Common Sense	Common Sense Archive

As part of my job assignment at work, I was browsing through some catalogues which feature sex toys and related paraphernalia. It was mostly the same-old, same-old tit clamps, double-headed dildoes, mouth gags, and other such fun stuff. I came to one page that caught my eye. It was a full-page photo of a very good-looking white man. He was without clothes. He looked right at the camera, thus at me. His cock was quite pretty; it hung down and drew the eye. He was wearing a strap-on cock, a big bright plastic thing, in an erect position, in that weird not-really-flesh-color in which these items are manufactured. I passed over the page, but then came back. I found this image utterly fascinating. Here was a man who appeared to be completely sexually functional, and he was wearing a strap-on hard plastic cock. He was an advertisement for the man with two penises!

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I looked at this catalogue page for some time. I am the first to admit: I am not the most sexually sophisticated man around. But it taxed my imagination, and I tried to figure out what this image was selling, other than its oddity, which caught my attention. Why would a man need two cocks? Doesn't one cause enough trouble? My alter ego, the once-famous Bunny LaRue quipped: "Maybe his original cock gets lonely." I wasn't buying. The plastic one is erect all the time a great fantasy but a nightmare, perhaps written about in the great sex literature. Imagine being erect all the time! Well, if you are a 14-year-old boy, you probably are! Which is why they encourage sports on the young. But who knows? Maybe that only induces more hard-ons.

I showed this picture of the man with two cocks to a friend. He said he had to have it. I ripped this page from the catalogue and gave it to him. The image was already seared into my cortex. What was really interesting was how I reacted to this image of a human male with a real cock and a strap-on dick. Since this was a promotional catalogue, I related it all to the history of advertising. In the world of the advertisers, the words "better" and "more" are central. So is "new." But "new" in this case doesn't work. The cock has been around for a very long time. "More" comes into play here. If one cock seems neat, why not another one? Two, three, many schlongs.

I like sex toys as much as any other healthy, red-blooded American lad. But a partner with two pricks would try my patience. And, worse, once something like this is introduced, and perhaps becomes a standard, what then? Making of sex even more work? Homo faber. Perhaps we invent too much.

Most of what we do when we have sex is ridiculous perhaps not during the performance, often after but the very ridiculousness of sex never dampens the urge, which can last a lifetime. Yet why highlight the silliness of sex by showcasing a normal, well-hung man with a store-bought strap-on? I suspect the strap-on has utility, you can keep plowing while Prick #1 has some, literally, down-time. Yet, I suspect one can overdo the accoutrements of sex play. Too many strap-ons! You could look like one of those ancient fertility goddess statues, she with fourteen tits! At what point does a sex scene get over-encumbered?

I was watching a bondage video the other day. The guys were cute, the fantasies being played out were cozy and familiar. When they came to the bondage scenes, there was always lots of ropes and tying of knots. I know this was its strength this was bondage video after all. But the knots came again and again. I felt the show was getting off-message. Instead of a porn whack-off flicker, it became to seemed like some mad Boy Scout basement party after the lads had sniffed some glue. And I had to laugh which is its own kind of particular review of a sex film.

I was recently reading a manual for slave training. It's from San Francisco and very California. In it, the author, a dominatrix, discourses on the role of food in a dominant-submissive relationship. Then she includes several recipes, including one for "Angel Hair Pasta and Tomato Sauce." This is not my idea of what slave-training should be it's just Martha Stewart with a whip!

Guys with two pricks. Bondage flicks that seem like some instructional video. And slave manuals with the accent on culinary. Maybe I'm out of it? Maybe the world passed me by? But it seems like technique triumphs libido. I think I'm on the verge of burning my post-modernist membership card, and going back to what I really am plain old essential me, who expects things to be as they are and not all sorts of other things. Because I just don't think it's fair. What if I went for slave training but wound up a chef in a trendy restaurant? In such, only disappointment looms.

Author Profile:  Mitzel
	Mitzel was a founding member of the Fag Rag collective, and has been a Guide columnist since 1986. He manages Calamus Books near Boston's South Station.
	Email:	mitzel@calamusbooks.com
	Website:	calamusbooks.com