dry, thus I sell more. Win/win/win situation, the guest wins, I win, and the bar wins. “You get a win, and you get a win, and you get a win. EVERYBODY GETS A WIN!”

You guys wanna hear about two such people who found it necessary for me to know everything about their respective fetishes? I thought so. Well then, let’s first meet Craig.

Craig is a young guy, about 22 or so. He looks very Scandinavian; broad shoulders, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, all that basic Scandinavian stuff. He usually drinks Morgan and cokes and that was exactly what he ordered on this quiet Thursday afternoon as he settled in at the bar. We made small talk, something I am dreadful at since I find it to be a complete waste of time and he mentioned he was seeing someone new. I leapt at the chance (I find when people talk about themselves they don’t so much care whether others are listening as whether they are pretending to do so). I let him blabber on about his new beau until I heard the word saddle. That brought me back to reality and away from the Turtles song I was hearing in my head. (Side note: I really want a girlfriend called Elenore, just so I can sing her that song, it contains possibly the best line ever written “You’re my pride and joy etcetera”. I mean come on, how can you beat using the word etcetera to describe the girl in a love song?) Anyway Craig said saddle and I said “huh, come again?” And that’s when it started.

You ever have one of those moments where the second you’ve said something you think “damn! Shouldn’t have said that.”? Not just accidentally revealing a secret or a Freudian slip, but saying something that changes absolutely everything? This was one of those moments. Because Craig answered, he didn’t just give a half-hearted answer. No siree! He took it upon himself to explain to me, not exactly a stranger, but not a friend either, about his fetish. His furry fetish.

Yup, that’s right, furries.

Now I remember back in the day, way before bronies, when I used to hang out in the random section on a certain anonymous image board and furries were the scum of the earth. We hated furries more than we hated emos, think about that for a second, let it sink in. Furries were the fuel that fed our hate-factory. This being my only history with furries my initial reaction was a poison-laden “really?” coupled with an ugly grimace. Not perhaps the most customer-friendly reaction, so I quickly recovered and turned my “really?” into a less deadly “fascinating”.

That “fascinating” was all Craig needed to justify telling me all the furry details. How he’d started out as a dog, gradually had realized he needed a trainer who would keep him on a short leash (heh) and punish him for bad behavior. When he’d found a trainer that suited him he had slowly found out he got more out of being a female dog than a male (confirming my suspicion that he was a little bitch. Oh god this is just too easy.) At some point his trainer moved and he had been looking for someone new, he had finally found a guy, but he didn’t do doggyplay, he was way more into ponyplay. So Craig goes along for the ride(snirk), he and his new trainer horse around for a bit (hah) and Craig is not really that into it, he thinks it’s too weird (I get it, I think it’s a little weird too…).

Meanwhile this guy is totally into Craig and begs him to come back, give it another go, get back in the saddle (I can’t stop). Craig agrees, they’ll try it again, see what happens. And he finds himself completely immersed in this animal persona. It’s perfect, they fit so well. And I’m thinking that’s all sweet and lovely and good for them, but that’s when Craig tells me about what they do and Oh boy!

Having someone you hardly know describe how they had their rectum pounded by a phallic object mounted on a rod, which was attached to some kind of machinery with an engine and a speed control, followed by being whipped until they neigh proper, is an unpleasant experience I can tell you that. I was just standing there trying to neither laugh nor cry, but wanting so badly to do both. I nearly peed my pants just because I had to focus so hard on not dropping my jaw on the sticky barroom floor.

In one word: Uncomfortable!

Yet uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling I had when I learned about a whole other type of fetish. You see, I’m a pretty open and down-to-earth kind of person; I go by a live and let live kind of motto. If people get off on something, as long as they don’t hurt anyone then it’s cool. What I don’t understand is why some people find the need to tell the world about their hobbies.

I’m not a prude, I like the odd penis-joke, hell I’m usually the one making it, but why I would need to know about other people’s sex-lives is beyond me. So when a close friend insisted on telling me about his scat-fetish, well I just had to put my foot down. I explained that I was glad he had found something that made him feel good, but I did not feel our relationship was one where we needed to share every detail about our respective sex-lives. I did not tell him about mine, so if he would please not tell me about his I would be grateful. We agreed and all was well.

And then we got drunk, and he told me anyway.

As I said I consider myself open-minded, but that was a bit beyond me, I didn’t know what to say. I mean what does one say when a good friend tells you he pays people to shit on him, what’s the etiquette? Does one inquire about the price? Maybe about where this takes place? Does one ask whether he has other demands except for the excrement part? Do they have to be off a certain age? Blondes or brunettes? Really, what does one say? I can tell you what I said. Nothing. I said nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After saying nothing for a while I thought “I guess I can talk about sex too now”. So I did. I told him all about the fine points of getting down and dirty with another female and he was absolutely repulsed. Only a gay man could make such faces and noises when being told of vaginas. So I suddenly knew why other people do it, I understand why people feel the need to share their sex-lives. It’s because it makes others uncomfortable and they just have to endure it. It gives you power over the other person and it feels absolutely glorious!

So now I let anyone who wants to tell me about their sex-life talk till they run out of breath, and then I tell them about my own. They may think they are in charge, but that feeling quickly fades and is replaced by the unrelenting torture of being so damn uncomfortable they will never try it again.

Bring it on!

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