You don’t want to know how it’s made.

That admonition is usually reserved for referring to certain foods, but it can extend to other products of dubious concoction. Like porn. Specifically, straight porn.

If mainstream gay porn’s personal tumult is whether to doff condoms to compete with encroaching cut-rate bareback productions and a tough economic climate, then top-tier straight porn finds itself questioning just how far is too far when it comes to raunch. I’ll freely admit to enjoying more high-class straight productions based on the new wave of built and attractive male stars they employ. Still, if I avoid condomless gay porn because I think it tends to present performers at their worst, then low-budget gonzo-style straight porn is equally repellent to me.

As its style and tone could worryingly become the new industry standard, I have to wonder if there is some fundamental difference between the straight male and gay male libidos. When we seek out skin flicks, do we really want the same things from them, and are hetero men bringing something to the table that’s foreign and unintelligible to us? For all the adverse drubbing gays take for being supposed perverts and freaks, is there a weird and vicious motivation in the straight male sex drive that’s pandered to by porn merchants and thus implicitly encouraged? (read the full article)

Back when I penned a paean to my knee, um, jerk yen for Guidos, I both anticipated and begged for a Guido-related porn subgenre to emerge. West Hollywood and Eastern Europe have been mined to death, and I’m not so smitten with the umpteenth guy named Tad or Skylar, so when the Jersey Shore straight porno parody hit, I knew a gay-themed entry full of spray tans, sports bands, Ed Hardy wear, gold chains, and blowouts had to be imminent. I mean, what better way to spend my hard-earned porn screed cash than delighting to the sights of hairless man-children tenderizing each other’s steroid asses while adding a superfluous z-sound to “you” or “they”?

Now it is upon us. (read the full article)

It’s about more than just dicks and ass.

The misconception is that women are auditory sexual beings, while men are strictly visual. You can apparently throw any sexual scenario up in front of us, and regardless of concept or presentation, as long as there’s something to feast the eyes on, it’s enough for us. Ours is not an aural, tactile, or evocative libido; it’s strictly visceral, merely hit-it-and-forget-it.

Nothing is more tedious to me in porn than two guys going at it with zero set-up while all their nasty play-by-play is completely drowned out by a generic canned porno score. I need to hear the give-and-take trash talk, and even more implicitly, I need to experience the sounds of sex: the gritting of teeth, the straining of the voice, the pounding of pelvis against ass, and the slapping of balls against balls.

Upon first encountering the Hungarian gay porn genre, the visual differences between it and our own domestic product were marked enough to make them novel: a warm, gauzy ambience, often set outdoors; inexhaustible casts of short, gymnast-bodied man-boys playing lusty gypsies, randy soldiers, and Daisy Duke-wearing mountain jocks; plenty of awkward sexual transitions wherein clothes magically vanish; and an array of fluid, yoga-like sexual positions that I imagine could result in some serious dick sprains if miscalculated.

What inexplicably did it for me, though, was the insane, Rosetta Stone-gone-wrong subtitling. As if the dialogue set pieces — replete with super-arch exchanges that wouldn’t be out of place in a ’60s Sword and Sandal epic — weren’t enough, the sundry ass-banging commands the men dole out to each other had me immediately reaching for a pen. I’ve since amassed my faves (all integrated into my own personal repertoire), and now present them to you from Hungary, with love. Please to enjoy with interest!: (read the full article)

Priceless ad copy:

You know these guys — great bod, great abs, great…wait a minute — everything Butt-A-Face! Ya know, the guy you’d pick up in the last few minutes before closing time at the bar, only after you’ve had a few. See these Butt-A-Face boys get fucked, sucked & jacked off on. It’s like going to the bar, but it won’t cost you and you’ll get laid.

Safe to presume that agents received some livid phone calls after this hit the shelves.

Only two highly symbolic locales ever seem to be perpetually invoked to embody the disparities of our fiscal meltdown: Main Street and Wall Street.

Are Andy and Opie Taylor having to ally with those hillbilly moonshiners in order to continue to afford their fishing lures, and is Patrick Bateman’s Amex Gold Card being refused when he tries to order a coterie of high-end escorts after killing his accountant with a power drill?

But what about Easy Street in Pornopolis? Does no one care about the sacrifices and indignities our favorite gay porn gods have had to endure in a sharp and jagged downturn?

Gay porn is really a subsidiary of the male escort/sex worker scene, lucrative in its own right, but still mainly functioning as a virtual PR firm and calling card for the sex brokers. Long-believed to be recession-proof along with other “vice”-related industries, even All-Male Action has taken a serious hit in the past two years. Revenues not just for DVD and magazine sales are down, but so are the returns for Web-based smut and the dancing circuit. Many is the urban escort who’s resigned himself to turning fewer high-roller tricks in favor of a more economy class clientele, and personal training and/or massage therapy bullet points are not necessarily placed in ironic quotations in resumes anymore. A top-tier star’s name and face just don’t ring up the dollar signs like they did five years ago. (read the full article)

Straight dick in your mouth and ass. Does that turn you on more than if I said gay dick?

I love the weird meta-appeal of gay porn when the performers are advertised as straight. The obvious reasons are people want what they can’t have. Some would argue the culprit is self-hatred and negative stereotypes about the masculinity of gay men. Regardless of these social neuroses, “gay for pay” should be harmless fantasy.

What’s wrong with straight guys fucking men for money? Do we really expect high ethical standards in the porn industry? Seriously, half the stuff you’re jacking off to is degrading and humiliating anyway. Broke Straight Guys is a site I keep thinking back to. I’m certain the gross desperation of such a premise is meant to be a vague slight against general heterosexuality. Can you imagine the outrage if there was a “broke gay guys” website where homos were ordered to put peens in poons and eat vaginas with spoons? GLAAD would shit a horse dildo, i.e. how dare they exploit and victimize economically disadvantaged gay men into rejecting their true nature. (read the full article)

The San Fernando Valley and West Hollywood aren’t the only gay porn casting couches on the globe.

Thirty-odd years ago when it was regarded as just one of the clustered Eastern Bloc nations, Hungary was mainly famed in the West for goulash, being a cost-efficient locale where vampire B-movies could be lensed with castle and fortress backdrops, and for serving as the stalking grounds for the likely first and most prolific female serial killer in history, Elizabeth Bathory.

Present day, it’s the awe-inspiring and apparently renewable pipeline of genetically-gifted hard-bodies exported for Capitalist gay porn toil that’s put Hungary and the U.S. on mutually beneficial terms, even if only on the sly.

There’s no hyperbole in using the adjective Olympian to describe these guys; not only do they all look like they just stepped off a marble pedestal, but many have some connection to pro bodybuilding, competitive wrestling, hockey, or fitness modeling. Their ranks don’t appear to be born so much as they descend to earth fully-fleshed and destiny-bound for the first plane out to Pornoville, USA.

There’s everybody’s favorite, the jaw-dropping and multi-aliased Ted Colunga (top, from Men At Play), whose body becomes more impossibly perfect as he seems to draw vigor form the very ground in Antaeus-like fashion. Back-that-muscle-ass-up Fernando Nielsen (left) is just as rightfully beloved as a veritable demi-god among muscle bottom lovers. Smooth-as-butter Marc Dievo is always ready to spread. Julian Vincenzo’s so sultry that a bat of his eyes could melt tungsten.

Muscleheads slutting it up for bucks in porn features has become so ubiquitous stateside that only bodybuilding industry insiders and muscle fanboys flip out about it anymore. Add to that web cams and the sea of solo muscle worship porn, and the line between the bodybuilding circuit and the porn arena gets hazier by the year. (read the full article)