I don’t understand the fascination or should I say, the preoccupation, that our society has with porn. I don’t find porn exciting to look at, or even remotely erotic. Watching people fuck that have zero, if any, interest in or desire for one other, is boring.
While I could be totally off base here, I am going to venture a guess that the real issue people have with porn (although they might not be cognizant of it), isn’t that it’s people having graphic, carnal, balls-in-your-face sex, but that it’s people having graphic, carnal, balls-in-your-face sex, while totally devoid of any real intimate connection. “Whoa, hold onto your panties, girlie!”, I bet you’re thinking. Why does sex always need to have some emotional or intellectual component for it to be good? Simple answer: because sex without those things is just about as exciting as folding the laundry on a Saturday night while watching reruns of Friends on Netflix. Shoot me now.
Those vacant facial expressions they use to attempt to mimic the looks of lust, pleasure, passion, and joy don’t even come close to what those emotions actually look like in reality. Their movements are cumbersome, mechanical, and strained. I find their shallow attempts to recreate the cavernous depths of my sensual experiences of desire, ingenuous and transparent. There is nothing erotic about the lack of connection they have with that undulating skin pop they call a partner. They’re nothing more than a complacent puppet. The director is just going to call “Cut!”, they’ll walk off set, fluff your hair, check their voicemails, and wonder if they remembered to turn off the coffee pot before they left the house that morning. There is nothing enticing about watching robots have sex. Well, unless they’re really robots having sex, because who wouldn’t want to watch Data and Seven of Nine get it on? Just sayin’ I would still do Seven of Nine, and I’m pretty cemented on being 95% straight, so you see my point.
I want to watch two people who lust for one another, not born of scripted scenarios, but of devious hunger. I want to see what happens between two people as their unabashed want for one another waxes into fully ripened primal need. I want to witness what happens when they forget someone is watching; their inhibitions peeling away with each brush of the skin, each tremulous breath, each ravenous kiss. I long to see people engulfed in their passion, hair tangled, sweat dripping, heads thrown back praising the beckoning heights of pleasure their spirits soar to. I want to see each growl of abandon, each grimace of breathless engorgement, slip across their lips. I want to feel the flush of my own rising eros sweep and spread like wildfire through my skin.
I want to be bewitched by the muse of your intimacy, and sullied by the ache of your flesh. I want to want you.
And for that all to happen, for two people to be so enchanted by one another, so unchained to the choreography of sex, there has to be some form of energetic connection. There has to be an intimacy that is shared. Intimacy, that need not be accompanied by love, but by genuine like and reverence. “Into me, you see” Two people must meet each other on some level of emotional, and or intellectual congruency for theirs’ to be a passion that is worthy of igniting, and capturing. That’s sexy. That, is highly erotic. That makes my panties moist.
We love to peek into people’s lives. That’s why sites like Facebook, Twitter, and oh yes, our beloved WordPress are so intoxicating and popular. We’re ensnared by observing the otherwise ordinary rituals of strangers loves, hates, joys, and pains, as they weave through what we casually umbrella as the “everyday life”. We see and feel it all through the lens of our own experiences. We become, in a way, secret lovers. It is the intimacy shared we find the most titillating, for otherwise these moments in their lives fall flat across the page, and become commonplace to our own.
I don’t want to watch ugly muscle-choked men only picked for their giganto-cocks, having robo-sex with women donning Good-Year blimp-sized plasti-tits. Real people do not look like this. Real women have breasts that heave and sway, that move with their bodies, not just straddle their chests like fleshy hood ornaments. We have sleek and slender lines, bold and curvaceous lines, dips, swells, peaks, and valleys. And so do the men we love too! We have the scars of surviving a full and vibrant life, and we don’t need any of that airbrushed out of us (unless by our own choosing). We have tits and cocks of all sizes, shapes, and colors, and the banquet of choice is vibrant and thrilling. Yes, we all have our innate preferences for what, or I should say who, we find attractive, and that is great! Thats exactly how it should be, and it’s what keeps things interesting. This, unfortunately, is an appreciation I see lacking in the majority of the porn that I have seen. I’d personally rather watch two average people get it on with total fervid passion, than two “altered” people just going through the motions pretending. Wouldn’t you?
If only I could reinvent porn.