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What Gay Porn Needs

What Gay Porn Needs

Do you pay for porn?

Let’s be honest. You probably don’t. Oh maybe you’ve got a monthly membership somewhere or you do a pay-per-view every once-in-a-while, but paying for porn? Naw.

When’s the last time you bought a DVD?

2008?

DVDs are going the way of the compact disc, which is almost as dead as the cassette, which is fading like vinyl records, which has almost met the fate of eight-tracks. Some of you kids out there probably never even heard of eight-tracks or can imagine a day when your song actually got interrupted to switch tracks (not that you even know what a “track” is). You probably don’t even recall having to buy a whole album in order to get that one song you liked.

Lordy, I’m getting old. And my brain is getting addled and off track itself. Getting back to the point.

Porn needs a reboot.

I don’t mean we need it in 3-D IMAX or hook up our Fleshlight to a USB port. Porn needs to change.

Look, I love porn like everyone else. I’ve watched as Treasure Island Media and other places try to capture the magic of “Dawson’s 20 Load Weekend” by adding more loads and more hot guys and more dirty talk. Or just film more scenes and put them out there. More niches for the fetishes that drive people to pay a little. We think that foot or diaper or foot-in-diaper fetish might get more people interested.

Look at the explosion of Tumblr, XTube and whatnot, though. It’s all free. Fucking free. No one wants to pay.

Essentially, I am a porn website. Sure, I have a little more than porn on here, but getting guys to jerk off is what drives thousands of people every day to click on one of the iBLASTinside websites (including this blog, the Bareback Brotherhood Opens a new window from this blog website and the BarebackWiki Opens a new window from this blog). I’ve added some advertising to see if I can recoup some of the cash I’ve expended to assist in my own little adventure.

[alert style=”green”]<b>Do you know how much I make?</b>

<sarcasm on>Oh I’m rolling in the dough.</sarcasm off>

Annually, I get a little more than $300 from advertising. The cost to run everything? In excess of $750 annually. That doesn’t include the time investment. And let me be clear about that time investment. The time I spend writing is mostly for me and a kind of catharsis and relief. However I spend several hours every month maintaining the sites working to stay ahead of the ever-evolving cyber-attacks.

In other words, this is not a lucrative adventure. BBBH, the Wiki and this doesn’t even break even. [/alert]

Thankfully, my sites garner enough attention and I get enough satisfaction to keep me up and going. Moreover, it’s from this place and my perch that I can sense what is needed.

While the DVD goes the way of the dodo bird and for-pay porn slowly descends, I can tell you my little ad adventure isn’t working out. In my other so-called “real life” career in marketing, I can tell you that advertising in the traditional way doesn’t gain the attention from consumers it did in “Mad Men” days. Further, consumers distrust advertising more and more. Even in the digital realm, getting a consumer to “click” on an ad is close to impossible.

How can gay porn get the viewing audience to tune back in and actually pay for it?

Creating Demand

Demand must come at a level where the consumer is willing to part with some of that cash. That means more than insert tab A into slot B.  Demand is an emotion and, while lust works on many levels, it’s amorphous when considering just as good-looking men reside for free a few other places on the Internet.

One must combine that lust with other craving emotions to drive consumers to pay to view.

Multi-Use Content

Porn companies would take the moments and snap photos and, of course, write a scene-by-scene description of the action.  Reusing this content allowed extra cost benefit to the bottom line.

But multiple uses for the same content doesn’t have to be different mediums. There’s other options to using content and reaching different and new audiences.

Cum-Generating Performance

Porn really is about the viewer shooting his wad and then tuning out. Treasure Island Media sort of figured this out by adding the cum scenes onto the DVD as a separate feature. Now with online porn, everyone moves the slider or we watch 1½-minute videos with what we want. We get bored with sucking for half an hour before the fucking starts.

Then there’s sites like mine. Men read mine for the story, the plot, the set-up. Today’s porn doesn’t really bother any more with the shitty concepts of the pizza delivery man or cousin sleepover, although we all seem to want it.

Porn must bring back the plot (but not in a crappy acting way) and make men cum but not before it’s time. And if men only have 1½ minutes and want to squeeze one out to our content, we must know how to provide that.

Keep Coming Back

The way porn worked is by a loyalty system. Men become loyal to a studio, to an actor or to a director (or perhaps some combination thereof). A love of everything mega-bottom Dawson or anything from Treasure Island Media or super UK director Liam Cole. Generating enough content to keep consumers jacking means a close to impossible situation because capacity is only so much.

That’s why people by droves have switched over to XTube. Now finding people to whom they sort of like and can subscribe, the content is delivered as soon as another crappy video gets posted.

Admittedly, some videos aren’t that crappy.

Put the Formula Together

I know I’m being vague. It’s on purpose because I’ve got solutions (multiple) that could create a lucrative experience and reboot gay porn. Fuck, let’s call it adult-oriented entertainment.

If I type it all here, some fucker at some studio would take it, put his spin on it and run with it. Ideas can’t be copyrighted or patented. I can’t get a payday by giving it all away.

It’s time porn step it up and someone in it decided that pushing the boundaries was time. We need a change.

I have what gay porn needs.

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: How Should I Feel?

Tonight I sit with a weird feeling creeping up my spine. I find myself reduced back to a boy, curled up in guilt and a little confused.

Long-time readers will know my story but I imagine most won’t, so I should set the stage with my original Dark Passenger. The man who launched the twisted fuck I would become. In a very real and unusually strange sense, that man indeed is the genesis of a myself, out and very comfortable and confident in my skin. While I would like to think I’d eventually maneuvered my way out of the closet, I doubt seriously if I’d ever become as tolerant of others or even admitted to myself or other what a barebacking sleaze I can be.

As a youth, I was molested by this man. Most of the entries regarding him and what he did can be found here, if you choose to read:

If you choose not, it’s fine. Know that from some point until around 18, I had sexual encounters with this man — a neighbor and trusted friend of my parents.

So the reason for my odd sensation is the call today to notify me that my molester is in hospice.

The call to me is not unusual, I guess, since he and his wife were friends of my parents and, now that both my parents are dead, the community feels as if someone in my family should be notified and, technically, I am the head of the family. The local community is not aware what this sleaze did to me or countless others.

I spoke on the phone in an even tone, thanking the person for the notification. It wasn’t a time to be emotional. But now that I sit alone with the thought of him dying, I feel something. Perhaps it is the last of my own childhood finally passing away with the man who stole it from me, since so much left me when my parents left in the last few years. Perhaps it’s a kind of happiness or vengeance, knowing the fucker is finally suffering and will befall his own fate he promised me — that one-way ticket to hell. Or maybe it’s my own fear that I might be closer to death as well.

Or is it the fear that I might become the molester like him. The other day, a 14-year-old on Twitter solicited me. Now he had been posing as a 23-year-old. And when he admitted to being 14, I blocked him. And as I wrote, I volunteered at times for my own molestation. I wonder if the world were wired when I was 14 what I might have done.

So I sit, quietly contemplating a big-dicked old man as he teeters at the edge of the abyss. And I wonder why I give a shit and I wonder why I even care.

 

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