This is a story about taboos and titillation…
That’s a photo of a big black cock. It has been quite hard to pair some photos with this blog post, given its provocative title, but I think I’ve nailed it with this one.
I’m aware that my writing has reached a level of honesty that pretty much makes it unreadable. It’s just too unflinchingly brutally open. It’s too gut-wrenchingly, stomach squirming and churningly letting all the skeletons out of the closet. People aren’t supposed to say these kinds of things. People aren’t supposed to talk about this kind of stuff.
It’s an absolutely ludicrous experiment, to write down everything that’s in your head, in a public journal. However, it’s my belief that the age of privacy is over. We are now too wedded to technology to step back to a previous era, but many people are unaware just how insecure their data is. We are almost living in the age of open data.
My laptop is infected with a keylogger, with the attacker hoping to skim credit card details, passwords and obviously able to see every single word that I type. I have also been the victim of a ransomware style attack, when I was using some Google products (phone, smartwatch) which saw me bullied into doing something against my will, when my privacy was massively compromised. I have even conducted a spot of phishing of my own… only in the interests of computer science, of course.
I imagine that my webcam has, at times, become compromised. I dread to think what that electronic eye has witnessed, but we are all watched over by machines of loving grace, at all times. On my bedside table I have my smartwatch and my phone – 2 microphones and 2 cameras – which are pretty much recording around the clock. Next to my bed is my infected laptop, with its microphone and webcam. Whether the data is persisted or not, I wouldn’t be qualified to speculate.
Getting to the heart of the matter, human beings are known to pleasure themselves from time to time, even when they are getting enough sex. It’s pretty much a fact of life. There’s no sense in denying it, or just pretending it doesn’t happen. I’m talking about it. This is happening. I’m breaching the taboo.
Let’s talk about pornography. Have you watched any music videos lately? They’re basically soft porn. Pornographic content has entered mainstream media. Whether it’s more and more explicit sex scenes in movies, or the use of pornographic imagery to sell products, it’s there on open display, all around us.
Around 2001 I moved into my first flat with a girlfriend. I also, briefly, had a bit of a problem with the amount of ‘video-based art‘ that I was downloading from peer-to-peer networks. It was unhealthy for my relationship, which subsequently ended. I moved back into a shared house. You could say that it was a brief addiction, given the damage to a relationship and my living status.
Porn is probably the most easily accessible of all the addictions. You can stream all you want via your broadband internet connection, for free. Even a gambling addiction costs money. Even a food addiction requires you to go to the supermarket.
The phallic column in the background is The Monument to the Great Fire of London. There are now an impressive array of tall buildings that have been erected in London, in recent years.
We all know that London’s seedier side is openly on display in Soho, but actually, there’s a lot of willy-waving that goes on throughout the metropolis. On-the-spot fines are having to be issued to the super-rich playboys who cruise around Kensington and Chelsea in their sportscars, with their long bonnets, revving their engines aggressively.
Too embarrassed to go to a strip club? Don’t worry, there are now bars in the City that bring the dancing girls into a respectable setting, for you to oggle.
This is my [female] agent’s idea of corporate hospitality. Tipping cocktails down the client’s neck while scantily clad women shake their booty. This is an acceptable night out to put down as an expense claim, when trying to get your client to renew your contract.
The porn industry might be losing money to piracy, copyright infringement and amateurs who seem to want to share their most private frissons with the world, but sex is very much mainstream and an accepted part of daily life. TV shows now get great ratings if they are filled with buxom wenches and nudity. It worked for Game of Thrones.
Personally, chemsex links horribly with an addiction mess that includes porn and masturbation. As I’ve written before, my libido has started to become my enemy. A natural survival of the species instinct prompts me to now seek out drugs, and with drugs in my system that libido gets twisted into something very shameful indeed.
Obviously, drugs don’t change who you are fundamentally. They can only amplify and exacerbate. However, we all like boobs, ass, pussy and/or cock. We are all programmed to try and achieve some degree of sexual satisfaction. We can’t shut down and deny that side of our nature.
Why on earth would I write about this stuff? Well, that tightly wound ball of shame needs to unwind. At its core is a seed that dwells within all of us. I might have corrupted myself, twisted myself, become unrecognisable from an innocent starting position, but given the same conditions it could happen to anybody. I took the risks, and it happened to me, so they’re my consequences to own. It’s my burden to carry. Only got myself to blame, eh? It just so happens that I’m going to write about it all and see what happens.
Writing about this stuff seems more rational than tearing my own genitals off my body, although the life of a eunuch looks enviable to me in some ways.
Do you like flowers? You do know that a flower is the sexual organ of a plant, don’t you?
Tags: #sex
