Male Sexual Vulnerability
By: Liam Macadam
Tags: Sex, Fantasies, Essay, Vulnerability, Men

Male Sexual Vulnerability

(Image property of the author)

Sex is all about vulnerability. At its most basic, we take off our clothes — our armor — and expose the most delicate parts of ourselves to each other. When we think of our earliest ancestors on the African savanna, copulating involved putting their very lives at risk.

And that’s just the physical part. Yes, we shed layers of bodily protection to have sex, but the emotional dimension can be even more powerful than the physical. That seems to be where real connection happens.

I‘ve been thinking about that a lot lately. I’ve always considered emotional vulnerability to be about sharing feelings, about giving up the pretense that you’re invincible.

What Would James Bond Do?

But lately, I’ve come to appreciate that there is an added level of risk involved in asking for what you want in the bedroom. Sometimes what you want the most feels embarrassing or shameful.

Let’s face it: there are certain desires that fit the idealized mold of masculine identity. The basic rule of thumb for men can be summed up with the abbreviation WWJBD.

What Would James Bond Do?

I’m not talking about Daniel Craig here, or even Pierce Brosnan. As a man, if you can’t picture Sean Connery doing it, you’re in suspect territory.

Do you fantasize about having two women at once? Wonderful! A blow job in an airplane washroom? Splendid! Want to take a woman over your knee and spank her until her cheeks turn red? Delightful!

But what about the guy who is really turned on by, say, dressing up in women’s clothes. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, of course — nobody gets hurt — but it will probably be hard for him to find a woman to enthusiastically support that kink. Not impossible, but much harder than if his tastes were more conventional. And if he shares that fantasy with other men, he is likely to be greeted with repulsion, or worse. That’s where the shame comes in.

While my wife has some amazing lingerie, dressing up in women’s clothes just isn’t my thing. And I actually feel grateful for that. You can’t help what turns you on, but some fantasies are easier to pursue than others.

I believe there is such a thing as ‘fantasy privilege’.

Some fantasies have the force of social approval behind them, making everything easier. Some fantasies don’t. I used to hesitate before sharing my bi-curiosity with people, but I’ve discovered so many women are into it now that I don’t hold back. It somehow became cool in the last couple of years.

But this summer I unexpectedly bumped right up against ‘fantasy privilege’ when I walked into our bedroom to find my wife Kate adjusting her new strap-on.

Prior to that moment, I had spent exactly zero combined seconds in my entire life fantasizing about having a dildo in my mouth.

We are swingers, and it was a couple days before we were having our good friends Michelle and Sam over. Kate had just inserted a new, bigger dildo into the harness and she was hoping to use it on Michelle.

The gender-bending sight of her turned me on so much that I started to kiss her. She began rubbing the silicone penis against mine, and soon I was stroking it and running my fingertip over the molded opening. Kate asked me if I wanted to suck on it.

Prior to that moment, I had spent exactly zero combined seconds in my entire life fantasizing about having a dildo in my mouth. But as soon as she mentioned it, I wanted it badly. I surprised myself. It was yet another instance of the improvisational genius my wife has in sexual situations.

Even though I wanted it, I immediately felt some internal resistance. A primitive part of me was afraid she would judge me for being unmanly. Like most males, I’ve been culturally programmed since childhood to avoid appearing feminine in any way. It’s hard to overcome that, even though Kate has none of those hang-ups.

We had amazing sex afterward.

I was afraid that the thing I had unexpectedly enjoyed in private with Kate would embarrass me in front of an audience.

A few days later, when our friends came over, Kate decided to raise the stakes. As she was getting ready to penetrate Michelle with the strap-on, she walked over to where I had sat down to watch. Instead of putting lube on the dildo, she asked me to suck on it to get it wet. I froze.

At a conscious level, I knew Michelle and Sam to be open-minded, thoughtful, compassionate people. Deep down, though, I was afraid that the thing I had unexpectedly enjoyed in private with Kate would embarrass me in front of an audience.

It’s a sadly familiar feeling, the fear that the proceedings will suddenly screech to a halt as everyone processes their disgust. Party over.

I had to decide very quickly what to do. I knew if I quietly said ‘no’ that Kate wouldn’t push the issue, and the moment would pass. But another part of me didn’t want to play it safe, so I did what she asked.

And, sure enough, Michelle and Sam came right over to watch. They clearly loved it.

I, however, didn’t love it. Not this time. Yes, when we were alone, I had worried that Kate would judge me, but I was mainly carried forward on a wave of my own, spontaneous lust. In front of our friends, my consent was an act of willpower.

As awesome as Michelle and Sam are, I couldn’t just let go and enjoy. Among other things, I was worried that sucking on a dildo might be hot if I was younger, but could look all wrong for a man in his late 50’s.

Fortunately, my inner struggle had been invisible to our friends. Everyone seemed to have a good time in the bedroom. When the action wound down, we went outside to relax in the backyard and enjoy some drinks.

As we were chatting, Sam announced out of nowhere that he had a confession to make. He circled around the subject for a bit before telling us he had always felt sexually intimidated by Kate. Something about her beauty and confidence triggered feelings of inadequacy in him.

These were unfamiliar emotions for him. In his professional life, he is very successful. People look up to him. Yet with Kate, he worries about failing to perform and the shame that would result.

It was a touching moment. I never would have guessed that Sam ever experienced self-doubt, what with his big cock and his Ivy League degree. Yet there he was, actually shaking a little as he told us.

In different ways, Sam and I were both struggling to conform to a rigid ideal of masculinity. I don’t know where Sam got his from, but I’m aware that mine can be traced at least partly to watching James Bond movies as a teenager. No one told me to model myself after Ian Fleming’s fictional creation, but I’m sure part of what I wanted was his invulnerability.

But I think life is at least partly a journey to define ourselves.

It’s common in our culture to think of every obstacle to happiness as an injustice that must be eliminated. Usually, some malevolent epiphenomenon like ‘society’ or ‘the media’ is blamed. Sometimes, a hero is knocked off a pedestal.

But I think life is at least partly a journey to define ourselves. We inherit and borrow ideas when we are younger. We critique and adapt them as we get older. We not only need role models to emulate, but we need others to differentiate ourselves from.

There’s nothing wrong with being Agent 007, but I’m sure he missed out on a lot of fun.