Tag Archives: consensual

What Is Rape?

What Is Rape?

I get a fucking lot of accusations in my inbox. Often. Here’s one of the more interesting:

When I was 18, a top I met off phone chat had me come to his place. When I arrived, he was much older than described…

I get inside he immediately grabs my head and slams it against door then rapes me raw. He degraded me racially, calling me nasty Asian slurs.

After he was done, he hid my cell phone and keys and kept me for 15 days.

I was used as sex slave to pay for his meth addiction and infected. A black man felt bad and freed me — the only one out of 65 RAPISTS.

I went to police and he was arrested. But [during my captivity], he sent texts to his cell from mine saying everything was consensual AND IT WASN’T.

He now walks free and I hate him and, because of [the AIDS] virus, I no longer date.

I hate you, Mark, and all other violent predators.

For some of you perverts out there (and you know I love you all), you’re jerking off just thinking about this scenario. But let’s get to this Asian gentleman’s message to me and splice it apart, step by step.

Rape Is Bad

I do not believe this story. Here’s why I don’t:

If this 18-year-old gentleman disappeared for 15 days, his family, friends or others would have noticed. Sure, this violent man might have created some text messages back and forth, but those messages would have occurred after the disappearance. Any cell phone records could show that.

Further, in many states, to knowingly pass along HIV is criminal. HIV maintains a portion of the DNA from the source. A test could determine whether the victim was indeed infected by the older man.

I believe the consent likely came from this young man before the disappearance. He told some friends and family he would be gone a while — probably not 15 days — and after a while, came not to like the scene he’d fantasized about because the reality wasn’t quite and fun as the jerk off images.

I’ve seen that often and any of you with any level of kinks would agree.

Nonetheless, if I suspend my disbelief, let me just say if this is true, this is bad.

Let me also suggest to the writer that — unlike my website, which is about sex — that the guy who kidnapped you and held you captive, did that violent act to you. It wasn’t the sex, but the power play that you didn’t like (and the fact he was older than he initially said).

Safety in Hook-Ups

The dear letter writer made a gigantic boo-boo, for which he fails to take accountability. And I get so fucking tired of hearing this shit from people who read some of my posts.

Every time someone goes to a stranger’s home or hotel room or wherever to fuck, you’re taking a risk. Didn’t mamma teach you not to talk to strangers, much less fuck them (or let them fuck you)?

Gay men … damn, all men … love casual sex. We let our cocks put us into places we shouldn’t be. I’ve been there. And this guy ended up some place he shouldn’t have been.

Do not blame anyone else for that.

I’m not saying he dressed slutty so he should have been raped or anything like that. He didn’t deserve to be held hostage for 15 days — if indeed, that’s what happened.

But he’s not innocent.

He want to blame the car for hitting him head on when he was already driving on the wrong side of the road. He did something dangerous.

Fucker beware

I No Longer Date

Oh. My. God. Being Poz prevents this little fucker from dating.

All of you Poz guys out there need to stop dating, stop fucking and curl up into a ball and just shit yourselves.

Another reason not to believe this story: The idea that life ends with seroconversion. Hell, for some, becoming Poz means life begins. No longer worried about when HIV might arrive, but knowing that it’s now there with you.

(As an aside, I’m impressed the dude also counted all 65 guys who fucked him.)

If indeed this is true, let me speak to you, my Asian letter writer:

You need to speak with a professional and go into counseling for this trauma.

You need to find a way to move on, date and find a way to heal. The amount of pent up hate you’ve gathered up into yourself is preventing you from seeing that life continues. You survived something terrible but not everyone is out to hurt you.

Jumping Off the Hate Cliff

Now he says I am out to hurt him. I’m some sort of predator.

I’m not. Never have been.

If you’re upset about the stealthing thing, I’ve explained it time and time again and don’t really need to do it again.

If you’re upset that I use bottoms, all tops do whether they admit it or not.

I just think you’re upset. And once the proper counseling is in place, you’ll be better off.

I didn’t fuck you. I didn’t abduct you. I didn’t hold you hostage. Don’t hate me.

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There Is a Distinct Difference

There Is a Distinct Difference

It pains me to find Cristian Knox in a bit of a row with me over stealthing. He offers his feedback to my previous entry with his “Spot the Difference” game, in which he compares me to a purse snatcher, a mugger, a bad repairman, etc.

Cristian misses the point so very much.

  1. I don’t wander the streets seeking people to stealth. Quite the contrary. I make the distinct point of stating I invite these people into my lair or fuck them at an adult bookstore or sex club. This isn’t some miscellaneous place. It isn’t rape. The sex itself is quite consensual. Both parties agree to the sex, unlike the mugger where one party doesn’t wish to be robbed but the other does.
  2. A repairman coming into your home to fix plumbing or some other aspect (in his second example) is an implied contract or an actual contract. As I so explicitly stated, no such contract exists between the two of us engaging in sex. I never explicitly agree to engaging in safer sex.
  3. Cristian further makes the assumption that I am the source of any exposure of disease. This is a further problem that condom Nazis often assume about all barebackers. We are all puss-filled, infected zombies full of the worst diseases with intent on bugging everyone around us. This simply isn’t so.

But by the same token, Cristian did remind me of the fable, The Scorpion and The Frog.

A scorpion asks a frog to carry him across the pond.

“But I am afraid you will sting and kill me,” the frog says.

“Of course I won’t,” the scorpion replies. “I cannot swim. If I sting you, you will sink and we both will die.”

The frog thinks about this and finally agrees, figuring it’s safe enough. The scorpion climbs on the amphibian’s back and the two begin the journey across the pond.

Halfway across, the frog suddenly feels the sharp prick of the scorpion’s stinger. As he feels the poison begin to numb him and his body slow, the frog asks, “Why?”

“Alas,” the scorpion says. “It’s in my nature to sting.”

They both sink into the depths of the pond and drown.

I am a top. I am driven by a force I cannot describe to breed. You don’t want it, don’t fuck with me.

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