Jack at Sixteen
On a summer day
Two teens in an empty house
Fucked for the first time
Jack at Sixteen
On a summer day
Two teens in an empty house
Fucked for the first time
He acknowledged the absurdity of requesting admission to his own car, especially since he was holding the keys. But each time he unlocked the door – going on two hours now – she locked it again.
Demanding that she let him in hadn’t worked. Though he knew she’d be able to detect the scent of desperation, he adopted a conciliatory tone: “Baby, please! I’m already late for work!”
“I’ll open up if you let me drive.” He’d refused the first ten times she asked. Now, though, he saw that it was the only way. When he promised, she shook her head. “Keys. Now.”
He proffered his keys toward the open passenger window. She snatched them and quickly started the car. By the time he realized what was happening and made for the door handle, she was gone. (135/135)
Behind the Scenes
This story was much easier to write than some I’ve done for Flash Fiction Friday. On a couple occasions, I dated the kind of woman who might have locked herself in my car, cajoled me into relinquishing the key, and then driven off without me. (No, that never actually happened.) Because of this, I decided that rather than crafting a story about a guy who spends a carefree day tooling around the countryside in his impeccably-maintained 1952 Hudson Wasp with a beautiful, shapely woman in the passenger seat before pulling onto the side of a rural road for some sex, the story I told would be the exact opposite. I’d question what that says about my attitudes toward women, but I have to think that anyone who’s read this blog for any appreciable length of time knows that they’re generally positive.
No, this dark story stemmed merely from a desire to think outside the box, so to speak. My first thought upon seeing the prompt photo was that the girl depicted sure was pretty. Dark, lush hair. Attractive eyes. Rich, red lips. Sexy stockings and heels. Bonus points for having her skirt hiked up a bit, revealing a lovely backside. Numerous happy and sexy stories flashed in my brain as I took in the scene. Ultimately I decided to go a different route.
The required phrase this week was “…the scent of [noun]…” Rather than using an actual scent – perfume, the woman’s hair, sweat after a particularly vigorous episode of backseat sex – I knew as soon as I decided which story I would tell that it would be a metaphoric scent. Once I began writing, it was clear that I would refer to the scent of desperation. The first draft of this story, in which I ran out of words three quarters of the way in, included the required phrase from the beginning, but I forgot about it when writing the final draft. While proof-reading, Jill reminded me of the omission, and I had to trim a few words.
None, though I can admit to having a difficult time making the story, as originally envisioned, fit within the 135-word allotment. Certain bits of plot detail, notably why the male character didn’t just open the driver’s side door, push his girlfriend aside, and get in the car, had to be truncated or excised completely, as did mention of whichever deep-rooted self-respect issues made him powerless to demand better treatment.
The song I heard in my head as I wrote was Johnny Rivers’ 1966 hit “Secret Agent Man”, specifically the line “A pretty face can hide an evil mind”. I even used a portion of that line for the title. However, other than that line the song didn’t fit. Additionally, I considered Bel Biv DeVoe’s 1990 song “Poison” as the line “Never trust a big butt and a smile” seemed to fit the story perfectly. However, as a musical genre I don’t think new jack swing fits either. “Female of the Species”, by Space, had already been used in a previous Flash Fiction Friday installment, and I saw no reason to repeat myself. Since I keep coming back to guitar heavy rock, “Bad Girlfriend” by Theory of a Deadman, or “Crazy Bitch” by Buck Cherry would provide a suitable audio track.
She raised one leg onto the chair, and I felt her bare foot against my hip. I wanted to caress her thigh, maybe find her pussy in the dark and see how wet she was, but I didn’t. As our kiss intensified, I hoped she would just get on the chair and straddle me, but she didn’t. Eventually she worked her leg behind my ass, and climbed up so that she was sitting on my knee. She took my hand in hers and we traced a path down her stomach, coming to rest where her legs met.
I could feel her heat on my fingers as I deftly parted her lips, her wetness engulfing me. I pressed two fingers into her as with my thumb I stroked her clit. Christine still held my hand, now guiding me in order to show me exactly what she liked. She moved her hips in time to my rhythm, the intensity of our dance growing by the second.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked when our lips had finally parted.
“Yeah, I said, trying to think of a way to gracefully retrieve my wallet from my jeans, still down at my ankles.
Christine dismissed my efforts, fumbling on her desk for her purse. Mere seconds passed before I was wrapped in latex and deep inside her, her ass bucking up and down against me as she rode each upward thrust. She was energetic, and had no problem taking what she wanted. She asked me to stroke her clit again, and the sounds she made told me that my efforts weren’t wasted.
The first time she came, she nestled her head against my shoulder, burying her mouth in my neck to stifle her cries. Her pussy clenched around my cock as her body rocked slowly against my own. She undulated against me, and soon she was climaxing again. By her fourth, she was sucking my neck insistently, and when she had her fifth, I came right alongside her. I wasn’t expecting that. My groans were deep and intense, cacophonous yet somehow in harmony with Christine’s own sounds of release.
She remained astride me as we caught our breath, then returned her mouth to my neck. Her kisses were gentler now, like a gazelle grazing in a field. I felt beads of sweat dripping from my forehead into my eyes and down my nose, and I tried to shake them off without distracting Christine from what she was doing. She stopped kissing my neck and kissed my mouth instead. I held her close, feeling her breasts against me, our hearts beating more or less in sync.
Finally, she spoke: “That was fucking great.”
Though Christine and I maintained a working relationship for a couple more years, that was the only time we ever had sex. I often wish I’d gotten to lay Christine in a bed, or maybe on a sofa or some other place more comfortable than her desk chair in total darkness. In fact, maybe I should have titled this post “Desking Christine”.
For this assignment, I have chosen to write about my friend Jack. Like me, Jack was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. As an only child, his immediate family consisted only of his parents and himself. However, during his youth and adolescence, Jack did have regular contact with aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides of his family. Jack attended a Catholic preschool for two years, but the remainder of his education, from kindergarten through twelfth grade, was spent in public schools.
Jack’s religious training consisted of a mere two years of C.C.D, during which time he made his first confession, and received his First Holy Communion. He has never made his Confirmation, a requirement of the Catholic Church. His family attended church services semi-regularly during Jack’s childhood, although in his early adolescence and teenage years, his attendance waned, until by his own admission he only attended church for Easter and Christmas Eve masses. Although currently living within walking distance of his local parish, he says that he has not attended mass in two years.
Jack believes that his exposure to religion, and Catholicism in particular, has definitely affected his sexual attitudes and values. But rather than inhibiting him in any fashion, the repressive nature of the Catholic religion has only served to make him more aware of, and interested in, his sexuality. “The Catholic Church is notorious for its reactionary outlook on human sexuality,” he says. “The official position of the church prohibits everything except old-fashioned, lights-out, missionary position husband-and-wife sexual intercourse. Sex that occurs for any reason beyond procreation is frowned upon.” As a result of what he perceived as the church trying to implant guilt in individuals who simply want to enjoy themselves sexually, Jack vowed not to let anyone dictate the limits of his sexual expression. When presented with a list of sexual practices the church frowns upon, Jack acknowledges that he has tried most of them. “Except same-sex interaction,” he says, almost apologetically. “For all my liberal sexual openmindedness, it’s not really my thing.”
During his youth and adolescence, Jack received expressions of affection from both of his parents. His mother was better able to display emotions than his father, who was raised by parents who simply did not feel affection for one another, and thus did not show any. He recalls seeing his parents hugging and kissing, and admits that this shaped his attitudes about romantic love. However, in virtually all respects, his mother was the one who initiated such expressions.
Jack’s parents never spoke to him about sexuality, although this was not due to any unwillingness on their part. When they tried to explain sexual intercourse with him (with Jack’s mother leading the talk), he refused to participate due to embarrassment. Although unsure as to when this took place, he guesses that it was probably during elementary school. At this time, he already had a good idea as to the generalities of sex, having learned as many children do from his peers at school. He learned the specific details from library books read during his early adolescence.
During his earlier childhood, one clear message his parents tried to send him was that nudity was a bad thing. They did this by forbidding him from watching any movies in which an actress appeared nude. However, he did not accept this message, and realized not only that his parents must have been wrong, but that they were hypocrites, since they allowed him to watch movies with violent scenes. Jack realized that his parents were simply not going to change their feelings about this matter, but he did not let their feelings influence his. As he got older, he secretly sought out books and movies that contained female nudity in order to satisfy his curiosity. Today, Jack seems to have no hang-ups regarding nudity, either his own or anyone else’s.
“It’s not like the naked body is something that is inherently sexual,” he says. “I can see people having hang-ups about sex, because that’s the culture we’ve created for ourselves. But nudity has nothing to do with sex, really. Sure, people are frequently naked when they have sex, but it’s not an equation. I understand that society says we have to cover up. I get that. But the notion that nudity is something to be ashamed of, or apologize for? Or be squeamish about? I’m not down with that. I never will be.”
As a child, Jack was aware of gender expectations and roles. However, he did not feel constrained or limited by his gender, and consciously tried to override such programming in order to experience a fuller, more diverse life. He played with action figures, enjoyed video games, and in social settings with other boys sometimes played more politically-correct variations of “Cowboys and Indians”. He also spent time playing house with his female cousins. Although he liked sports, one thing that Jack couldn’t fathom was the expectation that he constantly play football. “I love watching it,” he says. “But every time I went to a friend’s house between, say, fifth grade and eighth grade, they always wanted to play football. It didn’t matter if there were two of us or six. I was like, ‘Jesus, give it a rest!’”
There was no sexual experimentation during this stage of Jack’s life. Still a shy person by his own admission, during his early development Jack recalls wondering what it would be like to kiss a girl – although at this point he never thought about going any further. He felt nervous and recalls being afraid that he wouldn’t know what to do. As he entered puberty, Jack noticed the various body changes he had read about earlier, and had come to expect. His feelings about the opposite sex gradually became more sexual in nature, and he discovered deliberate masturbation – as opposed to early childhood experimentation with the genitals – at age eleven. At first he considered it simply an enjoyable practice. It took him awhile to actively associate masturbation with the sexual feelings he had been feeling for some time. He had his first orgasm from masturbation at age twelve.
Jack also places what he calls his first “real” kiss at age twelve. The girl he kissed was a school friend who had expressed an interest in kissing him. Excited, Jack obliged, though the kiss was simple and closed-mouthed. When asked by the girl to “go steady”, Jack balked, citing the fact that they were twelve, he didn’t drive or live within walking distance, and therefore didn’t see any way of making a dating relationship work1. The first time he participated in sexual experimentation, he was fifteen years of age. While making out with his then-girlfriend, she let him feel her breasts beneath her shirt and bra. At the same time, she caressed him through his jeans, and the relationship progressed from there. The two lost their virginity to each other the following year.
“The first time was really exciting,” Jack says, somewhat wistfully. “You know, we were sixteen. As far as we were concerned, we were ready.” Although neither he nor she knew as much about sex as they might have, or thought they did, it was an enjoyable experience for both. In Jack’s opinion, having sex brought them closer together. Although they had been dating for more than a year, Jack chose this occasion to finally tell her he loved her, something he had been aware of for some time. He proudly states that they used protection every time they had sexual intercourse. “I trusted her implicitly. I didn’t think in a million years that she would ever cheat on me. I just didn’t want her to get pregnant.”
However, she did cheat on Jack, something that hurt him deeply. Although their relationship was on-again, off-again for awhile, Jack cared about his girlfriend very much, and claims that he was entirely faithful to her. When she admitted to having slept with other men while they were dating, he broke up with her on the spot.2 This occurred just as Jack was entering college.
During his first year at junior college, Jack dated more frequently than he had in the past, and broadened his sexual horizons with several different women he met there. With good humor, he admits that he cannot recall all of their names. “I wasn’t looking for commitment at this point,” he says. “I was totally jaded and the last thing I wanted was to be hurt again. I wanted the sex. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to be loved. But I was eighteen. I wanted to get laid, and I didn’t want to have my heart broken again.”
Jack continued having relatively loveless sex through his first year of college. During his second year, he was reluctantly drawn into another relationship. Although the relationship seemed to have potential initially, it was built primarily on sex. Jack describes the woman as “crazy”, though he declines to elaborate. “I’m no psychologist,” he says with a sigh. “To the layperson, she was just crazy.” Prompted, he suggests she may have been bipolar, though he admits to not knowing exactly what that means. He confesses that he spent too much time with her, and after being hurt once again he fell back into the pattern in which he found himself after his earlier breakup. Even more determined not to become emotionally involved with a woman, Jack resumed dating casually.
Last year, Jack met a woman in college. They have been dating for “several months”. Although I note that he has referred to this woman as his girlfriend twice, he’s not ready to classify this relationship as serious. Time will tell if the “relationship followed by casual dating” pattern repeats itself yet again. Jack notes that their dating relationship was not built on a foundation of immediate sex, but rather one of apparently-mutual respect. They met in an English literature class, and found that they have some favorite authors in common. They also share musical interests, and an enjoyment of cooking.
Jack laments that he and his girlfriend – there’s that word again – do not have as much sex as either would like. This is due not to any apparent sexual incompatibility or lack of desire, but rather to the fact that both live at home, and weigh themselves down with so many work and school obligations that they have difficulty setting aside sufficient quality “alone” time for themselves. “That’s okay though,” he says confidently. “Neither of us is complaining.”
He estimates that they have sexual intercourse on average of once or twice a week. Since they live an hour apart, it is difficult for them to get together at opportune times. Typically when they have sex, it occurs at Jack’s house. The typical sex session lasts an hour or so, as his girlfriend inexplicably has a curfew. On occasion they have an entire weekend to themselves, though such an arrangement requires that she lie to her parents about who she’s with.
The woman he has dating has tried using birth control pills, but had an adverse reaction to them. She plans to talk to her doctor about depo provera, although Jack doesn’t know when that will happen. In the meantime, they usually use condoms. Jack admits to not using them with 100% regularity, and acknowledges the risk. However, he feels like he can trust the woman he is with. He is optimistic that his trust isn’t misplaced.
Jack considers his most enjoyable sexual experience to be the first time he had sex with a woman he met at junior college. She was somebody who he had classes with during his first semester, and found immensely attractive. During his second semester, he got to know her better, and eventually he entered into a brief sexual relationship with her. He found that she possessed a tremendous sexual energy the likes of which he had never encountered before. As he puts it, “She was a few years older than me, and she came across as very free-spirited and, for lack of a better word, wild. I had all of these preconceptions about her sexually, and I was delighted to discover that they were very real.”
Although he is reluctant to classify any of his sexual experiences as being poor or negative, Jack considers one experience, with a girl he met in Southern California while on a trip, to be a bad one. She was staying at the same hotel where his mother was having business meetings all weekend, and the two spent the majority of their time together in her room, exploring their sexuality. Jack enjoyed the sex, but considers it a bad experience because he finds it depressing in retrospect.3 “We used each other, pure and simple. I don’t even remember her name.” At the time, he recalls that the casual encounter was a tremendous ego boost.
When asked about his favorite fantasy, Jack says without hesitation, “Having a threesome with two women.” He has fantasized about such a scenario for years, and says that several of the women he has had sex with were interested in it as well, although nothing ever came of it. His current girlfriend is sexually attracted to women, although she has not yet acted on this attraction. Jack wonders if his threesome fantasy will finally come true. He also wonders, when push comes to shove, if he actually wants it to come true. He enjoys the fantasy, but for all he knows he might like it to stay that way.
In ten years, Jack considers that he would like his sex life to be as enjoyable as it is currently. Regardless of whether or not he is in a sexual relationship, or just casually dating, he would like to be sexually active, and to have had a threesome, or some other variety of group sex.
I believe that Jack’s sexual attitudes were determined largely by his upbringing. His adult sexual life was shaped not only did the positive aspects of his upbringing such as his parents’ openly affectionate nature, but also the negative aspects such as exposure to the repressive nature of the Catholic church. He is determined to fight such negativity and live his sexual life on his own terms.
I chose to interview Jack for this assignment because although we have been friends for twelve years, however, we have not had the opportunity or the need to explore our sexual histories with each other at length. We had very little knowledge of each other sexually. Because of this assignment, I learned a lot of things about Jack that I never would have guessed. We have grown much closer than we ever were before. At first, I was somewhat embarrassed about doing this project with Jack.4 However, his outgoing nature made it much easier for me. He opened me up and made me feel comfortable in talking about my sexuality. In addition, he was able to talk frankly about his own, and his sense of humor added a lot to the experience. This assignment was fun.
*We no longer support EdenFantasys, and therefore the link to the article has been removed. You can search for it on your own, but we wouldn’t recommend it.
The summer I turned twenty-four, my girlfriend and I took a break. We’d been together for a year or so, and we were pretty serious. We weren’t exactly talking about being together forever, but we cared about each other – the word “love” had been spoken – and we enjoyed our relationship. So why were we on a break? As with the other breaks we took, this one was because we both wanted to have sex with other people, but the thought of having an open relationship simply didn’t occur to us. At any rate, even if it had I question whether we would have been able to handle it ethically and respectfully. We certainly wouldn’t have been able to deal with the judgments of others if the nature of our relationship was found out.
My boss, Christine, was thirty-four. She was very attractive despite her advanced age – which, I must point out, was younger than I am right now. She had long brown hair, pretty eyes, full lips, and smooth, unblemished skin. She usually wore thin white blouses and long, billowy skirts with boots. Sometimes she wore tight jeans. I’m pretty sure that she was the subject of every single work wank I carried out at my desk while employed there. It didn’t hurt that, despite the fact that she was married with two kids, Christine was a die-hard party girl. At least once a week, she’d take the office staff out for drinks.
While out at a bar one night, Christine kissed me. On the lips. It was sudden and quick, just slightly more randy than a familial peck, and nowhere near the full-blown makeout session that I would have preferred. For the last couple hours she’d been drinking some concoction that included Galliano and vanilla liqueur; I was under no delusion that the kiss had been motivated by passion for sexy twenty-four-year-old Jack, or that that Christine had somehow forgotten about her husband watching the kids at home. I knew it was the alcohol.
Christine apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.” I could tell she meant it sincerely; while she didn’t blush, she couldn’t look me in the eyes. Despite her tendency to cut loose and party after work, Christine was the ultimate professional. Other than putting on her headphones and rocking out at her desk, she was very big on protocol during business hours. I knew that the guilt she was feeling came from the perceived lack of professionalism in what she’d just done, moreso than it did in the violation of her marital vows, or in the thought that she’d crossed a boundary with regard to my own relationship, which she knew was on a break anyway.
“No harm done,” I said. It was true. She and I were the only ones there. The other person who was drinking with us had gone to the restroom. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Christine had deliberately waited until we were alone, which I suppose would have made the alcohol less responsible than I previously thought. After a few seconds’ silence, I added, “I liked it. I’ve wanted to kiss you for awhile.” I omitted the part about her mouth not wanting to be my first choice of places to kiss.
It was a two-block walk back to the office. We cut through the parking lot, and our drinking companion got into her car and left. I was about to do the same when Christine asked if I could help her with something in the storage room. Oh fuck, I thought. Here it is. I’d read enough Penthouse Forum to know where this was going. In fact, I vaguely recalled a porn film I’d seen in which a young office boy was seduced by an older woman in a position of authority. In fact, if I recall correctly they were doing something in a storage room when the sex began.
As she unlocked the building, I anticipated ripping the blouse off of her fine form, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. As we walked down the hall to our office door, I anticipated peeling off her nearly-skintight jeans, revealing long, slender legs that would spring open instantly. Once inside the office I anticipated the taste of her pussy on my tongue, and wondered if she trimmed, shaved, waxed, or did none of those. I imagined that I could already smell her arousal. I remembered the condom in my wallet; it had only been there a week or so. I wondered if Christine carried condoms.
She led me to the storage room. “Can you get a new toner cartridge down?” she asked. Interesting lead-in; I was surprised that she didn’t begin by removing my jeans and giving me head. The night was young; obviously that would come later. I brought out the ladder and set it up in front of a large cabinet that almost reached the ceiling. I climbed up four rungs and took a new toner cartridge from atop the cabinet, then brought it down and handed it to her.
As I put the ladder back in its place, I asked her if she needed me to install it for her.
“No”, she said, heading into the copy room. “I can manage. Thanks for getting it down.”
She wasn’t carrying herself with the air of a woman who wanted to get laid by a guy ten years her junior. I hated mixed signals. I still do. I followed Christine into the copy room, where I found her installing the toner. I wasn’t exactly sure where to go from here.
“You sure you’ve got that?” Dumbest question I could have asked.
“I got it,” she said, closing the front panel on the copier. “All done.” I stood there for a moment, awaiting her next move.
“So are you sticking around, or – “
“Yeah, I’m going to finish up printing these reports before I go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry again about earlier.” Christine took playing hard to get to an entirely new level.
Christine and I eventually did have sex, though not for a few years. I’d left the job, she and her husband were estranged, and it just sort of happened. If it didn’t, I might have titled this post “The Second-Hottest Girl I Never Fucked.“
While visiting my parents, I stopped at a drugstore. The free publication rack at the front of the store near the exit featured a local magazine called Family Health & Wellness. This is the sort of publication that covers health topics such as choosing the right optometrist, coping with menopause, and the importance of eating dinner together as a family. People read the well-meaning advice, feel better about themselves, and patronize the magazine’s sponsors. The status quo is maintained.
The headline “10 Reasons to Have More Sex” caught my eye. And why wouldn’t it? It was placed conspicuously on the cover, in glaring yellow type. People are repressed, especially in the overwhelmingly conservative locale where my parents live. Said people will pick up a free magazine that has the word “sex” on the cover. Though I didn’t expect to read anything particularly salacious, or for that matter anything I didn’t already know, I nonetheless took a copy. I could admit to being skeptical before I read the article, or for that matter before I even opened the magazine. What sort of cutting-edge sexual advice could I possibly glean from a free magazine I got in one of the most conservative parts of California?
The first thought that ran through my head upon seeing the headline was, Why do people need to be given reasons to have more sex? I can think of numerous reasons why more sex is a good thing, though the physical enjoyment I take from sex itself will always trump any others. Fucking for cash? Hey, that’s great. I’d love to try that. Fucking to save the world, or to end war or global famine? Talk about noble, selfless reasons! Fucking to spite someone else? Hate to admit it, but I’ve done that. More than these or any other conceivable reasons, though, I love sex because it’s fun. Even were that the only reason to fuck, it would be enough.
The article opened on a two-page spread showing a middle-aged couple about to get busy: Bland, white-collar husband runs his hand through the hair of his bourgeois forty-something wife as she tugs on his loosened necktie. Their faces are close, though not close enough to kiss. Nothing against the two models who presumably met the day they posed for this photo, but it features all the romance and eroticism you’d expect from a Viagra commercial. The caption in the corner of the photo promises “10 Mind-Blowing Reasons to Make More Love.” They are obviously talking about sex in the context of a stable, committed relationship. That’s understandable; a publication that focuses on health and wellness (family health and wellness, for that matter) is probably not the place to seek advice on late-night bar hookups.
The introduction makes evident the tone of the article:
It’s been a long day and you’re wiped out. Your boss was breathing down your neck all day, the kids have a science project due tomorrow, the dinner dishes are piled in the sink, and you just want a minute to relax. The obligations of everyday life are wearing you down, and nothing sounds better than an hour on the sofa with your favorite television program. But the feel of your significant other’s hands caressing the back of your neck [suggests] he or she has other, more intimate, activities in mind. Before you mutter an unenthused, “Not tonight, honey,” we have 10 reasons you should turn off the TV and turn down the lights for a little “somethin’, somethin’.”
This, in and of itself, is the crux of the problem. People don’t prioritize sex. They’re too tired or stressed out. They’re stretched too thin. Television is the higher priority for much of society. Heaven forbid we miss American Idol because we’re engaging in recreational, non-procreative sex. Yes, we all have DVRs and can watch it anytime we like, but if we don’t watch it tonight someone on Facebook might spoil who was eliminated, and that would ruin the whole season.
I’m not going to bother listing the ten reasons to have more sex according to the article. Suffice it to say that the reasons involve things like exercise (“it’s like a workout…in bed”), boosting one’s self-esteem, and general health concerns. Some of the advice is fairly common-sense: Reason #4 is that during sex endorphins are released, which create euphoric feelings, making it a natural anti-depressant. Reason #7 is that sex is an investment in one’s relationship, and that by having sex a couple reconnects physically, and strengthens their bond. Reason #9 is that regular sex can lead to greater or more visible affection between partners, demonstrating to the kids that romantic love is healthy.
Not all the advice was necessarily correct. One of the reasons listed is that frequent sexual intercourse reduces the risk of heart disease. While this is technically accurate, the article states that it’s not solely sexual activity but rather any increased physical activity that curtails such ailments. Additionally, the article cites studies that claim that regular orgasms (two or more per week) lead to increased prostate health. The article then acknowledges that the studies’ findings are actually inconclusive but recommends more frequent orgasms just in case.
Look, I’m not one to complain about non-harmful sex advice. Whatever reasons people want to use to justify frequent sex, I’m all for it. The way I see it, if more people were not only having regular sex but actually enjoying it and not feeling guilty about it, the world would be a better place. People in general would be happier, there would be less war – or none at all! – road rage would be a thing of the past, and you’d have far fewer overcompensating dickheads making public policy that affects the lives of the disenfranchised.
The biggest problem I have with the article, though, is that “It feels great!” is the tenth and final reason. It’s not the first reason. It’s not even the ninth reason. It’s the last one! The article treats it like an afterthought, stating incidentally that “sex is a normal part of being a healthy person, both emotionally and physically.” And while this is undoubtedly true, that should have boosted it a lot higher than #10.
Why does “It feels great!” have to come last, after all the bullshit cajoling of the previous nine reasons? Everyone reading the article is aware that sex feels good. In fact, it’s probably the first thing that most people think when they hear the word “sex”, if their minds aren’t clouded by a lifetime of societally-imposed shame and guilt. Trust me, no thirteen-year-old in the midst of puberty wants to have sex so that he or she can enjoy a life free of atherosclerosis and hypertension.
Do we really have to tell people to fuck their spouses so they won’t die of cardiovascular illness at age fifty? Are we really telling people to fuck their spouses so they will be confident enough to excel at work and be promoted? Sure, these are semi-valid reasons to have sex. But I’ve got to think that if this manner of persuasion needs to be employed, the recipient isn’t really into it in the first place.
I’m all for positive representation of non-procreative sex in the media, especially in the religious-conservative community where I found the magazine. But while articles like these are promising, we have clearly not moved past all of our hangups. Why can’t we simply acknowledge that sex is fun and that it feels great? Why must we placate the masses by rationalizing that sex is about anything other than physical and emotional pleasure? Why must we first tell them that it’ll fix what’s wrong with their marriage, get them into shape, and facilitate good health before lowering the boom?
Ultimately my disappointment is not in the article, its author, or the publication itself. My disappointment is, as always, in the society that has made tiptoeing around the issue of sexual pleasure somehow necessary.