前言: Exordium
The passing of August marks a special time, because at the time of this writing, I have been formally doing sex work for over a year. My writing has not exactly been prolific—at least not in the context of what is publicly available at present—however, my desire to ensure that I have something cogent to which I am willing to affix my reputation has tempered my eagerness to rapidly produce more writing. The feedback that I received, and continue to receive, from my first two articles has been both overwhelmingly and surprisingly positive, so I believe that making sure that I actually have something to say before publicizing further commentary is a prudent and appropriate position to take given the circumstances.
Overall, I have very good things to say about my experiences in the prostitution industry thus far. In addition to the significant numbers of compliments I've received about my writing, my experiences with my clients, the vast majority of the time, have also been legitimately enjoyable. Granted, there have been a select few individuals I've encountered in my work who can only be described as despicable; however, my interactions with them are typically extremely brief, and I am thankful to say that those individuals definitely occupy a minority percentage of my clientele.
Given this backdrop, and the fact that I now have a somewhat extensive archive of experiential data upon which I can draw, I think it best to take the time to establish in greater clarity what exactly is going on here. When I first received the offer to join the Erotica Sinica project, I initially harbored some skepticism because, at the time, it was not fully clear to me what the tangible benefits were going to be, or what the general purpose exactly was. However, the passing of time, I am happy to say, has demonstrated that my reticence was for naught. The levels of personal and professional development from which I have—and continue to—receive benefits as a direct result of my signing onto the project is a subject about which I could easily fill several articles. That being said, in the context of this writing, I want to focus on one such benefit in particular—and that's the opportunity to contribute significantly to this blog.
Due to my status as an "early adopter"—so to speak—I am in a unique position to guide what this platform is trying to accomplish. To wit, it is my hope and intention to utilize these written contributions as an elucidative exercise to help myself—and thereby, hopefully, others as well—adequately articulate my own history and the ideas that have led me to the point where I now voluntarily sell my body as a commodity to fulfill the needs of others' (usually men's) sexual satisfaction, and do so in such a way that consistently provides enormously authentic pleasure and gratification to me personally. In my observation, people typically find this type of commentary bizarre, but I believe there is much to say here.
This may come as a shock to some in my audience, but the writings and lectures of Dr. Jordan Peterson are works that I greatly respect and admire. In multiple locations, he explains that human understanding is not limited by what we can explain in words, and in my casual observations, I find that, when presented in such terms, people are often quite amenable to this idea, because the inability to clearly explain ourselves, particularly with regards to behavior and decision making, appears to be a common human experience. Dr. Peterson himself often references artists (both in the so-called "fine arts" and "performing arts") and the seemingly paradoxical juxtaposition between their ability to navigate their respective mediums of creativity and inability to explain clearly just how they do so to illustrate this point. Indeed, it appears to be the exclusive provice of an artistic master to elucidate, in decisive words, the exact nature of his craftsmanship. Coherently pulling unspoken knowledge into eloquent spoken language is a skill that Anglophones appear to pervasively disregard, because I believe that our English speaking milieu fails to concretely appreciate just how difficult that task truly is. It is easy to assume that talking is just talking; but the truth is: words are more powerful than that. This is exactly what makes Dr. Peterson's work so inspirational. One need only watch his lectures on the Book of Genesis to witness the level of intellectual prowess required to effectively articulate the unarticulated. This here is a fundamental cornerstone to understand what I hope to accomplish within the context of his platform. I want to use these writings as my own exercise to coherently articulate what I intuitively understand to be true, to follow the example that intellectual giants like Dr. Peterson call us to emulate, regardless of how circumscribed our initial efforts may have to be. As Dr. Peterson himself so eloquently puts in his book 12 Rules for Life: compare yourself with who you were yesterday, not who someone else is today (Rule 4).
There exists an enormous amount of information that one must cover in order to understand how I fit into Erotica Sinica and the broader sexual marketplace as a prostitute, and predictably, explicating that material comprehensively will require far more than just a few cursory blog posts. However, I hope that the more you get to know me, the more accessible the valuable information I seek to capture will become, and judging by the positive reactions I have received from two gadarene brothel guides, I believe that my hope possesses a certain degree of incontestable merit.
目前时代思潮概观：A Brief Review of the Current Zeitgeist
I want to establish a simple yet blunt proposition: the amount of extravagant nonsense regarding the mechanics of female sexual desire is both extensive and pervasive. This fatuity accumulates like inexplicably scrub-immune calcium deposits on the channels of Instagram "influencers" and YouTube, shall we say, "personalities" masquerading as life coach gurus, which itself is a mere reflection of the erroneous notions that civilians often maintain due to a lack of assiduous consideration. To be sure, stereotypes do frequently arise from certain underlying patterns that are partially true, and as such, it would be rash to immediately dispose of stereotypes as a categorical knee-jerk reaction. However, many, if not most ideas are partially true, including the most destructive ones that are responsible for causing so much pain and suffering in the 20th century alone. Given that, pulling chaos into articulated knowledge requires us to achieve a certain degree of nuance so that we can simultaneously acknowledge statistical proclivities while also understanding the deeper meta truths that enable statistical variation to arise, which is exactly how great thinkers construct comprehensive models of reality. Any given phenomenon is no less real or authentic simply because it is unusual. In fact, for much of human history, it has always been the outliers and the so-called "weirdos" who guide civilization into the next stage of development; though, truth be told, we seldom acknowledge, let alone reward, their often silent labors. On this point, I take enormous inspiration from Dr. Camille Paglia—a true scholar and intellectual of the female mind and spirit, whose work I hope to later expound upon.
In light of all this, let's be very specific about just one example of something that particularly irritates me; and that's the contamination that results from mixing an accurate model of female sexual desire with a weaponized notion of "male fantasy." By virtue of its myriad remix versions, I'm sure that my meme-savvy audience is already well acquainted with the infamous clip of Claudia Restrepo talking about why she "...fucking hates video games [because] They appeal to the male fantasy" as she plays through the strip club portion of Grand Theft Auto (the fact that Buzzfeed had the audacity to call that original video "Feminists Play Grand Theft Auto For The First Time"—as if actual feminists with authentic agency would never experience anything other than Bacchic euphoria in a strip club—is an affront to what the word "feminist" ought to mean; however, the stench of Gloria Steinham's man-hating legacy on the feminist movement is a subject that I will need to address more thoroughly in separate articles). The not-so-subliminal implication behind Miss Restrepo's now endlessly lampooned comment is that female sexual desire is appropriately incongruent with men's sexual fantasies—a sentiment to which I can only say...speak for yourself, lady! Why ought this idea, so insouciently declared, be so pervasive among the general population? What's more, this idea of women, by nature, being fundamentally disinterested in the animalistic licentiousness that stereotypically governs male sexual fantasies even pervades cultural thinking beyond the Western World.
To illustrate this point, I reference Naked Ambition 3D—a campy 2014 Hong Kong sex comedy movie directed by Lee Kung-lok.
For the men of culture in the audience, those are Anri Okita's tits—some of the best to have graced all of porn 🤤🤤🤤
The story itself is a semi-incoherent narrative about a struggling erotic romance writer named Wyman Chan as he erratically establishes a career for himself as a male porn star in the Japanese Adult Video industry through a series of whimsically haphazard events, with the absurdist plot line principally justified by extensive nudity and sex scenes on the part of bona fide Japanese porn stars whom Lee Kung-lok was able to get to play themselves in the film. Regardless, most pertinent to this discussion is the climax at the end of the movie where Wyman, while in the middle of filming a reverse gang bang (i.e. one man fornicating with multiple women), begins to romantically reminisce about the previous sexual encounters he individually had with each one of the girls. Time slows; the music swells; Wyman, instead of penetrating the girls, begins massaging them, and as they all float through the clouds, he delivers the following line:
"The real key to conquer women is actually romance and care, and the real G-spot is a woman's heart; and not down there!"
An accurate rendering of my reaction to that line...
Now, obviously, I was not in the writer's room when this scene was cobbled together, so I can only surmise what was going through the movie makers' minds. However, in keeping with my earlier point, this idea that "romance" and "emotional connection" is the actual and authentic objective of the female sexual impulse is clearly prevalent in Asian culture as well. Now, do not be mistaken: intimacy and close connection are indeed fundamental human psychological needs, but they are exactly that—human psychological needs. This notion that a desire for intimacy is somehow uniquely the province of women is absurd. Men are not immune to loneliness, but for some misguided reason, societal expectation seems to assume that they are; and they suffer because of it. Moreover, their suffering further compounds because the implication that follows from this line of thinking is that women, for all intents and purposes, are feigning their interest in sexual intercourse for the unexpressed purpose of experiencing romantic closeness, because, apparently, a woman's G-spot is actually in "her heart." This creates a situation in which men are taught by elders and peers that they are pathological tyrants for placing their licentious desires upon women. Indeed, this is what makes pornography so powerful: it's a visually authentic reflection of what men intuitively want; but even then, men are taught that these women on screen are simply conforming to male ideas of sex (or, perhaps the more appropriate term here would actually be "fucking"), because, of course, women would somehow "never do these things on their own accord."
Again, I am not trying to truncate the importance of intimacy and its expression; however, these are needs that can and do operate independently. Imagine how asinine it would be if we, as a society and a culture, tried to say that women value food more than sleep, but that men value sleep more than food. These things are not mutually exclusive! Now, granted, I am not a clinical psychologist, nor is clinical psychology my chosen field of study, so proper epistemic humility requires me to refrain from presenting this assertion as academic fact; however, casual observation does seem to indicate that the inability to separate sexual needs from intimacy needs suggests that something is amiss (usually trauma of some kind). It is only when one can separate these two things as independently functioning systems that one can recombine them together without fostering pathology. Do our parallel systems have the capacity to compensate for each other? Certainly, but preserving end-result function within a narrow scope does not ameliorate the seriousness of a problem. We find this mechanic easy to understand when it manifests in the physical realm. For example, we all know that it is possible for our knees to compensate for fallen arches, and we may properly thank providence that this is the case, for malformed feet and ankles need not immediately rob us of our ability to walk or run. However, the inevitable need for knee replacement surgery proves that one's well-being would be far better served if the foot system and the knee system could independently operate as they are supposed to, so that their tandem operations can coordinate in a way that is both sustainable and healthy.
Although I cannot yet fully explain why this is the case, there is something deeply archetypal about men using women's bodies—and often vigorously so—as reductive objects of gratification. The very notion that authentic physical pleasure can be had by the women participating in this process flies in the face of both modern feminism as well as Eastern notions of female sexuality. This has some pretty serious implications, because it means that, given the correct circumstances, it is absolutely possible for women to enjoy—even to the point of orgasm—being used for men's pleasure.
To illustrate this point, I point to the opening gang bang sequence in Asa Akira's 2010 award-winning Insatiable, which is easily one of my favorite scenes ever filmed in American pornographic cinema.
I'll refrain from disclosing the number of times I've masturbated to this porno...
In this scene, Asa Akira, dressed in little more than an overcoat, walks into a dingy 1970s-style "porno theater" filled with several strapping male patrons. After disrobing, revealing her supplely voluptuous Asian body, the sex to which the 6+ team of men subject her is vicious, carnal, and—most arousingly—unrelenting. The highlight of the gang bang culminates towards the end as the men begin to take turns ejaculating on her face, in her mouth, and all over he body as she lies supine on a leather chair with her legs spread-eagle so that the men can pump her orifices with raw skin-on-skin contact before unloading upon her. At this point in the scene, Asa's moans of pleasure have become feral screams of trembling ecstasy, and as she writhes on the chair, she wails:
"Fuck me 'till you cum; feed it to me, please; I can't get enough cum...I need more!"
In case you were wondering what "cum drunk" looks like...
Of course, I do not know Asa Akira personally, nor have I ever had the chance to speak with her in any capacity as of this writing, and I do not doubt that there was a certain degree of role-play acting, particularly regarding situational setup. However, I wish to draw attention to the way in which she supplicates the men to ravage her, particularly with the words "...please; I can't get enough..." When I watch how vigorously those men fucked her, particularly towards the latter half of the scene, I have little reason to believe that she was "faking" her pleasure. After an entire year of professional prostitution and observing other women in this line of work, I am well acquainted (unfortunately) with what performative sexual pleasure looks like, and that's not it. I reference this specific moment in an already stellar porn scene because it is an embodied example of a woman's capacity to derive authentic pleasure from, yes, being used. Any woman watching this scene, provided she is able to drive a wedge between sexual needs and romantic needs, looks on with a degree of envy because, at some deep level, a female onlooker wishes it was herself in that chair experiencing that level of wanton abandon instead of Asa Akira, and that is absolutely a category in which I include myself. This level and capacity for carnal desire sits at the core of the feminine archetype, and we delude ourselves if we honestly believe that a woman in heat is the product of male whimsical fantasy. The forces at play here are far deeper than that, and we are behooved to give the power of nature, the well-spring of all life, far more credit.
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