(For me, Super Bowl Sunday frequently erupts into a festival of sex, either literal or fictional, between men, so this posting about my relationship to the event will be awash in male bodyparts and mansex, described in street language, and will therefore be entirely unsuitable for kids and the sexually modest.)
That would be Super Bowl LIV, the San Francisco 49ers vs. the Kansas City Chiefs at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami Gardens FL, game time 6:30 EST, so going on as I type this:
(#1) The logo for Super Bowl 54, in all of its boring shininess
I have an unbroken record of not viewing Super Bowl games, and not giving a shit about any of their details — I had to go look up the facts above — so my custom has always been to do something out of the public eye, where my homonormative sports-averse masculinity won’t incite thugs to harass me. Chamber music concerts used to be a favorite alternative, along with occasional Super Bowl days reveling in cock at the gay baths (some notes below), but I’ve been a lone homebody for some years now, and get my Super Bowl mansex in videos; today has brought me many pleasurable hours re-viewing the oeuvre of the sweetly smiling hunky Damien Crosse, that exponent of sexually democratic, mutually attentive sex, intense assfucking, and cum facials, among other things. (I’ll expound further on DC’s charms in another posting.)
After some brief notes on that logo — the hell with the game, let’s talk about design, honey — I’ll run through some Super Bowl notes roughly in reverse chronological order. Backwards will run the postings until reels the mind.
The logo. It follows the pattern established ten years ago, when someone introduced the shiny metallic dick ejaculating a great big shiny metallic football as a design element. (I believe many people think the vertical element is just supporting the football, but sharp-eyed viewers know otherwise.) And then, in the place of complex and varied logos, we got this:
(#2)
Yesterday: the demise of Mr. Peanut as a Super Bowl ad event. From my 2/1/10 posting “Revisiting 42: stalked by a giant anthropomorphic squirrel”, with a David Sipress cartoon:
(#3)
the cartoon is exquisitely topical: Mr. Peanut has in fact just met his death (though not as the prey of a giant squirrel), and will be mourned at the Super Bowl [on the 2nd]
(Further details in the posting.)
And now: Sexy Sunday, ooh, what have you done? (in 2016, 2014, and 1996)
2016: Gridiron Gang Bang. In my 2/6/16 posting “The Super Bowl looms”:
On Super Bowl 50, a gay gangbang, language play in porn, and the careening career of gay pornstar Dayton O’Connor, all of this inspired by an ad today under the header “C1R Locker Room Super Bowl Pass”, with two stills from the Channel 1 Releasing gay porn flick Gridiron Gang Bang: a locker room scene and a rear shot of Dayton O’Connor in football gear.
(#4)
2014: two Todd Winters videos. Not previously blogged about, but then today on AZBogX, in my posting “Jocks, Socks & Cocks”:
Two gay porn items [both from 2014] that came to my mind for Super Bowl LIV today:
From Channel 1 Releasing: Todd Winters as a football player, in Rascal’s Take One For The Team (with a jockstrap on the cover, but no dick)
(#5)
and in Catalina’s Jocks, Socks & Cocks (with three stiff dicks on the cover, in a careful formal composition of sexually significant visual elements)
(#6) Cover cropped to hide the three hard cocks
(The AZBlogX piece has an analysis of the formal composition of the cover of JS&C, using the material cropped above.)
Note on Take One For The Team. From the Lexico / Oxford site:
phrase take one for the team: US informal Willingly undertake an unpleasant task or make a personal sacrifice for the collective benefit of one’s friends or colleagues.‘I took one for the team by naming myself the designated driver’
But then the idiom can be understood as roughly equivalent to take it for the team, with it understood as referring to a penis; take it ‘to have sexual intercourse’ (in GDoS from 1910 on) is in fact understood as receptive intercourse specifically, and can be either vaginal or, especially, anal (to take it up/in the ass). Putting all this together gets us from the neutral idiom take one for the team to the contextually conveyed ‘get fucked (up the ass) for (or by) the team’, which is what the porn video is about.
Note on the ad copy for JS&C. A bit of excellent iconic prosody built on conventional dirty talk: four pile-driving feet followed by two lightly racing feet: hard deep fucking followed by a rapid shower of cum:
(#6)
(The vowels are also nicely chosen.) All of these poetic niceties are of course intuitive, not calculated — choices made just because they “sounded right” to the writer.
1996: Superbowl Sunday at the baths in San Jose. An account reproduced on AZBlogX in three parts on 10/3/10. Intense and personal, but also analytical: participant observation. The three parts: “Superbowl Sunday (Part I): San Jose, 1996” (link), “Superbowl Sunday (Part II)” (link); “Superbowl Sunday: notes” (link).
From the first:
Football fan. At the gay baths, there is a noticeable outflow of patrons as the magic hour of 3 (Pacific Time) approaches: fags hurrying on to their Superbowl parties.
I know what some of you are saying to yourselves: they aren’t real fags, they are mostly-straight bisexuals, in the closet, getting a little dick on the side. And that is probably the case for the first guy I play with – a guy with hugely broad shoulders and big chest who reels me in in the porn-TV lounge by stroking his proportionally big hard-on under his towel and staring fixedly at me. I follow him back to his room, where it turns out that what he wants is to suck my cock for a little while, an experience that gets him so excited he comes almost immediately (in a spray that goes over two feet – it splashes on his face – something I’ve never seen before and find entertaining, in a Believe It or Not sort of way).
Football Fan has a wedding ring on. In the over 40 years since my first carnal experience with another man, I’ve had maybe a dozen guys ask to suck my cock and then shoot within seconds of taking it (always appreciatively, but then as far as they were concerned we were done). Every one of them was a married man, to judge from their wedding rings or their explicit testimonies.
Football Fan was, I believe, a lone patron that Super Day, looking for dick on his own hook.
But, in the other direction, it wasn’t uncommon for two or three buddies (sometimes, they were married friends, ostensibly just guys hanging out with one another) to turn up together to get serviced by willing cocksuckers, to get the easy, skilled, responsibility-free, just-the-sex-man blow jobs that (they feel) their women can’t provide. Usually completely unreciprocal sex, but not at all hostile. Still … as one of them said to me after I’d taken his load (with pleasure) and suggested I’d like him to exchange the favor, “Well, you can’t help being the way you are, but I’m not queer”. Not hostile, but thoughtlessly contemptuous.
In any case, all of these MSMs could get their quick mansex fix and go on refreshed to their Super Bowl parties. In a way, I was relieved that Football Fan was in and out so quickly, because he really was a football fan, and if we’d talked any more he would have discovered what a dead loss I was in the sports department, and maybe then in his eyes I wouldn’t have been man enough to get him off.
(Eventually, I had an extraordinarily good time, stretching over a couple of hours, amazingly intricate and satisfying sex with just one guy, on that Super Day at the baths. But no football was involved in any way.)
