Writer Adam Clifford was a staple of Dirtyboyz magazine as it ran its five years of reporting porn, sexual health and what makes gay men tick on the fetish side – so we asked Adam to tell us his Covid lockdown tales. Warning: Not for the faint-hearted.
Hysteria burns. This is end times. What will become of mankind? The fall of the West no longer seems a Hollywood movie but a plausible reality. The beast drawls and fire stirs in my beefy loins. I gave up on the news in early March and decided to be disconnected silly-serious instead. I closed Facebook and Twitter but kept Instagram open for shallow hawt gay totty. Fuck the echo chambers of frigid frustrations and its obedient regressive mob! To hell with corporate protest, I’m a soldier ready for war – polishing my tool.
I traded likes for crude filth in horny banter on Britain’s male ‘Sex Factor’ slot show aka Cam4. I’m a patriot when it comes to wanking. I want it close to hand so always selected the United Kingdom knob. When the empire goes under so does one’s prissy dignity and spring awakens new soiled, darker yearnings. Freedom begins on a sinking ship deep in the pandemic. This captain is going down with his men proud singing Britannia! The only glory being virtual without hope and full of shit.
Isolated under house arrest, I grew a beard, stopped washing and became fond of ode moi. That’s putting it mildly. I got off on being disgusting and encouraged others to be real natural men in their digital stables high up in fetid clouds.
Months later after graduation from the school of cam filth I could cut to the chase with an emoji oink to get my kick, but the journey into the pigsty made it beyond sexy. I learnt a new vocabulary, equalling a bigger confidence – becoming animal.
My fat big cheesy cock dripped precum and my bed sheets had skids galore all summer. Who cares? What does it matter with no certainties of a future. Going deeper into the cyber maze of token rent, I witnessed prisoners with pink electric rods in their used assholes. I enjoyed watching the coin tarts spasm getting fucked by the machine punters. I would devour another way as I’m totally skint.
Men are mostly bottoms but you gotta be clever-tough to conquer them and take them the extra mile. Oink-oink! Control. I have none in reality so I shall project my dominant will and this makes the moment almost safe.
Victim one is Blondie, a young twink from Southampton. He wants his daddy – I can tell by his shaved lubed open pussy and his pointing toes. The fresh-faced lad has an expression of never being satisfied, no matter how many old cocks fuck him. Little pig, let me in. From private message to Skype we are alone and his eyes pop at the size of my rigid dick. I have him on his back in no time with endless toys shooting his pink elastic. Moaning like a bitch he holds his ankles and farts between dildo poundings. He must have been fucked earlier in the day as he farts shit cum. So much for social distancing, I fatherly ground him and take an angered exit.
Back prowling the pens, I find Ginger, the headless hairy jock cub. I seduce him like a bird in a nightclub with easy chat-up lines. He’s a slag, cheating on his boyfriend all ashamed and guilty horny. He’s been made a top by default and is desperate to bottom. I make him slap his ass red raw. Like a girl he keeps saying I don’t know if I can take that. I say you don’t have a choice and he squeals. He needs humiliating. Punishment. Ginger’s head is now in the toilet basin and his shitty crack is splayed as he wanks, crying. I just use him. That’s what he really wants. Doing the dirty I make him mine with all self-respect gone. As the weeks roll by, Ginger starts sending me pictures of his ripe cunt as he knows that’s the only way I’d fuck it in real-time. I ignore him for my pleasure and this drives him wild. He becomes porky in the lockdown as I feed him well.
Now Black is my favourite pig cos he plays a good game that’s so hard to win and I always want more. He’s an older skinhead top who sweetly blushes. A smirk beyond roleplay, this unnerves me as he makes me feel exposed and foolish. Our first cyber meet I splayed my dirty hole for him and demanded to be eaten. He has a ferocious hungry appetite with a warm sexy smile and is just happy to play along. He is human in this sex matrix. After we cum hard we laugh at our sexual absurdity and flip into the stratosphere of conversation on spirituality, politics, pop culture and common acquaintances. This interaction grounds me. It’s so easy to get lost when one is alone for months. I need touch, eye contact and smell for ecstasy. So Cam4 can be a dating app if you’re willing to take off the mask and walk out to the next level.
So the point of this sordid fable Is I got physically more relaxed, dropped consumer bullshit, realised you need not much to get by other than an intimate friendship and become a patriot. No one is shitting in my backyard unless I choose. When you’re in a war zone you gotta man up. Make a choice. Corporate communism or independent farming? This is my pen I snort loud, joining the right in unusual times. God save the Queen and all our heroes. Oink for freedom.