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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in male sexuality

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

594 Cloven Hoof Stock Photos - Free ...

 

“Well, welcome to the Cloven Hoof Club,” I say.

My friend has just had himself circumcised, shudder. And they call us barbarians.

Why? Dunesk. It's none of yours, either. The key factor is that he chose it for himself.

Medical necessity aside, that's the only situation in which, in my opinion, circumcision is morally acceptable. At all other times—tribal tradition notwithstanding—it's wrong. Always. No exceptions.

Talk about sexual violence against children. When I hear about how much better men have it, I always want to ask: Yeah, and which part of your genitals did they cut off as a child?

Genital mutilation is never a decision that anyone has the right to make for anyone other than themselves. I forgive my parents for making that decision for me, but I wish deeply that they hadn't.

I'm happy for my friend, though; I know that it's something that he's wanted for a while. Gods know, you'd have to.

“Wish they did transplants, though,” I add.

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 Walnut | Tree, Nut, Species, Uses ...

Frank discussion of matters physical, and non-physical

 

Oh, the hazards of being male.

Prostate cancer has been much in the news since King Charles' recent (and courageous) revelation of his own diagnosis. Guys, this means you.

For biological men, chances are that we'll pretty much all get prostate cancer eventually, if we live long enough.

Because it is an extremely slow-growing cancer, though, chances are excellent that something else will kill us first.

In a culture that, all too often, views men as expendable, it's unsurprising that many men are, in effect, at war with their own bodies. Really, this doesn't need to be.

Hence:

Boss Warlock's Practical Guide to Prostate Health

 

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

A Tale of Sexual Awakening

 

“I'm soooo horny! I wish you were a girl!”

Two adolescent boys, sleeping in the back of the family station wagon. In retrospect, I realize that that night could potentially have been my first shared sexual experience.

Thank Goddess, it wasn't.

 

Looking back, I can see that that night in the car wasn't the first time that my cousin had orchestrated the two of us into a potentially sexual situation. Though a year younger than I, he was by far the more sexually precocious of the two.

He was also—even at the time, I knew it—self-centered and immature. He would have been a terrible partner to discover sex with.

Sheltered, trained by my parents to obedient compliance, I would almost certainly have been the loser for the experience.

 

Instead, my ignorance, and naivete, saved me—at the time, I had no idea that sex between males was even possible—and I didn't respond to my cousin's clumsy overture, if that, indeed, is what it was.

When, years later, my first dorm-room fumblings with another guy finally flowered into sex, transmuted by the alchemy of first love, they came as magical, a revelation.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

To a Boy on His Way

 

Here's a true word: It's hard to be a man.

Oh, you'll hear the voices, saying: This is what it means to be a man. That is what men are.

Don't believe any of them. They're all wrong.

Here's another true word: There's not just one way to be a man.

When I was your age, I heard those voices, too. Much of what they said wasn't me, and so I thought: Well, then, maybe I'm not a man.

But the voices were wrong, and so was I.

Here's what I had to work so hard, and for so long, to discover: There's not just one way to be a man. In fact, there are lots of different ways. Which way is yours?

You're now on a quest for your own manhood. Always remember, your work is not to be this or to be that, but to discover just what kind of a man you are. What does manhood look like on you?

Keep your eyes open. Who are the men around you that you admire, and want to be like?

They're the ones who can teach you. They're the ones to learn from.

What kind of man will you be? That's what it's up to you to figure out for yourself. You're the only one who can.

As you embark on your quest, let me just pass along a sage bit of drollery that I once heard from a wise elder.

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 Kickapoo River near Wildcat State Park | Wisconsin vacation, Wisconsin  state parks, Wisconsin travel

So, you're embarking on your sixth decade. Allow me to tender a friendly rede.

Don't let yourself dry up.

You've reached the age at which a truly disconcerting number of men begin to let themselves shrivel. Some are even glad it's over, happy to be free of—as they see it—the tyranny of need.

Not us.

We're warlocks, unholy priesthood to Him o' the Horns. Like god, like priest. As we serve him, so he serves us. That's the kind of god he is.

Keep those juices flowing, brother. If she's not interested, well...you know what to do, and how to do it.

Yes, it may take a little more love than it used to. Persevere. Make it part of the regimen.

Think of it as a religious obligation. Think of it as an honoring of the god within. Think of it as libation. As you give to him, so he will give to you. But you give as a man gives, and he gives as a god.

I swear to you, it will keep you youthful. This is his promise to us.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

A Thoroughly Unedifying Tale

 

He was a man who loved women, though he often treated them badly: handsome enough but, deep down, really something of a creep.

(Just how much of a creep he really was, we didn't fully understand until years afterward. Beauty without morals is a dangerous combination.)

Personally, I would have described our relationship as glancing at best, but whenever he saw me, he would immediately rush over and talk at me animatedly and at length, with an emotional intensity that belied the (as I saw it) superficiality of our acquaintanceship.

Finally I figured it out.

As it turns out—how could I have forgotten?—the two of us had had what at the time I thought was casual sex after a ritual one night: so casual, in fact, that it slipped my mind for decades.

(Hey, it was the 80s; people did that sort of thing back then, and not just in pagan circles, either.)

Apparently, that's not how he saw it, though. I gather now that I was his “everybody-tries-it-once” guy, to whom he had granted intimacies never-before and never-since bestowed on anyone else. Because of this, in his eyes, the two of us shared a deep, lasting bond with one another.

Gods: I'd had his virginity, and didn't even notice. Maybe that makes me the creep.

So much for facile moralizing.

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Modeling Humility 

 

I've had some pretty strange dreams in my time, but this has got to have been one of the strangest.

I'm not sure what kind of congregation I'm in, but it must be something staid like Episcopalian; most of the guys around me are wearing suits. That makes what happens next even more bizarre.

We rise to sing a hymn. As we begin, all of the men around me unzip and pull their dicks out.

(I must be visiting the congregation, because I don't really know what's going on. Nevertheless, I follow along with the rest.)

At one point—during the chorus, I'm guessing—we all swing our dicks to the right. During the next chorus, we swing to the left. So it goes through the entire hymn, alternately. The young guy on my left is doing it; so is the man standing in the pew in front of me, and the older one to my right. We're all doing it. Me, I swing along with the rest.

The collective tone of this bizarre act of Episcopal fertility worship—is it an act of blessing?—is that of mild amusement, but there's something serious about it as well, something ritual. As the hymn concludes, we all shake off, as if at the end of a piss, and re-trouser. Presumably, the service then continues. I don't know for sure, because I always wake up at this point.

I've had this dream several times now. I draw three conclusions.

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