A raft of emails from PunchPig greeted me this morning, including this way hot pic...
Love that. There's a fundamental ambiguity with boxing, no? This is especially evident in stills. Are those men fighting or making love? Is that tender or violent?
I've long held the secret suspicion that of all the possibilities for coupling--two women, a man and a woman, two men--two men have the others beat hands down. Back in the days when I was having sex with women, it was like worshipping at a shrine, or handling something fragile. You had to be careful. You had to be on your best behavior. Now granted, my experience is fairly limited, but when I've shared this impression with straight guy buddies, they tend to agree. I don't doubt that there are dykes out there who would laugh in my face, but even in that situation, I'm bet that to get to that point, you have to overcome a lot of learned behaviors and cultural programming.
"What are little boys made of?
"Rats and snails and puppy dog tails. That's what little boys are made of.
"What are little girls made of?
"Sugar and spice and everything nice. That's what little girls are made of."
Boys play rough. When fucking a man, you might start off nice and slow and easy, but your goal is to get to the point when your slamming his open and welcoming hole hard and fast, slapping your balls against his butt. With women, it's riding the waves on an inland sea. With men, it's jackhammer.
Men get hurt. It's all about 'suck it up, buddy.' So when fucking a man, you don't have to worry about hurting him. You're gonna hurt him. And he's gonna hurt you. Men get hurt. It comes with the penis.
I guess Andrea Dworkin was right: penetration is violence. If you're doing it right.
So at a very basic level, there is no difference between two men boxing and two men making love. It's exactly the same thing.
Huh.
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