Even among the most monogamous of us, there are what I term 'parasexualities' which are little incidental moments of sexual engagement that pass through our libido consciousness. Most reach us via the eye and that sense alone. Of course I am speaking of an attractive view, be it a website like this one, or a pretty actress, or a nice-looking model... or someone in real life that happens to be in our midst.

There are also transient sexual thoughts that are self-prompted via memory or imagination, coming either while we are waking or asleep. The latter ones are usually more fulfilling, as they happen, because during sleep the central nervous system, which controls all the impulses to and in the brain, is unable to discern between the real and the vividly imagined experience. This is why dreams can contain any number of outlandish situations that break social norms (ie public nudity) as well as natural and physical laws (ie, flying) and yet 'feel real' as we dream them.

Another commonplace parasexuality that I just realised only a few years ago is the social hug. Now hugging is such a commonplace act that we seldom really analyse it or pay attention to it while it happens. I only when I was introduced to my wife's Aunt Tammy, who is a large fun-loving happily-married mother of four... she took me up in a hug and when she did I became distinctly aware that she was pressing her breasts into my chest, probably because they are quite large and therefore not easily ignored. All the other times we have met for extended-family gatherings have also involved similar hugs from Tammy and invariably each hug involves her putting her breasts all over me.

Tammy is a fun-loving 50something and she has her libido and I like it too, but are we beyond the pale with regards to hugging? We don't roll around, we don't extend, yadda yadda, and this is really just a normal hug.

Human beings, ordinarily so hesitant and sheltered with their sexuality (except as it applies to the eye) have nevertheless given themselves the social ritual of the hug, which is a full-body chest press contact for one or two seconds. If we saw penguins do this -- come together, bump up, press, and then retreat -- we would know instinctively, what they were doing. I knew this in grade seven, when our junior high began organising afterschool dances as a necessary acknowledgement and assimilation of puberty and hormones, because the intoxicatingly great thing about going to those sock hops were the slow-dances, where boys and girls embraced and touched, her hair was centimetres from your nose (ohhh), and most importantly her left breast was gently pressed against the middle of your chest.

You see -- society affords us these things. Society opens the door for a little parasexuality without having to be married to the person. Only the Taliban have rebelled so much against their natural anthropology to deny these things.

To return to the most commonly engaged organ in parasexuality: The eye.

I spent New Year's Eve with my wife in a five-star hotel that had a full-shot fitness centre with pool, sauna, showers, locker-room and the whole bit. In the evening we went down to use them and it was an opportunity for a little parasexuality. Any kind of swimming activity is a parasexuality, because it is centred around the body and physical exertion in common with others, but of course because it involves very little clothing and the exposure of the body to an extent not seen outside the pool or the beach. It's kind of a Temporal Autonymous Zone (qv Hakim Bey) in which the level of social toleration increases. Sometimes we forget that a swimsuit offers basically the same amount of coverage as a bra and panties and can over offer less, because wet lycra-spandex conceals less than frilled cotton.

Anyhow that was nice but it went further than that: The first time I went to a fitness club (aged about ten) I was super shocked and surprised to see that many men moved about the locker change room totally nude, like an ancient Greek gymnasium. Of course I was totally terrified and wore my shorts the whole while. As I aged and had only a few incidental re-visits to locker rooms, communal showers, and the like I was pretty timid and hurredly changed in a corner. Until about two years ago, when at a different hotel, in the locker room, alone, changing by a locker, I got an idea in my head. This was after I was married, see, and had been solidly monogamous for quite some time. I was alone in there, and changing slowly, and I decided that when a guy came in and walked by me I was going to time dropping my shorts until the right moment.

A guy did come in, walk along as I was changing, and when he was about five metres away I changed my shorts. It all happened in a flash (pardon the pun), and it was a flash of parasexuality: I became aware that my pubes and cock and balls were suddenly out in the open, and I saw the guys' eyes flicker down, and he continued along, and I continued along, and that was it.

To return to the hotel this NYE: Fuck it, I am going to be one of those guys that doesn't hide anything. My uncle was like that, when I was a child in the 1970s, he would take his morning shower and then stand fully nude in front of the bathroom mirror while he shaved, and his daughter and I would giggle as we passed by the door which he always left open, ostensibly to dissipate steam but also to have his own exhibitionist parasexuality. (xxxxxx-type fantasies and parasexualities are so common simply because of the amount of time we spend in the domestic situation and because our first exposure to nudity is usually via family members.) I feel pretty proud of my body, finally, after having dropped about 30 pounds of flabb over the summer, and I had no reason to hide, right, because this is a men's locker room?

After swimming I removed my trunks and showered nude, reasonably so, and then strode over, in the buff, to my locker to replace my clothes. I liked being an exhibitionist -- I felt good about my body and think that it looks pretty good, objectively. There were two men in the change room, both in their 30s and 40s, and as always happens, they secretively, furtively, quickly, sent their glances across my package. In a moment one of these guys was changing, he was bashful and did it with his back to the room but there was a mirror that reflected some of it, and I saw his ass, the fold between his leg and hip, and just the briefest measure of black pubes.

And the thing is: All men do it. For me personally I would rate myself 1.25 on Kinsey's scale, which is heterosexual with just incidental homosexual experiences. I certainly don't have the attraction to men that I do to women and believe me were there co-ed locker-change rooms I would much rather be there than with the dudes. But there is something exciting, something that sparks excitement, in dudes too.

You don't have to be homosexual to be excited by cock, to find that it starts a sexual smoulder. To me, what is exciting about a cock is knowing that it has been intimately involved with pussy. This head, while hard, has been pushed twixt lips and into cunt, this shaft has driven in and out, this cock has spit its semen in a sexual act. To me, that is exciting, and that makes the phallus an inherently sexually exciting thing. I've had sexual experiences with two male friends, and while I hand-jobbed the first one at 15 I was thinking "So this is what Stacey is sucking on," and while I sucked the second one at 30 I was thinking "So this is what he fucks Louisa's cunt with." *That* was what made me interested and excited in them.

But to return to the subject at hand: Parasexualities are those little incidents that are afforded to people without complications or involvements, and they even preserve plausible denial, saying that it was an accident or I-didn't-even-realise or whatever. If we are successfully monogamous they are going to be the only kind of sexuality that we have with anyone other than our spouse.

But writing this on Newbie Nudes is like sending coals to Newcastle. You know all that already! That is why you are here!

Both my wife and I have been having 'difficulty' with married monogamy in the last year of our four-year marriage. But, really, we've been having difficulty with it our whole lives because in looking back over past history, neither of us have been 'monogamous' to our boy/girlfriends if we could help it, or if the opportunity was available elsewhere. Past relationships have usually ended when interest in a new person waxed as interest in the present person waned (whether I was the waxer or the waner), and it felt more ethical to dump & switch than to cheat.

After our relationship began in earnest* it took perhaps a bit longer than would be necessary for us to curtail seeing other people.

(* When I came into her life I was the third person in. She was then juggling a dude and another woman!! The other two withered, and I remained.)

When I was in grade ten I developed an apt similie for the obligation of monogamy, expressed as a 15year old would express it: "Even if I had a free lifetime pass to eat at Wendy's, I would on occasion spend money to eat at McDonald's." This is how I justified leaving a girlfriend that was dedicated to me in order to pursue a girl that was not (and, also, happened to be my best friend's girlfriend at the time.) (PS I did fuck her eventually.)

My adult similie for married monogamy is this: Pledging to marry someone and be faithful to them unto death is like buying a house or signing a lease and pledging to never move out. It may be a terrific dwelling place, you can do renovations here and there over the years, you can decorate it to whatever extent you can afford, but you will never have another mailing address besides that one and you will never move to another house or apartment for any reason.

Moreover, you must spend every night for the rest of your life there. You can visit with a friend but you certainly can't stay the night! You can look at a hotel, and even sit in the lobby, but you are forbidden to take a room, for you must return to your home address to sleep each and every night for the rest of your life. You are free to come and go as you please but your trips must be of less than 18 hours duration because you must return home to sleep. This will continue until you die, or until the house burns down, at which time you can find another place to live.

What else is monogamy like? Monogamy is like unto being a nightworker. Working at night in opposition to the body's circadian rhythms can certainly be done, and is done by many for years on end, but it takes dedication and a xxxxxx hand... should that hand ever lessen its force, the body will shift back to the rhythm that it prefers, which is to be awake in the daytime and asleep at night.

There are many married monogamous people out there and I salute them and their effort and their dedication to what they have chosen to uphold. It takes effort to hold that line. The effort is a dedicated resistance to what our bodies know to be good and desirable and valuable, and what we dream about at night when we are set free from our moral and ethical obligations to our spouses, our families, and our children (though we have none of the latter.)

And if you don't believe it, what the H are you doing on Newbie Nudes?

So what do we do? Well, we have it both ways: We stay married, we love our spouses, but we sneak through things on the side, be they night-time dreams, secret web-surfing, flirts and incidents and accidents outside the home, and some of us go on flits and take mistresses.

My sexuality didn't change when I got married, but my living condition and my obligations to another did. I still feel the same way I did when I was single and/or dating, with regards to women and to life, but society's message in response was YEAH IT'S OK BUT REPRESS IT FROM ACTION. I was prepared to live like that -- giving myself private and discreet dispensations for masturbation, and this website, &c. -- until I discovered that for the last year my wife, in a similar situation for similar reasons, had granted herself dispensation to have sex with men she met on Craig's List.

I am struggling with my sexuality and its place in my life. In this I have developed a sympathy for those who are doing likewise but have bigger stakes than I do. Ever-so-fortunately for me, my sexuality finds its food in grown-up women consentually doing the basic vanilla positions and orientations. I express sympathy for those who are drawn toward boys the way that I am drawn toward women. I know the irresistable pull of sexuality but I do not know the angst of it making me a sex offender, thank God. But sometimes when I was with my mistress I felt like we were committing a sex crime anyway. One hundred years ago, we would have been.

Well, after lurking here for years and years, Ive decided to finally contribute something back, both in writing a blog and in taking and submitting some photos. If I believe in the project and what it represents, then it only seems reasonable that I should be active instead of passive.

I was wary of sending anything in, because this site already has way too many guys hanging their dongers. I still don't expect any response save the ordinary, or my page-views to ever escape mere double digits. But this is okay. The new world of DIY digital media (music, writing, porn) breaks the old professional/analogue paradigm of one performer selling millions of copies: It actually flips it the other way round, and we have a situation of an audience of one, browsing through a million performers with their clicking mouse. That's better. The middle men and the copyright pimps are put out of business.

I am more wont to hang my donger at this point because I am separating from my wife in the new year, and beginning a chapter of unknown durationas an unmarried person. I have felt unduly under the strict control and surveillance of my wife for quite some time and yearn to breathe and act free, making my own decisions, and having fun where I find it to be reasonable and justified without first checking it with my wife or mother (or catching shit when she discovers it.) In marriage you lose the ability to be your own person, full stop.

I'm also more inclined to get naked since I lost a considerable amount of weight since the summer, going from about 180 pounds to around 163. It makes a tremendous difference in how my body looks and feels. My face and jawline have a definition now instead of being just rounded chubs. For more than 20 years I carried around the bummer of being a chubby kid, teenager, 20er and 30er, and it only took about three months of running for an hour twice or thrice per week. Why not celebrate that shit?

So I am ready to make a contribution, be hospitable to you all, and share some views of my body. It's really exactly the same as everyone elses' but (obviously) it is very special to me.

That sign from the 70's on the sex shop and peep show, advertising the sex-masturbation instinct, trying to coax passersby into becoming customers... is the perfect synonym for the sexual instinct. It is, in a very real and literal way, adult fun; meaning, the adult's conception of fun. Having fun is as important to the adult as having fun is to the child.

That feeling, entering into one of the 10,000 apartments, knowing that you will be making love — all the way — to that woman in a few moments... quite a trip. In a situation like that, you are to sex as a cigarette is to nicotine, and she is to sex as a milk carton is to milk. But that's what fun's all about... you need a play-mate to be able to play, and have fun. That's the adult's world, and until you can really understand and appreciate sex as fun, you aren't really an adult. A person who can't make that understanding is a repressed person held back in a sort of pre-adult world.

Drugs and alcohol are also adult fun. (Drugs are illegal fun, being too much fun permitted by law.) Alcohol and sex are legally controlled substances that those under n years are not supposed to get. (The law holds children to children's fun only.) The total teetotalers, the prudes and the temperants, never reach adulthood, as they never experience an adult's conception of fun. Once again, having fun is as important to the adult as having fun is important to the child.

Adults, like children, go where the fun is available, and they stick around when-where they are having fun, so long as they continue to have fun, or want it.

It is for us disobedient adults as it is for those disobedient children: Just too good to be able to resist.

Just recently I've begun reading some of these blogs on this website, sometimes after viewing the photos, sometimes before.

What I have found in common to many contributors is a bit of a malaise or a drag with life. The pictures are totally concerned with sex, of course, but the blogs often are not. Where is the connexion?

I think it is because sex (in this case exhibitionisme) is the antidote to the blahs. Sex really is a terrific thing -- it brings energy and excitement, optimism and encouragement, to quotidian life. This is what sex is meant to do, and I love to read the blogs of people who revive their spirits and put smiles back on their faces after a tiring day or situation by getting themselves all hot & bothered.

If professional porn dies, and amateur becomes all that there is for porn(we will always have the celebrity nudes, and models) and this lasts for a generation, forever changing our sexual morés, what would be the paradigm shift?

It might be this: It would be the norm for people to have a portfolio of themselves in pornographic and/or nudographic; and the exchange of portfolios would be a form of sexual encounter. Send me yours and I'll send you mine. That is not so revolutionary, but how about this: Perhaps, after being bathed in pornography and nudography for so long, we would grow less protective of our own porn/nudos, and become quite more liberal with who we give it to?

I think this is coming soon to a computer and a marriage near you, and I think it is an area for sexologists, therapists, and culture-watchers to discuss and debate, vis à vis, what the situation is with regards to computer-assisted wankery when the person being wanked over is not Paris Hilton but someone from work, or a friend, or some other real-world person, as in the future it looks like every computer-wank will be for an amateur girl next door and not a Hollywood pop tart.

I haven't yet seen anyone on Newbie Nudes that I know in real life. But I've seen on Facebook contemporary photos of a woman who was my girlfriend, very briefly, in grade seven; photos taken in a Caribbean resort, her with huge boobs in bikini top with button nipples. They sure weren't like that when we dated when we were 12 years old. Did I grab my cock and wank out a shot? Damn right.