Practice Safe Sex!

By now you may have heard about the late Rev. Gary Aldridge, friend of Jerry Falwell, who was dead in his home, with… well, why don’t you just read the autopsy:

EVIDENCE OF INJURY

The decedent is clothed in a diving wet suit, a face mask which has a single vent for breathing, a rubberized head mask having an opening for the mouth and eyes, a second rubberized suit with suspenders, rubberized male underwear, hands and feet have diving gloves and slippers. There are numerous straps and cords restraining the decedent. There is a leather belt about the midriff. There is a series of ligatures extending from the hands to the feet. The hands are bound behind the back. The feet are tied to the hands. There are nylon ligatures holding these in place with leather straps about the wrists and ankles. There are plastic cords also tied about the hands and feet with a single plastic cord extending up to the head and surrounding the lower neck. There is a dildo in the anus covered with a condom.

(Was the condom on the dildo part of his rubber fetish, or did he think it would keep him from getting AIDS?)

The police have determined that no foul play had occurred, and that Aldridge was alone at the time of death. In other words, yes, it’s exactly what it looks like.

Now, I have my share of kinks, but I totally don’t get the rubber thing. Or the asphyxiation thing. Or the bondage thing. Or the dildo-up-the-ass thing. But okay, fine, lots of people are into stuff that I don’t get, and I don’t have a problem with that (aside from the fact that Aldridge’s choice of career apparently involved him condemning people with unusual sexual preferences). And I’m rather impressed that he managed to tie himself up like that, but okay.

No, what bothers me is that he was found alone.

I haven’t seen anything definite, but it sounds as if his wife didn’t know about this aspect of Aldridge. Presumably he practiced his hobby furtively, in secret, not even daring invite his wife.

But if he’d had the basic honesty and decency to say, “Honey, you know what’s totally hot? Rubber. How about I put on a wetsuit, you tie me up, and we get all hot and bothered?” then a) they could’ve gotten their rocks off together, and b) she could’ve untied him and he’d still be alive.

And if they’d tried this before getting married, they’d know whether their sexual kinks were compatible, and he wouldn’t have had to hide his from her.

Plus, of course, it seems an awful lot of work to get into two wetsuits, and the ropes and everything, so I’m guessing this wasn’t something he did all the time, but only when the pressure built up so much that he couldn’t stand it any longer. Whereas if he’d done it more often, with his wife to help, maybe he’d have been happy with a pair of rubber shorts and a pair of handcuffs. They could’ve had a good time and had time left for a game of Scrabble, or Bible study, or whatever they felt like doing.

The moral of the story is, it’s okay to like kinky sex. But you should at least tell your spouse. Not only can she help you if things get out of hand, but it’s also more fun zu zweit.

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