(Ed Note: The views expressed below are not necessarily shared by Cultist. Or its editor. Whose name rhymes with Shmasi) Dog collars? Totally down. Nipple clamps? SURE. Spanking? Twice (on each cheek) please. Sex and sexuality wise, I’m pretty much game for anything. However, as a mostly uncensored sex writer, I live in constant fear of my one and only old-fashioned Victorian modesty being discovered. So in order to avoid being forced to feign astonishment or arousal at the witness of a stranger’s cock under the warped augmentation of fisheye lenses, I’m speaking out in dick pic protest (picket signs to come). Don’t judge me for saying this, or do if it will prevent you from asking me to look at this awesome text message you just received (because I know that’s code for  boner in your inbox), but I am really freaked out by all your photos of bulging penises and especially the ones of the half-limp biz-dicks. I understand that it turns you on, but it really doesn’t do the same for me. At all.

The other day I was taking a coffee break with my proudest single girlfriend. As she fruitlessly struggled to rehydrate from last night’s debauchery with caffeinated beverages, she grabbed her jean-short-short-clad-crotch, shifted around in her seat and announced, “My vag is so sore from getting rammed by XX last night. His dick is just huge. Look at this pic.” Embarrassed by my little prude “problem,” I reluctantly obliged her request (it felt like an order) to look at this balance beam of a thing she’d spent all night doing tricks on. It’d been at least a week since I’d been pressured into praising my friend’s current boy toy’s cock, so I convinced myself that it would be a easy task that would satiate her need for approval and then I could move on with my life relatively unscathed and that would be that. I was wrong. She was not overstating its ominous presence even by a centimeter. This thing was a mean fleshy monster masquerading as male genitalia. And it took all my strength not to gag as if I was being forced, in real life, to swallow that gargantuan thing. And if I had to, I’d have serious concerns about drowning to death in semen (yes the grown up me knows that the quantity of ejaculate is not correlated with size but still).

My objection to the dick pic is two-fold. I reject it on an aesthetic level mostly. It’s not a moral thing.  I love sex and talking about it…with words. It’s just that I am freaked out by both the veiny, bulbous nature of a stranger’s erect member posing at size-distorting angles, as well as the owner’s vulnerable, over-eager face, either blue steel or emo and candid (all equally offensive), creepily peering out from a dimly lit bathroom or worse a drab office cubicle. The only thing I have less desire to examine than a close-up of your fuck buddy’s blushing business is his self-conscious expression bubbling with youthful eagerness and smug satisfaction at this unwrapped gift he is presenting you so ungracefully with. And the most repugnant, uncomfortable part about a dick pic perhaps might be the manner in which these cocky (pun intended) exhibitionist sexters violently thrust toward the camera like they are trying to hump your eyelids, tightly gripping at their pre-pubescent looking-shaven cock basins to give the illusion of as much girth as possible.

In summation, I’m thrilled that your vagina is gettin’ a good beat down. She’s been a bad girl and she deserves it. And if you still feel inclined to show off your boo’s pink python, by all means please find your filthiest friend and brag, brag, brag. And then come find me (because I’ll be hiding from you), and we can gossip and use vulgar, unladylike  language. We can do anything you want, as long as it does not include the sharing of fluorescently lit pictures. There are no exceptions to this policy, unless of course you’ve bedded the Loch Ness Monster.

Jane Helpern

About Jane Helpern

Writer & Over-sharer. @janeohelp jane@cultistzine.com