distinguish between sexual abuse and consensual sexual encounters between teens. Mississippi already boasts the highest teen pregnancy rate in the country. Maybe they are striving for the number one spot in preventing parent/child communication, as well….
15) This past November, a convicted sex offender in Oklahoma had little reason to celebrate having his criminal record expunged. That’s because the requirement that he register as a sex offender for life remained. This is particularly problematic seeing as the individual in question is a kid. Due to age of consent laws, he was convicted at sixteen of having consensual sex with a thirteen-year-old girl. His mother explains that sex offender status meant the boy was, “removed from high school [and] prohibited from being in the presence of children other than his younger brother. He can’t go near schools, day care centers or parks. His brother, age eleven, can’t bring friends into their home. If his brother had been a girl, Ricky [the offender] would have been removed from his home.” The United States has some of the toughest sex offender laws in the world and Ricky is far from the only teen forced to live under such conditions. As Human Rights Watch reports, “Some children are on registries because they committed serious sex offenses, such as forcibly raping a much younger child. Other children are labeled sex offenders for such noncoercive or nonviolent and age-appropriate activities as “playing doctor,” youthful pranks such as exposing one’s buttocks, and noncoercive teen sex.”
There has been talk recently about America’s liberalizing morality.
But as long as teens and gay men are still under attack for having sex, and teachers and parents still get in trouble for talking about it, then it would seem as if there is still quite a way to go before we can claim that this is the dawn of a progressive new era.
What Really Turns Men On
John DeVore
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so are boners. One of my most profound sexual experiences was a hand job in the basement of a friend’s house in high school. She was taller, broader, and more confident than me. To call her voluptuous seems cliché; she was an incandescent teenage Valkyrie with ice-cream skin and soft arcs of flesh, and I wanted to dig my quivering fingers into her strong back, pull her into me, and die just a little, for the briefest of moments. She lay on her side next to me, naked, perfumed with sweat, the curves of her hips so pronounced I imagined Lilliputian skateboarders zooming toward her pinched waist. Her hands were strong, her tongue was sweet, and when I came all over her adorable little belly, I collapsed into her full bosom, and in a way, I’ve stayed there ever since.
I have a secret: what turns me on isn’t necessarily what I’m told should turn me on. And even worse, what turns me on isn’t what
I’ve told other people should turn them on. For many years, I was a men’s magazine editor. As you can imagine, many hours were devoted to doing what editors for those kinds of publications do: playing video games on the company clock, writing highbrow flatulence jokes, and researching beer bongs. Then there were the models. I spent a lot of time sifting through modeling agency photos, interviewing models, working with them on photo shoots. The first thing you should know about models is that most are very nice, and they all think they’re fat and/or ugly. But the fact was, deep down, I was never turned on by the scenes we’d place these professionals in. Cheerleaders with galactic hooters posing in the rain wearing nothing but heels and leather belts never did it for me. To get turned on, I needed curves. Curves, long legs and a devilish twinkle in the eye.
There is no reason to hate on our collective notions of beauty, so I’m not going to. Does Megan Fox cause my eyes to pop out of their sockets, cartoon-style? Sure. But it’s an almost Pavlovian
15) This past November, a convicted sex offender in Oklahoma had little reason to celebrate having his criminal record expunged. That’s because the requirement that he register as a sex offender for life remained. This is particularly problematic seeing as the individual in question is a kid. Due to age of consent laws, he was convicted at sixteen of having consensual sex with a thirteen-year-old girl. His mother explains that sex offender status meant the boy was, “removed from high school [and] prohibited from being in the presence of children other than his younger brother. He can’t go near schools, day care centers or parks. His brother, age eleven, can’t bring friends into their home. If his brother had been a girl, Ricky [the offender] would have been removed from his home.” The United States has some of the toughest sex offender laws in the world and Ricky is far from the only teen forced to live under such conditions. As Human Rights Watch reports, “Some children are on registries because they committed serious sex offenses, such as forcibly raping a much younger child. Other children are labeled sex offenders for such noncoercive or nonviolent and age-appropriate activities as “playing doctor,” youthful pranks such as exposing one’s buttocks, and noncoercive teen sex.”
There has been talk recently about America’s liberalizing morality.
But as long as teens and gay men are still under attack for having sex, and teachers and parents still get in trouble for talking about it, then it would seem as if there is still quite a way to go before we can claim that this is the dawn of a progressive new era.
What Really Turns Men On
John DeVore
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so are boners. One of my most profound sexual experiences was a hand job in the basement of a friend’s house in high school. She was taller, broader, and more confident than me. To call her voluptuous seems cliché; she was an incandescent teenage Valkyrie with ice-cream skin and soft arcs of flesh, and I wanted to dig my quivering fingers into her strong back, pull her into me, and die just a little, for the briefest of moments. She lay on her side next to me, naked, perfumed with sweat, the curves of her hips so pronounced I imagined Lilliputian skateboarders zooming toward her pinched waist. Her hands were strong, her tongue was sweet, and when I came all over her adorable little belly, I collapsed into her full bosom, and in a way, I’ve stayed there ever since.
I have a secret: what turns me on isn’t necessarily what I’m told should turn me on. And even worse, what turns me on isn’t what
I’ve told other people should turn them on. For many years, I was a men’s magazine editor. As you can imagine, many hours were devoted to doing what editors for those kinds of publications do: playing video games on the company clock, writing highbrow flatulence jokes, and researching beer bongs. Then there were the models. I spent a lot of time sifting through modeling agency photos, interviewing models, working with them on photo shoots. The first thing you should know about models is that most are very nice, and they all think they’re fat and/or ugly. But the fact was, deep down, I was never turned on by the scenes we’d place these professionals in. Cheerleaders with galactic hooters posing in the rain wearing nothing but heels and leather belts never did it for me. To get turned on, I needed curves. Curves, long legs and a devilish twinkle in the eye.
There is no reason to hate on our collective notions of beauty, so I’m not going to. Does Megan Fox cause my eyes to pop out of their sockets, cartoon-style? Sure. But it’s an almost Pavlovian
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