Monday, March 26, 2012

Hootin' 'n' Hollerin'

Last Friday I had the leisure and privacy to do a little something I hadn’t done in a very long time. I turned the lights low, drew down the blinds, pulled off my pants, dropped my drawers, and then settled down for a long, sloppy session of masturbation. Just me and my greased-up inches. On camera. In front of a good, oh, hundred and twenty people.

Getting on cam and showing off my stuff was one of the things I did a heck of a lot back in the days I was first keeping my blog. Before that, even. I was showing off my dick on CU-SeeMe back in the early nineties, and over proprietary software before that. Hell, I was taking moving pictures of my junk to Eadweard Muybridge back in the days of the magic lantern, son, in what was the industry’s first example of the ‘long shot.’ Bam!

Anyway. It had been a while.

But as I said, I had the time, and the person I’d been expecting to meet that afternoon had been forced to cancel and I didn’t have the heart to meet anyone. On camera seemed like the place to be. I started off on Manhunt, where the video cam rooms can be either very hot, or deadly dull, with no in-between. They were deadly dull. I took my dick over to my account, where I started off with a very small but appreciative group of viewers, including a regular reader of my blog. Soon this group swelled into a mob.

By the end of an hour, the mob was so overwhelming that I was having to spend more time clicking off private messages demanding that I show my feet or my hole, and accepting friend requests, than I was actually beating my meat.

That’s when I know it’s time to go.

I was still all boned up with nowhere to go, though, so I took it to Skype, where one of my cam4 viewers was begging me to meet him. He was a Latin boy, all of twenty, and pretty and furry in all the right spots. He had a killer smile, a lean body, and an enormous curved uncut dick I wanted to get to know better.

Once I had Skype fired up, I accepted the kid’s friend request and let him call me. Within seconds, that enormous curved dick was filling up my screen. “Hola, papi!” he growled.

It was right then that I remembered why I don’t show off on Skype all that often. For one thing, I prefer the places where I can show off to a bunch of different folk at once. For another, on Manhunt or cam4, I can turn off my sound. I don’t have to talk. On Skype, they expect you to talk.

And when I start talking during sex, I sound like a completely different person than what normally I am.

Oh, it’s not so bad in one-on-one sex. On camera, though, or on those three to five occasions I’ve growled obscenities in someone’s ear over the telephone, something happens to my carefully modulated tones. I start drawling. If a word ends in -ing, you’re sure as hell not going to hear that -g sound. I start using phrases I never employ in my everyday life, like Spread those ass cheeks for me, cowboy!, or Hoooo-eeee! That dick sure looks mighty good!

In short, I become very, very Southern.

Now, I grew up Southern. My mom married my dad straight out of the back hills of Georgia with the red clay still wet on her bare feet. As a child I had the cutest little Southern accent. I ate grits, growing up. I’ve lost the outward appearances of that cultural identity over the years, though. When I moved to the midwest for graduate school, I realized that no matter what I said, people weren’t taking me at all seriously because of my accent. I could put forth a linguistic assessment of a passage we’d read with all the correct jargon, using all the faddish theorists of the time, and I’d look around the classroom and see people beaming at me, right down to the professor, who’d eventually shake his head and say, “That accent is so cute. What part of the South are you from, again?”

So I trained my accent out of my voice. For the most part. It’s still there in there way my voice appears to be softer than it really is—it’s just the way my vowels are resisting curling up into a full Southern drawl. I developed a very neutral way of speaking that doesn’t really call much attention to itself, so that people could hear the message rather than the dipthongs of where I grew up.

But hoooo-eee, cowboy, does that all fly out the damn window when I’ve got my pants around my ankles and Skype fired up. Suddenly I sound like I’m Bo Duke behind the wheel of The General Lee, tryin’ to get outta the way of Boss Hogg before he up ’n’ starts causin’ some goddamn trouble again.

It’s fuckin' appalling.

I’m not embarrassed about my background. I don’t feel particularly self-conscious when I’m showing off on cam. But neither do I understand why, once I see that little green light glowing above my screen and I know someone’s listening to me, suddenly I’m making the exclamations “Daaaaaamn!” or “Shiiiiiiiit!” have three syllables apiece, or why I take on a good ol’ boy affect that I never had even at my most Southern-bound. I don't know why I start hootin' 'n' hollerin' like a redneck yokel. It’s not a matter of dropping the acculturation that’s stuck to me since, like barnacles. I don’t speak like that at my angriest, or my most depressed, or my most unguarded. Why do I do it at my horniest?

All I know is that it’s got to stop. If I regress any further, I’ll start babbling about not knowin’ anything about birthin’ no babies, at the height of some jerk-off session.

I'm pretty sure I'm correct in assuming that’s a turn-on for nobody, right?


  1. You, fishing for compliments? Heaven forfend! Rest assured we Connecticut yankees love us some rednecks! It's like wish fulfillment ... Now put on your beat up ball cap, your wife beater and grab your pack of skoal!

  2. I would like to just assure you that you are not the only one with this problem. My mom and her family are all from Louisiana. There are times when I slip into their accent and it just does NOT go away. I can even get a bayou accent some times, and my family is not from there.

    But that isn't the accent that comes out during sex. People would likely think it sexy if it did (lots of love for the southern genteel talk). The one that can pop out is my deep, Maine accent. The one that barely pronounces anything that isn't a grunt. When I was a kid, I was so teased for it, I actually fabricated a Midwest accent to stop the taunting. What is worse is the few times both accents try to happen together. I shudder on fear of those moments.


  3. Many years ago I worked for a company that was based in the south and when you talked to them or they came out to California, you would hear their southern accent. After awhile I noticed 'ya'll' made it into my everyday way of speaking. And 25 years later, you will still hear me saying ya'll. So while you may have the south sneak back into your voice, the southern way of speaking has a way of getting into anyones speech. I should be talking like 'narly dude, and oh my god', a cross between a surfer and a valley girl, but what comes out at times, "How ya'll doin" or "Watcha all doin'

    You must be awesome to see on cam :-)

  4. I have the opposite of that, Rob. I've lived in Florida for 40 years. I escaped the Northeast my sophomore year in college. Years later, people will be listening to me, then lean in and say:
    Hey, you're from the tri-state area! (NJ,NY,CT) Well, damn, years ago! mwg

  5. I grew up in the south too, but wasn't ever very happy there; I'm totally unattracted to the southern look and used to love going to the airport when I was in high school because it was the best place to see attractive men (cuz they were from someplace else). My parents are yankees so I always daydreamed about escaping north. But when I got to college, also in the south, I discovered the Very Intelligent Man With The Country Accent, which was instantly boner-producing-- I had just never experienced that before. But I don't much go for the pure redneck thing. Sometimes I hook up when I come back home to visit family (like this week!) but it's typically more of the latter than the former.

    I lost my accent a long time ago also-- I know it was very heavy when I was little. I have met guys who are turned on by my southern-ness (vague as it is) and it always kinda skeeves me out a bit, personally. I feel fetishized for something I don't hugely identify with!

  6. Growing up in the west, easterners and southerners sound weird to me, but a stud is a stud no matter where he lives.

  7. Ok, so maybe my earlier comment about you being a Southern Belle was... poorly timed?

  8. Rob,

    I would love to hear your southern accent. Mine is a mixture due to living over several areas over many years and whom ever I am chatting with or around can bring out the different accents and bury the other ones. I guess I am pure mutt since there are different heritages in my family plus then the multiple accents.

    I know if you went southern with me you would have me becoming your southern lass.


  9. I live out in the country between Norfolk and Richmond and you're right it can be downright "appalling" or said the right way it can have the opposite effect and be absolutely sexy. I grew up in Pittsburgh and I can't shake my normally nasal "Yankee" accent either, ever, although with a lot of thinking (and practice) I can get downright Virginia country with the best of 'em.

  10. nothing would turn me on when youre knocking me up than your southern twang.

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