If Ballet Was The "Acceptable" Form Of Porn In The 1800's What is the "Acceptable" Porn Today?

This a question. And I said I wouldn't answer any more questions. But that was then. This is now. And besides, this is a good question. Unlike that Tom Cruise one. Which, like anything involving Tom Cruise, was idiotic. The acceptable and so called innocent version of public porn that we have today is HIGH SCHOOL CHEERLEADING. I have a LOT - most of it x-rated - to say about this. But right at the moment I have to do something I don't want to. Coming, Dear. Ok, I made it back from that very irritating chore I had to do for no reason that I could see since it didn't need doing and when it was done nothing was different except i got interrupted and slightly injured and a little pissed. And now back to America's Acceptible Porn - HIGH SCHOOL CHEERLEADING!!! Gimmee a C! Gimmee a U! Gimmee an N! Gimmee a T! Gimmee a CUNT! CUNT! CUNTCUNTCUNT! YAAAAAAYYYYY!!! Now I KNOW that we are all supposed to "not really see" what is REALLY going on with high school cheerleading - which is: to give the teachers boners and wet pussies: boners for the hetero teachers - which is 1%, of the men teachers - and wet crotches for the skanky dyke mastadon female teachers - which is 99% of the women on the payroll. We are not supposed to see that reality. What we are SUPPOSED to see is enthusiastic young teens not running around town committing crimes but engaged in wholesome team-effort cooperation in healty American School Sports. Hey, whatever gets me lookin' at Toe. And that's with a Cee-A-EM-EE-ELL: CAMELTOE!! YAAAYYY!! Cheerleading is SUPPOSED to be a mechanism for "getting the fans enthusiastic" so that their ( the fans' ) incredible energy will be transmitted to the football players on the field and overcome their lack of teamwork and their lack of training and their lack of dicipline and their lack of ability and their lack of talent and their lack of all the other things they don't have that would enable them to win football games. Girls in high school, especially at fourteen and fifteen, when those reproductive hormones are now in full Brand New Operation, and God says "You are ready to fuck all the 60 year old men who have lived to be 60 and have proven themselves worthy reproductive specimens" - i see another post here - but which the LAW says that they may only fuck other 14 and 15 year olds. Who they do NOT want to fuck. They want to fuck the Varsity. And they're all 18 to 30, depending on their scholastic aptitudes. Where was I. Girls in high school now experiencing their first twat twangs of desire for something in their twat... if they become cheerleaders...they have a sort of epiphany. One that you are not really supposed to know about. But that I do. Cheerleading was THOUGHT, by the non cheerleading student body, to be a dumping ground for the school fags. But Dennis Ousely has a different opinion. "Male cheerleaders were the original Jack Trippers. They wanted the girls' parents to think they were fags while all the time they were finger banging the girls' assholes. All they had to say was whoops and grab some snatch. Christ I thought i was going to drop you that time. Hey Bart smell my finger. FINGER! Smell my fist!" The girls seem to be totally clueless as to the motives of the burly apes throwing them around and the burly apes must have some sort of generation-after-genration lock on the job because these guys all seem to come from the same warehouse. They NEVER look sleazy and you NEVER get the feeling that they are interested in ANYTHING other than making those really peppy and spirit-filled leaps and jumps and hurls and acrobatics look REALLY EXCITING GUYS!!! Have any of you reading this ever tried to lift a 110 pound 15 year old female off the ground by placing your hand on her ass? Tell me, which way would your fingers be pointing during that little chore do you think. Well, let me help you here. It depends on whether, when the fifteen year old is over your head while you are balancing her by her ass with your palm, it depends on whether the two of you are facing the same direction. If you ARE, and that would be both forward, your fingers will be aimed toward her back. And the heel of your hand will be firmly under the center of her 15 year old ass crack. Is that something you would like Bobby? May I call you Bobby Boner? - 'cuz I see you HAVE one now. If she is facing THE OPPOSITE WAY from you - with her facing the crowd and you facing the field: your hand is still under her ass crack but your fingers are now right dead center in the middle of her pussy. A pussy that has never borne young. A pussy that has probably never ever even STANK! A pussy her own Dad has never gotten to feel even though he's been dreaming about feeling it since she was 13. " Ya know,I've never seen a cheer-lift attain that configuration, with the cheerleader facing the crowd and the lifter faciing the field: I've never seen that, asshole." You might be saying that to me right now, scratching your head, and saying "ummm...with, ya know, the dude's hand on the cheerleader's pussy: I think I would have noticed that." Well, I'll tell you something Inspector Columbo, you WOULD have noticed it if it had made it out onto the field and had become a part of the official cheerleading routine choreography. Let me tell you something else: I used to be one of those guys. I used to be one of those gay cheerleader sweater-wearing hand clapping goofballs. Performing in front of crowds was something i did since kindergarten and beyond. By the time I got to high school, and got a gander of what was going on just on the sidelines of every game, I was quick to put two and two together and it added up to frottage, pseudo-tribadism, molestation, dry humping, cop-a-feel-all-day-every-day, and perpetual loss of precum lube fluids PLUS pussy shots and and ass shots from underneath lookin right up at their snatches and them lookin' off into the horizon and screaming letters of the alphabet and not giving a shit what you were doing. It was the best answer putting two and two together I had ever gotten. Then or since. Having recently been a fired Mouseketeer and having my life being made miserable anyway by the fuckheads in high school I saw no reason at all not to undergo a little bit more - maybe a lot more - harassment and abuse if it meant that by adding on these few straws of torture I would be reaping a daily harvest of wheatfields of jacking off memories to last ten thousand lifetimes. And that's just what being a male cheerleader got me.. The Pep Squad, whatever the fuck that was, was completely enthusiastic about me wanting to "learn how to cheer." That Mouseketeer stuff, you know. And cheering was a whopping lot easier than a lotta other shit i learned in the course of my "show business" "career," and it was a whole lot more erotic. You should have seen the twat that made it onto the cheeleading squad. Many were called but only the fucking babes were chosen. And these chicks had more tricks up their sleeves and up their skirts than a jungle full of monkeys on Benzadrine. And all the tricks had to do with making them even bigger prick-teasers than they already were. Prick teasing is Job One to a high school chick, and the cuter they are the harder they work at it. First to go were the undersleeves of the pants. Or uniform panties. Or shorts. Or whatever the fuck they are. The issued drawers had a lining of satin or something. Something slippery. And the shorts themselves were not the hot elastic briefs of today' cheerleader minxes, they were almost baggy. The girls wanted none of this nonsense. When you're a male cheerleader and the whole school thinks you're a fag, the cheerleaders think you're a fag too. Chicks have NO problem with fags. Especially fag lift-partners. You become one of them. You're one of the girls. I learned that teenage high school girls have an agenda no guys and no adults know about: they want groinal stimulation. They only very recently "came alive" down there and they are pretty happy about it. But most teen girls ain't about to go out and get laid to take care of it. They don't need to. They ain't like us. They can work-around shit and be just as happy. One of the ways they work around not getting laid, if they're cheerleaders in short skirts and regulation underwear that some dude's gonna have his hands on all day, sometimes aggressively, is to minimize the distance between the dude's hands and the cheerleaders' twats and asses. The first thing to go is the underlining of the shorts. The underwear also gets conveniently not worn. Them saggy briefs get pulled up tight or replaced with shit they buy themselves or design in female clutches of creativity in secret. "For the athletic benefits" is the agreed-upon excuse. It's really for the arousal benefits. Chicks are different with guys they think are fags than with guys they know are drooling boiling water from their nostrils to get into their pants. They don't give one goddamn shit how a fag feels them up. They figure he aint gettin'-off on it, that he's, if anything, a little disgusted and annoyed and just putting-up with it. But that male hand, as far as their TWATS are concerned is a male hand. And having boys' hands on their pussies and tits is something they like. Anyone bored here yet? The routines we had to learn as cheerleaders that I was performing for free were actually harder and more complicated and required more work - for which I was being paid nothing - and were tougher than the Mouseketeer routines I had to do for which I was known around the world and for which I got paid a living wage at age 12 suitable for a 35 year old guy with a wife and 4 kids. The cheerleading was taught by - the cheerleaders! The routines were pretty simple by today's standards of Olympic Competition Level Cheerleading. But primitive as it was and bad as the pay was, there was plenty of hands-on shit for me to keep me in teen fantasy Valhalla Times Ten. I never got to hold ANNETTE up in the air by her ass. So who cared about the pay rate here? The job description was enough to keep me showin' up for work every day. The jocks who were makin'-out with the cheerleaders, they never quite knew what to make of us cheer guys putting our hands on their girlfriends tits and asses and pussies. But they figured we were gay so there must not have been enything to worry about. I didnt even know what "gay" even was. Guys that WERE gay never admitted it then. To do so was practically a fate worse than death. It was all hush hush big time. I was in such a wonderland of heterosexual teen bliss that I never gave fags or fag activities or fag life a billionth of a second's thought. I would go home in the evening and leave buckets of jizz all over the house before I hit the sack. Then back to school again for more. The chicks did not like the linings of the shorts. Because us dudes were "one of the girls" we got to hear every piece of day-to-day chatter they drowned themselves in every minute of every day. They would talk about their pussies like they were parts of a car. It was all real matter of fact, like dudes talking about a new glass pak for the exhaust system. Everything they "did to their shorts" was for "practical" reasons. None of it had anything to do with arousal. Which was total bull. I didn't KNOW it was bull at the time but I can see it pretty clear now. At the time all I knew was I didn't give a shit what their fucking reasons were for making those puffy outer lips just a wee bit visible to me when I had them overhead. Jesus. Those chicks are STILL gettin' jizz outa me. They also seemed to either have enough sense to know - or else there was some sort of Adult Undergrouond Persuasion going on - they seemed to have anough sense to know that SOMETHING was drawing crowds to the football games that was more than the fucking football games. I am not prepared to say that the girls were deliberately parading porn in the faces of the crowd. But they might have been doing it unconciously based on their hormonal impetus. When you reach puberty and your gonad engines are chugging to life, this is all New Shit To A Teen Ager. And in a Catholic high school you are not sat down and given a college-level lecture on biochemistry regarding your new manias in life that have just kicked in. In fact you are told constantly that you are now dangerously teetering towards eternal damnation if you PAY ANY ATTENTION AT ALL TO THESE URGES AND
MORE URGES THAT NEVER END. Of course this kind of oppression makes the monster growing inside grow even faster and larger and more demanding. Especially for the girls because they take all this shit seriously. Guys just figure ok, I go to hell, so? Let's fuck!. Girls are different. They're a lot more introspective and superficially cooperative with "the rules." Can't give in too my twat yearnings?...." they say: "....ok; I'll let my sub and unconcious minds take care of things." And how the subconcious and unconcious minds of these children take care of things is too make them ravenously more horny than ever. It therefore became almost as essential a part of the moves themselves, in the routines, that their pussies were experiencing the maximum and most constant arousal possible shy of actual sex. And that's where us "fags" came in. Eeeeee-yesssssss!!!! I actually have no recollection at all of the other dudes on the cheerleading squad. Yes, I know what you're saying, "That's because you were blowing them so much and playing with their cocks and were so covered in their jizz that you have blocked it into oblivion." Whatever the reason, I can't even recall the fuckers. I really was pretty preoccupied, both with learning and performing these weird dances, and with trying not to commit any overtly perverted acts that would make it pretty clear to the girls that I was a total chick-lecher in gay doofus's clothing. Practice sessions were going on all the time with us. To a "normal" cheerleader, which I was not, cheering was the most important reason you were going to high school at all. It was totally nuts. It was like the "gym decorating committee" on meth. It was complete, feverish enthusiasm. Which was fine with me: the broadcasting of the enthusiasm was so intense and thick it basically completely obscured all the perversion I was wallowing myself in to where it wasn't even noticeable to the girls as perversion. It was interpreted as "cheerleading." To the girls in cheerleading moving your legs as far apart as possible and displaying your pussy in as flagrant and glaring a manner as possible to a thousand gaping adult male strangers, all with daughters of their own, all of them leaking precum into their pants in the stands - this was what apparently made life worth living. They would stand on one foot and raise the other leg behind them and make their pussies the center of attention. They would leap into the air and kick both legs to the side and make their pussies the center of attention. If they couldn't hold one leg up in the air for as long as they thought necessary for people to get a good long gander at their pussies, they would have one of US hold it up for them so that their pussies would be visible longer. Sometimes I would have tears in my eyes, my face would be so close to a perfectly shaped pair of outer pussy puffages on some athletic little petite energetic astoundingly pixie-cute little specimen of high school fuck fodder. Sometimes I would be like a cat in a house who sees a bluejay on the sill outside the closed window, the cat staring absolutely rigid, it's face vibrating in this evil-grin of fangs and teeth and glaring eyes and this little, barely audible chitteriing coming out of its throat as though it has forgotten how to meow or the cd is skipping electronically in its jaws. That's how it would be for me, over and over, staring face first into those modified, twat-caressing shorts. I should mention, you almost had to be one of the male cheerleaders to get this clear a picture of things between these chicks' legs. The crowd was far enough away to be in a continual state of total frustration mixed with eternal hope. "Was....was that a definite taco shape I just saw???? Shit! Hold those poses longer goddammit!! Fuck. Shit. Maybe they'll do it again. I gotta change locations. Shit, what do I tell the ol' lady. 'Scuse me dear, I gotta move a little closer to that hot teeny 15 year old brunette's spread legs, I THINK she has her shorts so tight against her crotch that I can make out some definite pussy moundage.' Naa, that pro'bly ain't gonna fly with this fucking bitch." It was a riot. Between cheers I would just stand there and watch the crowd, I didn't give a shit about the game or whatever the reason was were were cheering in the first place, and all the married dudes would be staring like hungry frustrated dogs at the cheerleaders who were, as you know, totally Forbidden Fruit to an adult middle aged human male in the United States. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Those poor desolate bastards. Were the girls actually targeting these guys with their labor-intensive-altered uniform panties? Were they getting some early training in the use of their pussy power? Hard ta say. I don't think they were quite all that thought-out. But ya know, with chicks ya never know. They pretty much have the edge on us in subterfuge, and that's a fact. Now about the matter of holding the cheerleader up by her ass with the the two of you facing opposite directions: that was never an actual cheer. But me, being new to the cheerleading game and wanting to do as much as necessary to enthusiatically contribute to our success - however our meaningless success was to be determined - I would of course make suggestions or express dissatisfaction with this move or that leap or this bend or that pose. Being a Mouseketeer in Exile I was of course granted every courtesy in the interests of experimentation. I was the professional!! Early on, holding I think Lynn by the ass in a straight-arm over my head, I suddenly tipped her forward to the ground and went "Whew! Sorry! That's so unbalanced! Can this be done with me facing the reverse? This both-of-us-forward shit is brutal!!!" One thing I can do is act. Not in front of a camera so well, but in real life, pretty fucking good. I can get that emotion to be felt by the listener and convince them it's real. Also I'm Italian: emotion and upset is expected from Italians. "Face the other way?????" This was the befuddled inquiry from the saucy little empty-head. "Yeah, let's try it, c'mon." and I clapped my hands three times or so real fast. Say anything at all to a cheerleader in her uniform and say it with vigor and energy and she'll be instantly up for it. Before she knew she was doing it she was over my head, in the air, in my hand, facing the wrong way. My fingers were flat against and buried into the rolls and seam of her pussy. This was my first high school piece of ass. That right there, with Lynn over my head and me with her pussy in my right hand. "SEE? THIS IS BETTER!!!" I screamed from under her skirt, staggering all around, pretending I was not all-off-balance. With your hand on her pussy or not, holding a chick over your head in the wrong direction is even more brutal than the other way. I had to drop her down. My back was fucking snapping apart. When she hit I yelled enthusiastically "THAT WAS SO MUCH BETTER!!! YOU FELT LIKE NOTHING!!!" This was the biggest lie in the history of the galaxy. "Really?" She had immediately forgotten i was just a moment ago embedding ten years of constant future jackoff sessions into my memory cells. "YEAH C'MON ONCE MORE THIS'LL BE A LOT BETTER THIS WAY." Total enthusiatic teen fag enthusiasm over nothing being screamed at the top of my voice with lots of body movement all over the place. I got three more handfulls of Lynn's brand new unused pussy in my dickhand before one of the other idiots said, "I don't think any of us should have our backs to the audience." This got universal agreement, even from me. How could I not have realized that? "Ok, never mind, let's just keep doing it the regular way." Jesus. It was blatant sleaze of the highest order and I have a hunch I wasn't the only one who knew it. The male cheerleaders NEVER talked about the sleaze factor of any of this, either to the girls or to ourselves. I know I never did. I never talked to the dudes much anyway. I was a little afraid of them. I was the smallest male on the squad. The others were pretty beefy. I was there at all only because I could move better than the other dudes, since i was a pro "mover." And to me this was all "just more dances to learn," which is what I had been doing all my life anyway. And I picked the shit up almost faster than the girls. Plus I was a Mouseketeer. They weren't about to get rid o' me no matter what I did. And I wasn't doing that much wrong. At least not so's you'd notice. And if the girls were noticing they weren't saying anything. Let's move ahead 40 years. At some point about ten years ago I noticed American Cheerleader magazine. I think it was Issue One. I was a total magazine freak, I monitored newsstands. I brought it home and opened it up and went "Jesus Fucking Christ On Wheels." The skirts were shorter, the pants were tighter, the jumps were higher, and every photo was a pussy shot. It was unreal. It was fantastic. I got a subscription immediately. For two years I was in total amazement at how even more erotic cheering had become. I was there only at the infancy stages of the sleaze. It was now nationwide and making money!! Word must have gotten out who was REALLY buying American Cheerleader magazine because now it is more like Mormon-Amish-Buddhist-Monthly. The photography-editing has reached a new level of purity and wholesomeness. It's enough to make you puke.