In your private moments with your significant other, casual nocturnal acquaintance, or even with a random you met at the pub, you may explore the fullness of your sexuality. It’s a modern world, and taboos are dropping. ‘Anything between consenting anybodies’ as Marvin Gaye so eloquently put it.
Not for the bogan male. He believes it exists purely to bust taboos, if not hymens. He goes straight up the date.
Seasoned by years of cramp-inducing porn consumption, the bogan male no longer has a concept of a healthy sexual relationship. It must now dominate sluts. It must place its engorged member in as many inappropriate holes as it can conceive of (two) while shouting ‘Take it, bitch!’ and slapping her on the backflaps. The bogan wants to put the xxx in x-treme.
The women’s movement of the 60s transformed the world’s ideas of how to do the deed. Pleasuring women became equally important to pleasuring the man. If the standard – missionary – position fails to achieve orgasm for the woman, it would no longer be standard. Creativity and sensitivity are required. Unfortunately, because of the debilitating effect of porn on the bogan male’s reality, and its butter-smeared grasp on human intimacy, meaningful relationships and women generally, the bogan has a fierce desire only for maxtreme fucking. X-treme max double-penetrative sex is the only sex. The bogan wishes to live out the narratives presented on its computer screen by Randy Cockburger.
The bogan will approach sexual encounters initially as an opportunity to live out the dream promised to it in Slutwoman II, whereby he merely nods his head, draws his pork sword (just like he did on the footy trip), and proceeds to slap a woman around the head with it. “Here it is, get at it, ho”, proclaims the bogan male, embodying a glorious hybrid of Ron Jeremy and Charlie Sheen. When this approach fails, he adopts the James Bond model, assuming that his suave exterior and debonair behaviour (quips derived from last week’s edition of Zoo Weekly) will simply result in an acquiescent corporate lawyer-come-lingerie model falling blindly into bed with him. “Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants”.
Finally, he falls back on the tried and true bogan combination of eight vodka cruisers, half an hour of intense begging, and the promise of three extra charms for her Pandora bracelet. The bogan female, meanwhile, has had the concept of x-treme anal normalised in her social group ever since Tiarnee said that her boyfriend promised her a Tiffany’s bracelet after she let him have a go at her arse. The bracelet has never been sighted.
While the heterosexual bogan male loves to absolutely jackhammer the crap out of every ‘forbidden’ female hole he can find, it goes without saying the bogan’s own anus is, to use engineering parlance, a bridge too far. This is because the bogan is terrified of the concept that there are some men who prefer to share their parlour of pleasure with other men. The bogan, whose repertoire of witty insults is made up entirely of tired synonyms for ‘homosexual’, considers homosexuality strange and unnatural, yet is perfectly happy to rub one out whilst watching videos of girls fisting each other.
In the moments directly after his maxx orgasm, the Jeremy/Sheen bogan is perplexed – is she asleep, or has she merely fallen into a coma of intense ecstasy? Or has his gentle donkey punch completely rendered her unconscious?