Wishful Kinking

ADULT: Every gay man has everything he needs for a really good, steamy and unforgettable time. You should try it sometime. By Barry Lowe.

Fantasy is a wonderful invention. In that part of your mind reserved for sexual flirtation with the oft-times forbidden, you can go into dark places where you wouldn’t dream of setting foot in the real world. It’s where Zac Efron thinks you’re gorgeous, gangbangs are painless (if that’s how you want them), double penetration and fisting require no lube at all, non-consensual coupling is only with guys you think are hot, and…well, things I can’t write in a family gay newspaper.

If the authorities could get into your mind, you’d probably be arrested.

I was reminded of fantasies not because I was jerking off while writing this column but because of a personal that was reported on Craigslist recently:

Middle aged bored couple
Both male and female late 40′s seek adventurous couple for fun times. We seek another couple for a night of fun so we can check off another on our bucket list. We would like the man to dress up and play the part of Pat Robertson and the female to wear a tight blue dress and act like she is a sales spokesperson on Home Shopping channel. My husband I would be naked and making love in our bed all the while Pat Robertson will be constantly attempting to save our souls and the female to have ongoing dialogue trying to sell us an Ab Rocket in 3 easy payments. We are open to possibly videoing the event as long as each of you sign a disclaimer. Please place the word “damnation” as subject line.

It’s hard not to believe someone’s pulling our leg (or something a little higher) although I’ve heard of, and sometimes even indulged in some amazingly obtuse fantasies, one including two bananas and a length of chain. And don’t get me started on eggs and anal cavities. Oh, the horror. The horror.

Fantasies are great because you don’t have to douche before you indulge, there’s no mess except the sticky residue you leave in your sheets (or wherever), you don’t need condoms, your dick stays hard for weeks, your arse is self-lubricating, and your partners are all perfect. In my dreams I can easily take ten inches down my throat. The reality was very different. My eyes watered, I puked phlegm and for the following week my throat felt like I’d swallowed a traffic cone.

I read once many decades ago that a university study found working-class men didn’t fantasize as they masturbated while the more ‘educated’ a person the more intricate the fantasies he needed to get himself off.

As for a ‘bucket list’ – sure, there are a number of things I’ve always wanted to tick off before I kick off, but my body’s not as supple anymore and I’ll never have the cash to fly in twelve of my favourite porn stars and hire that sling for the weekend. Besides, the haemorrhoids have been playing up lately.

I do admire those people who can play fantasy games. You know the type: men who pretend they’re travelling salesmen and pick up a stranger in a bar – except it’s their own boyfriend. Those who play Roman centurion and the slave boy. The cop and the choir boy. I’ve never been into those sorts of games. Maybe I’m too working class.