Privacy and the pervert

Every once in a while, an orifice of opportunities presents itself to us all. When it does, we can either pull down our underwear of apprehension, roll on a bravery flavoured condom, and thrust forward into the hot, juicy hole of the unknown, or we can roll over, go back to sleep and never know what lascivious delights we might have enjoyed. Whether the adventure comes in the form of realising a fantasy such as a swingers evening or making your own porn movie, or something as routine (and momentous) as getting laid for the first time, it will quite likely carry both the potential to invigorate your life, and the risk of disaster and regret. It’s a gamble.

Recently I received a rather sexy proposition out of the blue, and without going into details, it set me off thinking about privacy and the pervert. (Just to put your mind at rest, especially the more easily aroused parts of your mind, Dear Reader, if I do decide to take up this offer, I would not expect it to involve me having sex of any kind with anyone else. Sorry to disappoint.)

I use the term pervert loosely, or at least without the common notion that to be a pervert is a bad thing. For me it’s a bit like the word slut, and I know there are plenty of people who are more than happy to class themselves as sluts. I certainly do and am proud to be a pervert. Or I would be proud, were it not to raise a clamour of disapproval from a whole heap of normal people who would, if htey knew me as you do, regard as a deviant. Maybe I’m just ahead of my time. After all, it wasn’t so many years ago that gay sex was considered abhorrent by the majority of western society; today our attitudes are greatly relaxed. Maybe given another 30yrs or so we will all be happy to wear gimp masks in public, buy butt plugs with our groceries, or openly tell our friends that we like to be bound, beaten and berated by our partners in the name of sexual gratification. Though I suspect not.

To be fair, things are improving.

In the UK, up until 1967, homosexuality was illegal and those found guilty could expect prison sentences. Now we’re considering sanctioning gay marriage.
In 1970, Ann Summers opened their first high street sex shop and now have over 140 in high streets across the UK. Shelves of vibrators are no longer only to be found in the darkened back streets of red light districts.
Grimey peep shows have been largely replaced by glossy lap dancing clubs which are easily found in many towns.
Pole dancing or burlesque classes are common bookings for hen nights.

Countless pop videos have featured fetishwear : Beyonce’s Green light, Christina Aguilera’s Candyman and Not myself tonight, Britney Spears’ Oops!…I Did It Again … the list goes on. (One wonders how many of the respective performers asked to keep the costumes.)
Dita Von Teese is a household name.
There is a proliferation of TV shows specifically about sex.
If an edition of Cosmo doesn’t feature an article on Improving your orgasm, Is kink the new cool?, or How to make him want you more, then there’s probably been a mix up at the printers.
And celebrity chef and thinking man’s crumpet, Nigella Lawson did a photo shoot a couple of years ago wearing the sort of footwear normally reserved for die-hard foot fetishists and BDSM fans.

Sex is mainstream, and it is getting easier to be open about it, but try telling someone you’re a bottom, like watersports, or have a collection of fetish DVDs, and eyebrows are going to get raised … even if hypocritically.

So whilst we have come a long way, any prudent pervert will consider the consequences of being public about the depths of their depravity and the fact that so many of us blog under pseudonyms suggest these are probably very real. So many people can’t be both sexually vocal and anonymous without thinking we all share the same fears. Imaging what the local Mother’s Union would say if they knew a member of their church liked being fisted, or if the PTA found out one of their number regularly enjoyed dogging. The word ostracised is only the first that springs to mind.

I genuinely wish I could be more open about sex (and not just with my Wife), but the threat of stigma stops me sharing my sex even on an asexual level – I’d like my friends (and even my Wife) to know about my blog, irrespective of it’s subject. I enjoy it, I like to think it is quite good, and I am proud of the fact that I have enough subscribers to think that may not be so far off the mark. And I’d like to share that achievement with the people that matter to me. But it is about sex, and I have told you I like to be fucked in the arse, and wearing rubber, and own numerous sex toys, regularly jerk off to amateur porn, and that my Wife and I have a crap sex life. So I can’t share my blog with friends and family.

Not wanting to be outed keeps me schtum now, and it has before.
Some years ago, during a lull in my career, I looked into the opportunities to do some life modelling. (I also looked into becoming a male escort, but that’s another story.) This was partly as a way of making a little extra money, and partly because the closet exhibitionist in me quite liked the idea of waving my cock around in front of board housewives trying to realise the creative, artistic dreams they packaged up on a dusty shelf when they took on parenting duties. One of the reasons I eventually didn’t go through with it was the fear that I might bump into someone I knew. Or worse still – I have a small, but distinct tattoo which many of my friends have seen, but not that anyone would be likely to see unless I was either naked or chose to show them – what if someone recognised my tattoo hung on someone’s wall at a dinner party?

There is of course a downside to hiding behind a nome de plume in that it attracts attention. Who is that masked man? No, it’s not Zorro, it’s the dysfunctional geek in the IT department who still lives with his mum at the age of 53 and you’ve always suspected is a paedophile. Or just as likely, she’s the mother of your child’s class mate who runs a dungeon for executive stress relief and gets paid to stands on the testicles of your bank manager. But you’ll never know. Until someone starts doing a little research. Looking up IP addresses. Cross referencing Facebook accounts. Or hacking the emails of the respective accountants. Unfortunately I can’t remember who’s blog it was (if anyone can remind me I’ll link to it) but I read recently of a sex worker who was stalked by a man via her Facebook page, email address etc, and who threatened to out her to her parents for her job. There are people who know enough about the internet, or who are prepared to pay enough to those who do, to track most of us down.

Two fine examples of the swings and roundabouts of privacy and the pervert are Dr Brooke Magnanti (or Belle de Jour) and Zoe Margolis (or Abby Lee). Both started out writing anonymous blogs about sex. For those that don’t know: the former documented her experiences as a post graduate student, supplementing her income by working as a call girl; the latter documented her experience of just being a horny woman who was happy to fuck whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and however she wanted. After their respective successes in the faceless world of the blogosphere, they had their respective tales published as The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl and Girl With a One Track Mind. (I’ve not read Belle’s work, but I thoroughly recommend Abby Lee’s.) Both were outed in the British newspapers, having their true identities revealed for all their neighbours, ex-loverrs, grannies and you and I. You can just imagine the phone conversations – “Sorry dad, I’ve got to go. My next client will be here in 10 minutes and I really must douche my ass ready for him.”

So we pervs must carefully consider our privacy. I don’t intend going public. But what would happen if I follow through with this sexy proposition. What if (unlikely as it may be) I become incredibly successful and someone decides it’s a good idea to unmask me? What if my family find out? Or my friends? Or the neighbours? Would they cross the street to avoid me? Or would they want to know all the details about my cock and my Wife’s cunt that I have not yet made public? Would She divorce me on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour. Maybe you’ll all find out one day. Or maybe you won’t.

8 Responses to “Privacy and the pervert”

  1. Hi AM,
    Can’t read this thoroughly right now, I just thought it was funny that a minute ago, I referred to you as “Perv AM”. Somehow I knew you would not take offense.

    Big Pervy Bisous,
    Dawn

    • (I hadn’t actually meant the post to be published yet – my sloppy checking of schedule dates were to blame. Oh well, no harm done.)
      But no, I’m not in the least offended by being called “Perv AM”. I’m quite flattered that anyone who thinks I’m a pervert doesn’t recoil at the idea. Maybe it takes one to know one, or maybe there is hope for a sexually liberated society yet.

  2. deviantdiaries Says:

    All valid points…and scary. I would lose my (potential) job/career if discovered and there are definitely neighbors who would delight in my downfall. How hard is it to be “discovered”? I guess this is one reason my blog, thought it does deal with sexual “deviance” to a degree, is still relatively tame. I’m afraid to completely expose my secrets and none of my family or friends are aware of it either…..

    How does one even look up IP addresses? My lack of knowledge might make me the perfect target. Crap. lol

    • I know WP gives out IP addresses when you comment on a post. I’ve never bothered to check them. There will be different ways for checking emails too. That said its not difficult to hide behind a proxy server, but uber geeks can doubtless navigate their way round those.

      • deviantdiaries Says:

        Well then here’s hoping there are no uber geeks on my private blog who would seek to do me harm….:)

  3. This was incredibly written like a news article. I was expecting a little more perviness and frustration but there was a resolve and intelligence that dominated very nicely. Your observations on our secret sex lives is accurate, in my opinion. It is sex and society has come a long way from the stigmas it used to apply to some things. I think you’re smart to keep your preferences secret. I think some things should remin secret until you can share them with someone in the flesh. I think that’s a factor of anyone’s sex appeal, but that’s me. Being open about our sexual thoughts on blogs is actually making all of us better lovers. Well, those of us who drink in all the nuances of pleasuring itself. Strange that the secrecy of our sexuality has created an openness here. Now, did I get that quick mention right, Are you for hire? The idea is appealing to me because you share your frustration and humanity and desire. Would I , could I? How salacious of an idea to share here in “private” as a perv. : )

  4. I wrote about being discovered a few weeks ago, especially as it pertained to The Neighbor and betraying his trust. My life would be destroyed if my writings were linked to me, I’m fairly certain. Crushed, really. It’s scary.

    And I’ve read about Abby Lee. If I ever wrote a book that would make me independently wealthy, well… I guess it’d be worth it? I don’t know.

    I’m interested in learning more about of what you speak. It sounds exciting.

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