Take a moment and think about what you associate with that very loaded word.
Innocence. Purity. Boyishness. Athleticism. Stardom. Civilization. Naïveté. Plasticity.
Sexually, blonds are pretty typed in gay porn, lacking the range that brunets have. We crave a certain malleable passivity in them, meaning it’s not so much that they have more fun than they are more fun.
To handle. To subjugate. To corrupt.
Anyway you slice it, a bangable blond brings out the caveman in us, even the most milquetoast gay deep down wanting to pull a Tarzan, toss that yellow-hair over his shoulder, strip him down, and pound him out.
Forget about Blond Ambition. We’re talking Blond Submission.
As a towhead myself, I figured out pretty quickly that a certain male-on-male chauvinism comes into play when I inadvertently trigger a rod. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been called “blondie” or “son” — yes, it’s paternalistic, but always hot — and men will get a certain intense focus in their eyes as they rub their chins that immediately has me thinking “Oh yeah — he’s got me in range” like a deer in a rifle scope. Male blondness connotes an ageless innocence, and you learn when to ironically work against that grain and when to use it in your favor.
That’s the thing with blonds: we’re all whores deep down.
It’s true. Show me a blond guy who at heart doesn’t want to be dominated, put in his place, and ornamentally owned by a surly brunet and I’ll show you a damn dirty liar. Hell, all my Jessie Spano-style tirades about male piggism and being exploited are just my way of putting up the appearance of fight. My most primal sexual fantasies have me watching a la Fay Wray as my dark-haired possessor — picture Billy Wirth by way of Mike Henry — throws down with a challenger for my charms.
Jews are not the cause of all human conflict. Blonds are.
Platinum. Sandy. Copper. Ash — they come in all shades, and you can probably rattle off a short list of notable gay porn blonds right off the top of your head: Kevin Williams, Bo Summers (right), Cort Stevens, Leo Ford, Kevin Wiles, Kurt Marshall, Lane Fuller, Trey Rexx, Jim Bentley, Jeremy Jordan — most tending to be at their best when they play pliant. Every decade balances out that dynamic with more butch, assertive blonds like Jack Wrangler, Steve Hammond, Alec Powers, Ty Fox, or Jason Branch, and even super-rugged ones like Billy Herrington, Parker Williams, and Mark Slade who can go darker I think tend to look better lighter. On the flipside, ill-fated gay porn blonds like Steve Fox and Cody Foster have a legendary Hollywood-esque aura to their respective dooms.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how much bulk or swagger a blond has; we still want to see him get fucked. Gay audiences just love docile supplication in the fair-haired ones. Is it because we connect the hair color to virginity? See it as some sort of trophy? Feminize it to a degree? The hell if I know, but I can tell you that Caesar can grow all the stubble and take all the HGH in the world and I’d still think he looks better baby blond, face down, and ass up.
This is the zone of sexual serfage/compliance that blonds occupy. It’s all about being acted upon — leered at, forced to, turned out, jizzed on. I don’t really have a big burning desire to see large-and-in-charge blonds onscreen, nor does the sight of two blonds paired-up offscreen do anything for me (how boring it must be to want to date your mirror image). I almost never find other blonds a turn-on either (John Schneider, you are the exception).
Porn at its best is about contrast — old vs. young, slutty vs. untouched, dark vs. light. Blondness in men has a mythically unreal quality — it’s often ascribed to fantasy heroes like He-Man, Flash Gordon, and Doc Savage — that makes brunets seem more physically tangible and gives them a stronger volition. Blonds are better as catalysts, and so they essay perfect new meat on the cellblock, gullible froshes in the frat house, sexually exploited underlings, and doe-eyed “No Mister! I only wanted to give you a copy of the Watchtower and tell you about Jesus!” rubes. The cunning and shrewdness you get in a blonde bombshell just isn’t as satisfying in a blond man.
“No one wishes to see a man dance!” Criswell memorably proclaimed in Orgy of The Dead, and the same goes for audacious gay porn blonds. While I’m sure there’s an audience for blond tops, I’m just not in it, and that’s probably me projecting. If pressed, I have to admit that I want to be taken advantage of, and so when I see a ditzy, wide-eyed blond dip say “Sure — I like to party!” before getting into a car full of swarthy, stubbly roughnecks who smirk at each other wryly before cock-fighting for his smooth ass, I’m totally there. I’ll switch up roles at will, but I’ve always figured that blonds’ sexual skill sets seem more contingent upon the needs of their partners. We’re giving that way.
The hair color connotes youth and inexperience, and so players tend to age out of the business sooner than brunets, resulting in a dearth of mature blonds. You’ll see loads of them in Freshmen, but almost none in Colt. That’s a trap you can fall into in real life as well; blonds will often make the mistake of trying to scuff up their image with aggressive hairstyles, facial hair, and tats, but I just don’t think it works. I personally stick with the fresh, well-scrubbed, soft look, mainly because other people dig it so much.
Sure it brings out the inner predation in men, but if gay porn is any barometer, a blond in trouble is both a temporary thing and a good time had by all.