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the Merkin
blog
the Merkin
blog
by Harry Merkin
- what is new at
autoeros.com -
29 July 2026
GenderSpeak:
Weaponizing
Gender Against Sex
When and why did the
word “gender” displace the word “sex?”
“Gender” refers to a person’s socially
constructed identity of being male,
female, or some other category, while
“sex” refers to physical characteristics
of male or female, such as chromosomes.
Gender is a matter of a person’s
self-perception; sex is a circumstance
of birth.
When did sex get pushed to the curb by
gender? In his book The Man Who Invented
Gender, Terry Goldie claims that the
sexologist John Money of Johns Hopkins
Medical Center (Baltimore) first used
the word “gender” in its modern meaning
in 1955. Money pioneered the word to
describe his famous John/Joan experiment
that was conducted on a young boy named
Bruce who’d lost his penis in an
accident. To ‘prove’ Money’s theory that
sexual identity was learned and not
biological, Bruce’s parents raised him
as a girl, complete with a surgically
constructed vagina. The experiment
failed. Bruce ultimately insisted on
living as male, but he did not recover
from the ordeal Money imposed on him,
which he called torture. Bruce committed
suicide in his 30s.
...
Genderspeak became the language of
elites, social justice activists, and
the government, while average people
still spoke of “sex”. But more than
elitism lies behind the difference in
words. By swapping in their own terms,
elitists—especially professional
feminists—grabbed the narrative on
sexuality and politicized it to dismiss
anyone who disagrees. Since the average
male generally still uses biology to
define his sexuality, he is an opponent;
the average male is a living, breathing
disagreement.
The ideology of gender faces an
obstacle, however. If people can argue
effectively against gender, then the
narrative is difficult to manage. Those
who dissent must be intimidated into
silence or otherwise marginalized. The
main strategy is to condemn dissenters
as hate-filled. If some people cannot be
silenced, then their words or opinions
can become hate crimes punishable by
law. George Orwell’s novel
Nineteen-Eighty-Four is about a
dystopian society of social control,
which is maintained largely through
restricting language. Since words are
the foundation of thought, this means
people cannot form thoughts, let alone
articulate them. The villain of
Nineteen-Eighty-Four proclaims, “The
whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the
range of thought.” He concludes, “The
Revolution will be complete when the
language is perfect.”
...
But the most important purpose of
swapping in the word “gender” is to
introduce a subtle but powerful bias
that controls the narrative; it creates
Genderspeak.
The concept of gender comes directly
from the twin ideologies of Social
Constructionism and Gender Feminism.
Social Constructionism tells us that
male and female are learned forms of
behavior (gender) rather than biology
(sex).
...
Genderspeak is similar to Orwell’s
Newspeak. Both are ambiguous speech that
embeds ideology into the language so
that every word perpetuates
correcthink—officially approved thought.
In Orwell’s dystopian world, Newspeak
serves the ideological goals of Ingsoc –
an abbreviation for English Socialism.
It gradually replaces Oldspeak and
becomes pivotal in defining politics and
culture. Genderspeak has the same
ideological goal. If you embed gender
ideology into words, then you control
how people think and how culture
develops.
...
Precise wording provides the incredible
benefit of letting people know what they
are talking about. It is time to reclaim
the richness of precise English…verb by
verb, adjective by adjective. Words
should not be propaganda that blocks
thought; disagreement is no crime. And
sex is reality, while gender is not. The
concept and the word “gender” should be
abandoned by people who respect either
accuracy or truth.
(read
the full article here)
EDITOR’S
NOTE:
Bruce Reimer "lost his penis" during a
botched circumcision. John Money was a
monstrous human being. Not only did
Money lie about Bruce/Brenda, Dr. Money
also asked Brian Reimer to have sexual
intercourse with his fake sister.
Brian Reimer and Bruce/Brenda Reimer on
Christmas Day
22 July 2026
Going Back. Going Forward.
“What are you doing here?”
“Probably the same thing you are doing
here.”
“I come here often, usually around sunset.”
“I also come here often, though usually at
dawn.”
“We shouldn’t be here, of all places,
together again.”
“Is that because you do not trust me? Or, is
it because you do not trust yourself?”
She looks like she is about to cry. She
moves closer, much closer.
“You can’t take my virginity again, but you
could hold me.”
We embrace. We embrace exactly like we did
forty years ago. It’s dark now. We undress
like we did forty years ago. We leave our
shoes and clothes on the same concrete
bench. We again hold hands and again take
the stone steps into the warm lake.
We again stand waist deep. I face her and
repeat what I whispered to her on that
unforgettable night so long ago:
“That’s nice. Very, very nice.”
“What’s nice?”
“Your hair.” As I stroke it and move a
strand away from her face.
“Your ears.” As I touch one, then the other,
gently massaging the earlobes.
“Your nose.” While I run a finger on it.
“Your eyes.” And, I place a finger just
below one, then the other.
“Your lips.” As I kiss my fingertip then
place it on her smile.
“Your neck.”
“Your shoulders.”
“Your chest.”
“Your breasts.” While I gently caress
one, then the other, then lightly brush one
nipple then the other.
“Your .. “
She interrupts me with a kiss. We kiss
tentatively, then passionately. We continue
kissing. She touches my erection. I reach
between her legs. She doesn’t pull away.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Not that pill. I‘m now on hormone
replacement therapy.”
“Standing here or on the grass?”
“Right here.”
The vertical alignment is perfect. I slide
the tip of my erection up and down her slit.
I go back into her vagina.
She lets out a sharp yell. We open our eyes.
We are young again. Her virginity had been
restored. Now gone again so quickly. I again
take her small amount of blood and touch my
lips, then her lips.
“Please do not repeat what you said that
night.”
“May I think those words?”
“Do you want us to have another chance?
“Do we not deserve another chance?
We resume our intercourse. We slow down from
time to time, prolonging our intense
intercourse. We nod, and allow our climaxes
to overwhelm us.
“Let’s say the words together.”
…
Forty years later, now eighty years after
their first night in the lake, an old man
and an old woman return to that spot.
They walk so slowly. Their pace somewhat
quickens once they see each other. They
embrace for a very long time. They sit on
the old concrete bench and help each other
undress. It takes them a long time. Their
undressing is sacramental and deliberate and
tender. They help each other stand. They
hold each other while they descend the stone
steps. They again stand in waist-deep water.
He slowly brings the tip of his diminished
penis to her labia.
She lets out a sharp yell. They open their
eyes.
…
Two young lovers emerge from the lake. They
dress in baggy clothes. They walk in
too-large shoes. They walk across the empty
street to the house where he has lived for
thirty-nine years.
…
This time, they remain together until dawn.
They choose to stay young. They choose to
relive long lives. They choose to avoid all
the pitfalls. They will love.
…
This time they will marry each other. This
time will be different.
15 July 2026
It’s Hard To Be Easy
If I had grown up in Australia, boys in my
school and neighborhood would have called
me, “the town bike.” It’s not because I have
two wheels. I would have earned that
nickname because everyone rode me, every
last one of them, even the preacher’s
boy.
Here, I’m called easy, or slut, or whore.
I’m none of those. I enjoy sexual pleasure.
I’m a bona
fide nymphomaniac. I enjoy orgasms,
especially the intense orgasms from
intercourse that reverberate through my
entire body. I know most girls need
stimulation of their clit to be sent into
orbit, I don’t need that. Penetrative sex –
penile-vaginal intercourse – is all I need.
Vladimir Nabokov in, Ada, or Ardor:
a Family Chronicle, wrote about, “
immoderate exploitation of physical joy.” He
was such a jerk. There is nothing moderate
about orgasms. Orgasms are, by definition,
out-of-control, loud and breathtakingly
intense. Or, was the author of Lolita
referring to any physical joy such as
fooling around, making out or stimulating
each other’s genitals? Or, was he referring
exclusively to the hint of incest in his
book?
I liked undressing shy boys who wanted sex
and then having them undress me. I liked
their awe when they exposed my flesh, my
breasts, and especially when they took off
my panties. They were all alike. They
touched me the same way and in the same
sequence. They all got hard, very hard, and
tried in vain to hide their erections. I
would tease them and touch their hot and
throbbing dicks. I loved consoling them when
they came prematurely all over me or within
a few seconds of entering my tight and wet
pussy. Then I so loved holding them and
kissing them and arousing all of their nerve
endings and putting them back in for a much
longer ride. All of them, even the virgins,
had to use a condom. They knew to bring a
condom or two or three if they wanted to
fuck me.
What was wrong with that? Why spew those
hateful terms and derision? Would you deride
a cylinder that craves a piston?
I could see why the other girls would have
hated me. They were prim and proper and
impenetrable. On many nights I had naked
boys three deep, standing by the dirt road,
stroking their dicks, waiting to fuck me in
the back seat of their friend’s car while
the driver went first, pounding me with my
legs encircling him and my nails leaving
marks on his back.
The seventies were amazing times. Sexual
liberation was in full swing and STDs were
not fatal.
EDITOR’S
NOTE:
There were also ‘town bikes’ in 1940s and
1950s West Texas. Larry McMurty, in chapter
4, Eros
in Archer County, from In a Narrow
Grave, wrote the following:
”For the boys, losing one’s virginity was an
initiatory event, important but not
especially pleasurable. Most of the boys in
my hometown had accomplished it by the age
of fourteen, 99% of them with the same
accomodating (sp.) girl.”
This image,
from Larry Clark, Teenage Lust, 1981, is
also instructive about 1970s sexual habits
in the American heartland.
08 July 2026
Mid Afternoon in the West
Midlands
I’m Nigel,
Georgina and I went to the cinema with
Becca, her sister and, Albert, her sister’s
boyfriend.
We left early because Becca and Albert
wanted to do something else.
Becca had a key to her Aunt’s house. The
four of us went in to explore.
Her Aunt had died so her detached house was
not occupied.
Becca and Albert disappeared. Gina and I
looked at each other. We smiled and moved
closer.
“Becca and Albert are going to fuck. I’ve
not fucked yet, have you?”
“No, though Neena and I have kissed and
touched each other.”
“Did you like that?”
“It was extremely good.”
“Did Neena like it too?”
“Yes, she pulled down her knickers and
showed me how to touch her.”
“Did you like that too?”
“That was the part that was extremely good.”
Georgina reaches under her skirt and pulls
down her knickers.
“Touch me like you touched Neena.”
“What if your sister and Albert come out?”
“They won’t. They fuck several times.”
I touch Georgina. She likes that. She gets
wet like Neena did.
“We should take off our clothes.”
“Gina, do you want to fuck?”
“I’ve watched Becca and Albert. I’ll show
you what to do.”
“What if you become pregnant?”
“That can’t happen. The NHS gives birth
control to all girls in council housing.”
…
“Leave your y-fronts on. We have to find a
tool.”
“What kind of tool?”
“I’ll know when I see it.”
We go out the back door. Gina has me plunge
the smooth handle with lengthwise grooves
into her. She grimaces but doesn’t scream.
“Twist it around and move it in and out.”
There is some bleeding, not much. She asks
me to wash her with the garden hose.
We go back in her Aunt’s house. She pulls
down my y-fronts, licks the tip and kisses
me there.
“Let’s go into the bedroom. That bed is big
enough for the four of us.”
…
“Georgina, what the fuck are you doing in
here?”
“Nigel and I want to fuck. We got tired of
waiting. You and Bert need to move over.”
They move over. Gina lies down, spreads her
legs. She guides me in.
“Don’t go in and out. Kiss me first. I’ll
tell you when I’m ready.”
...
Brown
Penny
by
William Butler Yeats
I
whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.
01 July 2026
TWO
NEW IMAGES
Two images have been added to How
Our Love Began. One is a chiaroscuro,
high-grain image of the top of her dress just
before it was unzipped. The second is an
extraordinary image of her pendulous breasts
while she rides me.
23 June 2026
PREVIEW
OF PART 6
The newlyweds are quiet for a long time. Kevin
remained on top. Hannah wouldn’t let him move.
First there is a long sigh, then she whispers:
“A consummation I had so devoutly wished.”
She smiles. Oh, how broadly she smiles. Her
heart has smiled every time she had seen him
for two years; all of him when he posed nude,
or more of him whenever they had encountered
each other on campus. At times, perforce,
those meetings were brief exchanges of
pleasantries. A few were prolonged; becoming
aimless walks with conversations having no
agenda. A very few were longer perambulations.
Once, they had circled the quad for almost two
hours. They had been so satisfied just to be
together that they had not needed to hold
hands.
She recalled their first weekend of sexual
intimacy. They had undressed by candlelight.
They had embraced by candlelight and kissed by
candlelight. They had pleasured each other by
guttering candlelight. They could not get
enough of each other in the subsequent
darkness.
She kissed her husband. She kept kissing her
husband. Kevin responded. He had not entirely
lost his erection. He regained full rigidity.
He thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew.
Hannah was more alive than she had ever been.
This second time she was not distracted by
anticipation, or girding herself for pain, or
concerned about bleeding, or their hours-old
marriage, or their future, or wondering how
many decades or years or months they would
have with each other.
She was fully in the moment and intensely
aware. Awareness and pure delight filled her
mind. Her heart was bursting. She so enjoyed
the novelty of rhythmic fullness and
withdrawal, more fullness and withdrawal. She
had never been in such a mental state.
In the fullness of new love, a young love, she
accepted her husband. She accepted his body
and his penis that had mesmerized her for two
years, and his penetrations, and his scent,
and his five o’clock shadow, and his stamina,
his ungodly stamina. The coxswain, her
coxswain, drummed a steady cadence. Their boat
held a steady course. They floated on a sea of
joy.
They slept on that massive iron bed. They
slept while the sea breeze ruffled the canvas
sail curtains of their porch. They slept while
a line of thunderstorms traversed the northern
horizon, silently, because they were so far
away. They slept until dawn lit the east wall
curtains. Hannah stirred first.
She stood, walked to the knee wall, parted the
canvas, and saw breathtaking beauty enhanced
by such soft morning light, a perfect light;
the sort of light that makes an artist’s eyes
misty.
She pulled her valise from under their bed.
Her drawing pad was on top. An assortment of
pencils lay below. She scampered out onto that
coastal Eden, naked as the day she was born.
She drew until Kevin found her.
She showed him four extraordinary works of
art; though incomplete, they were already
extraordinary. The land she drew was
voluptuous. Its curves were sensuous; clothed
with vitality. She called them, Landscape as a
Nude.
(With apologies to Archibald MacLeish, and his
Landscape as
a Nude (1933) from Frescoes for Mr.
Rockefeller’s City.)
............
Men, you will never fully know or understand a
woman’s sexual response or needs if you do not
ask her. Women, you will never fully know or
understand a man’s sexual response or needs if
you do not ask him. We are no longer mute
brutes living in trees. Talk to each other.
Love each other.
I have learned what I know because I have
asked; not in the heat of passion, but in the
many still and quiet moments of a loving
relationship. I listened to those answers
without interrupting. Lovemaking, especially
intense lovemaking, is best when needs and
desires are known, acknowledged, accepted and
made a part of foreplay and intercourse.
The garden of carnal delights blooms best with
care, kindness and attention.
19 June 2026
IT
IS FINISHED
The first five parts of Art
and Life (1 June 2026) are
essentially complete. A few additional
monochrome images might be added as I comb
through the archive.
Work on the series began several months ago
with the slow assembling of suitable ‘art
shots’ of the human form and its erogenous
zones and carnal relations. The initial
narrative was built around those images.
Though I was, of course, chiefly informed by
the most pleasurable activities of my
formative (deformative?) years, I also drew on
a lifetime of extensive reading and travel and
social interactions and observations.
Throughout my life, I have always paid
attention to details – all sorts of details.
Click-bait was deliberately introduced.
Autoeros has a global audience so DD’s
cringeworthy deflowering was included to
appeal to a certain traditionally North
African and West Asian demographic. Hints of
cross-dressing were added to appeal to the
wokesters, useful idiots and low-rent
Bolshevik fellow-travelers who increasingly
value works that include (overtly or even
peripherally) transvestites, sodomites,
inter-racial couplings, incest themes,
anal-rectal penetration, bondage and assorted
kinkiness. That mob necessarily devalues,
cancels and excoriates works devoid of such
themes.
I wrote back in January,
2020, “The excitation threshold was
exceeded - the point of no return. The
deliriously pleasurable contractions began. A
foretaste of paradise saith the sages.” to
introduce the Talmudic concept that sexual
ecstasy is a foretaste of paradise.
Paradise or where our consciousness goes
briefly during near-death experiences or
permanently after death, passing through what
we perceive to be a long, dark tunnel or
corridor, the actual transition from this
dimension to the other one, to meet an
all-knowing extraterrestrial who is love
personified.
I added references to paradise throughout Art and Life,
fully aware that at one time certain deluded
divines wrote and taught and preached that
women were incapable of reaching said
paradise. Samuel Sewell (1652 – 1730), who
graduated from Harvard in 1671, refuted that
silliness with his essay, Talitha Cumi,
‘Arise, Maiden’ in Aramaic (or the double
entendre, ‘Come, Maiden’). Some consider
Sewell to have been among the last of the
Puritans and one of the first of the New
England Yankees.
Sewell’s religion and worldview provided the
title of one of the classes DD and Molly had
taken together and his own name was used as
the given name of Molly’s husband.
Writing erotica is more than penning lurid
descriptions of sex acts. It is for me an
aesthetic and emotional and intellectual and
sexual exercise.
Thank you for reading.
17 June 2026
PROUD TO BE BRIGHT, WHITE AND
BOLD
While 'Most Of The World Assesses' that
someone with an IQ approximately 6 standard
deviations above the mean is likely a
sexless, pathetic geek, may I remind my
readers that Richard Feynman, the brilliant,
Nobel-prize-winning physicist was a flagrant
womanizer.
One should also consider the apparent
precocity, actually a pseudo-maturity, at
play when someone with a mental age in his
early thirties still inhabits a body with a
chronological age in the teens.
Imagine what happens when a teenager with
testosterone poisoning, delusions of
invincibility and boyish recklessness is
governed by a mind equally at ease engaging
in schoolyard fist fights and building
models of race cars and fighter jets, while
re-discovering an equation first formulated
by Gauss, reading college physics books and
conversing with federal scientists
(USDA-APHIS) about arcane subjects.
Why, he meets a pretty girl and in stolen
moments touches the hem of the garment of
adulthood (or adult foreplay as a synecdoche
of adulthood).
Why not?
At that age it is wonderful to experience a
forbidden act and, it is almost as
pleasurable, to tell one’s buddies about it.
At that age we are still our genuine selves,
not yet masked or acting. It was I, not my
alter ego, who touched a bold girl and
enjoyed the ecstasy of her reciprocating.
She didn’t merely touch me, she knew to
slide her hand back and forth and shrieked
with glee when my goo hit her arm, missing
her disheveled clothing.
If boys and girls could enjoy such harmless
fun in their mid to late teens,
heterosexuality would again be almost
universal. What normal lad would willingly
ever engage in thex (sex with a lisp and
limp wrist) if he had already played with a
girl his age? Was such adolescent
experimentation the norm for most of human
history? Of course, it was. Human fecundity
depended on such a state of affairs.
There are now very few (if any) places with
a racially homogeneous population of middle
class to upper middle class nuclear families
who have personally (not “daycare”) reared
their children to treat others with utmost
respect where such youthful experimentation
could be allowed to happen. The high-trust
society that was the America of my youth has
been deliberately destroyed. Most
non-pretending adults know or strongly
suspect the identity of the perpetrators.
1 June 2026
We
Proudly Present:
Art and Life
- a
gallery of
vignettes -
Part 1
“How did you learn how to draw so well?”
“There must be a genetic component. I’ve
always drawn whatever intrigued or interested
me.”
“Just like that?
“It wasn’t quite like that. For example, I was
born with legs, so I could start walking
before I turned one. I toddled at first. My
walking ability improved over time. So it was
with drawing. I was born with some ability, so
I drew and drew, slowly getting better. My
crayon drawings were always praised and
displayed on our refrigerator. I still have
some of them.”
“I was something like that. I’m taking an art
class now.”
“That’s great. May I see your drawings in your
lab notebook?”
“Okay. You might laugh.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I also
draw comic strips and cartoons.”
“Now I really want to see your drawings. What
are you doing after this class?”
“I’m done for the day.
“Me too.”
“The municipal museum doesn’t charge admission
this evening.”
“Let’s first stop by my room. I have extra
drawing pads and assorted pencils we could
use.”
…
“This is new.”
“They are ancient copies of Greek statues. I
read about them a few weeks ago.”
“They really bring the past to life. … These
are hyper-realistic. Look at their
musculature. They weren’t couch potatoes.”
“My class is figure drawing. None of our
models look this good.”
“You need models like Amish farmers who don’t
have electricity or diesel engines; who use
all of their muscles every day.”
“At least our models are pretty, even the
men.”
“What do you mean?”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that our
models, male and female, all look feminine.”
“Yuck. Who selects the models?”
…
On our way back, we go to my favorite Chinese
restaurant. It’s so hot I take off my bulky
sweatshirt.
“Your arms are massive. Are you at the gym all
the time?”
“No. I’m on one of the rowing teams.”
“You would make a great model for our drawing
class.”
“Nope. Only three girls have seen me naked.”
“Most of our male models wear bikini briefs.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I’m interested in drawing you.”
I study her while I finish tearing apart two
more of the crabs.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way. The
girls who have seen me naked were also naked.”
“Oh.”
…
“You are still looking at me like you want to
undress me.”
“Guys always look at me that way. Most of them
act like my boobs are all of me. You,
apparently, know exactly where my eyes are.
You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
“Your eyes are beautiful. You highlight your
eyes with restraint and an artistic
sensibility. I could spend hours looking at
your eyes and talking.”
Her smile is incredible.
We hold hands all the way back to my dorm.
…
“I don’t want this moment to end.”
“Please spend the night with me. No sex. No
groping. No hanky-panky. I want to fall asleep
holding you. I want to wake up and have you be
the first thing I see.”
“I accept your invitation.”
We kiss. Our first kiss is electric and
magnetic and powerful. Our embrace feels so
very, very good. We kiss again and again.
We keep kissing while we start undressing each
other.
We don’t stop once our shirts and jeans and
skirt are draped on my desk chair. She removes
her bra. She takes my hand and places it on
her breast. She takes my other hand and places
it on her other breast.
“I want sex. I want groping. I want
hanky-panky. I want mutual nudity. I want you
to touch me in all of the right places. My
virginity ends tonight. I want to feel you
inside of me.”
...
Part 1
Part
2
Part
3
Part 4
Part
5
.
27 May
2026
Nameless
{Story #2 from 14
January 2026)
I hold her and we fall on her bed.
Our lips lock. Our tongues engage. I slide a
hand inside her panty.
She moans and spreads her legs as I finger
her.
I part her warm labia, go down her slit, dip
a finger in her well, then drive her crazy
with its moist tip working her stiff clit,
working her into a wild frenzy of bucking
and gasping.
Then I hold her as she stills, and her
breathing slows, and her heartbeat slows,
and time slows for both of us until our
kissing resumes, then grows intense, and my
erection grows.
And I pull down her drenched panty, and she
hands me a condom, and I mount her, and
surmount her, and impale her, and plumb her
to her cervix.
(read
more)
15
March 2026
Beware
the AI on the March
AI, including both
Artificial Intimacy and Agenda
Intimacy will destroy erotica.
Once upon a
time you will “fall in love,” or
correctly, “fall in lust.” The first
time will bring about the most powerful
feelings/emotions you will have ever
felt. If you are typical, you will
continue to fall for another and another
until you find the ONE with whom you’ll
spend a lifetime, living “happily ever
after.”
It is called pair-bonding. We give it
many other names. Some are sweet. Some
are crude. Some are composed by poets. A
few are overheard in red light
districts. Pair-bonding is among the
essential human activities, on par with
breathing, drinking and eating. Without
pair-bonding humanity would cease to
exist.
Through pair-bonding we repair the
broken-ness of a solitary existence We
are made whole and delightfully complete
when we have met a mate, even if only
for an hour or one night. Man was not
meant to live alone
We yearn for intimate companionship, for
the reality and intensity of an actual
intimate relationship. If we are too
young or between intimate relationships,
we seek substitutes. If we do not live
in a sexually repressed society, such
substitutes are lawful and readily
available. The internet overflows with
sexual fantasy literature, films and
videos. Pornography (sexual fantasy
literature, films and videos) is not
new. It is as old as the hills, whether
those hills were in ancient Greece or
puritanical America. Look up, Rereading
Sex (Vintage Books, 2002), with
its fascinating facts about the
widespread availability of pornography
in the United States in its early years.
Fantasy is one thing, algorithms and
artifice are quite another thing.
Artificial Intimacy and Agenda Intimacy
are the creations of dark minds
hell-bent on fundamentally transforming
humanity. Artificial Intimacy and Agenda
Intimacy are nothing less than erotic
and sexual-content propaganda to further
that unnatural transformation.
The vast arrays of semiconductors and
logic chips and memory chips in a “data
center,” nor even those in a hyperscaler
network of interconnected “data
centers,” have ever experienced the
intense sensory pleasures of kissing and
touching and being touched by a romantic
partner. Of course, a hyperscaler
network has never either experienced an
orgasm. Those machines can only parrot
the specific information their human
masters have allowed them to scrape from
the internet.
If, as seems to be the case, the human
masters of AI are defective and depraved
sexual deviants, their machines learn
deviancy and perversions. They mirror
the proclivities of their creators.
Electronic devices will never know the
euphoria and ecstasy of falling in lust
or falling in love. They cannot know the
intimate play and teasing shared by two
lovers. It should be obvious that
machines are incapable of attraction,
affection, lust or love.
It is apparently not obvious to those
defective and depraved sexual deviants
nor to those financial wizards who fund
AI and the infernal “data centers.”
To create erotica, even to create
mediocre erotica, a human creator
informs his fiction with his sexual
experiences. I could not have written
erotica before I met my first
girlfriend. I am able to write erotica
only because of all the girlfriends,
fuck-buddies and one-night-stands I have
enjoyed
Beware Artificial
Intimacy and Agenda Intimacy.
Machines
are being programmed to normalize and
promote:
- anal (anal-rectal) penetration
- conflating “gender” and “sex”
- confusion about “sex determined at
birth” or “sex observed at birth”
- homosexual acts
- incest
- inter-racial relationships
- pedophilia
- “trans” agenda including cross
dressing and transvestic fetishism
(Gender Dysphoria is an
extremely rare condition. Most “trans”
material refers to autogynephiles or is
created to appeal to autogynephiles.)
Fake (highly contrived) most-popular
lists are manipulated to promote
unnatural acts. I do not trust any list
of the most popular erotic stories in a
website, especially if their most
popular stories all involve incest. What
sort of warped minds have the agenda of
promoting incest?
14 February 2026
He Really
Is A Fuck-Monster
We kiss.
Our tongues play well together.
We touch, first tentatively then
passionately.
Our bodies play well together.
“Why don’t you sit on my lap?”
She smiles like a shark, swings her left leg
over my legs, holds my erection with her
left hand and guides it into her as she
settles down on my lap.
In her sweet, innocent, little-girl voice:
“Is this what you wanted?”
“This is beyond my wildest wet dreams.”
She laughs. Her vagina contracts in time
with her laughter.
“It feels like you are milking me.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
(read
more)
14 January 2026
An embarrassment of riches!
Harry has two
stories in the larval stage for Valentine's
Day on 14 February.
The first one to climax wins.
STORY
1 EXCERPT:
(In a hot tub.)
We kiss.
Our tongues play well together.
We touch, first tentatively then
passionately.
Our bodies play well together.
“Why don’t you sit on my lap?”
She smiles like a shark, swings her left leg
over my legs, holds my erection with her
left hand and guides it into her as she
settles down on my lap.
In her sweet, innocent, little-girl voice:
“Is this what you wanted?”
“This is beyond my wildest wet dreams.”
She laughs. Her vagina contracts in time
with her laughter.
“It feels like you are milking me.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
STORY
2 EXCERPT:
(In a college quad.)
“You aren’t trying anything right
now? Are you?”
“Would you
like to hear that I’m trying to charm your
pants off of you, or that I’m trying to
replace my former girlfriend who is
currently at Yale, or that I’m trying to get
to know you?”
“All of
the above.”
“Your
blushing appeals to me. ... Your blushing so
intensely intrigues me.”
“Perhaps
we should change the subject. Ah … Are you
circumcised?”
“Would a
yes or no answer suffice or do you want to
see for yourself? … I bet your
blush now colors your breasts and parts
below.”
“Would a
yes or no answer suffice or do you want to
see for yourself?”
1 January 2026
Happy New
Year
31 December 2025
Hogmanay
&
Highland High Jinx
Here is part 1 of
a reader-submitted story. Actually,
it was an outline / chronology. Harry has
begun enlarging it and adding his naughty
touches.
(read
more)
24
December 2025
HO HO HO
Merry Christmas
1 July
2025
Selfies in
a Blue Bath
Illicit
images taken
in a blue
bath.
(take
a peek)
1
January 2025
Emma in
the Afternoon
“Do you have
a condom?”
“Yes.”
“PUT IT ON.”
“Emma, let me put a
finger inside you to
check the size of the
opening.”
“That’s okay, I do
that all the time.”
One finger, then two
fingers, then I try
three fingers, gently
stretching her so I
don’t hurt her when
entering
“You’re barely a
virgin. This won’t be
difficult.”
I kneel between her
legs, bring the tip of
my erection to her
opening, and plunge
in.
Emma looks startled,
then laughs.
“Why did I dread this
for so long?”
(read more)
14
January 2024
Change
Is Possible
Options
for Incels
The
celibacy of so called Incels baffles me.
Though I am not what Incels call a,
“Chad,” over the years I have found
girls and young women to be approachable
and fun loving.
My first
taste of such delights was in April in
the eighth grade.
I had a
friend who also liked assembling model
cars and airplanes. We often got
together on Saturdays. One weekend, we
were talking and gluing the plastic
parts while seated at their backyard
picnic table. Neither of us liked the
smell of the glue so we used it
outdoors.
His sister
who was almost two years older than us
came out asking if we wanted something
to eat. We were teen boys, so of course
we wanted something to eat. She came
back out with a tray. She slathered at
least a ¼ inch of mayonnaise on slices
of white bread, placed a slice of cheese
and a slice of mystery meat on each
super-lubricated piece of bread and
produced a sort of sandwich unknown to
me. I was used to egg salad sandwiches,
chicken salad sandwiches and peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches. Her fare
was an abomination.
I had,
however, been taught to be polite. I
thanked her profusely and accepted the
food. She was beaming as though praise
was seldom heard in her home.
The
following Saturday, my friend was not
home. His sister said he would be back
at any moment. We talked for a while
then she said she wanted to walk around
the block. Halfway through our
circumambulation she took my hand and we
resumed walking holding hands. She
kissed me on the cheek on our return.
She asked if I was planning on returning
in one week. I said yes.
Their
mother, a chain-smoking large woman,
would spend hours watching television,
simultaneously talking on the telephone.
I never saw her leave her upholstered
chair. Her immobility worked to our
advantage. My friend’s sister and I
could spend time in a spare room and not
be disturbed.
We learned
to become good kissers. She showed me
how to remove her brassier. We explored
each other, allowing our mutual lust to
blossom. On one of our early get
togethers I helped her remove the terry
cloth romper suit she was wearing. That
day, I thought it couldn’t possibly get
any better. It did. Boy, did it.
Later that
spring, my parents bought a house still
under construction near the leading edge
of the advancing sprawl of the large
city. We moved at the end of the summer.
We were
technically virgins when we parted. We
had tasted adult delights and satisfied
our lusts to the degree permissible to
teens of our social class at that time.
So, Incels,
how hard was that?
I was kind
to my friend’s older sister. She
rewarded me ten-thousand-fold.
(first
published here.)
21
October 2023
"She
was frothing
at the gash."
To kiss, then
touch, and
hear her
breathing
quicken, with
girlish
giggles and
sounds of pure
delight.
Then to
unclasp her
bra, set free
her breasts
with nimble
fingers, then
sucking the
slopes,
finally
reaching stiff
little
nipples, while
feeling her
panty, the
fabric moist
where it
counts.
Progressing to
her belly,
barely
touching with
fingertips,
then kissing,
sometimes just
tonguing.
Then parting
her legs,
kissing her
thighs,
especially her
inner thighs
for long
minutes,
sometimes
barely
brushing my
hand over her
mound applying
almost no
pressure,
because she
likes it that
way.
Now to perform
a very slow
depantification.
Turning down
the waistband
incrementally,
by minutes of
degrees,
kissing and
re-kissing
what I’ve
exposed.
Then revealing
curling
reddish hair,
caressing and
twirling the
strands and
infrequently
reaching under
the material
to finger the
groove and
folds, then
the nubbin,
while she
shudders, then
moans, “go
slower.”
I mount her,
sliding my
erection under
the material,
tight against
her skin, then
deeper, on top
of the slit,
within the
slit, in and
out, in and
out, until she
screams and
bucks me off.
She tears off
her panty, I
place the
small cushion
under her butt
and tease her
with my
tongue.
“Fuck me. Fuck
me now.”
You said, “Go
slower.”
…
14
September 2021
Some of you want more details about, She
Is Barely Married, an illicit story. Here you
go:
First of all, it
has been my experience that
only one third (plus or
minus) of women can
experience a vaginal orgasm.
At first, it often takes
much longer than a clitoral
orgasm. In other words,
don’t try this during a
furtive fuck in the attic or
basement while her parents
are elsewhere in the house.
How long could it take? The
longest for one of my
girlfriends has been 45
minutes. She stayed
lubricated. She really liked
the climax. Anyway, who
fucks with a stopwatch?
Trust me, time flies when
you are having fun.
Here is the key
fact: there is potential for
a vaginal orgasm IF she
stays aroused and lubricated
for many minutes of
intercourse WITHOUT direct,
external clitoral
stimulation. Stop if she is
not lubricated. Work on her
clit if you want to be with
her for more than this one
time.
One of these days
I’ll write about the girl I
met at the apartment pool.
She came up to my place and
we kept talking while I
removed my Speedo and rinsed
it in the lavatory. She was
nonchalant about my nudity.
I took that as a good sign.
11
September 2021
She Is
Barely Married, an illicit
story, is available. (read
more)
6
May 2021
Long-suffering Melinda Gates filed for
divorce. Is this why?
Bill Gates, he
can’t muster much keenness
For pounding
his wife’s Mount of Venus.
She's so
seldom orgasm-ly loft;
Microscopic
and soft
Is the usual
state of Bill's penis.
original limerick by the
one they call Desanex
11
October 2020
Shere
Hite died
a month ago at
age 77.
04
October 2020
More
Lust in the
Time of the
Corona. My newest
story, How
Our Love Began,
is
now available.
(read more)
21
March 2020
Lust
in the Time of
Corona (with
apologies to
Gabriel García
Márquez):
Russian bodybuilder and fitness model Yulia Ushakova Models Medical Masks
Imagine
unmasking her!
14
February 2020
My
Valentine's
Day story, I
Want To Do
More, is
now available.
(read more)
12
February 2020
Here
is a foretaste
of my
Valentine's
Day story, I
Want To Do
More:
We
kissed on our
second date.
The first kiss
was not
premeditated.
Our eyes met
during a lull
in our
conversation.
Smiles, more
shy than
sensuous,
filled our
faces and we
moved closer.
Our smiles
grew and our
lips moved
closer. Just
when our
smiles could
not get any
bigger, our
lips met, but
only for an
instant. We
had been
unprepared for
the intensity
of that first
kiss. We
kissed again.
And yet again.
These were simply
kisses. Not a kiss as a
preliminary nor a kiss as
prelude. Those came soon.
The kiss as
prelude is the mark of
lovers.
It starts with a
glance that leads to a kiss.
The kiss becomes a prelude
to more kisses. Those kisses
become a prelude to
foreplay. Foreplay is a
prelude to splaying legs and
spilling semen. With time,
kisses become a prelude to
promises that lead to a
commitment that leads to
permanence. Kisses bind us.
2
February 2020
Happy
Groundhog Day.
Harry finally
came out of
his writing
cave and saw
his shadow.
His latest
creative
project is
political
porn. Check
out these
pages:
a. BLOG: comments,
ephemera,
speculation, etc.
b. How to tell if your news source has an agenda.
c. An Introduction to The Left in 7 Parts.
Our
next
installment of
erotica for
this site is
due Valentines
Day. We hope
it will get
your juices
flowing.
16
January 2020
More
story ideas are
coming in. Some
will end up in
our fetish site.
Thank you for
sharing.
1
January 2020
A
new story, Latter
Day
Dalliance,
is now
available. (read more)
16
December 2019
The next
part of Californicated
is now
available. (read
more)
Part
one of
Californicated
is now
complete. Part
two will
appear during
2020.
30 November 2019
Yet more of
Californicated
is now available. (read
more)
The fifth installment
will be posted in mid
December 2019.
13
November 2019
More
of Californicated
is now
available. (read
more)
The fourth
installment will
be posted in
late November
2019.
31
October 2019
More of Californicated
is now available. (read
more)
The third installment
will be posted 13
November 2019.
17 October 2019
Californicated
is now online. (read
more)
The second installment
will be posted 31
October 2019
10 October 2019
So far, I've
told only a few
Harvard college
classmates and other
friends about this new
venture. Thank you so
much for spreading the
word. Your knowledge
of merkins, and where
they are worn, is impressive.
3
October 2019
Making
Waves
is now online. (read
more)
28
September 2019
Coming soon: Making Waves, a story
of two couples having sex in a hot tub,
and our Halloween-themed, Californicated.
22
September 2019
Could autoeros be applied to
automobiles? Cunningly yes, as in she
being Brand new, a
delicious poem by e. e. cummings.
I am now driven to distraction
by memories of making out (and more)
with girlfriends while in my car. Oh, to
fog up the windows again!
21 September 2019
So, what is autoeros?
It is 'self love' and no less worthy of
'wordship' than autocrator, autocratrix
or autodidact. Essentially,
autoeroticism is autodidactic; one of
the first things we teach ourselves.
20 September 2019
Welcome to the new primary site of the
United States Autoerotic Association. he
following pages have additional content
and links to stimulating short stories:
http://www.autoeros.com/dec.html
http://www.autoeros.com/first.html
http://www.autoeros.com/college.html
http://www.autoeros.com/one.html
http://www.autoeros.com/outdoor.html
http://www.autoeros.com/three.html
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