Could you tell my boy to calm the heck down? Can’t seem to get him to get the difference between bestiality, necrophilia, and screwin’ a bearskin rug. Emphasizing my usual sexual interests — which involve rope bondage, floggin’, and an e-stim unit — hasn’t worked. Logic isn’t helpin’ out at all. Maybe you can help?
I’m a gay man and a hunter; he’s a gay boy and a vegan. But he likes how I look in my camo, holding a rifle, so it works. Last fall, I went to Idaho and shot a black bear and a 13-point buck. A taxidermist mounted the buck’s head, which hangs above my bed, and made the bear into a rug. Most people don’t know this, but the head on a bearskin rug is entirely fake except for the fur. The skull, teeth, and tongue are plastic, and the eyes are glass. That bear’s hardly a bear, if you catch me.
So we got the rug, and he liked it. Even wanted me to screw him spread-eagle on that rug — until he walked in while I was doing it with the bear. I rigged up the mouth with one of those Fleshlight things, pretty much as a joke, but my boy freaked out when he saw the bear giving me a blowjob of sorts. Called me sick and disgusting, and ever since then, he won’t let me tie him up or beat him or anything. He says he’s afraid I will kill him and then screw him. I keep telling him it was all just a game, but he won’t believe it. What can I do?
Bear Grinned Anyway
What can you do? You mean besides send video of you and your bear in action to prove this isn’t the most entertaining fake letter I’ve received since Michelle Obama invited me to dinner at Sarah Jessica Parker’s apartment? What can you do besides that?
You can do this: You can draw a distinction between what was going on in that bear’s mouth when your boyfriend walked in and what was going on in your head. When a man beats off — with or without a Fleshlight-enhanced bearskin rug — two things are kindasorta happening simultaneously: what the man is doing with his dick and what the man is imagining he’s doing with his dick. Guys who beat off using a clenched fist, for example, generally aren’t clenched-fist fetishists; they’re just horny and their fists are there and, say, Sarah Jessica Parker isn’t. Fists provide necessary friction; imaginations provide sexy scenarios.
So your boyfriend walked in and saw you fucking the face of a dead bear. That’s gonna look bad, BGA, even to a boyfriend who isn’t vegan. So how do you fix it? By patiently explaining to your vegan boyfriend that while, yes, you were face-fucking a bear when he walked in on you — there’s no denying that — you weren’t thinking about face-fucking a bear. Tell him you were thinking about him, and the bear’s mouth was just a convenient place to wedge your vegan-boyfriend-substitute, i.e., your Fleshlight. Tell your boyfriend you don’t entertain any murderous fantasies, tell him you only long to fuck living things, and tell him that Homo sapiens are the only animals you find attractive.
Tell him all of that, BGA, even if not all of that is entirely true.
Following up on the letter about masturbating in the privacy of a public toilet stall: Guys are being banned from Multnomah County libraries in Portland, Oregon, for wanking in the supposed privacy of locked bathroom stalls. I thought “sexual activity” required a partner and masturbation wasn’t a crime if practiced in private — but tell that to the peeping uniformed officers working in the Central Library, aka “Portland’s Crown Jewel.” You can’t go to a locked bathroom stall and rub one out, on pain of landing on the Excluded Patrons List as a masturbator. Victorian prudery lives.
Wanking In Private Environs
The letter writer who got caught wanking in a public toilet had taken pains to find an empty men’s restroom on a deserted floor of an office building. He wanted to have his midday wank, WIPE, without disturbing or unnerving others. I don’t think the same could be said for the men who are rubbing ’em out in the toilets of Portland’s Central Library.
This article appears in Jun 7-13, 2012.