So I like some mildly sick shit. Not the worst (no actual shit, thankyouverymuch), but I get hit, cut, demeaned, restrained, and "forced" into sex acts, and I really really get off on it.
Why? Various theories. Fundamental neurological miswiring, weird childhood experiences, normalizing/encouragement from kinky friends, low self-esteem, reading too many vampire romance novels, escaping real-life responsibilities, bowing to the will of the Patriarchy. (That last one doesn't explain why I think about bondage when I masturbate--now that's internalizing!)
I do think about it but honesty I don't understand why. It feels so physically good to me that it's hard for me to accept a purely psychological explanation. When I'm getting beat up by a boy, my thoughts aren't at all complex or half-bad--all I'm really thinking is "gosh this is so exciting and fun." And my pussy is getting wet. I know psychology can do weird things to a person but the way I respond to pain makes me really think that I was just born this way. I don't remember making a conscious choice to be a masochist--but I do remember being about ten years old and thinking about torture when I masturbated.
At the same time, I grew up in a culture, I had friends and partners, I watched porn; I can't claim to have invented my entire sexuality myself. "Hurty is sexy" might be inborn but I don't think that leather or rope or buttplugged blowjobs were my ideas. So I have been influenced, but it's not at all clear to me how much--did the culture merely give me a script in which I could fulfill my desires, or did it actually change my desires? I don't know.
However, while not dismissing the value of introspection, I don't think there's any reason to stop having pervsex just because I don't know why I do it. What I do know is that I honestly, thoroughly enjoy it for its own sake. And I've never felt any ill effects or seen any in my partners--not only do I feel good during a scene, but I feel good afterwards. Then two days later when I'm all cooled off and I think about what I did, I still feel good.
Or maybe the whole idea that it even needs such thorough understanding is bunk. I haven't performed a full soul-search into why I like photography or country music or desert landscapes. I just... found out I liked them, figured they weren't hurting anybody, and had fun. It's a joy to find something that really makes you take pleasure in life, no matter what it is.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Scene from Sixteen Years Old.
"Holy shit, someone put horse porn on the network!"
"That's horrible... open it up!"
It was a woman under a stallion, somewhat awkwardly guiding the tip of the horse's massive penis into her vagina. Was that illegal? I think it wasn't in Washington at the time--this was before Mr. Hands.
"God, that's horrible. Is that real? Is that going to hurt her?"
"Jesus, this is disgusting."
"I can't believe this exists."
"Ew ew ew."
"I think I need to have sex with you right now."
"That's horrible... open it up!"
It was a woman under a stallion, somewhat awkwardly guiding the tip of the horse's massive penis into her vagina. Was that illegal? I think it wasn't in Washington at the time--this was before Mr. Hands.
"God, that's horrible. Is that real? Is that going to hurt her?"
"Jesus, this is disgusting."
"I can't believe this exists."
"Ew ew ew."
"I think I need to have sex with you right now."
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Thinkin' Bout Porn.
Porn. I love the theory and hate the practice. Aesthetically, not politically; any porn of consenting adults has a right to exist and I don't even want to debate that. But... gosh, why does it have to be so ugly? It seems like the vast majority of mainstream porn conforms to the same unwritten stylistic constraints and they're terrible ones.
To briefly put on my analytical hat, I think that ideas that porn is dirty and ugly have actually made porn dirtier; when Warm Mutual Loving Part 86 gets called filthy misogynist trash, I think it scares decent people out of the business and makes other pornographers throw in the towel, say "we're damned if we don't anyway," and produce Fuck Pig Cunts 92.
There's a long, semicoherent list-form rant below and I have to admit that everything in it is a generalization. Most of these points only apply to mainstream, LA-produced straight porn, and even then not always. They're based on a very general impression from having a membership to this site (NWS--and man, a great value and interface wasted on terrible content) and watching about 15 minutes apiece (heh) from a wide variety of randomly selected pornos. I'm sure there's porn out there that defies every one of the following generalizations, and... if you know any, tell me about it. Please.
(Actually, Kink.com produces the best porn I know and does break a lot--though certainly not all--of the bad habits, but... man, $30 per month per subsite? Daaammmn.)
That said, the rant:
48 Things To Hate About Porn
1. Men who stop sex to have orgasms in their own hands two feet away from the woman.
2. Women who act like they enjoy this. (I just spent four days furiously ranting that you shouldn't tell other women they don't really enjoy something. But I think you know what I mean; maybe someone has a thing for missing the best part of sex, but I doubt it's one hundredth as common in life as porn.)
3. Scenes where the woman moans and moans but never even pretends to come.
4. The phrase "fuck pig."
5. The disturbing preponderance of videos not marketed as BDSM that feature yelling and slapping and facefucking. (Always male-dominant; femdom porn is very clearly labeled and never sneaks up on you.)
6. Women making horrible gaggy noises during facefucking.
7. Clear plastic platform heels.
8. In fact, heels in general. Normal people fuck barefoot.
9. A2M.
10. Real-world guys thinking they're poorly hung because they only have seven inches.
11. Real-world guys thinking anything from porn should be applied to sex.
12. That weird little pussy-slapping thing.
13. Hideous, obvious, painful-looking plastic surgery.
14. A beauty ideal that literally cannot be obtained without surgery--in the real world, you don't see huge boobs without at least some tummy.
15. Treating non-white women, women over 120 pounds, and women over 30 as specialty fetish interests.
16. Over-categorization that treats everything like a specialty fetish interest.
17. The Barely Legal fetish, and accompanying implication that only the goshdarn law keeps them from filming twelve-year-olds.
18. Putting pigtails, plaid skirt, and candy-colored makeup on a totally indifferent 29-year-old: you're a creep and you're not even good at it.
19. Women who moan with constant ecstatic fury and absolutely no relation to the actual action. The best is when the guy pulls out and the moaning doesn't skip a beat.
20. Intro segments with a "plot" and "acting."
21. No kissing.
22. Practically no touching.
23. No missionary position. I know it's not the most body-displaying, but... it's hot, dammit.
24. Obviously bone-dry, unaroused vulvas.
25. "Lubing" something by hocking up a gigantic, loud, horrible loogie on it. GOD EW.
26. Promoting racial stereotypes that would get you boycotted and probably beaten in the real world.
27. Seriously, the title of every interracial title ever. Not made up: My Hot Wife Is Fucking Blackzilla 9, Service Animals, Black Dick in Daddy's Daughter 2, Abominable Black Man, and, spectacularly, Affirmative Action.
28. Except in Asia-produced titles, the total absence of Asian men.
29. "Interracial" as a fetish.
30. Piledriver.
31. Scenes featuring really hideous men with gorgeous women.
32. Absolutely none the other way round.
33. Male performers who give off a really threatening ex-con vibe.
34. Drug use.
35. The more intense the scene, the older and sadder-looking the woman.
36. Creampies. How do they even do that? I have sex without a condom, and obviously the semen has to come out eventually, but it's not in one giant disgusting glob.
37. Men who don't make a single sound.
38. Men who monotonously go "OH YEAH" over and over and over and over.
39. The only rhythm is as hard and fast as possible, at all times, from beginning to end without variation.
40. Everybody's circumcised.
41. People who don't act like they like each other. At all.
42. People who give absolutely no impression whatsoever that they want to be doing this. I don't mean coercion, so much as just... somehow managing to have sex without seeming at all horny.
43. Not enough cunnilingus, and when there is, it's done from maximal distance with the very tip of the tongue. Get your face wet, fellas.
44. Titles, Part II: The ones that clearly have some sort of serious Issues With Women: Sperm Drains, Filth Cums First #2, Assault That Ass #11, Flesh Hunter #7, Cock Pigs.
45. Really really long "glamor" shots of a woman awkwardly posing around by herself. It's possible I just don't appreciate this because I'm not gay enough, but even a superhot man would be awkward to statically ogle for that long.
46. Performer interviews revealing that the performers have the articulacy and insight of a drunk high-schooler.
47. "Amateurs" and "first-timers" who ain't fooling anybody.
48. Finally and most damningly: the widespread failure to do the simple and obvious thing. Find a good-looking highly-sexed couple, set up a camera, and have them do their thing. Their actual, what-we-do-at-home thing, without all the damn performance. There's so many damn categories, but all I really want out of porn is to see the sort of thing I do with Alan caught on tape. It seems like the most obvious thing in the world, but I've never seen it, and I don't know why.
To briefly put on my analytical hat, I think that ideas that porn is dirty and ugly have actually made porn dirtier; when Warm Mutual Loving Part 86 gets called filthy misogynist trash, I think it scares decent people out of the business and makes other pornographers throw in the towel, say "we're damned if we don't anyway," and produce Fuck Pig Cunts 92.
There's a long, semicoherent list-form rant below and I have to admit that everything in it is a generalization. Most of these points only apply to mainstream, LA-produced straight porn, and even then not always. They're based on a very general impression from having a membership to this site (NWS--and man, a great value and interface wasted on terrible content) and watching about 15 minutes apiece (heh) from a wide variety of randomly selected pornos. I'm sure there's porn out there that defies every one of the following generalizations, and... if you know any, tell me about it. Please.
(Actually, Kink.com produces the best porn I know and does break a lot--though certainly not all--of the bad habits, but... man, $30 per month per subsite? Daaammmn.)
That said, the rant:
48 Things To Hate About Porn
1. Men who stop sex to have orgasms in their own hands two feet away from the woman.
2. Women who act like they enjoy this. (I just spent four days furiously ranting that you shouldn't tell other women they don't really enjoy something. But I think you know what I mean; maybe someone has a thing for missing the best part of sex, but I doubt it's one hundredth as common in life as porn.)
3. Scenes where the woman moans and moans but never even pretends to come.
4. The phrase "fuck pig."
5. The disturbing preponderance of videos not marketed as BDSM that feature yelling and slapping and facefucking. (Always male-dominant; femdom porn is very clearly labeled and never sneaks up on you.)
6. Women making horrible gaggy noises during facefucking.
7. Clear plastic platform heels.
8. In fact, heels in general. Normal people fuck barefoot.
9. A2M.
10. Real-world guys thinking they're poorly hung because they only have seven inches.
11. Real-world guys thinking anything from porn should be applied to sex.
12. That weird little pussy-slapping thing.
13. Hideous, obvious, painful-looking plastic surgery.
14. A beauty ideal that literally cannot be obtained without surgery--in the real world, you don't see huge boobs without at least some tummy.
15. Treating non-white women, women over 120 pounds, and women over 30 as specialty fetish interests.
16. Over-categorization that treats everything like a specialty fetish interest.
17. The Barely Legal fetish, and accompanying implication that only the goshdarn law keeps them from filming twelve-year-olds.
18. Putting pigtails, plaid skirt, and candy-colored makeup on a totally indifferent 29-year-old: you're a creep and you're not even good at it.
19. Women who moan with constant ecstatic fury and absolutely no relation to the actual action. The best is when the guy pulls out and the moaning doesn't skip a beat.
20. Intro segments with a "plot" and "acting."
21. No kissing.
22. Practically no touching.
23. No missionary position. I know it's not the most body-displaying, but... it's hot, dammit.
24. Obviously bone-dry, unaroused vulvas.
25. "Lubing" something by hocking up a gigantic, loud, horrible loogie on it. GOD EW.
26. Promoting racial stereotypes that would get you boycotted and probably beaten in the real world.
27. Seriously, the title of every interracial title ever. Not made up: My Hot Wife Is Fucking Blackzilla 9, Service Animals, Black Dick in Daddy's Daughter 2, Abominable Black Man, and, spectacularly, Affirmative Action.
28. Except in Asia-produced titles, the total absence of Asian men.
29. "Interracial" as a fetish.
30. Piledriver.
31. Scenes featuring really hideous men with gorgeous women.
32. Absolutely none the other way round.
33. Male performers who give off a really threatening ex-con vibe.
34. Drug use.
35. The more intense the scene, the older and sadder-looking the woman.
36. Creampies. How do they even do that? I have sex without a condom, and obviously the semen has to come out eventually, but it's not in one giant disgusting glob.
37. Men who don't make a single sound.
38. Men who monotonously go "OH YEAH" over and over and over and over.
39. The only rhythm is as hard and fast as possible, at all times, from beginning to end without variation.
40. Everybody's circumcised.
41. People who don't act like they like each other. At all.
42. People who give absolutely no impression whatsoever that they want to be doing this. I don't mean coercion, so much as just... somehow managing to have sex without seeming at all horny.
43. Not enough cunnilingus, and when there is, it's done from maximal distance with the very tip of the tongue. Get your face wet, fellas.
44. Titles, Part II: The ones that clearly have some sort of serious Issues With Women: Sperm Drains, Filth Cums First #2, Assault That Ass #11, Flesh Hunter #7, Cock Pigs.
45. Really really long "glamor" shots of a woman awkwardly posing around by herself. It's possible I just don't appreciate this because I'm not gay enough, but even a superhot man would be awkward to statically ogle for that long.
46. Performer interviews revealing that the performers have the articulacy and insight of a drunk high-schooler.
47. "Amateurs" and "first-timers" who ain't fooling anybody.
48. Finally and most damningly: the widespread failure to do the simple and obvious thing. Find a good-looking highly-sexed couple, set up a camera, and have them do their thing. Their actual, what-we-do-at-home thing, without all the damn performance. There's so many damn categories, but all I really want out of porn is to see the sort of thing I do with Alan caught on tape. It seems like the most obvious thing in the world, but I've never seen it, and I don't know why.
Kicked out.
"You can sleep over if you're sleeping with me. You can't stay here to hide from your problems over there. Go home and sort your life out."
It's a pretty special man who can kick me out of his house and make me respect him more for it.
Sometimes I need friends to hug me and say it'll all be okay you poor dear, but sometimes I do need a small kick in the ass and I'm glad to have a boyfriend who knows when to do it. Maybe I'm only grateful because when I was a teenager I experienced the opposite.
When I was sixteen, I had a boyfriend who would gladly take me in whenever I had problems, tell me that absolutely nothing was my fault, and let me stay with him until the problems had gotten much worse from being ignored. (Fucking me all the while, natch, but I really don't think he was deliberately exploiting my angst; he just wasn't mature enough himself to know that what I asked for wasn't always best for me.) Eventually I stayed with him so long that a missing persons report was filed on me. The police took me home.
Of course it can be taken too far the other way (anything can be taken too far) and I certainly don't want someone who always knows what's best for me. But I think it's important and in a way more loving when you can avoid being an enabler and tell me to do not what I want, but what I need.
(To not be entirely cryptic about "problems," I'm flunking out. Although it certainly sucks, in a way I'm relieved, because I've already got a college degree and a living-wage job, being out of school earning my own keep will give me more independence than I've ever had, and once the "OMG DROPOUT" dust settles, I think it'll actually relieve a lot of family tension.)
It's a pretty special man who can kick me out of his house and make me respect him more for it.
Sometimes I need friends to hug me and say it'll all be okay you poor dear, but sometimes I do need a small kick in the ass and I'm glad to have a boyfriend who knows when to do it. Maybe I'm only grateful because when I was a teenager I experienced the opposite.
When I was sixteen, I had a boyfriend who would gladly take me in whenever I had problems, tell me that absolutely nothing was my fault, and let me stay with him until the problems had gotten much worse from being ignored. (Fucking me all the while, natch, but I really don't think he was deliberately exploiting my angst; he just wasn't mature enough himself to know that what I asked for wasn't always best for me.) Eventually I stayed with him so long that a missing persons report was filed on me. The police took me home.
Of course it can be taken too far the other way (anything can be taken too far) and I certainly don't want someone who always knows what's best for me. But I think it's important and in a way more loving when you can avoid being an enabler and tell me to do not what I want, but what I need.
(To not be entirely cryptic about "problems," I'm flunking out. Although it certainly sucks, in a way I'm relieved, because I've already got a college degree and a living-wage job, being out of school earning my own keep will give me more independence than I've ever had, and once the "OMG DROPOUT" dust settles, I think it'll actually relieve a lot of family tension.)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The State of the Blog.
A logo! I hope it's not too eye-burning; as I use my newfound free time to give this blog an actual visual style it's probably going to change anyway. Pretty much the only thing I'm sure of is that I'll never put anything non-work-safe (well, other than "PERV" in jillion-point lettering) on the front page.
Mission reevaluation! This is my personal sex journal.
Personal: It's primarily about my experiences. Mostly because that's all I really know; when I try to generalize about others I always find I'm wrong, but when I share my own life I find out how much I have in common with people. And also because it's simply my personal outlet, a safe way to tell my secrets.
Sex: I only want to write about politics or Internet drama when they involve sexuality--not because sex is the most important thing in the world, but because it's the most important thing on this blog. This is a feminist's blog, but it is not a feminism blog. Nor is it exactly an erotic blog; although I'm quite happy to hear that my writing (or, rarely, photography) is sexy and you have my permission to enjoy it any way you like, I don't generally write with the intention of getting undies damp.
Journal: Technically, a blog is a collection of external links and commentary, whereas a journal is original writing. I'm definitely a journal and happy to be so. It's not solipsism, it's mission focus, dammit.
Comment policy! Unless they are extremely disruptive (i.e., posting personal information or flood-posting, not merely disagreeing), I will not delete comments. Comments only reflect upon their authors, so if someone wants to use my blog as a venue to tell the world that they're mean or stupid, they're welcome to. I try to reply to all comments.
Blogroll! Needs serious rewriting to include more of my friends and fewer big generic blogs. If have a suggestion (including yourself) please let me know, although no promises.
Mission reevaluation! This is my personal sex journal.
Personal: It's primarily about my experiences. Mostly because that's all I really know; when I try to generalize about others I always find I'm wrong, but when I share my own life I find out how much I have in common with people. And also because it's simply my personal outlet, a safe way to tell my secrets.
Sex: I only want to write about politics or Internet drama when they involve sexuality--not because sex is the most important thing in the world, but because it's the most important thing on this blog. This is a feminist's blog, but it is not a feminism blog. Nor is it exactly an erotic blog; although I'm quite happy to hear that my writing (or, rarely, photography) is sexy and you have my permission to enjoy it any way you like, I don't generally write with the intention of getting undies damp.
Journal: Technically, a blog is a collection of external links and commentary, whereas a journal is original writing. I'm definitely a journal and happy to be so. It's not solipsism, it's mission focus, dammit.
Comment policy! Unless they are extremely disruptive (i.e., posting personal information or flood-posting, not merely disagreeing), I will not delete comments. Comments only reflect upon their authors, so if someone wants to use my blog as a venue to tell the world that they're mean or stupid, they're welcome to. I try to reply to all comments.
Blogroll! Needs serious rewriting to include more of my friends and fewer big generic blogs. If have a suggestion (including yourself) please let me know, although no promises.
Everything we said the last time we had sex.
"Jeez, if you keep touching that you're going to get me all excited."
"Oh no, I wouldn't want that. I'll stop touching it... with my hands..."
"Ohhh."
"Jeez, I'm so selfish! I'm just sitting here with you sucking my dick!"
"Ain't selfish if I like it, baby."
"Ohhh."
"No, really, what do you want me to do for you?"
"I wanna get fucked."
"Oh you're so demanding."
"Scootch thataway a little."
"Aahh. Mmmm."
"I want you to slow down and get close to me and just grind it in."
"Ah ah ah I'm gonna come gonnacome ALAN AHHHH."
"Jeez, I could feel that."
"Mmmm... OW!"
"Sorry."
"No, don't stop."
"Ow fuck ow ahhh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK!!!"
"Wow, I think you're done now, do you wanna..."
"No. Don't stop."
"Yeah, pull my hair... you can do it harder than that."
"Oh god, you feel so fucking big inside me."
"OW, no really, ease up there, I'm like bleeding."
"OH GOD ALAN PLEASE HURT ME PLEASE HURT ME OH GOD OH FUCK ALAAAAAN."
"Dammit, Holly, I'm gonna come! Ergghh... OHHHHHH... ahhh."
"Phew."
"That was nice."
"Oh no, I wouldn't want that. I'll stop touching it... with my hands..."
"Ohhh."
"Jeez, I'm so selfish! I'm just sitting here with you sucking my dick!"
"Ain't selfish if I like it, baby."
"Ohhh."
"No, really, what do you want me to do for you?"
"I wanna get fucked."
"Oh you're so demanding."
"Scootch thataway a little."
"Aahh. Mmmm."
"I want you to slow down and get close to me and just grind it in."
"Ah ah ah I'm gonna come gonnacome ALAN AHHHH."
"Jeez, I could feel that."
"Mmmm... OW!"
"Sorry."
"No, don't stop."
"Ow fuck ow ahhh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK!!!"
"Wow, I think you're done now, do you wanna..."
"No. Don't stop."
"Yeah, pull my hair... you can do it harder than that."
"Oh god, you feel so fucking big inside me."
"OW, no really, ease up there, I'm like bleeding."
"OH GOD ALAN PLEASE HURT ME PLEASE HURT ME OH GOD OH FUCK ALAAAAAN."
"Dammit, Holly, I'm gonna come! Ergghh... OHHHHHH... ahhh."
"Phew."
"That was nice."
Road Rage.
"I masturbated in the car once. I was driving up [a 45 mph road] and I got really horny and I had a bottle in the car..."
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
i am really drunk posting this just so you know
(Links are NWS and show real [very minor, very consensual] sexually-inflicted injuries.)
Okay, fine. Jesus. I admit it. I'm a tool of the patriarchy. A helpless, stupid, deluded little tool! I don't do stuff like this because it makes me come so hard I scream, I do it because men want me to! Because they like hurting women, all of them! And I like pleasing men (that's terrible!), because I don't have the courage to fight the good fight I am such worthless patriarchshit!
And it didn't take months of discussion and building trust and frankly begging to get a man to do this, he coerced me into it! Women never have submissive or exhibitionist desires of their own, don't be ridiculous! I think I do, but that's just because I'm a victim and an appeaser! I'm at once a malevolent Uncle Tom and a volitionless pawn!
And the fact that a man enjoyed doing this means that I necessarily didn't, because sex is a transaction, not an activity between partners! It's a zero-sum game, baby, rape or be raped! Ain't no room for friendship or love while the patriarchy exists--when a man fucks you he's using you, and if you've known this man for months and think you really know and respect each other you're being fooled by the patriarchy because if he dares to fuck you that means you're trash to him!
BY POSTING THESE PICTURES I HAVE DAMAGED THE WOMEN'S MOVEMENT AND PROMOTED RAPE, WOMEN BEING SEXY IS DANGEROUS LIKE THAT
although really is it my fault because it's not like i WANTED to post them, the patriarchy made me, because it is so powerful it controls EVERYTHING including when you need to shit and whether it's gonna rain, and when i am alone with my boyfriend and say 'let's have sex' it is just the patriarchy talking through my poor helpless body while my mind screams 'noooo'
The world has two possible conditions, you know. Total ideal freedom in which we work for three hours a week and are all perfectly literally equal, and MISERY AND EXPLOITATION AND CRUELTY. If you are not exactly equal to all men at all times, you might as well be a starving beaten sex slave. The idea of "not a perfect world but I'm gonna do my best to enjoy and improve it" is a PATRIARCHY LIE.
STRAAAAWWWMANNNN everything you said that I cannot defend against is a STRAWWWWMANNN the only things we will admit to believing are that puppies are good and genocides are bad and if you try to argue against anything else you are just attacking a SSSSTTTTRRRRAAAWWWWMAAAANNN
i might delete this in the morning
Okay, fine. Jesus. I admit it. I'm a tool of the patriarchy. A helpless, stupid, deluded little tool! I don't do stuff like this because it makes me come so hard I scream, I do it because men want me to! Because they like hurting women, all of them! And I like pleasing men (that's terrible!), because I don't have the courage to fight the good fight I am such worthless patriarchshit!
And it didn't take months of discussion and building trust and frankly begging to get a man to do this, he coerced me into it! Women never have submissive or exhibitionist desires of their own, don't be ridiculous! I think I do, but that's just because I'm a victim and an appeaser! I'm at once a malevolent Uncle Tom and a volitionless pawn!
And the fact that a man enjoyed doing this means that I necessarily didn't, because sex is a transaction, not an activity between partners! It's a zero-sum game, baby, rape or be raped! Ain't no room for friendship or love while the patriarchy exists--when a man fucks you he's using you, and if you've known this man for months and think you really know and respect each other you're being fooled by the patriarchy because if he dares to fuck you that means you're trash to him!
BY POSTING THESE PICTURES I HAVE DAMAGED THE WOMEN'S MOVEMENT AND PROMOTED RAPE, WOMEN BEING SEXY IS DANGEROUS LIKE THAT
although really is it my fault because it's not like i WANTED to post them, the patriarchy made me, because it is so powerful it controls EVERYTHING including when you need to shit and whether it's gonna rain, and when i am alone with my boyfriend and say 'let's have sex' it is just the patriarchy talking through my poor helpless body while my mind screams 'noooo'
The world has two possible conditions, you know. Total ideal freedom in which we work for three hours a week and are all perfectly literally equal, and MISERY AND EXPLOITATION AND CRUELTY. If you are not exactly equal to all men at all times, you might as well be a starving beaten sex slave. The idea of "not a perfect world but I'm gonna do my best to enjoy and improve it" is a PATRIARCHY LIE.
STRAAAAWWWMANNNN everything you said that I cannot defend against is a STRAWWWWMANNN the only things we will admit to believing are that puppies are good and genocides are bad and if you try to argue against anything else you are just attacking a SSSSTTTTRRRRAAAWWWWMAAAANNN
i might delete this in the morning
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Like sex? Dare to talk about it? UNCLE TOM!
Darnit, I'm not done being angry. Twisty's new post on sex-positive feminism is so goddamn narrow-minded. There's so much in it about wanting to restrict the actions of women for their own good, to keep them from playing into the Patriarchy. I'll try to quote rather than rephrase here, so as to avoid "strawman" accusations as much as possible.
...“sex positive” feminists focus on is the ability to accept themselves as sexual, which they only attain by presenting a version of themselves that others readily find acceptable and have since way before I was born. Would you feel so empowered by your sexuality if you didn’t have a receptive audience?
First of all, not everything in sex-positivism is readily acceptable to society. I'm pretty sure that my posts about getting cut up in bed or embracing the sexuality of fat people aren't winning me any mainstream-patriarchy popularity contests. And secondly, even when my views do fit with the mainstream, they're still my views. Tell me I'm wrong if you must, but don't tell me "you don't really think that."
I’m “sex positive,” (stupid term) by the way, and I think that this label is completely misused by practically everyone as a way of insinuating that those who disagree with their self-exploitation are somehow anti-sex.
Self-exploitation? I have to admit, I do a lot of that; I make me buy me stuff, I send me to work my shifts for me, and yes, I even make me have sex with my boyfriend. But here she seems to be using "self-exploitation" to mean exhibitionism. If a woman makes a free choice to show her stuff to the world, because she gets off on it or because she wants to be popular or get paid, that is her decision to make. And if you start telling her that she's not allowed to do that because it might make the patriarchy happy (as a side effect of her happiness), you're constraining women's freedom and you end up on the same side as the misogynist puritans.
It’s an expedient justification, a way to rebrand what everybody does when they’re in their twenties, which is to drink too much and screw a lot, as a cool 21st-century-activist political activity.
Don't know who brought drinking into it, but screwing is political, when I do it on my own terms and don't allow anybody to shame me for it. Sexuality is only one battleground of feminism, and it may be a fun one, but it's a battleground nonetheless.
What do I mean by “sexy feminism”? Suicide Girls. Bust magazine. BDSM. The “position” that women should be free to “choose” femininity if that’s what bangs their box. The idea that embracing sexploitation is “empowering.” The notion that women “can do what we want despite patriarchy.”
"Scare" "quotes" "sure" "are" "fun"! I don't know much about SG or Bust, but I sure as hell know BDSM and I didn't get into it because a man told me to, I got into it out of my own twisted desires. And telling me that oh, they must not really be my desires, no woman could actually be a pervert herself so they must be the product of some internalized misogyny, is hideously stupid and condescending. Denying female sexual desire is, once again, putting the radfems and the patriarchs in the very same boat.
And yeah, women can choose femininity, they can show off their sexuality, and they can do pretty much what they please. I'm not telling them they have to, if modesty's your thing then go hog wild, but it's not right to tell other women not to express themselves.
We’re living in a war zone and orgasms are a dime a dozen. The performance of pornulated, dude-appeasing sex moves just isn’t important enough to form the basis of an entire political ideology.
Oh, I'm not going to claim that I'm saving the world here, but that doesn't make it worthless. This attack on sex-positivism is like going to the dog food drive and yelling "don't you care about starving people?!?"--the fact that it's not the most important thing ever doesn't mean that sexuality is insignificant.
And if receiving sexual pleasure the way I want it is dude-appeasing, all I can say is that it's also so damn lady-appeasing that I think it's a fair deal.
I propose third, easy-breezy alternative to the suffocating conformity demanded by this tiresome positive vs. negative binary thought system: sex-neutralism. Get busy, don’t get busy, whatever!
That is, I believe, a very moderate-sounding way of telling women who like sex to shut up. "Oh okay, they can have their lifestyle, but gosh, they don't have to talk about it."
I like sex, I like equality, I think sexuality matters, and I'm not going to shut up.
...“sex positive” feminists focus on is the ability to accept themselves as sexual, which they only attain by presenting a version of themselves that others readily find acceptable and have since way before I was born. Would you feel so empowered by your sexuality if you didn’t have a receptive audience?
First of all, not everything in sex-positivism is readily acceptable to society. I'm pretty sure that my posts about getting cut up in bed or embracing the sexuality of fat people aren't winning me any mainstream-patriarchy popularity contests. And secondly, even when my views do fit with the mainstream, they're still my views. Tell me I'm wrong if you must, but don't tell me "you don't really think that."
I’m “sex positive,” (stupid term) by the way, and I think that this label is completely misused by practically everyone as a way of insinuating that those who disagree with their self-exploitation are somehow anti-sex.
Self-exploitation? I have to admit, I do a lot of that; I make me buy me stuff, I send me to work my shifts for me, and yes, I even make me have sex with my boyfriend. But here she seems to be using "self-exploitation" to mean exhibitionism. If a woman makes a free choice to show her stuff to the world, because she gets off on it or because she wants to be popular or get paid, that is her decision to make. And if you start telling her that she's not allowed to do that because it might make the patriarchy happy (as a side effect of her happiness), you're constraining women's freedom and you end up on the same side as the misogynist puritans.
It’s an expedient justification, a way to rebrand what everybody does when they’re in their twenties, which is to drink too much and screw a lot, as a cool 21st-century-activist political activity.
Don't know who brought drinking into it, but screwing is political, when I do it on my own terms and don't allow anybody to shame me for it. Sexuality is only one battleground of feminism, and it may be a fun one, but it's a battleground nonetheless.
What do I mean by “sexy feminism”? Suicide Girls. Bust magazine. BDSM. The “position” that women should be free to “choose” femininity if that’s what bangs their box. The idea that embracing sexploitation is “empowering.” The notion that women “can do what we want despite patriarchy.”
"Scare" "quotes" "sure" "are" "fun"! I don't know much about SG or Bust, but I sure as hell know BDSM and I didn't get into it because a man told me to, I got into it out of my own twisted desires. And telling me that oh, they must not really be my desires, no woman could actually be a pervert herself so they must be the product of some internalized misogyny, is hideously stupid and condescending. Denying female sexual desire is, once again, putting the radfems and the patriarchs in the very same boat.
And yeah, women can choose femininity, they can show off their sexuality, and they can do pretty much what they please. I'm not telling them they have to, if modesty's your thing then go hog wild, but it's not right to tell other women not to express themselves.
We’re living in a war zone and orgasms are a dime a dozen. The performance of pornulated, dude-appeasing sex moves just isn’t important enough to form the basis of an entire political ideology.
Oh, I'm not going to claim that I'm saving the world here, but that doesn't make it worthless. This attack on sex-positivism is like going to the dog food drive and yelling "don't you care about starving people?!?"--the fact that it's not the most important thing ever doesn't mean that sexuality is insignificant.
And if receiving sexual pleasure the way I want it is dude-appeasing, all I can say is that it's also so damn lady-appeasing that I think it's a fair deal.
I propose third, easy-breezy alternative to the suffocating conformity demanded by this tiresome positive vs. negative binary thought system: sex-neutralism. Get busy, don’t get busy, whatever!
That is, I believe, a very moderate-sounding way of telling women who like sex to shut up. "Oh okay, they can have their lifestyle, but gosh, they don't have to talk about it."
I like sex, I like equality, I think sexuality matters, and I'm not going to shut up.
Blood.
I honestly don't remember if it was his teeth or his nails (my memory-forming skills are disturbingly poor during good sex; there have been times when having multiple orgasms has caused me to basically black out a few minutes), but Alan made a two-inch cut on my left breast. He held my face and kissed me and with a little sigh laid his cheek against mine, and then while he was fucking me he made me bleed.
I feel so proud of the mark. I keep pulling my neckline down a little and looking at it and smiling.
I love it when sex comes with souvenirs.
I feel so proud of the mark. I keep pulling my neckline down a little and looking at it and smiling.
I love it when sex comes with souvenirs.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Birds and Bees.
When I was four years old my mother got pregnant with my little sister. Naturally I asked how it'd happened, and she gave me an admirably matter-of-fact and unembarrassed description of the basics.
My first reaction was "Why didn't you let me watch?"
I was slightly hurt really; I felt that making my sister was an important family event, and as such, the whole family ought to have been included.
My first reaction was "Why didn't you let me watch?"
I was slightly hurt really; I felt that making my sister was an important family event, and as such, the whole family ought to have been included.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
I love men!
I have to stop reading radical feminist writing. I consider myself a feminist, but with two caveats:
1) Some of my best friends are men. The vast majority of the men I see every day are kind, hard-working, intelligent people who respect women. In my world at least, hooting fratboys or growling wifebeaters or crazy fundies are outnumbered 10 to 1 by ordinary Joes doing the best they can to be decent people.
2) Call me a rich white het cis privilegebunny, but I don't feel very oppressed. Sometimes insulted, sometimes worried, sometimes concerned for the oppression of people in other places, but in my own life I just don't feel the boot on my neck. At work, at school, socially, nobody acts like I'm less than human or tries to enforce the Patriarchy on me directly. For me, in my daily life, I don't feel like being female is difficult or painful.
So... my reactions to a lot of radical feminism tend to fall into the following narrow-minded horrible categories:
"Men aren't like that!"
"But I like sex! For me. Not because I've been brainwashed to be a pleasurebot for men, because it feels good in my vagina where I have nerves. And, yes, also emotionally, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"Oh grow some skin. Yes, that was offensive, but it didn't instantly remove all your human rights. Get some freakin' perspective."
And I go nuts when I read stuff like this:
"In a patriarchy, the cornerstone of which is a paradigm of male dominance and female submission, women do not enjoy the same degree of personal sovereignty that men do. This oppressed condition obtains a priori to all other conditions, and nullifies any presumption of fully human status on the part of women. A woman, therefore, cannot freely “consent,” because her will is obviated by her status as a subhuman."
I don't know what kind of women-in-chains Gor crazyworld this author is coming from, but I'm pretty damn sure that no means no, yes means yes, and throwing up your hands and screaming "we're so oppressed we can't even make decisions!" is not actually advancing the cause of female strength and independence.
In fact, it's an example of something I've seen a few times in radfem thought--going so far that they actually come full circle. You see statements like "women aren't able to give consent" and "women just want love, but men exploit it for sex," and you might as well be on the Abstinence Warriors forum--it's the same stereotyping of both men and women and unreasonable fear of sex.
I'm a feminist. I really am, dammit. Our culture is permeated with weird ideas about femininity (and masculinity!) and it desperately does need to change. But if you don't take a realistic worldview and respect the people you're trying to change, you're not getting anywhere. And if you don't have sex until we reach perfect equality, well, buddy, you're never gonna get laid.
EDIT--REQUEST FOR OPPOSING COMMENTERS: Please don't say "Strawman!" or "Radfems don't believe that!" without giving a brief skim of what you do believe on the subject. And don't say "well, we respect women and think inequality is bad," because you get a whole lot more contentious than that when you're on your own turf, and it would behoove you to defend it rather than deny it.
1) Some of my best friends are men. The vast majority of the men I see every day are kind, hard-working, intelligent people who respect women. In my world at least, hooting fratboys or growling wifebeaters or crazy fundies are outnumbered 10 to 1 by ordinary Joes doing the best they can to be decent people.
2) Call me a rich white het cis privilegebunny, but I don't feel very oppressed. Sometimes insulted, sometimes worried, sometimes concerned for the oppression of people in other places, but in my own life I just don't feel the boot on my neck. At work, at school, socially, nobody acts like I'm less than human or tries to enforce the Patriarchy on me directly. For me, in my daily life, I don't feel like being female is difficult or painful.
So... my reactions to a lot of radical feminism tend to fall into the following narrow-minded horrible categories:
"Men aren't like that!"
"But I like sex! For me. Not because I've been brainwashed to be a pleasurebot for men, because it feels good in my vagina where I have nerves. And, yes, also emotionally, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"Oh grow some skin. Yes, that was offensive, but it didn't instantly remove all your human rights. Get some freakin' perspective."
And I go nuts when I read stuff like this:
"In a patriarchy, the cornerstone of which is a paradigm of male dominance and female submission, women do not enjoy the same degree of personal sovereignty that men do. This oppressed condition obtains a priori to all other conditions, and nullifies any presumption of fully human status on the part of women. A woman, therefore, cannot freely “consent,” because her will is obviated by her status as a subhuman."
I don't know what kind of women-in-chains Gor crazyworld this author is coming from, but I'm pretty damn sure that no means no, yes means yes, and throwing up your hands and screaming "we're so oppressed we can't even make decisions!" is not actually advancing the cause of female strength and independence.
In fact, it's an example of something I've seen a few times in radfem thought--going so far that they actually come full circle. You see statements like "women aren't able to give consent" and "women just want love, but men exploit it for sex," and you might as well be on the Abstinence Warriors forum--it's the same stereotyping of both men and women and unreasonable fear of sex.
I'm a feminist. I really am, dammit. Our culture is permeated with weird ideas about femininity (and masculinity!) and it desperately does need to change. But if you don't take a realistic worldview and respect the people you're trying to change, you're not getting anywhere. And if you don't have sex until we reach perfect equality, well, buddy, you're never gonna get laid.
EDIT--REQUEST FOR OPPOSING COMMENTERS: Please don't say "Strawman!" or "Radfems don't believe that!" without giving a brief skim of what you do believe on the subject. And don't say "well, we respect women and think inequality is bad," because you get a whole lot more contentious than that when you're on your own turf, and it would behoove you to defend it rather than deny it.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Let's put the Perv back in Pervocracy!
I was nervous going to his house. I know him, I've seen him a hundred times--I was so on edge that my stomach hurt.
He met me at the door and we didn't say much of anything. In the living room he undressed me. There was a little window at the top of the room that had no blinds on it; it looked out on a street with a sidewalk. The angle was oblique, the window small, and the sidewalk empty, but the possibility was still there when I stood naked in that room.
He took my own rope out of my bag and looped it behind my neck, brought it down my body with the appropriate knots, and then threaded it between my legs and yanked up hard before bringing it back up my spine and tying my entire torso into a web of rope. He tied my hands to the web behind my back, as far up as they would bend so that I could feel the strain on my joints. He blindfolded and gagged me, and threw me forward over the arm of the couch.
The rope was the beginning of the pain; my wrists and elbows were pulled, and the rope running up my crotch and ass was rough and tight. The rope wasn't the end of it. He hit me with his hands first.
He pulled the rope aside from my ass for a moment, tightening it on the rest of my body, and slid a buttplug into my ass. The instant it was in he shoved his groin against me, rubbing his cock against the base of the plug, making it move deep inside me. I was making noises that weren't words and the whole time he was saying words I don't remember. I'm not good with words and sex. I just remember that it all hurt, more than I expected it to, more than it looks like in porn that makes this kind of stuff seem light, but I fucking loved it.
He started flogging me and I don't even know what was happening, I was in the dark with pain on my back and pleasure in my ass, his body hot on mine and broad red lines being slapped into my flesh. I'm sure I came, fuck, I don't know. I really don't remember clearly.
I just remember that at the end he stood me up, took the gag out, and I thought for a second that he was done and would untie me. He didn't. He sat down on the couch with legs spread and shoved me down between his legs. Without needing to be told I started sucking his cock. Blindfolded and with no hands it's not easy but that just means you have to try harder. In that moment, the cock is all you can know.
The eeriest part was that he made no sound. When I was sucking his cock, there were no moans, no grunts, no reactions at all. He's not a quiet man normally. I suppose that making a man call out is controlling him through his cock in a sense, and I had no chance for that. I had no control. He told me to go lower and lick his balls, and I did, for as long as he wanted until he brought me up to his cock again. The plug was still in my ass, held tightly in by the ropes, and painful.
He didn't come--I think he can't relax enough when he's topping. But eventually I was simply exhausted. When I got to the point where there were tears on my face, I'd gagged more than once, and I was resting my head on his thigh whimpering between strokes, he decided I was finished. I yelped when he untied me; it was painful just coming untangled, straightening my joints out again. And when I was free I collapsed.
He met me at the door and we didn't say much of anything. In the living room he undressed me. There was a little window at the top of the room that had no blinds on it; it looked out on a street with a sidewalk. The angle was oblique, the window small, and the sidewalk empty, but the possibility was still there when I stood naked in that room.
He took my own rope out of my bag and looped it behind my neck, brought it down my body with the appropriate knots, and then threaded it between my legs and yanked up hard before bringing it back up my spine and tying my entire torso into a web of rope. He tied my hands to the web behind my back, as far up as they would bend so that I could feel the strain on my joints. He blindfolded and gagged me, and threw me forward over the arm of the couch.
The rope was the beginning of the pain; my wrists and elbows were pulled, and the rope running up my crotch and ass was rough and tight. The rope wasn't the end of it. He hit me with his hands first.
He pulled the rope aside from my ass for a moment, tightening it on the rest of my body, and slid a buttplug into my ass. The instant it was in he shoved his groin against me, rubbing his cock against the base of the plug, making it move deep inside me. I was making noises that weren't words and the whole time he was saying words I don't remember. I'm not good with words and sex. I just remember that it all hurt, more than I expected it to, more than it looks like in porn that makes this kind of stuff seem light, but I fucking loved it.
He started flogging me and I don't even know what was happening, I was in the dark with pain on my back and pleasure in my ass, his body hot on mine and broad red lines being slapped into my flesh. I'm sure I came, fuck, I don't know. I really don't remember clearly.
I just remember that at the end he stood me up, took the gag out, and I thought for a second that he was done and would untie me. He didn't. He sat down on the couch with legs spread and shoved me down between his legs. Without needing to be told I started sucking his cock. Blindfolded and with no hands it's not easy but that just means you have to try harder. In that moment, the cock is all you can know.
The eeriest part was that he made no sound. When I was sucking his cock, there were no moans, no grunts, no reactions at all. He's not a quiet man normally. I suppose that making a man call out is controlling him through his cock in a sense, and I had no chance for that. I had no control. He told me to go lower and lick his balls, and I did, for as long as he wanted until he brought me up to his cock again. The plug was still in my ass, held tightly in by the ropes, and painful.
He didn't come--I think he can't relax enough when he's topping. But eventually I was simply exhausted. When I got to the point where there were tears on my face, I'd gagged more than once, and I was resting my head on his thigh whimpering between strokes, he decided I was finished. I yelped when he untied me; it was painful just coming untangled, straightening my joints out again. And when I was free I collapsed.
All the sex advice I can give.
1. Communicate. Talk before sex, during sex, after sex. You can't read their mind and they can't read yours, so volunteer what you like and ask what they like. Not just the first time. Continuously.
(Obviously there's a lot of "idiot caveats" to this like "don't literally yak your way through sex" and "don't use 'communication' as an excuse to be bossy or whiny" and "don't blame your failings on your partner not giving an EXACT PLAY BY PLAY of what they wanted," but you get the gist of what I'm saying. Everything's got idiot caveats and I think it's pretty easy to figure out for yourself what they are.)
2. Remember individuality. You're not fucking a man or a woman, you're fucking Josh or Kyle or Nicole or Samantha. Don't assume you know "what guys like." It may not be all wrong and not every aspect of sexuality ("penis feels good") is a completely unique snowflake for everyone, but don't ever get the idea that you don't need to ask because you've learned how to do "a guy."
3. Be good. You're fucking someone because you like them, right? So assume good faith and act in good faith. Be nice, be generous, be forgiving. And if they don't respond in kind, be gone, because people aren't fixable. And all this absolutely applies to casual sex as well; just because you're not making any commitment doesn't mean you don't need to be nice to each other.
4. Unless it's a matter of anatomy or of explicitly communicated differences, follow the Golden Rule and fuck as you'd want to be fucked.
5. Don't be ashamed. They're fucking you because they like you, right? So show your whole body and everything you can do. You won't look dignified and you don't need to. A friend of mine once said of her boyfriend, "I'd touch any part of my body to any part of his body." That's a good attitude.
6. The erotic wedgie is not allowed.
I can't really think of anything else. I know this is a pretty dry and fluffy list, but anything I can think of that's explicit or specific violates Rule 2. The reason I'm not telling you how to please the G-spot isn't because I'm trying to be "serious" or anything, it's because I don't know how your girlfriend likes it. I could tell you how to do me, but I'm pretty sure that information would have limited application.
Hell, there's probably millions of women out there who think the erotic wedgie is hot.
EDIT: Jesus, I was being so fluffy that I forgot the most important rule, which is: don't give anybody any diseases and don't make a baby if you don't mean to. But that's an "idiot caveat," right? God, I hope it is.
(Obviously there's a lot of "idiot caveats" to this like "don't literally yak your way through sex" and "don't use 'communication' as an excuse to be bossy or whiny" and "don't blame your failings on your partner not giving an EXACT PLAY BY PLAY of what they wanted," but you get the gist of what I'm saying. Everything's got idiot caveats and I think it's pretty easy to figure out for yourself what they are.)
2. Remember individuality. You're not fucking a man or a woman, you're fucking Josh or Kyle or Nicole or Samantha. Don't assume you know "what guys like." It may not be all wrong and not every aspect of sexuality ("penis feels good") is a completely unique snowflake for everyone, but don't ever get the idea that you don't need to ask because you've learned how to do "a guy."
3. Be good. You're fucking someone because you like them, right? So assume good faith and act in good faith. Be nice, be generous, be forgiving. And if they don't respond in kind, be gone, because people aren't fixable. And all this absolutely applies to casual sex as well; just because you're not making any commitment doesn't mean you don't need to be nice to each other.
4. Unless it's a matter of anatomy or of explicitly communicated differences, follow the Golden Rule and fuck as you'd want to be fucked.
5. Don't be ashamed. They're fucking you because they like you, right? So show your whole body and everything you can do. You won't look dignified and you don't need to. A friend of mine once said of her boyfriend, "I'd touch any part of my body to any part of his body." That's a good attitude.
6. The erotic wedgie is not allowed.
I can't really think of anything else. I know this is a pretty dry and fluffy list, but anything I can think of that's explicit or specific violates Rule 2. The reason I'm not telling you how to please the G-spot isn't because I'm trying to be "serious" or anything, it's because I don't know how your girlfriend likes it. I could tell you how to do me, but I'm pretty sure that information would have limited application.
Hell, there's probably millions of women out there who think the erotic wedgie is hot.
EDIT: Jesus, I was being so fluffy that I forgot the most important rule, which is: don't give anybody any diseases and don't make a baby if you don't mean to. But that's an "idiot caveat," right? God, I hope it is.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Mars and Venus in the Bedroom.
Reading this book may be one of the most shamelessly unfair things I've ever done on this blog. I gave it no chance, admitted no redeeming virtues. But that's just because it doesn't have any. This is a book in which John Gray, the author of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus (which I previously trashed) tells you how to fuck. By the way, he was a celibate monk for nine years. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but if you want to be an authority on gender relations, maybe it isn't the best life experience to bring to the table.
As before, his advice is all predicated upon the idea that men and women are entirely separate species and the only way for them to relate successfully is to learn each other's bizarre and unreasonable needs from his book, never discuss them openly, and treat each other like gender exemplars rather than people.
He does lots of little summary bold-text things in this book (I guess the "complete paragraph" format was kind of alienating his readers with its highfalutin ivory-tower intellectualism), so it's really easy to grab the main crazy ideas in a sentence and see how ridiculously anti-woman, anti-man, and anti-sex they are.
Below the cut, I do just that.
Edit: This website deconstructs John Gray much more rigorously than I do. And it's fun.
Sex allows a man to feel his needs for love, while receiving love helps a woman to feel her hunger for sex.
That's the central thesis of the book, right there. Men only want to get their dicks wet, women only want to be hugglebunnies. In which case I'd say they it sounds like they just shouldn't be dating and clearly God wants us to all be gay.
For a woman, arousal slowly builds long before it becomes a physical desire for sex... it could be days before she wants to have sex.
DAYS? Another main theme of this book is "man sex takes ten seconds, woman sex takes hours." But... days? How can you get aroused over the course of days? Don't you have to go to work?
Men need sex to feel. To go out into the wild or into battle, men needed to put their feelings aside. To provide for and protect their families, men were required to risk their lives while enduring the discomforts of scorching sun and freezing cold. Men gradually adapted to this requirement by becoming desensitized... Women's skin is ten times more sensitive than men's skin.
Um, I don't think hunter-gatherer women had the benefits of central heat and A/C. And women generally have a higher pain tolerance than men. Which doesn't translate into lowered sexual sensitivity anyway; neither sex is exactly leathery and I've seen men respond to some very light touches in the right context.
When Mom said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, she was about four inches too high.
Okay, now I'm... somewhere in the intestines.
How are men supposed to know what makes women happy when they are not women?
Gosh, what a quandary! If only women were capable of communicating somehow... maybe a crude tapping code or pointing to simple pictures!
She didn't go right to my erogenous zone. It was as though she was purposely striking out. She was moving her hands slowly up and down my body. Down my thighs and then back up to my chest. Up and down my arms and then up and down my chest and back. She was touching me everywhere I didn't want to be touched. Since we were planning to go all the way, I reached down to her hand and put it between my legs. I said, "There!"
Congratulations, John Gray, you're a dick.
When a man is kissing a woman, abruptly putting his tongue in her mouth can be too sudden. Instead, he should kiss her lightly several times, and then as she begins to open up, he can place his tongue in her mouth.
Whoa there cowboy, it's not my butthole, I'm actually pretty good at opening my mouth up with a minimum of mouthplay and artificial lubrication. (The whole section on "how to make love to a woman" is like this; some guys do need to slow down but he makes all women out to be absolute molasses in January.)
Instead of taking off her panties, he can reach around her buttocks and pull her panties into her crack to expose her bare bottom.
NO. DO NOT DO THIS. THE EROTIC WEDGIE IS NOT ALLOWED.
One very effective way a man can learn to give a woman a longer interlude in sex is to time it. It doesn't sound romantic, but it sure works. I recommend that the man discreetly put a clock by the bed. While he is touching her vulva and clitoris, he can occasionally glance over and time himself.
Um... you're right, that doesn't sound romantic. Like, at all. Also, does he make love exclusively to frozen pieces of brick? I think my lovers time themselves via the progression from "mmm" to "OH GOD," not the ticking away of the minutes.
Huh. I just finished a chapter on "how to please a woman," and I was expecting it to be followed by "how to please a man," but no. No such equivalent in the book. Apparently you please a man by owning female genitals and not screaming "don't touch me!"
For a woman to experience the big "O," a man needs to place the "O" after his two to three minutes, making it twenty to thirty minutes.
Now I know people are all different (John Gray doesn't), but I've never been with a guy who regularly finished in two to three minutes. It's happened a couple times, but as a general rule, every guy I've been with has needed a good fifteen minutes of stimulation to get to his happy place. And me? It depends a lot, but it's somewhere between thirty seconds and ten minutes. Usually well less than ten minutes. This is just me of course, because people are different.
What makes sex fulfilling and memorable for a man is a woman's fulfillment. What makes success fulfilling and memorable for a woman is the same, her fulfillment.
Why do you hate men, John Gray? Why is your whole book about men demonstrating skill and patience and women merely enjoying? Why are a man's enjoyment and a woman's skill (or rather lack of need for skill, because having a vagina is enough) taken for granted?
These are some common phrases for initiating sex and common answers a woman can give instead of just saying no.
A little context: his idea in this section is that when women don't want sex, rather than refusing it they should agree to just have a "quickie" to get him off. No pressure on her to undertake the long and agonizing process of reaching orgasm, he relieves his burning masculine need, and everyone goes home happy, except of course the woman who just got a totally pleasureless fuck when she didn't want to fuck at all.
He says, "I have some time. Would you like to have sex?" She says, "We could go for a quickie now and then maybe tomorrow we could schedule some more time to have sex."
She says, "You're a real fucking romantic, aren't you, John Gray?"
My favorite example of sexual signals came from a movie I watched about a Mongolian family. When the wife was in the mood for sex, she would put out a flag. When her husband came home, he would see the flag and know that she was in the mood. He would then race to get his flag and hoop while she got on her horse and rode away. He would then get on his horse and chase after her, lasso her with his hoop, and wrestle with her. Then they would have sex.
Ah, this explains why the women of Mongolia are known for their passion, sensuality, and severe spinal injuries.
A man should remember that it is not what he does but how long he takes to do it that ensures a woman's fulfillment.
Jesus Christ. You shoulda stayed a monk. Or, like, consulted with actual women when you wrote your book on how to please women.
As before, his advice is all predicated upon the idea that men and women are entirely separate species and the only way for them to relate successfully is to learn each other's bizarre and unreasonable needs from his book, never discuss them openly, and treat each other like gender exemplars rather than people.
He does lots of little summary bold-text things in this book (I guess the "complete paragraph" format was kind of alienating his readers with its highfalutin ivory-tower intellectualism), so it's really easy to grab the main crazy ideas in a sentence and see how ridiculously anti-woman, anti-man, and anti-sex they are.
Below the cut, I do just that.
Edit: This website deconstructs John Gray much more rigorously than I do. And it's fun.
Sex allows a man to feel his needs for love, while receiving love helps a woman to feel her hunger for sex.
That's the central thesis of the book, right there. Men only want to get their dicks wet, women only want to be hugglebunnies. In which case I'd say they it sounds like they just shouldn't be dating and clearly God wants us to all be gay.
For a woman, arousal slowly builds long before it becomes a physical desire for sex... it could be days before she wants to have sex.
DAYS? Another main theme of this book is "man sex takes ten seconds, woman sex takes hours." But... days? How can you get aroused over the course of days? Don't you have to go to work?
Men need sex to feel. To go out into the wild or into battle, men needed to put their feelings aside. To provide for and protect their families, men were required to risk their lives while enduring the discomforts of scorching sun and freezing cold. Men gradually adapted to this requirement by becoming desensitized... Women's skin is ten times more sensitive than men's skin.
Um, I don't think hunter-gatherer women had the benefits of central heat and A/C. And women generally have a higher pain tolerance than men. Which doesn't translate into lowered sexual sensitivity anyway; neither sex is exactly leathery and I've seen men respond to some very light touches in the right context.
When Mom said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, she was about four inches too high.
Okay, now I'm... somewhere in the intestines.
How are men supposed to know what makes women happy when they are not women?
Gosh, what a quandary! If only women were capable of communicating somehow... maybe a crude tapping code or pointing to simple pictures!
She didn't go right to my erogenous zone. It was as though she was purposely striking out. She was moving her hands slowly up and down my body. Down my thighs and then back up to my chest. Up and down my arms and then up and down my chest and back. She was touching me everywhere I didn't want to be touched. Since we were planning to go all the way, I reached down to her hand and put it between my legs. I said, "There!"
Congratulations, John Gray, you're a dick.
When a man is kissing a woman, abruptly putting his tongue in her mouth can be too sudden. Instead, he should kiss her lightly several times, and then as she begins to open up, he can place his tongue in her mouth.
Whoa there cowboy, it's not my butthole, I'm actually pretty good at opening my mouth up with a minimum of mouthplay and artificial lubrication. (The whole section on "how to make love to a woman" is like this; some guys do need to slow down but he makes all women out to be absolute molasses in January.)
Instead of taking off her panties, he can reach around her buttocks and pull her panties into her crack to expose her bare bottom.
NO. DO NOT DO THIS. THE EROTIC WEDGIE IS NOT ALLOWED.
One very effective way a man can learn to give a woman a longer interlude in sex is to time it. It doesn't sound romantic, but it sure works. I recommend that the man discreetly put a clock by the bed. While he is touching her vulva and clitoris, he can occasionally glance over and time himself.
Um... you're right, that doesn't sound romantic. Like, at all. Also, does he make love exclusively to frozen pieces of brick? I think my lovers time themselves via the progression from "mmm" to "OH GOD," not the ticking away of the minutes.
Huh. I just finished a chapter on "how to please a woman," and I was expecting it to be followed by "how to please a man," but no. No such equivalent in the book. Apparently you please a man by owning female genitals and not screaming "don't touch me!"
For a woman to experience the big "O," a man needs to place the "O" after his two to three minutes, making it twenty to thirty minutes.
Now I know people are all different (John Gray doesn't), but I've never been with a guy who regularly finished in two to three minutes. It's happened a couple times, but as a general rule, every guy I've been with has needed a good fifteen minutes of stimulation to get to his happy place. And me? It depends a lot, but it's somewhere between thirty seconds and ten minutes. Usually well less than ten minutes. This is just me of course, because people are different.
What makes sex fulfilling and memorable for a man is a woman's fulfillment. What makes success fulfilling and memorable for a woman is the same, her fulfillment.
Why do you hate men, John Gray? Why is your whole book about men demonstrating skill and patience and women merely enjoying? Why are a man's enjoyment and a woman's skill (or rather lack of need for skill, because having a vagina is enough) taken for granted?
These are some common phrases for initiating sex and common answers a woman can give instead of just saying no.
A little context: his idea in this section is that when women don't want sex, rather than refusing it they should agree to just have a "quickie" to get him off. No pressure on her to undertake the long and agonizing process of reaching orgasm, he relieves his burning masculine need, and everyone goes home happy, except of course the woman who just got a totally pleasureless fuck when she didn't want to fuck at all.
He says, "I have some time. Would you like to have sex?" She says, "We could go for a quickie now and then maybe tomorrow we could schedule some more time to have sex."
She says, "You're a real fucking romantic, aren't you, John Gray?"
My favorite example of sexual signals came from a movie I watched about a Mongolian family. When the wife was in the mood for sex, she would put out a flag. When her husband came home, he would see the flag and know that she was in the mood. He would then race to get his flag and hoop while she got on her horse and rode away. He would then get on his horse and chase after her, lasso her with his hoop, and wrestle with her. Then they would have sex.
Ah, this explains why the women of Mongolia are known for their passion, sensuality, and severe spinal injuries.
A man should remember that it is not what he does but how long he takes to do it that ensures a woman's fulfillment.
Jesus Christ. You shoulda stayed a monk. Or, like, consulted with actual women when you wrote your book on how to please women.
Fish Loves Her Bicycle.
I think I do, in fact, need a man. Emotionally, sexually, socially--I'm really not as happy when there isn't a man in my life. It's not a lack of independence; it's heterosexuality.
If "I don't need no damn man" is a feminist statement, it's not one I can make. Sure I can have my own career, buy my own house, raise my own kid, use a vibrator, and all that's better than being stuck with a really bad man; but given any kind of chance I don't want independence to become loneliness.
Well. I suppose I only want a man, and I guess that's an important distinction. I can support myself and live a life manless, and that's a crucial human right.
But sometimes I'm sleeping over at Alan's, and it's about 3 in the morning, and I wake up just enough to see him deep asleep next to me, and there's a pale orange light from the street on his bare chest, and without even waking up he snuggles up to me a little. And I could survive without this.
But I don't want to.
If "I don't need no damn man" is a feminist statement, it's not one I can make. Sure I can have my own career, buy my own house, raise my own kid, use a vibrator, and all that's better than being stuck with a really bad man; but given any kind of chance I don't want independence to become loneliness.
Well. I suppose I only want a man, and I guess that's an important distinction. I can support myself and live a life manless, and that's a crucial human right.
But sometimes I'm sleeping over at Alan's, and it's about 3 in the morning, and I wake up just enough to see him deep asleep next to me, and there's a pale orange light from the street on his bare chest, and without even waking up he snuggles up to me a little. And I could survive without this.
But I don't want to.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sometimes Stupid Statements Sound Sexy.
Alan flushes during sex.
"You're all red."
"I wonder why that is?"
"Cause you're getting fucked."
"Mmm yes I am."
"You're all red."
"I wonder why that is?"
"Cause you're getting fucked."
"Mmm yes I am."
Giving In.
I have trouble submitting. Not masochisting (or however you verb that); physically intense things are easy for me. But the same thick-skinned-ness that makes me able to take punishment keeps me from internalizing it, from going from "there's something hurting my skin" to "I am helpless." (The fact that I still have feminist and psychological reservations about whether internalizing that sort of thing is even a good idea only makes it harder.)
I backtalk a lot. It's some nervousness, some disliking Benny, but a lot of it comes from an inability to let go. To accept that for this fleeting instant my life isn't about me, isn't (directly) about what I want. To not just get on my knees and follow directions, but to actually give up control.
I want to. Maybe it's a stupid fantasy, maybe I wouldn't actually like it or it's not possible, but I really want Benny to somehow break through my ego and make me stop being me for a few minutes. I want to be made (very temporarily!) into this... animal... that isn't Holly, that doesn't have a big mess of thoughts and worries and desires and reservations, it just fucks and feels and is.
BDSM as meditation, maybe. I never did get the hang of real meditation. I kept thinking.
We could work out a scene for this, I think. With me blindfolded, immobilized, kept from speaking, and given pain beyond my limits, maybe I'd stop caring so damn much about myself. Or maybe even a scene where I'm free physically, but absolutely not allowed to express or act in service of my own desires. A habit I have worse than the backtalk is the small adjustment. "No, hit me a little lower." "Hangon, gotta cramp." "Loosen my knee, it's bent all funny." If I were kept in a scene where no such allowances were made, long enough and strictly enough, would I reach that state?
Being made selfless, thoughtless, not-me.... I don't want to live there, but someday I want to visit.
I backtalk a lot. It's some nervousness, some disliking Benny, but a lot of it comes from an inability to let go. To accept that for this fleeting instant my life isn't about me, isn't (directly) about what I want. To not just get on my knees and follow directions, but to actually give up control.
I want to. Maybe it's a stupid fantasy, maybe I wouldn't actually like it or it's not possible, but I really want Benny to somehow break through my ego and make me stop being me for a few minutes. I want to be made (very temporarily!) into this... animal... that isn't Holly, that doesn't have a big mess of thoughts and worries and desires and reservations, it just fucks and feels and is.
BDSM as meditation, maybe. I never did get the hang of real meditation. I kept thinking.
We could work out a scene for this, I think. With me blindfolded, immobilized, kept from speaking, and given pain beyond my limits, maybe I'd stop caring so damn much about myself. Or maybe even a scene where I'm free physically, but absolutely not allowed to express or act in service of my own desires. A habit I have worse than the backtalk is the small adjustment. "No, hit me a little lower." "Hangon, gotta cramp." "Loosen my knee, it's bent all funny." If I were kept in a scene where no such allowances were made, long enough and strictly enough, would I reach that state?
Being made selfless, thoughtless, not-me.... I don't want to live there, but someday I want to visit.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
The Dance.
You start standing up. Fully clothed, facing him, and then into the traditional slow-dance pose: your arms up around his neck, his hands on your waist.
The first move is a kiss.
His hands run over your back first. Through your hair, taking up a fistful and pulling it for an instant before combing tenderly through and then moving down. His hands, then, under your shirt, running back up underneath, making broad flat strokes over your skin and your bra before moving back to unhook it. Your hands, this whole time, on his chest, feeling it firm under his t-shirt and the nipples hard.
In unison your shirts peel off, arms high over heads and held for a moment. Any hair that wasn't mussed before is now. And you can see so much of his skin and feel his scent, and you bury yourself in it as he buries himself in your breasts. His lips are soft, his teeth are rough, and for a moment all there is for you to do is hold his face and watch him close his eyes and immerse himself in the softness of your breast.
You lead on the next move. Down on one knee, hands forward to unbutton his pants, hands down to remove, hands down again for the underpants, hands forward to take the cock. Stroke. Observe. If it wasn't stiff the instant it came out, it hardens in your hands. He looks down and watches you and makes no move; you are free to set the pace. You take that cock into your mouth and then he has to react, making little noises or intakes of air, strictly in time with the rhythm. His hands come to the back of your head but apply no pressure.
If he let you it would finish here, but he doesn't; he drags you back up to his level again and kisses you deeply. Which is rather open-minded of him if you think about it. Then it's two steps to the bed and you fall back with his hands to guide you down. With a single swooping move, ideally, he removes your pants and underwear, and he sinks into you as his hand sinks down to your pussy. He strokes around the outside until you're wet and once there's wetness he strokes within until you relax open, and very often he keeps stroking after that just to make you writhe and moan and clutch at him. As he did before, it's your duty to stop him and pull him up to your level. You beg to be fucked. He obliges.
And that's the best thing in the world.
There's variations on the theme here, there's room for artistic interpretation. His mouth or hands may be on your breasts again, and your hands may be anywhere or everywhere on his body, from cupped on his face to stroking his balls. There are different positions--anything that allows him to keep thrusting deep inside you hard and fast is permissible--and you may move fluidly between them or stop for a moment and start again with redoubled strength.
You come. God, Jesus, fuck, shit, oh, yes, no, fuck, do you come.
It takes longer and it's less certain, but eventually there comes a point when his pace quickens and everything about him roughens. He thrusts harder and faster until suddenly every muscle in his body tenses and releases and coming he collapses on you. Under you. Wherever.
In the last move, you wrap your arms around one another and lie still.
The first move is a kiss.
His hands run over your back first. Through your hair, taking up a fistful and pulling it for an instant before combing tenderly through and then moving down. His hands, then, under your shirt, running back up underneath, making broad flat strokes over your skin and your bra before moving back to unhook it. Your hands, this whole time, on his chest, feeling it firm under his t-shirt and the nipples hard.
In unison your shirts peel off, arms high over heads and held for a moment. Any hair that wasn't mussed before is now. And you can see so much of his skin and feel his scent, and you bury yourself in it as he buries himself in your breasts. His lips are soft, his teeth are rough, and for a moment all there is for you to do is hold his face and watch him close his eyes and immerse himself in the softness of your breast.
You lead on the next move. Down on one knee, hands forward to unbutton his pants, hands down to remove, hands down again for the underpants, hands forward to take the cock. Stroke. Observe. If it wasn't stiff the instant it came out, it hardens in your hands. He looks down and watches you and makes no move; you are free to set the pace. You take that cock into your mouth and then he has to react, making little noises or intakes of air, strictly in time with the rhythm. His hands come to the back of your head but apply no pressure.
If he let you it would finish here, but he doesn't; he drags you back up to his level again and kisses you deeply. Which is rather open-minded of him if you think about it. Then it's two steps to the bed and you fall back with his hands to guide you down. With a single swooping move, ideally, he removes your pants and underwear, and he sinks into you as his hand sinks down to your pussy. He strokes around the outside until you're wet and once there's wetness he strokes within until you relax open, and very often he keeps stroking after that just to make you writhe and moan and clutch at him. As he did before, it's your duty to stop him and pull him up to your level. You beg to be fucked. He obliges.
And that's the best thing in the world.
There's variations on the theme here, there's room for artistic interpretation. His mouth or hands may be on your breasts again, and your hands may be anywhere or everywhere on his body, from cupped on his face to stroking his balls. There are different positions--anything that allows him to keep thrusting deep inside you hard and fast is permissible--and you may move fluidly between them or stop for a moment and start again with redoubled strength.
You come. God, Jesus, fuck, shit, oh, yes, no, fuck, do you come.
It takes longer and it's less certain, but eventually there comes a point when his pace quickens and everything about him roughens. He thrusts harder and faster until suddenly every muscle in his body tenses and releases and coming he collapses on you. Under you. Wherever.
In the last move, you wrap your arms around one another and lie still.
"No."
Alan and I were having sex with me on top, and he reached his hand down to rub my clit.
I'm a mutant; I don't like clit stimulation. I'm okay with general crotch-area stimulation that rubs my clit indirectly, but a firm finger directly on the money button is just... too much. I think it's comparable to the way men feel about their cocks right after orgasm: it's intolerably hypersensitive.
So I said "stop that," and tried to push his hand away. He actually pushed against me kept it there, kept rubbing me in that horrible uncomfortable way even as I said again "no, stop, it's too much."
"It's not too much. You like it!"
"Please stop. I really don't like it." I physically yanked his hand out of my crotch and he finally gave up. We kept having sex, of course, and the rest of it was very nice, and I got off like five times and he didn't at all, so nyahhh.
Still I'm annoyed. It's roughly the millionth time a guy has told me "no, no, I swear you like this" when I said I didn't. The funny part is that it's almost always something ostensibly done for my pleasure--guys never want to force me to give blowjobs or anything, they want to force me into uncomfortable fingering and cunnilingus and vibrator play. If I could only get over my initial reluctance to receive pleasure, they think, they'd bring me such bliss.
I know I'm a little idiosyncratic in the way I work, and I don't blame Alan for touching me the wrong way, but I do blame him for not listening to "no."
Do other women say it insincerely? Is that my problem? Are there girls out there going "no, no, yes" or using "no" to mean "oh, that's just too naughty, tee hee"? Because if so, those girls suck and they're ruining men for those of us who know what we don't like and are just trying to communicate that.
Or if women don't do that, where do guys get this idea? Is it the media or something? There's usually some way to blame the media.
It's hardly a big deal, it was a tiny little finger move and a momentary misunderstanding. It just bothers me that a guy like Alan needs any convincing, under any circumstances, that "no" means "no."
(Benny, always happy to be on the worse side of any comparison, once actually fucked me against a "no," and not in scene or anything--we were just hanging out naked in bed and he got on me and I wasn't really ready and said so and he started anyway. Again, it was mere moments until things got sorted out, but... I could swear I was audible the first time, goddammit.)
I'm a mutant; I don't like clit stimulation. I'm okay with general crotch-area stimulation that rubs my clit indirectly, but a firm finger directly on the money button is just... too much. I think it's comparable to the way men feel about their cocks right after orgasm: it's intolerably hypersensitive.
So I said "stop that," and tried to push his hand away. He actually pushed against me kept it there, kept rubbing me in that horrible uncomfortable way even as I said again "no, stop, it's too much."
"It's not too much. You like it!"
"Please stop. I really don't like it." I physically yanked his hand out of my crotch and he finally gave up. We kept having sex, of course, and the rest of it was very nice, and I got off like five times and he didn't at all, so nyahhh.
Still I'm annoyed. It's roughly the millionth time a guy has told me "no, no, I swear you like this" when I said I didn't. The funny part is that it's almost always something ostensibly done for my pleasure--guys never want to force me to give blowjobs or anything, they want to force me into uncomfortable fingering and cunnilingus and vibrator play. If I could only get over my initial reluctance to receive pleasure, they think, they'd bring me such bliss.
I know I'm a little idiosyncratic in the way I work, and I don't blame Alan for touching me the wrong way, but I do blame him for not listening to "no."
Do other women say it insincerely? Is that my problem? Are there girls out there going "no, no, yes" or using "no" to mean "oh, that's just too naughty, tee hee"? Because if so, those girls suck and they're ruining men for those of us who know what we don't like and are just trying to communicate that.
Or if women don't do that, where do guys get this idea? Is it the media or something? There's usually some way to blame the media.
It's hardly a big deal, it was a tiny little finger move and a momentary misunderstanding. It just bothers me that a guy like Alan needs any convincing, under any circumstances, that "no" means "no."
(Benny, always happy to be on the worse side of any comparison, once actually fucked me against a "no," and not in scene or anything--we were just hanging out naked in bed and he got on me and I wasn't really ready and said so and he started anyway. Again, it was mere moments until things got sorted out, but... I could swear I was audible the first time, goddammit.)
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