Nothing tailor-made to lose your porn-hungry audience faster than kicking off your return to blogging with a quote from Eliot! But Tommy was definitely on to something when he wrote that. After the first three weeks of this month, I'm convinced that the whole March "in like a lion" stuff we hear is total bullshit. April is the killer.
Especially when you kick it off with a virulent (and particularly late-in-the-season) flu that kicks the snot out of you — literally and figuratively. And then you pass it off to everyone you know and love ... but slowly, so that the effect can be stretched over many weeks. Both my kids had it to a lesser degree. Amy is just now shaking off the last vestiges. And two of our babysitters came down with minor versions, forcing Amy and me to take more time off work to cover.
The symptoms were the same as just about any flu, but one in particular was much worse than usual: the energy depletion. For instance, just when I thought I was past the worst, I took a four-block walk to my car ... and had to take the rest of the day off. I'm no Superman by any means, but hell, I'm not a couch potato! I do exercise! Nonetheless, I'm just now beginning to feel like something better than a bed-ridden old man.
Needless to say, both of our libidos were almost entirely extinguished. I can't recall a three-week period with so little innuendo thrown at my wife, and with fewer hints that I'd rather be fucking (than, say, doing our taxes). Sometimes this was true even when I was horny! I'd think, God, I so want to fuck her.... and that would be followed immediately by: ... But a nap sounds pretty good too.... So I didn't even try. And neither did Amy, whose biggest issue was clogged sinuses. I don't have to tell many of you how fun a blowjob would be for her in that state, right?
And then last Saturday night, I was taken by surprise when Amy took me up on a half-hearted suggestion to watch a video we had procured just before the Great Flu of '07. I think my incredible attempt at seduction had gone something like this:
"We still have that movie sitting around. If you're up for it. Not sure I am, but...."
Really, what red-blooded American woman could resist that come-on? And so, an hour later, apropos of nothing, she said, "Sure!" I was so far past thinking about it that I had to ask what she was talking about it. It was already 11:00 p.m. And she was still sort of sick. Was she serious?
She was. So, down to the basement we headed, not only with the DVD but also with a new vibrator. I still wasn't sure we'd get anywhere — or, let's be honest, if we even remembered how to have sex — but I think we were both feeling that it would be nice to capture a vague sense of "normal" again.
The movie was the 2004 update of The Masseuse, starring Jenna Jameson and her then-husband Justin Sterling. (This is basically a review; if you're not interested, you might want to skip down a bit.) We were interested in this one because the original 1990 version of the movie, starring Hyapatia Lee and Randy Spears, was one of the first pornos Amy and I had watched together. With our relationship being so new at the time, I was wading into risky waters, not really sure how much Amy liked porn — or if she did, what she liked. She wasn't really sure, either. This soft (but still hardcore) "couples" film was a good, safe entry.
The 1990 version is included on an extra disc when you buy the DVD of the 2004 version, so we had a chance to reacquaint ourselves with it. My, how far we've come! The 1990 Masseuse is a painfully slow-moving trek toward a single fuck scene at the end. Along the way, Hyapatia gives Randy (who plays a twentysomething virgin) a handjob, a blowjob, and just about any other safe foreplay as we slowly wander toward the climactic scene where she takes his cherry. It couldn't be much more tame without becoming one of those god-awful Playboy-produced softcore numbers you catch at the SpectraVision in your Motel 6 room just off the highway. That said, there's no question in my mind that Hyapatia was incredibly hot.1 She had a gorgeous body with natural tits, and when the sex finally happens, she was clearly into it.2
The updated version follows an almost-identical plot: Justin Sterling plays a similarly awkward, socially inept virgin, though he's a lot kinkier than Randy Spears was.3 He has no idea how to interact with women — something he shows when a co-worker (Wendy Devine) throws herself at him and he botches the kiss. He eventually turns to the services of a massage parlor and — what do you know! — the luck of the draw lands him in Jenna's room. And of course, he almost instantly falls hard for her. After she shaves his balls and gives him a handjob (both his requests), she finds him adorably endearing and invites him to come back any time.
This is where one encounters the big believability stretch: All
Now, I realize that porn is rarely believable, but this movie has been heralded for its "realism." Some also consider it a great dramatic accomplishment, and I suppose one has to take into account its competition when assessing that statement.. But I still cringed. While Justin isn't half-bad as the bumbling semi-stalker, Jenna is pretty wooden and vague in many of the "dramatic" scenes. And any plot that has a single sex-worker/mom falling in love with her virgin client has stretched beyond any hopes of being taken seriously.4
Still ... the sex is incredibly hot. (You almost forgot I was a typical male, didn't you?) The opening handjob was disappointing (that's the one scene where Hyapatia blows Jenna out of the water), but everything after is delicious. Especially the bondage scene with Jenna, and a great exhibitionistic frigging that Wendy Devine performs for Justin in their workplace. (Clearly, I'm in the wrong office.) While Amy and I were pretty worried at the beginning, we finally did start to "warm up" a good half-hour into the movie.
When the bondage scene got going, I repositioned the two of us on the couch so that Amy was prone but still able to watch while I frolicked between her legs. Removing her jeans and panties, I discovered that the movie had revved her up: Her pussy was warm and inviting. I took my time licking and stroking her as I moved back and forth from her cunt to watching the movie. It was a lovely, drawn-out laving. At some point, Amy laughed at my reverence and asked, "You've really missed going down on me, haven't you?"
"Can you tell?" I asked as my tongue took another long drag.
I picked up the new toy, a bright orange Lucid Dreams No. 14 vibrator, and lubed it up before rubbing it along Amy's slit. After things were good and slick, I twisted the dial to its lowest vibration setting. The exceptionally quiet vibrator let me hear Amy's own purring.
We really don't use toys very much; they've always seemed awkward, and the arousal payoff hasn't been that amazing. But in the name of fun and variety, we thought we'd try again. It turned out to be worth it.
The vibrator's head has a "bullet" built into it, which is advertised as being good for clitoral stimulation. But it's clear from the shape that this baby is made for the g-spot. So after a few minutes more of letting my tongue and the vibe take turns, I eased it into her. Amy enjoyed this,but wanted to take the wheel: I wasn't quite coming in at the right angle. I gladly let her take over and continued to snake my tongue around the toy as she did her thing.
I could tell from Amy's sounds and movements =that this was a different (read: more positive) vibrator experience. It seemed to keep her at a higher state of arousal as I continued to diddle her clit. At some point, she pulled the vibe back out again and went to serious work on her clit. My tongue stimulation, along with the visual of a bound Jenna getting her mouth fucked (eventually bathing in a gooey facial) sent Amy into an extended, undulating release. She came down almost as slowly as she had built up. A beautiful, gentle climax — perfect for the woman still recuperating.
Amy apologized in advance for not being able to orally return the favor, but I understood. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to enjoy my most recent obsession: handjobs! Amy lubed up her hand and languidly worked my cock as we continued to watch. We took turns stroking me until I told her to bring me off during the final scene, where Jenna and Justin fuck.
All in all, a lovely, mellow evening, considering I wasn't expecting any action at all. It was great just to feel sexual again, and the positive vibe (no pun intended) was a bonus. Amy has been making noises about doing something again, though the sinusitis continues to threaten any plans. But hey, I'm a patient guy ... something I remind Amy on a regular basis. Don't worry, I am properly slapped each time I say it.
A sincere thank-you to so many of you who expressed your appreciation and well-wishes, both on the blog and in email, during my time away. It's good to be back.
1 I'm using past-tense here not because there was some tragic porn-star ending to her life; she just retired from porn. [Return]
2 And really, there's little else I ask from my porn: That the performers be genuinely into getting laid that day. If they don't appear to be enjoying it, neither can I. [Return]
3 I attribute the difference largely to Sterling's character's access to the World Wide Web — something Spears didn't have "back then." And I know I'm overthinking the plot to a porn film. Need I remind you that I'm not making you read this? [Return]
4 The really sad thing is that Paul Thomas, who wrote the original version of The Masseuse and directed both, had two chances to get this right ... and he screwed them both up! [Return]