I have to do some more research into the workings of the female orgasm. I wonder if I could get a research grant. The problem is that I am not very scientifically minded, though I have to admit that if anything could get me interested in science, it is probably this subject.
How and why? There are plenty of how why questions.
Whilst many of the ‘how’ and ‘why’ questions are scientific in nature, there are as many that are more anthropological in focus. Here are just a few that spring to mind as I write.
Why do I cum so vociferously on some occasions and not at all on others?
How come I can finger myself in exactly the same spot as my lover, in more or less the same way, yet I do not ejaculate or cum as quickly and as thoroughly as when he does it?
Why are people so dismissive of a vaginal orgasm when I know it happens?
Why have there been no scientific studies into the phenomenon of the female orgasm that has once and for all dismissed the doubters and acknowledged the power of the pussy?
Why don’t people talk about this yet are relatively prepared to discuss the male orgasm and male masturbation with less anxiety or embarrassment?
These are just a few that are springing to mind at the moment, but there are many others. What actually happens to my body that causes the great gushes that I sometimes experience? Who else has experienced this?
Of course, in my humble and mostly unscientific mind, I am fascinated by the connection between the physical, the spiritual, the intellect and the emotional.
If you consider my second bullet point, I think it is a very good example of how sexuality is essentially about the amalgam of intelligences working simultaneously to create the most sensual state of being.
I lie in bed and I gently stroke my pubes, smoothing them and straightening my hairs in a downward direction before gently rubbing the head of my clitoris until I can feel its bony-like growth that directs my brain to direct my fingers further towards my labia and enter into my pussy to feel the great mounds of body parts that are extending and pushing at my touch. I stretch into my pussy with two or three fingers and feel how excited I am becoming. I rub deep inside and feel a growing pressure of liquid and arousal. I rub hard and I can feel myself beginning to cum.
I cum.
It happens and it is wonderful. Sexual arousal is available to anyone who chooses to masturbate in this way. It is a physical act that reminds the mind of previous occasions of arousal. It is a physical act that can be initiated by a thought or a picture or a piece of writing. So of course, even with masturbation, there are other intelligences coming into play.
However, thoroughly mind-blowing sex, the type that sends you into a sartorial state of wonderment and bliss, the type that almost disables you from any cognitive or physical functioning, the type that overwhelms you so that the only single thing that you can think about is the totality of sexual climax happens when all of those intelligences are working simultaneously to transport you into a world that every person has a right to find themselves in.
And this, for me, cannot happen with masturbation. Well, you can be overwhelmed, subsumed by an orgasm, you can feel washed out and delighted by such an orgasm but it is not the same as when there is a concentration of these intelligences working together in the company of another.
As I said, I am no scientist but surely it would be an extremely interesting experiment to see what precisely happens in these differing circumstances.
I could be wrong, I could be naïve but whilst I accept that it is perfectly possible to have a divine orgasm through masturbation or by having sex with someone that you are not emotionally involved with, I am totally convinced that you cannot reach the heights of completeness and utter fulfilment without that connection, without each of the intelligences urging one another on, working collaboratively, intertwining to get the absolute out of mind, body and soul.
Returning to my second bullet point, I can physically get myself to orgasm. I can do it readily and regularly and it is a delight. Yet it takes time. I have to concentrate on the stimulus to transfer the initial thought or trigger into an actual orgasm. Conversely, when he pushes his fingers into my cunt and touches me in exactly the same place, in exactly the same way as I have learned to touch myself, it has a dramatically different effect. It can’t just be down to the physical difference in the size of our fingers or the fact that he has more experience of doing this, although I do not deny that he is more adept at this than me. What actually happens though is that my mind takes me to a different place. My mind is being fucked simultaneously with his fingers sliding further inside me, so that by the time he reaches the special place that triggers a release of sexual juices, I am already thinking, remembering, feeling, adoring, anticipating, desiring, wanting, needing, hoping. And this in turn, with its engagement of all intelligences makes me spunk like nothing on earth. The gushing of the juices is a physical indication of how incredibly aroused I am. I look up and see the utter joy in his eyes and I look down and see what all of this is doing to his awaiting cock and I am fulfilled.
By the time he holds his cock in hand ready to push it inside me, I am so far gone in my sexual arousal that even thinking about him entering me spirals my mind into more excitement, more eager anticipation, so that as soon as he is inside me, I can cum all over his shaft pretty quickly, and feel more juices throbbing out of me, soaking his hard, aroused balls.
Yes, someone really has to do some research on total, fulfilled sex. Maybe it is only when there is a complete acknowledgement of this pinnacle of sexuality that we can persuade people not to settle for second best. I really think people should be far more aspirational about their sexuality but how can they be aspirational if that have no idea as to what they are aspiring to?
This is what we should be telling young people, and we really need people to be far more honest about this link between mind and body fucks. Though of course, this is assuming a few things. Firstly, that people are actually experiencing this glorious sex, and secondly that they have any understanding of the three dimensions of intelligence. Thirdly, there is an assumption that people have the ability to convey this message in a clear and precise way, and one could argue that how can you really convey the uniqueness and the totality of sartorial sex. It truly is indescribable. You have to feel it, experience it, believe in it.
As I said there are plenty of other questions. What makes me more cummy on some days than others? How can I produce more liquid on one day than another when my state of arousal and excitement appear to me to be constant? I simply do not know the answer to this, though I do think that the mere enjoyment of seeing oneself spunk in such quantities seems to trigger a greater arousal, and consequently more spunk – again, an example of where the mind is working hard to ensure you have the very best sexual experience.
And then there’s the vaginal orgasm. Many people believe that is not physically possible to have a vaginal orgasm and that in actual fact, what people think is a vaginal orgasm is in fact a stimulation of the clitoris. I am not knowledgeable enough to know precisely how the clit and vagina connect to answer that one but I do know that there are significant differences in the feeling that overwhelms your body when you have a clitty cum compared with a vaginal cum. Both are wonderful, yet ever so slightly different in the intensity.
However, that is for another piece of research. The point is, dear world, that there is such a thing as a vaginal cum and I had about seven of them consecutively yesterday – or was it just one, long, ongoing orgasm – another piece of research.
And now onto my final point.
I am totally convinced that male dominance is the cause of the inept amount of detailed study into the phenomenon of female sexuality. If only men could open their eyes and realise that having sex with a sexually fulfilled woman would enhance male sexuality beyond their wildest imaginations. Oligarchs, professors, doctors, scientists, powerful people of the world, think about this one. What single act of goodness could the world engage in to make it a better place? When do people feel most satisfied, most natural, most appeased? The answer for most is sex.
Sex as a pacifist tool? Worth thinking about.
If sex can be the calming influence on the world that I think it has the potential of being, then really there should be a very considered approach to looking at it more intently. If males are pacified and absorbed by sex, then surely exploring female sexuality can only make this abundantly better? It really is not a question of either or.
I think that there are some people who are so concerned that telling the truth about the female orgasm would result in a major growth in sexual tools and the man’s dick would not be as needed.
How wrong can you be? Personally, I would have a cock in me whenever possible. I would throw that purple thing away if I could have continual access to a cock and a finger that sends me into oblivion whenever I wanted.
I am being slightly flippant but I do think this is something that should be considered. I believe that people are a little frightened of female sexuality which is why we do not know enough about ejaculations. A fear of the unknown can create all sorts of urban myths and misunderstanding. It can make a woman who cums feel abnormal and a woman who doesn’t cum unsure of what she should be seeking.
Equality in sexuality can make the experience for all so much more rewarding and enjoyable, and we really need to understand female sexuality to enable this to happen.
And here is a little theory. The male orgasm is functional. Without it, we would not be able to procreate. We need that spurt of cum to make us. That is why there are more studies on men’s cum, more acceptance of male masturbation, more understanding of its function. Women’s cum is deemed not to be functional to the same extent. I am now arguing that in a world where we as human beings evolve and continue to do so, then we should look at the function of the female orgasm in a different, evolving way.
It may not have the physical function of procreation. We know that. This is an intellectual fact. But in our recognition of the differing and equal functions of intelligence, surely the female orgasm has an equal place in the world. It may not procreate but it has the potential to be a major participant in the development of human spirituality. Intellect is required. Biological knowledge is necessary but if sex is going to be fulfilling and divine, the mind and soul as well as the body need to function. I would argue that an acknowledgement and understanding of the female orgasm could be a real breakthrough into the development of spiritual intelligence that would deem it to have as much significance as the procreation potential of male sperm.
Okay, I know this needs some work, but it is a starting point for a discussion.
Last night, I was watching Gavin and Stacey, and bizarrely, it gave me a little hope.
There was a section where the two main characters were out house-hunting and they bumped into a couple of lads, one of whom was the glorious and clever James Corbin – whose character is called Smithy.
They were shouting from street level up to a block of flats, and the mate was saying that Smithy was so desperate for sex that he had managed to knock four out in a single evening. Gavin responded to say that he knew because Smithy had text him to say he’d had his fourth productive wank of the evening. Smithy apologised to Stacey, saying that these were not the type of conversations that were appropriate to the ears of a young woman.
Dear Stacey replied. “Don’t worry Smithy, I’m so bored at the moment that I knocked three out just whilst watching ‘Cash in the Attic’”.
Wonderful, The shock and horror on the faces of the three males on the television screen was mirrored by the shock and horror on the faces of the males who were watching it with me!
Admittedly, one of them might not have thoroughly understood what was going on but the others were just a little nonplussed. Meanwhile, I am rolling about in complete hysteria at the delightfulness of this young girl’s frankness about her sexuality.
And it is this that gives me hope. It was delivered in such a matter of fact manner that maybe the younger people of the world are more acknowledging and appreciative of the female orgasm.
Thank goodness that there are the likes of Ruth Jones and James Corbin, writers of distinction, that are prepared to be upfront in a prime slot television programme. And thank goodness the BBC still have people who are not as prudish as some of their recent behaviour has suggested.
It is through normalisation in programmes such as these, that the world can begin to see, begin to question and begin to desire more information about what precisely young Stacey was talking about.
As ever, all of this talk about sex has made me very moist.
Re-reading certain sections has made me extremely aroused. I just hope it does the same for the reader as well as allow a careful consideration and more thought about that very important subject of female sexuality.
Sunday 8 February 2009
Writing for women
In recent times I have been very interested in what some would see as the dividing line between pornography and raunchy writing that excites and energises the reader. I have also been keen to reclaim words and phrases that are deemed to be crude, bringing them into mainstream writing to make them acceptable and positively embrace them. I am also interested in how we can spread the word of female sexuality without it seeming to be gratuitous or overtly sensationalist.
Of course, one could argue that anything sexual should be overtly sensationalist. I suppose a better word would be titillation. I would want my writing to titillate but not in an unseemly way and not merely for this reason.
There is so much to do in supporting women of all ages to recognise their own sexuality, to embrace it and positively seek ways of expressing it. And a few weekends ago, I have had a slight breakthrough, thanks to the writing of others.
Firstly, in the Guardian Weekend magazine, there was an article about a European woman called Charlotte Roche. She has written a book called “Feuchtgebiete” which translates to wetlands or moist patches. With typical reverence to British sensitivities, it is the former rather than the latter title that she has chosen for the English translation. Personally, I think that “Moist Patches” would have made a far better title. But isn’t ‘Feuchtgebiete’ a great word? With the sharpness of the German language, it has an earthiness that is so important in raw sexuality.
“I vont to emit a fechtgebiete all over your sheets for you to sniff at your vill” – sorry!
The book itself does sound somewhat bizarre with a huge juxtaposition between the woman’s desire to get her divorced parents back together and her deeply sexual state of being in hospital because of her sexual misdemeanours. What Roche describes as her reason for writing the book in the first instance is something that certainly resonates with me. I quote, “We seem to be very strong and open about everything. But when it comes to the vagina, we’re not at all open yet. When I talk to people, they never talk to their best friends about any of this, how they masturbate, what they like……” She continues, “I wanted to write about female sexuality and go into detail very strongly”.
Another phrase that struck a chord with me was at the end of the article. Roche says about her writing, “It gives me a sense of strength. Men think they can be disgusting and sexual and stuff, and now I’ve shown them that women can do the same. When I walk into a pub now, and I see men saying, ‘Look, that’s Charlotte Roche’, it’s as if I’ve stolen something from them. I like that feeling”.
And she is right in some of what she says. I too want to write sexual stuff but not necessarily to reclaim something from men. Far from it. I want to help men to enjoy their women’s sexuality just as much as I want women to recognise it for their own sake. I would never use the word ‘disgusting’. This is a key point. Nobody should be using the word ‘disgusting’ in the same sentence or phrase as the word ‘sex’. They should be mutually exclusive if people really understood the true wonderment of sex and sexuality. None of it is disgusting.
Now some could argue that Roche’s fetishness with female lubrications is disgusting. And admittedly, it appears that some of what she describes is somewhat bizarre – “like warm pus mixed with diarrhoea and something acidic”?? No place for this really – we are trying to get people to see the beauty and delights of female aroma – we are trying to break free from the idea that Roche suggest later in the piece that female smells are as disgusting as the smell of rotten dead fish.
The point of all of this and the reason that I was so excited to read this article is that it appears that the tide is turning. Admittedly, the first publishers that she went to were adamant in their refusal to publish but she persevered and got the publication, with the book being extremely successful in Germany. It appears that there really is a market for books that excite and energise, inform and amuse. It appears that people really do want to embrace the joys of female sexuality, and maybe, just maybe, there is a place for refined, thoughtful, intellectual writing from a woman who is making her way through life, totally reviewing her ideas about sexuality and love and relationships, and she wants others to know how utterly liberating this can be.
I really do think that with some extremely dedicated and helpful support, I could start writing something that is as raunchy and exciting as this book appears to be. I too would want to talk about female juices but I wouldn’t want to make them ‘disgusting’. I would want to be honest and truthful and positive about them.
I’d happily share my thoughts and experiences about good and beautiful sex, about fantasies and ideas.
But what I want to do is ensure that the book that I write is reaching out to as wide an audience as possible. It doesn’t need to be sensationalist, other than describing and enlightening the world about the sensationalism of female sexuality. It doesn’t need crudity other than rescuing words and phrases that are currently deemed to be crude.
Like Roche I want to write about female sexuality and “go into detail very strongly” but in an extremely positive and powerful way. There is a new wave of feminism that needs to incorporate the key components of female sexuality. And I am so very, very excited about the prospect that I could have a part in this.
So what else happened that weekend to buzz me into action? Well, it has something to do with the magazine Cosmopolitan.
Earlier in the week, I was discussing the idea of writing a piece for a magazine, and whether someone like Cosmopolitan might be the right place for such an article. The idea was to start writing in a similar, possibly toned down, way to Zenpuss, aiming to enlighten the world.
I was, and am, going to start by writing an article about women hiding their sex toys from their partners.
In order to think about the type of language that I should use, I decided that I ought to go and buy a copy of Cosmo to see how I would need to style my writing.
I was alarmed, disappointed, yet not very surprised to find that in actual fact, Cosmo was full of utter bollocks. Admittedly, the readers of this magazine are probably not in my age bracket – oh dear, how depressing that I am probably no longer the target audience of such magazines, but it really was full of utter drivel.
In the February edition, the key “love, sex and success” articles are as follows – Sex and the Single Girl – Tracey heads Down Under to find out if the men are better home or away, What Goes Through Men’s Minds ….. when they secretly lust after you, 50 Things You Never Knew About Sex (nuff said already), Girls on Top – Toe-tingling sex positions that will have you riding high and Sex Coach – Rachel sorts your problems between the sheets.
The headline capturing, “9 Secrets of women who enjoy the best sex” turns out to be the article about riding a cock, only of course, this being Cosmo, you cannot mention the word ‘cock’. ‘Penis’ is the only viable word for the male organ.
A slightly amusing aside, I was reading the problem page which included the following issues, “Am I dumped?” – My boyfriend text me to say that we needed to talk and could I phone him. I tried but he is not answering. Do you think he has dumped me? – Er, yes. Irma’s response was “Think of yourself as single again. Congratulations and good luck!”
“I want him to commit to me” – about a student who cannot understand why a bloke who says he’s committed to her also wants to play around.
“I’m threatened by pretty women on tv” – personally, I just enjoy!
And the best, “I need to choose between two men”. Quote, “I know I am not supposed to but I’ve got myself into two relationships at once……..Mr A is very loving and settled….. Mr B is a great cook, we have fantastic sex and he gives me space”. Apparently, according to Irma you cannot possibly love two people simultaneously which means that you actually love neither of them, and of course this women needs to discover herself and therefore for herself that “two at a time is a bad idea”. Now me being me, read this slightly differently. When she said that Mr B is a great cook, I honestly thought that she said Mr B is a great cock – especially when the sentence was finished with a mere comma with “we have fantastic sex”.
But of course, I had forgotten that we cannot use the word ‘cock’. And naturally, we have a vagina not a pussy.
My conclusion on reading this tripe, which incidentally was not well written, was that there is a need for a different type of magazine. I cannot be the only woman in this country who wants to read about female sexuality in a, dare I say it, slightly more intellectual, mature and excitable way. The Scarlet magazine, that tries so hard to reach be more raunchy, like the female equivalent of a soft porn boys mag, also doesn’t hit the spot. It is neither one thing or another. There are no piccies of cocks or tits for that matter, and the writing is pretty bad.
So the only answer is to create a new magazine, one that thoroughly concentrates on sexuality for the enlightened or for those who are interested in travelling on a journey……….
………….. and for now, that is where I have to leave it, buzzing with ideas……….
Of course, one could argue that anything sexual should be overtly sensationalist. I suppose a better word would be titillation. I would want my writing to titillate but not in an unseemly way and not merely for this reason.
There is so much to do in supporting women of all ages to recognise their own sexuality, to embrace it and positively seek ways of expressing it. And a few weekends ago, I have had a slight breakthrough, thanks to the writing of others.
Firstly, in the Guardian Weekend magazine, there was an article about a European woman called Charlotte Roche. She has written a book called “Feuchtgebiete” which translates to wetlands or moist patches. With typical reverence to British sensitivities, it is the former rather than the latter title that she has chosen for the English translation. Personally, I think that “Moist Patches” would have made a far better title. But isn’t ‘Feuchtgebiete’ a great word? With the sharpness of the German language, it has an earthiness that is so important in raw sexuality.
“I vont to emit a fechtgebiete all over your sheets for you to sniff at your vill” – sorry!
The book itself does sound somewhat bizarre with a huge juxtaposition between the woman’s desire to get her divorced parents back together and her deeply sexual state of being in hospital because of her sexual misdemeanours. What Roche describes as her reason for writing the book in the first instance is something that certainly resonates with me. I quote, “We seem to be very strong and open about everything. But when it comes to the vagina, we’re not at all open yet. When I talk to people, they never talk to their best friends about any of this, how they masturbate, what they like……” She continues, “I wanted to write about female sexuality and go into detail very strongly”.
Another phrase that struck a chord with me was at the end of the article. Roche says about her writing, “It gives me a sense of strength. Men think they can be disgusting and sexual and stuff, and now I’ve shown them that women can do the same. When I walk into a pub now, and I see men saying, ‘Look, that’s Charlotte Roche’, it’s as if I’ve stolen something from them. I like that feeling”.
And she is right in some of what she says. I too want to write sexual stuff but not necessarily to reclaim something from men. Far from it. I want to help men to enjoy their women’s sexuality just as much as I want women to recognise it for their own sake. I would never use the word ‘disgusting’. This is a key point. Nobody should be using the word ‘disgusting’ in the same sentence or phrase as the word ‘sex’. They should be mutually exclusive if people really understood the true wonderment of sex and sexuality. None of it is disgusting.
Now some could argue that Roche’s fetishness with female lubrications is disgusting. And admittedly, it appears that some of what she describes is somewhat bizarre – “like warm pus mixed with diarrhoea and something acidic”?? No place for this really – we are trying to get people to see the beauty and delights of female aroma – we are trying to break free from the idea that Roche suggest later in the piece that female smells are as disgusting as the smell of rotten dead fish.
The point of all of this and the reason that I was so excited to read this article is that it appears that the tide is turning. Admittedly, the first publishers that she went to were adamant in their refusal to publish but she persevered and got the publication, with the book being extremely successful in Germany. It appears that there really is a market for books that excite and energise, inform and amuse. It appears that people really do want to embrace the joys of female sexuality, and maybe, just maybe, there is a place for refined, thoughtful, intellectual writing from a woman who is making her way through life, totally reviewing her ideas about sexuality and love and relationships, and she wants others to know how utterly liberating this can be.
I really do think that with some extremely dedicated and helpful support, I could start writing something that is as raunchy and exciting as this book appears to be. I too would want to talk about female juices but I wouldn’t want to make them ‘disgusting’. I would want to be honest and truthful and positive about them.
I’d happily share my thoughts and experiences about good and beautiful sex, about fantasies and ideas.
But what I want to do is ensure that the book that I write is reaching out to as wide an audience as possible. It doesn’t need to be sensationalist, other than describing and enlightening the world about the sensationalism of female sexuality. It doesn’t need crudity other than rescuing words and phrases that are currently deemed to be crude.
Like Roche I want to write about female sexuality and “go into detail very strongly” but in an extremely positive and powerful way. There is a new wave of feminism that needs to incorporate the key components of female sexuality. And I am so very, very excited about the prospect that I could have a part in this.
So what else happened that weekend to buzz me into action? Well, it has something to do with the magazine Cosmopolitan.
Earlier in the week, I was discussing the idea of writing a piece for a magazine, and whether someone like Cosmopolitan might be the right place for such an article. The idea was to start writing in a similar, possibly toned down, way to Zenpuss, aiming to enlighten the world.
I was, and am, going to start by writing an article about women hiding their sex toys from their partners.
In order to think about the type of language that I should use, I decided that I ought to go and buy a copy of Cosmo to see how I would need to style my writing.
I was alarmed, disappointed, yet not very surprised to find that in actual fact, Cosmo was full of utter bollocks. Admittedly, the readers of this magazine are probably not in my age bracket – oh dear, how depressing that I am probably no longer the target audience of such magazines, but it really was full of utter drivel.
In the February edition, the key “love, sex and success” articles are as follows – Sex and the Single Girl – Tracey heads Down Under to find out if the men are better home or away, What Goes Through Men’s Minds ….. when they secretly lust after you, 50 Things You Never Knew About Sex (nuff said already), Girls on Top – Toe-tingling sex positions that will have you riding high and Sex Coach – Rachel sorts your problems between the sheets.
The headline capturing, “9 Secrets of women who enjoy the best sex” turns out to be the article about riding a cock, only of course, this being Cosmo, you cannot mention the word ‘cock’. ‘Penis’ is the only viable word for the male organ.
A slightly amusing aside, I was reading the problem page which included the following issues, “Am I dumped?” – My boyfriend text me to say that we needed to talk and could I phone him. I tried but he is not answering. Do you think he has dumped me? – Er, yes. Irma’s response was “Think of yourself as single again. Congratulations and good luck!”
“I want him to commit to me” – about a student who cannot understand why a bloke who says he’s committed to her also wants to play around.
“I’m threatened by pretty women on tv” – personally, I just enjoy!
And the best, “I need to choose between two men”. Quote, “I know I am not supposed to but I’ve got myself into two relationships at once……..Mr A is very loving and settled….. Mr B is a great cook, we have fantastic sex and he gives me space”. Apparently, according to Irma you cannot possibly love two people simultaneously which means that you actually love neither of them, and of course this women needs to discover herself and therefore for herself that “two at a time is a bad idea”. Now me being me, read this slightly differently. When she said that Mr B is a great cook, I honestly thought that she said Mr B is a great cock – especially when the sentence was finished with a mere comma with “we have fantastic sex”.
But of course, I had forgotten that we cannot use the word ‘cock’. And naturally, we have a vagina not a pussy.
My conclusion on reading this tripe, which incidentally was not well written, was that there is a need for a different type of magazine. I cannot be the only woman in this country who wants to read about female sexuality in a, dare I say it, slightly more intellectual, mature and excitable way. The Scarlet magazine, that tries so hard to reach be more raunchy, like the female equivalent of a soft porn boys mag, also doesn’t hit the spot. It is neither one thing or another. There are no piccies of cocks or tits for that matter, and the writing is pretty bad.
So the only answer is to create a new magazine, one that thoroughly concentrates on sexuality for the enlightened or for those who are interested in travelling on a journey……….
………….. and for now, that is where I have to leave it, buzzing with ideas……….
Female Eroticism and Writing
I am not really sure where to start with this article that appeared in the Guardian last week because it is, in essence, confusing with no definable argument or even comment. However, it does raise a number of issues that have been considered and developed by contributors to Comment is Free.
This in itself is heartening.
There are hundreds of comments which certainly give the impression that people are actually concerned about this subject. Yet, even within the comments, there are masses of contradictions, confusions and misconceptions about erotica, about pornography, about what is ‘available’ for women, about sexuality, about feminism, about male versus female sexuality etcetera, ad infinitum.
So to start, I am going to put some comments in to each paragraph to try and illustrate some of the thoughts that I have.
Off we go!
When Kathy Lette first began to approach some of this country's most seasoned women writers to contribute to the collection of short erotic stories she was editing, she was surprised by how many of them promptly exercised their right to say no. This despite the fact that she was guaranteeing their anonymity: all authors in the recently published In Bed With ... have adopted noms de porn - the name of their first pet put with that of their first street.
Just because you are a female writer does not necessarily mean that you are capable of erotic or pornographic writing. Surely, there has to be something in the experience and understanding of your own body, your own thoughts and your own sexuality to be able to write effective, exciting and stimulating sexual stuff.Having said this, the notion that women flatly refused to do this, despite anonymity, is not really a surprise. This negative response epitomizes a societal concern about being ‘found out’, i.e. that these women are concerned that writing about sex would give others a different impression of them, that they fear being found out both as the writer and as someone who is sexual. They may also be responding negatively because they themselves still see ‘erotica’ as something that is sleazy, taboo and not a place for serious writers. This fills me with a certain amount of anxiety and sadness; that established women writers cannot see the positive and enlightened role that erotic writing written by sexual women has a place in our society. On the other hand, it fills me with excitement that there is a voice for Zenpuss out there, indicating that there are a whole range of women who need liberating from the sexual constraints of misinterpretation, misunderstanding and ignorance.
Lette is happy to admit that there's a fair measure of mischief-making underpinning her project, and easily moistened - mostly male - gossip columnists are already intent on unmasking Marmalade Bates as Fay Weldon ... or is it Esther Freud? But nor is this slinky volume without its politics. As Lette notes, it's a weary truism that it remains taboo for women to talk publicly about what turns them on. Another of the contributors, Joan Smith, says she has been fielding scandalised callers demanding to know why a feminist such as herself would even countenance writing erotica. For all the jocular gloss, the media's imperative to identify Lette's writers carries an unpleasant undercurrent of the scarlet letter. And it reminds me too much of the mean-spirited outing a few years ago of the formidable Zoe Margolis, whose sex blog Girl With A One-Track Mind was not only very hot, but chockfull of feminism.
There is a point here which is worth a comment. I would love to live in a society where Zenpuss could ‘come out’ and admit to being the person that she is. But I can’t. It would be such a difficult issue for so many people to contend with. There would be experiences that would have to be explained and thoughts and feelings that do not reflect what some perceive to be the realities of my life. The simple fact is that Zenpuss is known to only one other, and as much as I would like that to be different, it has to remain so. In saying that, I find myself concerned that I am exacerbating and perpetuating the very thing that I am trying to eradicate; that women should feel sexually liberated and should be able to be honest, open and realistic about their sexuality, their desires, their fantasies. In reality, for all my talk, I am conforming to the straightjacket that is offered to me by society. Shame on me!Lette says that it is still a taboo for women to talk about what turns them on. Contributors on CIF counter argue this on many levels. Some argue that with the sexualisation of society, this is a time when women are perfectly able and free to express themselves sexually. Some argue that because there is an Ann Summers shop in most High Streets, then this is in itself a symbol that women’s sexual liberation has been reached. Some say that magazines like Cosmo have been doing this for decades. Of course, women are able and free to talk about sex, to read about it and to pleasure themselves in erotic images and literature. And to some extent, all of this is true. But I would have to argue, have they actually done the job they purport to do? How many women go into Ann Summers with their heads held high, unashamed of who they might meet as they walk out the door, that is assuming that they even enter into the shop in the first place? How many women have read Cosmo and felt that they had in any way reshaped their own sexuality or have actually learned anything about their body and the way that they can enjoy sexuality?
Ultimately, the argument thickens. If we are so liberated sexually, how come I cannot find a single magazine either in WH Smiths or even in the aforementioned Ann Summers where I can get an eyeful of cock on every page, fucking decent looking women that make me feel desperate for a good shag? How come people still do not understand how women can have ejaculatory cums from vaginal as well as clitoral stimulation? How come I do not know how many of my friends experience wet cums, because, even though we may talk about sex toys and sexual positions that we enjoy, there are still some subjects that remain untouchable, unless you wish to be seen as some sort of freak? How come I cannot ‘come out’ as a woman who enjoys talking about sex, having sex, fantasising about sex? How come I cannot own up to not only masturbating with toys but regularly enjoy feeling the softness of my pubes as I reach inside myself to see how my body is reacting to the stimulus of a touch or a photograph or merely a memory of something that I have recently enjoyed? How come women don’t even know that the insides of their bodies become erect just like a cock when they are aroused? How come women have no understanding or appreciation of the difference between having a pee and having a fucking good, juicy orgasm? The list is almost hopelessly endless.Kathy is right. We are not sexually liberated or even sexually literate but this is not to assume that this is just a gender issue. There are plenty of men who suffer from sexual illiteracy or liberation too. The only difference is that generally, there is more known about male sexuality than female sexuality, and still we have ignoramuses who simply do not understand the joys and wonderment of fabulous sex.
One woman writing about sex who does not require any further exposure is Charlotte Roche, a German TV presenter whose first novel, Wetlands, became a literary sensation when it was published last year. Now translated, and available in Britain next month, Roche's heroine Helen is joyfully promiscuous while showing complete disregard for the traditional demands of feminine hygiene. She is childishly fascinated by the smell and taste of her own body, particularly her vagina, rebelling against the received wisdom of how women should be kempt Down There.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! What precisely is immature about the smell and taste of one’s own body? It is not immature. Rather, it is refined, mature and stimulating to have an understanding and appreciation of one’s own body. The other day, as I stuck my fingers down my trousers and into my cunt, as I then withdrew them and placed them under the nose of my lover, I was not thinking that this was an immature action. I was fully, maturely intending to turn him on, to excite him and to lead him into wanting more. As I sucked them clean, I could taste what he tastes when he thrusts his tongue deep inside me, and I appreciate even more how much he enjoys my sexuality. What on earth is childish about that?
Wetlands has divided critics in Germany - is this a grand feminist manifesto, or self-regarding obscenity? After reading it myself last week, I'd offer that, while a whole lot more explicit than In Bed With ... , it shares a very similar ethos, not least because it subverts the usual conventions of pornography by portraying a female, and indeed male, sexual protagonist who is less than perfectly plucked and permanently aroused. (The couplings in the Lette collection include elderly liaisons as well as the requisite strapping gardener and bored housewife.)This is a very bizarre statement and I am not actually sure that I understand it. I think what Libby is trying to say is that Wetlands, like Lette’s work is trying to overcome the ‘presumed’ conventions of porn; that women can enjoy porn, that they can be as sexual as a man and that they can be aroused. I have to admit that whilst I can be aroused for an exceedingly long time that appeases my sometimes long journey home from my lover’s house, I am not sure that I would actually want to be ‘permanently’ aroused. How would I thoroughly enjoy that satori moment if it was constant? It would not be a ‘moment’ any longer and would totally negate the divinity of that essential and beloved experience that I simply adore.Just on another issue, I am not perfectly plucked, nor do I want to be, though I think I would be very aroused by someone having a go at shaving me. I think a greater female sexual liberation will bring about a strong return of the bush! And as for Lette including elderly liaisons – well, I’d go along with that as a positive move forward. I am seriously hoping that sexuality doesn’t stop at sixty or seventy or actually at any point in life thank you very much.
There is reason to be cheerful about this flurry of mid-winter temperature-raising. Perhaps I've been looking in all the wrong places, but it has struck me lately that public debate about good sex has stalled. Some three years ago now, the American writer Ariel Levy identified a prevailing "raunch culture", which puts forward pole-dancing lessons and no-strings liaisons as evidence of liberation when in reality women are constrained as ever, but this time fearful of being branded prudish instead of promiscuous.
Now this is a very serious point. The reason that the public debate has stalled, in my opinion, is that it hasn’t even started. Just like our education system, it is stuck on the knowledge based spectrum of intellect. It has not considered the physical and metaphysical joys of sex, it has not considered the true emotional and social implications of positive sex. It has not explored the very essence of what makes sex something that is not merely a pleasurable pastime but an integral and vital part of people’s wholesome (deliberately used word) wellbeing; an instinct, an absolute part of being human. All those people who think we are there, end of, that the market is complete and sexual myths, misunderstandings and misgivings are a thing of the past are indeed living in cloud cuckoo land. The other day I was in a meeting where we were discussing the potential of teaching oral sex as a means of preventing conception. Admittedly this was a half debate, and was in no means addressing the situation, but a group of relatively intelligent (!!!) people were stunned into an embarrassed silence, only broken by the speaker stating that it was a messy business this oral sex stuff, unaware of the implications of what she was saying. The ‘childish’ sniggers that ensued epitomized the real state of play as far as societal interpretation of all things sexual. We are embarrassed, even disgusted, we regress into fumbling and stumbling fools at the mere mention of the ‘S’ word, and cannot use phrases such as finger fucking, tonguing. Even the crucial and correct terminology of fellatio and cunnilingus is a taboo in such an environment, and here is a situation with a room full of people supposedly ready to ‘educate’ our future generation. By laughing, by hiding, by wishing the conversation would stop, by embarassingly realising that the pregnant woman in the room must have HAD SEX? This, dear reader, is the reality of where we actually are. I see sexual enlightenment amongst such folk as a very long way down the path.
No, the simple fact is it hasn’t stalled. It simply hasn’t started the engine. And like a similar analogy that I read recently, it needs cogs and wheels and oil and mechanisms of all sorts to get the thing on the road.
Women and men were becoming increasingly vocal about their anger at the way sexuality - still mainly female - had been co-opted by commerce, with the values of the market turning the act itself into a competitive sport. For a moment, it felt as though - in addition to critiquing the pornification of society - it might be possible to open up a public space to investigate how this was affecting personal sexual development. But I sense this didn't quite happen - despite the blogosphere offering individuals like Margolis ample opportunity to explore their own erotic journeys.
Of course women and men were becoming and are still vocal about their concerns about the sexually unliberated, and yes, there was and is still a movement towards changing societal view about pornography and sexual development. But again, like the education debate, change is not going to occur overnight, especially if people do not embrace the whole idea that this is not just a physical liberation. Sexual liberation requires opening of minds, delving into history and really questioning a million things about the way that our society has formed its views and practices. It is not as simple as being more extrovert, or allowing women to hold onto a pole and rub herself in front of invited, paying guests. My sexual enlightenment, my wish for women to understand about their own sexuality has nothing to do with burlesque evenings or topless barmaids other than the fact that these are a mere example of some things that could be sexually appealing for some people.
We are missing a vital point here. Sexualisation is not sexuality, and even if there has been some welcomed movement in this area, I still can’t get my cock mag from the newsagent, not because it isn’t stocked in the shop but because it doesn’t exist as nobody has realised that there is a market out there….. because ultimately, no-one has admitted that this is something that they want, and why haven’t they admitted it? Because they don’t know they want it, because they have never sat and questioned and wondered and thought about their own sexuality.
Sexual ignorance is far from bliss, yet we still don't know, for example, precisely how a woman reaches orgasm. While it's generally assumed that men have higher libidos, recent research from Canada found that women are physiologically aroused by a much wider range of stimuli than males. And, while the porn movie industry has entirely mainstreamed anal penetration, I don't see the PSHE curriculum teaching our young people how to make the act safer and more comfortable by using condoms and lube any time soon.
Well, this sentence simply doesn’t make sense. What has the fact that sexual ignorance is far from bliss got to do with the fact that we don’t know how a woman reaches orgasm? Of course sexual ignorance is far from bliss. It is more than that. It is criminal and it is not allowing people to have the fulfillment in life that is their birthright. And one could argue that an example of sexual ignorance is around the negligent misinterpretation of the female orgasm. This sentence would probably make more sense if she had used the word ‘and’ rather than ‘yet’.It is ignorant that people do not know all there is to know about the female orgasm but yet again being pedantic, surely people know ‘how’ a woman reaches orgasm even if they are not particularly clear about the precise workings of the female body. I think my lover and I proved today that we knew exactly how a woman reaches orgasm. It is a very simple fact that you have your cunt stimulated, a spot or a variety of spots are touched and stroked and pushed and aroused, and then a flood of gorgeous juices are emitted. And as I got home, still in a state of arousal, I knew where to place my sex toy on my clitoris to get a different type of orgasm that was albeit not as exciting as the one a few hours previously, but still made me feel bloody good. Many people know how a woman reaches orgasm but I reckon that far fewer have experienced it on a more or less constant basis. And sadly, there are still people who do not know or believe in a vaginal orgasm, who do not know or believe that a woman can emit any other gush than pee from their cunt. And why is this so, because we still haven’t got to a stage where people know, understand and appreciate the joys of female sexuality.
It has been suggested that there is a possibility that people are deliberately withholding information about female orgasms for fear that this will alienate and upset those women who have not yet achieved it. Nobody wants to make women feel inferior in their sexuality. Nobody wants them to think that they are doing something wrong. But in many ways, that is precisely what they are doing. The ‘wrongness’ is accepting that a form of sexuality that is incomplete, and it is wrong of those of us who have experienced this to somehow pretend that it is not happening. Maybe the great gushes that I am talking about are unlikely to happen to all. Maybe, as it was for me, this rarely happens during what some might deem to be early days of sexual promiscuity, of sexual infancy. Maybe women do have to wait until they have reached a certain maturity to achieve this, though I know from the porn sites that I have visited, this is not the case. The point is that everyone should realise there is potential and should enjoy exploring how to get there. Surely this is part and parcel of being on a road to Enlightenment. It wouldn’t be very enlightening if we reached the destination before we had turned the car engine on!
No, it is up to women like me to explain the realities that go way beyond the alleged educative spots in magazines like Cosmo. These discussions are things that should be in the mainstream, if you excuse the pun, and I cannot see anywhere where this is truly discussed openly and honestly.
And another myth arises. Okay, so it is possible that generally men may have higher libidos but surely a statistical reality is of no benefit to the individual. If the general man has more sexual thoughts than me, if he wanks more frequently than me, then good on him but I am finally beginning to realise that there is a strong possibility that I could give most men a run for their money on the amount of times I have horny or sexual thoughts or actions a day, and even if this is not the case, does it matter? As long as each individual realises that it is okay to be stimulated, it is acceptable and normal to have a high libido, then it really is irrelevent whether men are more libidinous or women can arouse themselves with a higher range of stimuli. The fact is that all human beings have the potential to have high libidos whether they are men, women, gay, straight, black, white, under forty, over forty. It is a very individual thing and should be so. Sex is not a place for comparison or generalisations. It is about being you in a moment that belongs to you that can be shared with a person that has their own moment, their own be-ing.
Has the porn ‘mainstreamed’ (yikes) anal sex? Okay, it shows anal sex but I doubt whether this is a mainstream activity for most men and women. And yes, the PSHE curriculum is not in any fit state to be as liberated as starting a discussion on anal sex, but it should because otherwise we are going to perpetuate all the inhibitions and misconceptions about sex that we have carried over the generations onto the next generation of sexual beings. Incidentally, I am very keen on exploring this aspect of my own sexuality. I at least want to talk about it because this is precisely what we are not doing with our young people. We are not delving into their natural inquisitiveness. We are not giving them the opportunities to discuss these types of things. I am not advocating going out and delivering a lesson in a bland and stark way “Today we are going to talk about anal sex. If a woman wants a different and exciting challenge she can take it up the bum….. etc”. I am just saying that we need to open the doors to enable young people to discuss and prepare and consider and realise the potential of good sex encompasses many aspects that many generations have considered taboo. Do we really want another generation of, generically speaking, five minutes mission positioners? I don’t think so!
If this debate is still to take place, then re-writing porn is a pretty good place to start. As Smith summed up in a recent column about her contribution to In Bed With ... : "The problem isn't sex, but the fact that the industry that's grown up around it is sadistic, humiliating and exploitative. And the vast bulk of its consumers are men."Yes, rewriting porn and erotica is a place to start but it cannot be done in isolation. It is far, far more complex that a few sensationalist novels. It is not about gratuitous or dirty sexuality. It is about ensuring that the erotic and porn sites are looking at a deeper and more fulfilled understanding of sex. The other day, I was saying precisely this. I would love to see a dvd of two people having sex in exactly the way I do with my lover. This would really, really get me off. I want to see people kissing and holding one another, nibbling on ears and necks and nipples. I want to see people sensually undress and explore one another’s body. I want to see the darkening of their pupils as they stare longingly at the cunt or cock that they know are going to be touched and fucked within a matter of moments. I want to see the look on people’s faces as they are finger fucked. I want to see the gushes of cum that come from the stimulated woman. I want to see a couple banging away on the bathroom floor as much as I want to see them lovingly lying in bed, cuddled together in a warm and meaningful embrace. And I want to see what it like for them after they have had this sort of utterly complete sexual experience. It is erotic. Some would argue it would be porn, but this sort of thing is far more than merely starting the debate by writing highly commercialised or marketed books. It is drop in the ocean of what needs to be done.
It is too late in the day to go onto the pornographic industry and the presumed misogyny involved. Needless to say, I think this entire industry is there for the taking whether it be by men or women but I certainly feel that women writers, actresses, performers have a lot more to give here, and enlightened feminists have an extremely important role to play.
There is a danger here that the debate becomes zero-sum. This is not about replacing one stereotyped version of human sexuality (ie male, homogenised, fuck-centric, bad) with another (ie female, politically correct, cuddle-centric, boring) - were that even a realistic proposition. But it is about expanding the erotic menu for the benefit of both sexes.
Duh! You don’t say. Of course it is about expanding the erotic menu for both sexes. How many times does it have to be said? The enjoyment, understanding, appreciation of female sexuality is totally about men, well for those of us who are ardent cock lovers. My appreciation of my sexuality is dependent upon the sexuality of men, and this is something that others should know and appreciate. It is not about sisters doing it for themselves, though this too needs exploring further. It is about men knowing what women are capable of in sex, of women understanding and enjoying their bodies, of people working together. It is ultimately not about men or women. As I said earlier, it is about the absolute fundamentalism of being human, and sexuality is not an option, It is an essential part of this. It is a no brainer to consider there being another option.
And finally……
Here are a few comments from CIF.
Diamond Dave says “Men and women are finding a domain in places like Second Life where they can express themselves in a safe environment for the enjoyment and fulfillment of all. Women are right at the forefront of this new experience and are leaving the old constraints of feminism far behind. Perhaps a new chapter of liberation is unfolding, liberation from feminist groupthink about what is acceptable in female sexuality.
Zenpuss says: Must try and google that website. Yes I hope a new chapter is unfolding, and I together with my collaborator are ready to spread the word.
Dirkgently
Fantastic, I like works of erotica, as lets face it literature purports to deal with life and sex is a part of adult life that is paradoxically very public (portrayals in TV/Film) and yet private, public discussions about masturbation are frowned upon and it is perceived as being dirty, yet if we want to discover what sleeping with another person of the same sex is like, it is perceived as being healthy and natural.
The problem with porn is that it is designed to be visually stimulating, but it leaves other senses that are part of human sensuality and sexuality isolated and ignored, particularly touch and taste.
Erotica should be welcomed. Let’s face it most blokes would love to gain insight into female sexuality and learn how to be better lovers for their potential partners. Please let’s have more insights into sexuality from the silent, beautiful (i.e. female) majority!
Zenpuss says: Of course porn does not deal with the joys of sexual touch and taste, though they can be part of looking at porn, especially if you are enjoying porn together with your partner. But sexuality is about embracing all, and looking at porn is merely one way to be sexually stimulated and excited. However, I felt a good point was made about the contradictions outlined above. Sex is full of contradictions and there is no place for these. As for the last paragraph, well, this says it all. Blokes such as this one are ready to be enlightened. They embrace it and they want to hear it from women.
Sealion
I've always found that talking to her helps, but maybe thats just me. Everyone gets their rocks off in a different way, and for every man who has learned sex from a porn film there is a woman who has learned sex from Cosmo. Every time we get into bed with someone armed with our preconceptions we fail, because we assume we know what works and we get so caught up in that magic technique ('seven things that will drive him wild in bed!') that we stop paying attention to how the person we're laying on top of actually feels.
Zenpuss says: Here is some glimmer of hope – someone who understands that it is not just about a single, physical act. Sex is about talking and reading, about understanding and interpreting, and whilst Cosmo or a porn film may help, it hardly covers the starting point. Maybe we should be far more preoccupied with the person we are making love to, thinking about their needs, their joys, their feelings and thoughts whilst simultaneously ensuring our own needs, desires and passions are stimulated an fulfilled. Sex, when there are two people together, is totally about understanding, enjoying, loving, feeling, desiring and wanting one another to get the very best out of a very wonderful experience.
Another contributor
Women can also have much better orgasms but the fact remains that the hunger, its much stronger in the male species. Sex isn't just about the pleasure at the time, its also about the release of the pressure that build when not having sex. That is why we have so much visual sex aimed at men, because they are "in the mood" basically constantly.
Zenpuss says: I beg to contradict! Is this plonker saying that we’ll appease the little women by sorting out their orgasms as long as they realise that sexual hunger remains the domain of men? Has he not considered that horny women get a similar pressure when they want sex? Obviously this man thinks that women piss urine when they are excited!
The writer continues
But you have an industry catering to women’s sexuality, there are thousands of books on erotic literature, you can't expect famous writers to write it anymore than you can expect Steven Spielberg to direct a porno. Women don't have porn movies because they haven't created the demand for porn movies. With Ann Summers in every street, and women magazines all screaming sex tips or brighten up your love life, it’s ridiculous to claim it’s ignored. The fact is that it’s just not like men’s, something feminists with their idealistic politicizing of sex fail to grasp.
Zenpuss says: Yes, there’s stuff to read but it ain’t hitting the button. It is, as I have said above, paying a lip service to female sexuality. The depth is not there and this is what we have to create. Then the demand for porn written and produced with women in mind might be more prevalent. Having said that, good porn for me would be embracing the sexual enjoyment of humans irrespective of their gender.
Loveable Lefty
The one thing that strikes me about most "erotic" writing I have read is just how cold, loveless, dull and ultimately unerotic it is. For me descriptions of sex between two people who are deeply in love are far more arousing. To get to grips with someone’s whole mind, their being, their hopes and desires, that's far more of a turn on.Even without the complications of children, playing with sex is playing with fire, and treating sex as the equivalent as "fast food" is as bad for our emotions as a constant diet of burgers is for your heart and waistline.
Zenpuss says: Aahh! Trust a gay bloke to be there in terms of emotional intelligence – not that I am in to gross generalisations! Joking aside, this is a good point whoever says it and shows a level of enlightenment that is welcoming to see.
And really finally from the aptly named Guardian Goon.
I'd like to add to what JayReilly is saying that a sex act does not have to be enjoyable for both partners for it to be something you want to do, you should feel how an mans arm feels after he's frigged his woman to satisfaction, talk about an ache! Then there's the aforementioned cunnilingus... Both sexes can do things in sex that aren't satisfying in terms of stimulation and enjoy it, because you love your partner and know they find it great, no sex is equally satisfying, it's give a little, take a little, and it doesn't surprise me that self styled feminists who view any act that isn't mutually satisfying as oppression get labeled as sex negative, their views don't reflect the nature of sex itself. This doesn't apply exclusively to porn.
Zenpuss says: Eh! Sex doesn’t have to be enjoyable for both partners? Dodgy arms? Enjoy without being satisfying? Of course good sex is about equal access to stimulation and enjoyment! Surely that is an essential part of it. I adore sex with my lover because I adore the fact that he is clearly loving it too, and that ultimately stimulates me, which is simultaneously reciprocated by him, and so it goes on….. and that is precisely what enables both of us to reach a state of Satori.
And on that note, I bid a goodnight.
This in itself is heartening.
There are hundreds of comments which certainly give the impression that people are actually concerned about this subject. Yet, even within the comments, there are masses of contradictions, confusions and misconceptions about erotica, about pornography, about what is ‘available’ for women, about sexuality, about feminism, about male versus female sexuality etcetera, ad infinitum.
So to start, I am going to put some comments in to each paragraph to try and illustrate some of the thoughts that I have.
Off we go!
When Kathy Lette first began to approach some of this country's most seasoned women writers to contribute to the collection of short erotic stories she was editing, she was surprised by how many of them promptly exercised their right to say no. This despite the fact that she was guaranteeing their anonymity: all authors in the recently published In Bed With ... have adopted noms de porn - the name of their first pet put with that of their first street.
Just because you are a female writer does not necessarily mean that you are capable of erotic or pornographic writing. Surely, there has to be something in the experience and understanding of your own body, your own thoughts and your own sexuality to be able to write effective, exciting and stimulating sexual stuff.Having said this, the notion that women flatly refused to do this, despite anonymity, is not really a surprise. This negative response epitomizes a societal concern about being ‘found out’, i.e. that these women are concerned that writing about sex would give others a different impression of them, that they fear being found out both as the writer and as someone who is sexual. They may also be responding negatively because they themselves still see ‘erotica’ as something that is sleazy, taboo and not a place for serious writers. This fills me with a certain amount of anxiety and sadness; that established women writers cannot see the positive and enlightened role that erotic writing written by sexual women has a place in our society. On the other hand, it fills me with excitement that there is a voice for Zenpuss out there, indicating that there are a whole range of women who need liberating from the sexual constraints of misinterpretation, misunderstanding and ignorance.
Lette is happy to admit that there's a fair measure of mischief-making underpinning her project, and easily moistened - mostly male - gossip columnists are already intent on unmasking Marmalade Bates as Fay Weldon ... or is it Esther Freud? But nor is this slinky volume without its politics. As Lette notes, it's a weary truism that it remains taboo for women to talk publicly about what turns them on. Another of the contributors, Joan Smith, says she has been fielding scandalised callers demanding to know why a feminist such as herself would even countenance writing erotica. For all the jocular gloss, the media's imperative to identify Lette's writers carries an unpleasant undercurrent of the scarlet letter. And it reminds me too much of the mean-spirited outing a few years ago of the formidable Zoe Margolis, whose sex blog Girl With A One-Track Mind was not only very hot, but chockfull of feminism.
There is a point here which is worth a comment. I would love to live in a society where Zenpuss could ‘come out’ and admit to being the person that she is. But I can’t. It would be such a difficult issue for so many people to contend with. There would be experiences that would have to be explained and thoughts and feelings that do not reflect what some perceive to be the realities of my life. The simple fact is that Zenpuss is known to only one other, and as much as I would like that to be different, it has to remain so. In saying that, I find myself concerned that I am exacerbating and perpetuating the very thing that I am trying to eradicate; that women should feel sexually liberated and should be able to be honest, open and realistic about their sexuality, their desires, their fantasies. In reality, for all my talk, I am conforming to the straightjacket that is offered to me by society. Shame on me!Lette says that it is still a taboo for women to talk about what turns them on. Contributors on CIF counter argue this on many levels. Some argue that with the sexualisation of society, this is a time when women are perfectly able and free to express themselves sexually. Some argue that because there is an Ann Summers shop in most High Streets, then this is in itself a symbol that women’s sexual liberation has been reached. Some say that magazines like Cosmo have been doing this for decades. Of course, women are able and free to talk about sex, to read about it and to pleasure themselves in erotic images and literature. And to some extent, all of this is true. But I would have to argue, have they actually done the job they purport to do? How many women go into Ann Summers with their heads held high, unashamed of who they might meet as they walk out the door, that is assuming that they even enter into the shop in the first place? How many women have read Cosmo and felt that they had in any way reshaped their own sexuality or have actually learned anything about their body and the way that they can enjoy sexuality?
Ultimately, the argument thickens. If we are so liberated sexually, how come I cannot find a single magazine either in WH Smiths or even in the aforementioned Ann Summers where I can get an eyeful of cock on every page, fucking decent looking women that make me feel desperate for a good shag? How come people still do not understand how women can have ejaculatory cums from vaginal as well as clitoral stimulation? How come I do not know how many of my friends experience wet cums, because, even though we may talk about sex toys and sexual positions that we enjoy, there are still some subjects that remain untouchable, unless you wish to be seen as some sort of freak? How come I cannot ‘come out’ as a woman who enjoys talking about sex, having sex, fantasising about sex? How come I cannot own up to not only masturbating with toys but regularly enjoy feeling the softness of my pubes as I reach inside myself to see how my body is reacting to the stimulus of a touch or a photograph or merely a memory of something that I have recently enjoyed? How come women don’t even know that the insides of their bodies become erect just like a cock when they are aroused? How come women have no understanding or appreciation of the difference between having a pee and having a fucking good, juicy orgasm? The list is almost hopelessly endless.Kathy is right. We are not sexually liberated or even sexually literate but this is not to assume that this is just a gender issue. There are plenty of men who suffer from sexual illiteracy or liberation too. The only difference is that generally, there is more known about male sexuality than female sexuality, and still we have ignoramuses who simply do not understand the joys and wonderment of fabulous sex.
One woman writing about sex who does not require any further exposure is Charlotte Roche, a German TV presenter whose first novel, Wetlands, became a literary sensation when it was published last year. Now translated, and available in Britain next month, Roche's heroine Helen is joyfully promiscuous while showing complete disregard for the traditional demands of feminine hygiene. She is childishly fascinated by the smell and taste of her own body, particularly her vagina, rebelling against the received wisdom of how women should be kempt Down There.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! What precisely is immature about the smell and taste of one’s own body? It is not immature. Rather, it is refined, mature and stimulating to have an understanding and appreciation of one’s own body. The other day, as I stuck my fingers down my trousers and into my cunt, as I then withdrew them and placed them under the nose of my lover, I was not thinking that this was an immature action. I was fully, maturely intending to turn him on, to excite him and to lead him into wanting more. As I sucked them clean, I could taste what he tastes when he thrusts his tongue deep inside me, and I appreciate even more how much he enjoys my sexuality. What on earth is childish about that?
Wetlands has divided critics in Germany - is this a grand feminist manifesto, or self-regarding obscenity? After reading it myself last week, I'd offer that, while a whole lot more explicit than In Bed With ... , it shares a very similar ethos, not least because it subverts the usual conventions of pornography by portraying a female, and indeed male, sexual protagonist who is less than perfectly plucked and permanently aroused. (The couplings in the Lette collection include elderly liaisons as well as the requisite strapping gardener and bored housewife.)This is a very bizarre statement and I am not actually sure that I understand it. I think what Libby is trying to say is that Wetlands, like Lette’s work is trying to overcome the ‘presumed’ conventions of porn; that women can enjoy porn, that they can be as sexual as a man and that they can be aroused. I have to admit that whilst I can be aroused for an exceedingly long time that appeases my sometimes long journey home from my lover’s house, I am not sure that I would actually want to be ‘permanently’ aroused. How would I thoroughly enjoy that satori moment if it was constant? It would not be a ‘moment’ any longer and would totally negate the divinity of that essential and beloved experience that I simply adore.Just on another issue, I am not perfectly plucked, nor do I want to be, though I think I would be very aroused by someone having a go at shaving me. I think a greater female sexual liberation will bring about a strong return of the bush! And as for Lette including elderly liaisons – well, I’d go along with that as a positive move forward. I am seriously hoping that sexuality doesn’t stop at sixty or seventy or actually at any point in life thank you very much.
There is reason to be cheerful about this flurry of mid-winter temperature-raising. Perhaps I've been looking in all the wrong places, but it has struck me lately that public debate about good sex has stalled. Some three years ago now, the American writer Ariel Levy identified a prevailing "raunch culture", which puts forward pole-dancing lessons and no-strings liaisons as evidence of liberation when in reality women are constrained as ever, but this time fearful of being branded prudish instead of promiscuous.
Now this is a very serious point. The reason that the public debate has stalled, in my opinion, is that it hasn’t even started. Just like our education system, it is stuck on the knowledge based spectrum of intellect. It has not considered the physical and metaphysical joys of sex, it has not considered the true emotional and social implications of positive sex. It has not explored the very essence of what makes sex something that is not merely a pleasurable pastime but an integral and vital part of people’s wholesome (deliberately used word) wellbeing; an instinct, an absolute part of being human. All those people who think we are there, end of, that the market is complete and sexual myths, misunderstandings and misgivings are a thing of the past are indeed living in cloud cuckoo land. The other day I was in a meeting where we were discussing the potential of teaching oral sex as a means of preventing conception. Admittedly this was a half debate, and was in no means addressing the situation, but a group of relatively intelligent (!!!) people were stunned into an embarrassed silence, only broken by the speaker stating that it was a messy business this oral sex stuff, unaware of the implications of what she was saying. The ‘childish’ sniggers that ensued epitomized the real state of play as far as societal interpretation of all things sexual. We are embarrassed, even disgusted, we regress into fumbling and stumbling fools at the mere mention of the ‘S’ word, and cannot use phrases such as finger fucking, tonguing. Even the crucial and correct terminology of fellatio and cunnilingus is a taboo in such an environment, and here is a situation with a room full of people supposedly ready to ‘educate’ our future generation. By laughing, by hiding, by wishing the conversation would stop, by embarassingly realising that the pregnant woman in the room must have HAD SEX? This, dear reader, is the reality of where we actually are. I see sexual enlightenment amongst such folk as a very long way down the path.
No, the simple fact is it hasn’t stalled. It simply hasn’t started the engine. And like a similar analogy that I read recently, it needs cogs and wheels and oil and mechanisms of all sorts to get the thing on the road.
Women and men were becoming increasingly vocal about their anger at the way sexuality - still mainly female - had been co-opted by commerce, with the values of the market turning the act itself into a competitive sport. For a moment, it felt as though - in addition to critiquing the pornification of society - it might be possible to open up a public space to investigate how this was affecting personal sexual development. But I sense this didn't quite happen - despite the blogosphere offering individuals like Margolis ample opportunity to explore their own erotic journeys.
Of course women and men were becoming and are still vocal about their concerns about the sexually unliberated, and yes, there was and is still a movement towards changing societal view about pornography and sexual development. But again, like the education debate, change is not going to occur overnight, especially if people do not embrace the whole idea that this is not just a physical liberation. Sexual liberation requires opening of minds, delving into history and really questioning a million things about the way that our society has formed its views and practices. It is not as simple as being more extrovert, or allowing women to hold onto a pole and rub herself in front of invited, paying guests. My sexual enlightenment, my wish for women to understand about their own sexuality has nothing to do with burlesque evenings or topless barmaids other than the fact that these are a mere example of some things that could be sexually appealing for some people.
We are missing a vital point here. Sexualisation is not sexuality, and even if there has been some welcomed movement in this area, I still can’t get my cock mag from the newsagent, not because it isn’t stocked in the shop but because it doesn’t exist as nobody has realised that there is a market out there….. because ultimately, no-one has admitted that this is something that they want, and why haven’t they admitted it? Because they don’t know they want it, because they have never sat and questioned and wondered and thought about their own sexuality.
Sexual ignorance is far from bliss, yet we still don't know, for example, precisely how a woman reaches orgasm. While it's generally assumed that men have higher libidos, recent research from Canada found that women are physiologically aroused by a much wider range of stimuli than males. And, while the porn movie industry has entirely mainstreamed anal penetration, I don't see the PSHE curriculum teaching our young people how to make the act safer and more comfortable by using condoms and lube any time soon.
Well, this sentence simply doesn’t make sense. What has the fact that sexual ignorance is far from bliss got to do with the fact that we don’t know how a woman reaches orgasm? Of course sexual ignorance is far from bliss. It is more than that. It is criminal and it is not allowing people to have the fulfillment in life that is their birthright. And one could argue that an example of sexual ignorance is around the negligent misinterpretation of the female orgasm. This sentence would probably make more sense if she had used the word ‘and’ rather than ‘yet’.It is ignorant that people do not know all there is to know about the female orgasm but yet again being pedantic, surely people know ‘how’ a woman reaches orgasm even if they are not particularly clear about the precise workings of the female body. I think my lover and I proved today that we knew exactly how a woman reaches orgasm. It is a very simple fact that you have your cunt stimulated, a spot or a variety of spots are touched and stroked and pushed and aroused, and then a flood of gorgeous juices are emitted. And as I got home, still in a state of arousal, I knew where to place my sex toy on my clitoris to get a different type of orgasm that was albeit not as exciting as the one a few hours previously, but still made me feel bloody good. Many people know how a woman reaches orgasm but I reckon that far fewer have experienced it on a more or less constant basis. And sadly, there are still people who do not know or believe in a vaginal orgasm, who do not know or believe that a woman can emit any other gush than pee from their cunt. And why is this so, because we still haven’t got to a stage where people know, understand and appreciate the joys of female sexuality.
It has been suggested that there is a possibility that people are deliberately withholding information about female orgasms for fear that this will alienate and upset those women who have not yet achieved it. Nobody wants to make women feel inferior in their sexuality. Nobody wants them to think that they are doing something wrong. But in many ways, that is precisely what they are doing. The ‘wrongness’ is accepting that a form of sexuality that is incomplete, and it is wrong of those of us who have experienced this to somehow pretend that it is not happening. Maybe the great gushes that I am talking about are unlikely to happen to all. Maybe, as it was for me, this rarely happens during what some might deem to be early days of sexual promiscuity, of sexual infancy. Maybe women do have to wait until they have reached a certain maturity to achieve this, though I know from the porn sites that I have visited, this is not the case. The point is that everyone should realise there is potential and should enjoy exploring how to get there. Surely this is part and parcel of being on a road to Enlightenment. It wouldn’t be very enlightening if we reached the destination before we had turned the car engine on!
No, it is up to women like me to explain the realities that go way beyond the alleged educative spots in magazines like Cosmo. These discussions are things that should be in the mainstream, if you excuse the pun, and I cannot see anywhere where this is truly discussed openly and honestly.
And another myth arises. Okay, so it is possible that generally men may have higher libidos but surely a statistical reality is of no benefit to the individual. If the general man has more sexual thoughts than me, if he wanks more frequently than me, then good on him but I am finally beginning to realise that there is a strong possibility that I could give most men a run for their money on the amount of times I have horny or sexual thoughts or actions a day, and even if this is not the case, does it matter? As long as each individual realises that it is okay to be stimulated, it is acceptable and normal to have a high libido, then it really is irrelevent whether men are more libidinous or women can arouse themselves with a higher range of stimuli. The fact is that all human beings have the potential to have high libidos whether they are men, women, gay, straight, black, white, under forty, over forty. It is a very individual thing and should be so. Sex is not a place for comparison or generalisations. It is about being you in a moment that belongs to you that can be shared with a person that has their own moment, their own be-ing.
Has the porn ‘mainstreamed’ (yikes) anal sex? Okay, it shows anal sex but I doubt whether this is a mainstream activity for most men and women. And yes, the PSHE curriculum is not in any fit state to be as liberated as starting a discussion on anal sex, but it should because otherwise we are going to perpetuate all the inhibitions and misconceptions about sex that we have carried over the generations onto the next generation of sexual beings. Incidentally, I am very keen on exploring this aspect of my own sexuality. I at least want to talk about it because this is precisely what we are not doing with our young people. We are not delving into their natural inquisitiveness. We are not giving them the opportunities to discuss these types of things. I am not advocating going out and delivering a lesson in a bland and stark way “Today we are going to talk about anal sex. If a woman wants a different and exciting challenge she can take it up the bum….. etc”. I am just saying that we need to open the doors to enable young people to discuss and prepare and consider and realise the potential of good sex encompasses many aspects that many generations have considered taboo. Do we really want another generation of, generically speaking, five minutes mission positioners? I don’t think so!
If this debate is still to take place, then re-writing porn is a pretty good place to start. As Smith summed up in a recent column about her contribution to In Bed With ... : "The problem isn't sex, but the fact that the industry that's grown up around it is sadistic, humiliating and exploitative. And the vast bulk of its consumers are men."Yes, rewriting porn and erotica is a place to start but it cannot be done in isolation. It is far, far more complex that a few sensationalist novels. It is not about gratuitous or dirty sexuality. It is about ensuring that the erotic and porn sites are looking at a deeper and more fulfilled understanding of sex. The other day, I was saying precisely this. I would love to see a dvd of two people having sex in exactly the way I do with my lover. This would really, really get me off. I want to see people kissing and holding one another, nibbling on ears and necks and nipples. I want to see people sensually undress and explore one another’s body. I want to see the darkening of their pupils as they stare longingly at the cunt or cock that they know are going to be touched and fucked within a matter of moments. I want to see the look on people’s faces as they are finger fucked. I want to see the gushes of cum that come from the stimulated woman. I want to see a couple banging away on the bathroom floor as much as I want to see them lovingly lying in bed, cuddled together in a warm and meaningful embrace. And I want to see what it like for them after they have had this sort of utterly complete sexual experience. It is erotic. Some would argue it would be porn, but this sort of thing is far more than merely starting the debate by writing highly commercialised or marketed books. It is drop in the ocean of what needs to be done.
It is too late in the day to go onto the pornographic industry and the presumed misogyny involved. Needless to say, I think this entire industry is there for the taking whether it be by men or women but I certainly feel that women writers, actresses, performers have a lot more to give here, and enlightened feminists have an extremely important role to play.
There is a danger here that the debate becomes zero-sum. This is not about replacing one stereotyped version of human sexuality (ie male, homogenised, fuck-centric, bad) with another (ie female, politically correct, cuddle-centric, boring) - were that even a realistic proposition. But it is about expanding the erotic menu for the benefit of both sexes.
Duh! You don’t say. Of course it is about expanding the erotic menu for both sexes. How many times does it have to be said? The enjoyment, understanding, appreciation of female sexuality is totally about men, well for those of us who are ardent cock lovers. My appreciation of my sexuality is dependent upon the sexuality of men, and this is something that others should know and appreciate. It is not about sisters doing it for themselves, though this too needs exploring further. It is about men knowing what women are capable of in sex, of women understanding and enjoying their bodies, of people working together. It is ultimately not about men or women. As I said earlier, it is about the absolute fundamentalism of being human, and sexuality is not an option, It is an essential part of this. It is a no brainer to consider there being another option.
And finally……
Here are a few comments from CIF.
Diamond Dave says “Men and women are finding a domain in places like Second Life where they can express themselves in a safe environment for the enjoyment and fulfillment of all. Women are right at the forefront of this new experience and are leaving the old constraints of feminism far behind. Perhaps a new chapter of liberation is unfolding, liberation from feminist groupthink about what is acceptable in female sexuality.
Zenpuss says: Must try and google that website. Yes I hope a new chapter is unfolding, and I together with my collaborator are ready to spread the word.
Dirkgently
Fantastic, I like works of erotica, as lets face it literature purports to deal with life and sex is a part of adult life that is paradoxically very public (portrayals in TV/Film) and yet private, public discussions about masturbation are frowned upon and it is perceived as being dirty, yet if we want to discover what sleeping with another person of the same sex is like, it is perceived as being healthy and natural.
The problem with porn is that it is designed to be visually stimulating, but it leaves other senses that are part of human sensuality and sexuality isolated and ignored, particularly touch and taste.
Erotica should be welcomed. Let’s face it most blokes would love to gain insight into female sexuality and learn how to be better lovers for their potential partners. Please let’s have more insights into sexuality from the silent, beautiful (i.e. female) majority!
Zenpuss says: Of course porn does not deal with the joys of sexual touch and taste, though they can be part of looking at porn, especially if you are enjoying porn together with your partner. But sexuality is about embracing all, and looking at porn is merely one way to be sexually stimulated and excited. However, I felt a good point was made about the contradictions outlined above. Sex is full of contradictions and there is no place for these. As for the last paragraph, well, this says it all. Blokes such as this one are ready to be enlightened. They embrace it and they want to hear it from women.
Sealion
I've always found that talking to her helps, but maybe thats just me. Everyone gets their rocks off in a different way, and for every man who has learned sex from a porn film there is a woman who has learned sex from Cosmo. Every time we get into bed with someone armed with our preconceptions we fail, because we assume we know what works and we get so caught up in that magic technique ('seven things that will drive him wild in bed!') that we stop paying attention to how the person we're laying on top of actually feels.
Zenpuss says: Here is some glimmer of hope – someone who understands that it is not just about a single, physical act. Sex is about talking and reading, about understanding and interpreting, and whilst Cosmo or a porn film may help, it hardly covers the starting point. Maybe we should be far more preoccupied with the person we are making love to, thinking about their needs, their joys, their feelings and thoughts whilst simultaneously ensuring our own needs, desires and passions are stimulated an fulfilled. Sex, when there are two people together, is totally about understanding, enjoying, loving, feeling, desiring and wanting one another to get the very best out of a very wonderful experience.
Another contributor
Women can also have much better orgasms but the fact remains that the hunger, its much stronger in the male species. Sex isn't just about the pleasure at the time, its also about the release of the pressure that build when not having sex. That is why we have so much visual sex aimed at men, because they are "in the mood" basically constantly.
Zenpuss says: I beg to contradict! Is this plonker saying that we’ll appease the little women by sorting out their orgasms as long as they realise that sexual hunger remains the domain of men? Has he not considered that horny women get a similar pressure when they want sex? Obviously this man thinks that women piss urine when they are excited!
The writer continues
But you have an industry catering to women’s sexuality, there are thousands of books on erotic literature, you can't expect famous writers to write it anymore than you can expect Steven Spielberg to direct a porno. Women don't have porn movies because they haven't created the demand for porn movies. With Ann Summers in every street, and women magazines all screaming sex tips or brighten up your love life, it’s ridiculous to claim it’s ignored. The fact is that it’s just not like men’s, something feminists with their idealistic politicizing of sex fail to grasp.
Zenpuss says: Yes, there’s stuff to read but it ain’t hitting the button. It is, as I have said above, paying a lip service to female sexuality. The depth is not there and this is what we have to create. Then the demand for porn written and produced with women in mind might be more prevalent. Having said that, good porn for me would be embracing the sexual enjoyment of humans irrespective of their gender.
Loveable Lefty
The one thing that strikes me about most "erotic" writing I have read is just how cold, loveless, dull and ultimately unerotic it is. For me descriptions of sex between two people who are deeply in love are far more arousing. To get to grips with someone’s whole mind, their being, their hopes and desires, that's far more of a turn on.Even without the complications of children, playing with sex is playing with fire, and treating sex as the equivalent as "fast food" is as bad for our emotions as a constant diet of burgers is for your heart and waistline.
Zenpuss says: Aahh! Trust a gay bloke to be there in terms of emotional intelligence – not that I am in to gross generalisations! Joking aside, this is a good point whoever says it and shows a level of enlightenment that is welcoming to see.
And really finally from the aptly named Guardian Goon.
I'd like to add to what JayReilly is saying that a sex act does not have to be enjoyable for both partners for it to be something you want to do, you should feel how an mans arm feels after he's frigged his woman to satisfaction, talk about an ache! Then there's the aforementioned cunnilingus... Both sexes can do things in sex that aren't satisfying in terms of stimulation and enjoy it, because you love your partner and know they find it great, no sex is equally satisfying, it's give a little, take a little, and it doesn't surprise me that self styled feminists who view any act that isn't mutually satisfying as oppression get labeled as sex negative, their views don't reflect the nature of sex itself. This doesn't apply exclusively to porn.
Zenpuss says: Eh! Sex doesn’t have to be enjoyable for both partners? Dodgy arms? Enjoy without being satisfying? Of course good sex is about equal access to stimulation and enjoyment! Surely that is an essential part of it. I adore sex with my lover because I adore the fact that he is clearly loving it too, and that ultimately stimulates me, which is simultaneously reciprocated by him, and so it goes on….. and that is precisely what enables both of us to reach a state of Satori.
And on that note, I bid a goodnight.
My Man is Wearing my Panties ....
My Man is Wearing my Panties…..
…………and I cannot begin to describe how much it turns me on.
What on earth is it about seeing my lover in my knickers that makes my pudenda blush up to a crimson crown and makes my prostrate flourish ready to emit fountains of fuck juices?
I know that some people would consider this as a step too far into the realms of man being in touch with his feminine side but it simply has nothing to do with that whatsoever.
He doesn’t want to wear my panties as part of some sort of new cross-dressing fetish, and quite frankly, even if he did, then that would be absolutely fine and dandy. No, he wants to wear my panties because he feels liberated, sensualised and excited by having my panties partly covering his cock and balls. He likes to try and replicate and appreciate the feeling that I have when I am wearing them. Furthermore, he likes to have a part of me, the remnants of my own sexuality firmly in tact with his own body. He likes to wear panties that are scented with me; ones that he can dribble his juices into too, if the situation arises, culminating in a pair of lacy ones that have an amalgamation of our sexy lubrications.
Well, how does the reader feel about this? Is it seen as a fetish or is it seen as someone who is so in touch with his own sexuality that he can imaginatively consider ways of expressing it in new and exciting ways?
For me, it is highly complementary as well as beautifully horny. To think that he has both a need and desire to have this closeness with me is extremely endearing as well as enormously stimulating, and I simply love thinking of him walking around in my undies.
You see, this man doesn’t just pop my knickers on for a short walk around the house. He actually wears them for the entire day. He goes out of the house wearing them, to take the dog for a walk. He nips into town still clad in my lacy thongs or the likes. And from time to time, he is massively aware of the lace around him, knowing that prior to him wearing them they have been wrapped around and often entered into my juicy cunt.
How utterly wonderful is that? I am actually quite overwhelmed by this.
But it doesn’t stop there. Not only does he wear my panties, he also carries a pair around with him, so that from time to time he can place his hand in his pocket and feel that tactile texture that he knows I love to wear. He can also reach into his pocket and extract my panties, placing them close to his nose and inhale the strength of my aroma, my sexiness, my essence of life. He can remind himself of what I looked like, how I tasted, what I did when I was last wearing them. He can look and see the remnants of the pleasure that I enjoyed when I was last with him as I dribbled lubricants out onto the gusset.
And he is satisfied, delighted, invigorated, calmed, blissed out all over again.
And even more, he takes photographs of himself wearing my panties, and sends them to me because he knows that this completely arouses me. I adore to see his rather wonderful pert arse clad in my thongs. I don’t even mind the fact that they look better on him than they do on me!
And then he turns himself around so that I can see just how his glorious cock is escaping from the lacy ones, with his buxom balls hanging low and full. How I love to receive these photographs, especially when they are accompanied by arousing words that send me into sexual oblivion. He really does understand me and knows just what I want to see and hear and read, as well as, of course, knowing what I want to feel and taste when I see him.
Last week, I popped over to see him. We were just talking and spending some quality time catching up on some much needed kisses, when he suddenly unzipped his trousers to reveal his black boxers with a bulging erection clearly visible. As I watched in awe at his stunning sexiness, he grasped the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down his legs. Eagerly, I anticipated the sight of his erect cock, which indeed was very apparent, but even more exciting was the fact that his big dick was protruding out from the bottom of my black and white speckled knickers.
Placing my hands in my own underwear to get to my lover’s cock, to place it in my mouth and hungrily smother my mouth with him was totally exhilarating.
Looking at him standing in front of me with my black panties covering his arse and almost covering his balls was simply wonderful.
So why am I mentioning all of this?Well, it is essentially because I feel that there are many people who would benefit enormously from this simple statement of sexuality.
My lover says that he feels more spiritually connected to me by wearing my underwear. He says he feels a greater sense of wellbeing, and surely this is something that could be simply achieved by other people.
If you are unable to be with your lover or your partner, and you want to be reminded of them, then wearing or holding onto a pair of their panties seems to be a very appropriate way of doing so, particularly if they are smothered in juices from the very essential parts of their body.
Even if you are not yet quite comfortable with one another’s sexuality, and feel that scented knickers are just a bit too personal, then I would strongly suggest that you merely get a pair of their clean knickers so that you can just have a sense of them being a part of you, knowing that there are frequent times in the day when this simple artefact can remind you of the immensely pleasurable times that you share with one another.
The other day, my lover returned some of my knickers to me. He had washed them so that they were bereft of both mine and his sexual juices, yet because he had aired them in his house, used his particular brand of washing powder, they still somehow smell of him and his house – how lovely!
Even though they are not fragrant with his cum, I can still smell him on them and even though I want to be able to smell his earthy, divine lube juice, this aroma suffices for the time being.
And here is another issue. Sexuality is often described in terms of physical feelings, of touch and taste, of sight and hearing, but this essential sense of smell is often overlooked. Even worse, the ‘smell’ of sex is often deemed to be negative, revolting, coarse and crude.
I was just looking up the word ‘pudenda’. It has a Latin derivative and its meaning is ‘shame’.
Well, I think it is time to get rid of the ‘shame’ of sex, and where better to start than with this issue of smell.
I love looking at my man in my panties but what I love even more is his appreciation of these articles of clothing are not simply for their aesthetic value. What he really loves about having and wearing my panties is that they smell of me. He can sniff my sexuality, he can add to this smell with his own sexuality. He knows that a mere glimpse of my residue on my knickers can warrant him to raise them to his nose to get a full fix of me.
Now that is extremely invigorating!
…………and I cannot begin to describe how much it turns me on.
What on earth is it about seeing my lover in my knickers that makes my pudenda blush up to a crimson crown and makes my prostrate flourish ready to emit fountains of fuck juices?
I know that some people would consider this as a step too far into the realms of man being in touch with his feminine side but it simply has nothing to do with that whatsoever.
He doesn’t want to wear my panties as part of some sort of new cross-dressing fetish, and quite frankly, even if he did, then that would be absolutely fine and dandy. No, he wants to wear my panties because he feels liberated, sensualised and excited by having my panties partly covering his cock and balls. He likes to try and replicate and appreciate the feeling that I have when I am wearing them. Furthermore, he likes to have a part of me, the remnants of my own sexuality firmly in tact with his own body. He likes to wear panties that are scented with me; ones that he can dribble his juices into too, if the situation arises, culminating in a pair of lacy ones that have an amalgamation of our sexy lubrications.
Well, how does the reader feel about this? Is it seen as a fetish or is it seen as someone who is so in touch with his own sexuality that he can imaginatively consider ways of expressing it in new and exciting ways?
For me, it is highly complementary as well as beautifully horny. To think that he has both a need and desire to have this closeness with me is extremely endearing as well as enormously stimulating, and I simply love thinking of him walking around in my undies.
You see, this man doesn’t just pop my knickers on for a short walk around the house. He actually wears them for the entire day. He goes out of the house wearing them, to take the dog for a walk. He nips into town still clad in my lacy thongs or the likes. And from time to time, he is massively aware of the lace around him, knowing that prior to him wearing them they have been wrapped around and often entered into my juicy cunt.
How utterly wonderful is that? I am actually quite overwhelmed by this.
But it doesn’t stop there. Not only does he wear my panties, he also carries a pair around with him, so that from time to time he can place his hand in his pocket and feel that tactile texture that he knows I love to wear. He can also reach into his pocket and extract my panties, placing them close to his nose and inhale the strength of my aroma, my sexiness, my essence of life. He can remind himself of what I looked like, how I tasted, what I did when I was last wearing them. He can look and see the remnants of the pleasure that I enjoyed when I was last with him as I dribbled lubricants out onto the gusset.
And he is satisfied, delighted, invigorated, calmed, blissed out all over again.
And even more, he takes photographs of himself wearing my panties, and sends them to me because he knows that this completely arouses me. I adore to see his rather wonderful pert arse clad in my thongs. I don’t even mind the fact that they look better on him than they do on me!
And then he turns himself around so that I can see just how his glorious cock is escaping from the lacy ones, with his buxom balls hanging low and full. How I love to receive these photographs, especially when they are accompanied by arousing words that send me into sexual oblivion. He really does understand me and knows just what I want to see and hear and read, as well as, of course, knowing what I want to feel and taste when I see him.
Last week, I popped over to see him. We were just talking and spending some quality time catching up on some much needed kisses, when he suddenly unzipped his trousers to reveal his black boxers with a bulging erection clearly visible. As I watched in awe at his stunning sexiness, he grasped the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down his legs. Eagerly, I anticipated the sight of his erect cock, which indeed was very apparent, but even more exciting was the fact that his big dick was protruding out from the bottom of my black and white speckled knickers.
Placing my hands in my own underwear to get to my lover’s cock, to place it in my mouth and hungrily smother my mouth with him was totally exhilarating.
Looking at him standing in front of me with my black panties covering his arse and almost covering his balls was simply wonderful.
So why am I mentioning all of this?Well, it is essentially because I feel that there are many people who would benefit enormously from this simple statement of sexuality.
My lover says that he feels more spiritually connected to me by wearing my underwear. He says he feels a greater sense of wellbeing, and surely this is something that could be simply achieved by other people.
If you are unable to be with your lover or your partner, and you want to be reminded of them, then wearing or holding onto a pair of their panties seems to be a very appropriate way of doing so, particularly if they are smothered in juices from the very essential parts of their body.
Even if you are not yet quite comfortable with one another’s sexuality, and feel that scented knickers are just a bit too personal, then I would strongly suggest that you merely get a pair of their clean knickers so that you can just have a sense of them being a part of you, knowing that there are frequent times in the day when this simple artefact can remind you of the immensely pleasurable times that you share with one another.
The other day, my lover returned some of my knickers to me. He had washed them so that they were bereft of both mine and his sexual juices, yet because he had aired them in his house, used his particular brand of washing powder, they still somehow smell of him and his house – how lovely!
Even though they are not fragrant with his cum, I can still smell him on them and even though I want to be able to smell his earthy, divine lube juice, this aroma suffices for the time being.
And here is another issue. Sexuality is often described in terms of physical feelings, of touch and taste, of sight and hearing, but this essential sense of smell is often overlooked. Even worse, the ‘smell’ of sex is often deemed to be negative, revolting, coarse and crude.
I was just looking up the word ‘pudenda’. It has a Latin derivative and its meaning is ‘shame’.
Well, I think it is time to get rid of the ‘shame’ of sex, and where better to start than with this issue of smell.
I love looking at my man in my panties but what I love even more is his appreciation of these articles of clothing are not simply for their aesthetic value. What he really loves about having and wearing my panties is that they smell of me. He can sniff my sexuality, he can add to this smell with his own sexuality. He knows that a mere glimpse of my residue on my knickers can warrant him to raise them to his nose to get a full fix of me.
Now that is extremely invigorating!
Wednesday 4 February 2009
Photographing me
I did a tiny piece of modelling when I was 19 years old. It was for a friend, who was doing a photography degree. She had befriended a local studio, and we went a couple of times to do some work there. I think the first time was something to do with colours, and I was draped in purples and reds of all variation, different fabrics, combinations of clothes. Another time, I was posing for a commissioined piece of work. And I really felt rather uncomfortable with this modelling lark.
They were decent photos, I suppose, but I can vividly remember the horror I felt that people I knew would be looking at them, and thinking that I had posed for the photo because I thought I was special, because I thought I had a face that could attract attention, because I thought I was worth a look. Ironically, at that time, my self-worth was non-existent. I was in an emotionally, and sometimes physically, abusive relationship. I couldn't understand why my friend had chosen me to pose when I was a frumpy, plain little girl who was constantly told that I was nothing special, and that the only value I had was in being another half of a partnership.
Scary.
Anyway, that was my introduction to the world of modelling. The owner of the photgraph shop was the usual stereotypical 'dirty old man' photographer, who spent most of the time when I was there, trying to persuade me to pose for him in a style of his choosing, i.e. topless. I declined. Besides, my boobs were almost as non-existent as my esteem, and my boyfriend had categorically refused to 'allow' me to do so. My body belonged to him, not other people. That is what he said. And I accepted this.
I have moved on since this sorry situation. Blimey, if they could all see some of the photographs that I have posed for recently! I wonder what they would make of it. Obviously, my boyfriend of the time wouldn't recognise the form of my body as it has changed dramatically since the cumbersome days of the 1980s. But let us say there has been a transformation, and that now I will readily and eagerly pose for sexual, sensual, orgasm inspiring photographs. I want to reiterate something here. This does not mean I have suddenly become a woman full of self-worth and confidence. I still have very negative feelings about myself and my body. I still find it incredible, unbelievable that anyone would take sensual enjoyment in photographs of my face, my body, my breasts, my pussy. I am amazed at the desire and pleasure that these features of me can provide. And this is obviously linked to past experiences.
So why this transformation? Why can I pose readily and eagerly now in a way I would never have imagined when I was younger, and quite frankly, had a far more photogenic body?
Well, it is back to that single moment issue. The now, the immediate, the second of life in the taking of the photograph. That is part of it. It is also down to encouragement and trust, of longing and of sharing. It is about someone respecting me, someone appreciating me. It is about someone looking at me, and me recognising that they actually want me! They actually want to take photographs of me, so that they too can have that memory of the moment. They can then return to the photos and imagine their hands wandering over my body. They can remember the occasions when they removed my lacy knickers and felt their way over my voluptuous thighs towards the manna I was oozing out of my vagina. They can think about how I delighted in being so turned on by the camera snapping that I needed them to undress and make love to me. They can visualise the scene beyond the photograph when I cried with ecstacy at reaching a warm and thoroughly fulfilling orgasm.
And once photographs have been shared, there is a special intimacy that goes way beyond the sexuality of the moment. The intensity of trust, of knowing that these photographs are not going to be shared, that at any point in time, they can be revisited and reviewed is wonderful. I do so love the idea that, on occasions, frequently or not, my photos are viewed, are appreciated, are used for arousing effects and are loved by their owner. And that is reciprocated by me. My photos of cocks in various states are inspiring. They are mine and I love them. They provide me with the oportunity to review, to revisit, to delight, to cum.
So once photographs have been taken, bodily images have been shared, what happens next? Well, it isn't really a progressional thing. But there is the thing about taking photographs of yourself.
I started by taking clothed photos of me. Shots of me in my lacy knickers, showing my arse to camera, then the front of my body - all enclosed within some sexy lingerie. Then I progressed to topless images - of full frontal (pussy still contained in the knickers), then close ups of my boobs, all done, in the main, to remind the viewer of what I offered, what I wanted him to have. The development continued in line with the progression in the nature of our sexual relationship. I photographed myself with fingers in my panties, tantalisingly pointing towards my pussy, revealing the upper layers of my pubic hair - just a little suggestion that there was more down there, waiting to be exposed, wanting to be exposed. And then I undressed. I removed my panties, and I took shots of my pussy. I liked that. I liked the fact that when I hit the send button on the phone, that he would have that instant wave of recognition and familiarity and it would remind him yet again, that I wanted him to look at my pussy, I wanted him to imagine what it might feel like to be inside me, feeling me folding in against his fingers and hopefully his cock.
And then it progressed further. I took photographs of me with my fingers pushed deep inside my cunt, raw red at the excitement of it all, gently submitting little trickles of sexual juices onto my fingers so that they could be captured by the lens. I opened my body, pulling back my labia, to reveal the depths of my hole, to show how much room there was inside of me for his erect, hard, horny and huge cock. And as he viewed these photographs, I imagined how it was growing, how it was juicing up, how he was sliding his foreskin down to reveal a purple head of perfect excitement, how we was sitting there jerking off, and I was the one who was getting him there, I was the one who was stimulating him to orgasm, despite the fact that I was some miles away.
I am writing about this now, and I can feel a familiar warmth growing inside my pussy, I can feel the protraction of my g spot, awaiting the touch that it is going to get as soon as I have finished blogging.
I do the photos for many reasons. I do it because it stimulates the recipient but I also do it to satisfy me. I am immensely turned on when I am taking photos of myself. I am turned on because I am finally beginning to understand that I can be sexually arousing, that there is a beauty and uniqueness in my personal sexuality. I am excited at the thought that I have something to offer, that my pussy is interesting, is visually stimulating. I need to take more photographs to truly believe that I have a pussy worth photographing. I am not there yet. I look at my photos and I am almost in disbelief that this is part of me, this sexuality is actually me, the folds and foibles of my layers of inner skin are actually mine. So in some ways it is a voyage of discovery, of knowing my own body and of glorifying in the fact that it is mine, and I can choose who gets to see it, touch it, feel it.
But as I am doing it, taking these photos, it never fails to excite me, to arouse me to such a state that I need to wank as soon as I have finished posing.
So to yesterday. I took some photographs of my tits. They are such clear images that you could see every raised speckle on my nipples. You could see the veined ridges, prominent with the heat of the moment. And I looked and thought 'yes, they have the potential to arouse'. And as I write this, I think 'do they'? I'm not there yet. I think they do. I am told they do. But maybe I still need to take more photos, and have more photos taken, for me to genuinely and categorically believe that this body of mine is of worth in its own right, and because of that it can stimulate, and despite its flaws, of which there are many, it can still be seen sexually in its imperfection. I digress.
Yesterday, I took these photos, and then I looked at them. And I was pleased that the photos of my own tits were giving me the same stimulation and same arousal as viewing other people's tits. That felt good. I was beginning to see that my boobs could be as exciting as that of a porno model, who is used to flashing her tits around. I am absolutely and definitely not saying that my tits have the aesthetical beauty of a well trained and highly tuned body, but I suppose they are good enough, for me and mine.
And as I view them, I remember how they are seen by others as fairly decent tits. And that is horny - memories, thoughts etc. You see, none of this works without the mind, without the thoughts and feelings kicking into gear. You can look at a work of art, see its sexual beauty but not want to dive to the nearest loo to wank, because it may be only using certain aspects of intelligence and thought in viewing. The joy of the individual, the self-prepared photographs is that they are done with the range of thoughts, feelings, awareness and the knowledge that they will stimualte.
I will finish now with the cunt. I took photos of me in my grey, lacy knickers. They were riding into my pussy all day, and I took a photo of them pushing into my vag, so that you could see how they had been resting on my body all day. I liked the idea of them being peeled away from my pussy, and I imagined that if there had been someone undressing me, then they would have removed the panties, and held them to their nose, sniffing deeply and taking in the fact that they had been wrapped around my pussy all day, absorbing the juices from my cunt. I removed the panties, and took some more shots. I took close ups of my cunt, I folded my labs back and stuck them down, with the natural glue that was emerging, so that they created the image of an opening to, I hope, a pretty heavenly place. And then I shoved three fingers inside me, held them there as I took the camera in my other hand, and took the reverse image that the mirror in front of me was providing.
Totally stimulated by this point, I pushed hard and not too long on my gspot and allowed it to do its work, pulsating vibrant and passionate waves over my entire body until I came on the towel placed beneath me.
Greedy me.
Not quite finished.
I needed more. There is some pent up sexuality in there at the moment. I took my phallic bunny from its wrappings, inserted the batteries and switched as many buttons onto high as possible, placed the ears of rabbit in my clitoris and moved the shaft up and down inside me. The stickiness of my lubrication, was very distinct, and it wasn't long before I came again, holding it for some time, exuding sexual sensations everywhere.
And as I finished, I thought, I must have some photographs of me doing that. I must get someone to take a photograph or even a video of me, capturing the stimulation, the arousal, the journey to a very exciting cum. And as soon as the photos are taken, I would like the shooting to be adjourned for a short while, so that I can grab an erect cock and push it inside me, leaving my fingers there so I can feel it within me.
They were decent photos, I suppose, but I can vividly remember the horror I felt that people I knew would be looking at them, and thinking that I had posed for the photo because I thought I was special, because I thought I had a face that could attract attention, because I thought I was worth a look. Ironically, at that time, my self-worth was non-existent. I was in an emotionally, and sometimes physically, abusive relationship. I couldn't understand why my friend had chosen me to pose when I was a frumpy, plain little girl who was constantly told that I was nothing special, and that the only value I had was in being another half of a partnership.
Scary.
Anyway, that was my introduction to the world of modelling. The owner of the photgraph shop was the usual stereotypical 'dirty old man' photographer, who spent most of the time when I was there, trying to persuade me to pose for him in a style of his choosing, i.e. topless. I declined. Besides, my boobs were almost as non-existent as my esteem, and my boyfriend had categorically refused to 'allow' me to do so. My body belonged to him, not other people. That is what he said. And I accepted this.
I have moved on since this sorry situation. Blimey, if they could all see some of the photographs that I have posed for recently! I wonder what they would make of it. Obviously, my boyfriend of the time wouldn't recognise the form of my body as it has changed dramatically since the cumbersome days of the 1980s. But let us say there has been a transformation, and that now I will readily and eagerly pose for sexual, sensual, orgasm inspiring photographs. I want to reiterate something here. This does not mean I have suddenly become a woman full of self-worth and confidence. I still have very negative feelings about myself and my body. I still find it incredible, unbelievable that anyone would take sensual enjoyment in photographs of my face, my body, my breasts, my pussy. I am amazed at the desire and pleasure that these features of me can provide. And this is obviously linked to past experiences.
So why this transformation? Why can I pose readily and eagerly now in a way I would never have imagined when I was younger, and quite frankly, had a far more photogenic body?
Well, it is back to that single moment issue. The now, the immediate, the second of life in the taking of the photograph. That is part of it. It is also down to encouragement and trust, of longing and of sharing. It is about someone respecting me, someone appreciating me. It is about someone looking at me, and me recognising that they actually want me! They actually want to take photographs of me, so that they too can have that memory of the moment. They can then return to the photos and imagine their hands wandering over my body. They can remember the occasions when they removed my lacy knickers and felt their way over my voluptuous thighs towards the manna I was oozing out of my vagina. They can think about how I delighted in being so turned on by the camera snapping that I needed them to undress and make love to me. They can visualise the scene beyond the photograph when I cried with ecstacy at reaching a warm and thoroughly fulfilling orgasm.
And once photographs have been shared, there is a special intimacy that goes way beyond the sexuality of the moment. The intensity of trust, of knowing that these photographs are not going to be shared, that at any point in time, they can be revisited and reviewed is wonderful. I do so love the idea that, on occasions, frequently or not, my photos are viewed, are appreciated, are used for arousing effects and are loved by their owner. And that is reciprocated by me. My photos of cocks in various states are inspiring. They are mine and I love them. They provide me with the oportunity to review, to revisit, to delight, to cum.
So once photographs have been taken, bodily images have been shared, what happens next? Well, it isn't really a progressional thing. But there is the thing about taking photographs of yourself.
I started by taking clothed photos of me. Shots of me in my lacy knickers, showing my arse to camera, then the front of my body - all enclosed within some sexy lingerie. Then I progressed to topless images - of full frontal (pussy still contained in the knickers), then close ups of my boobs, all done, in the main, to remind the viewer of what I offered, what I wanted him to have. The development continued in line with the progression in the nature of our sexual relationship. I photographed myself with fingers in my panties, tantalisingly pointing towards my pussy, revealing the upper layers of my pubic hair - just a little suggestion that there was more down there, waiting to be exposed, wanting to be exposed. And then I undressed. I removed my panties, and I took shots of my pussy. I liked that. I liked the fact that when I hit the send button on the phone, that he would have that instant wave of recognition and familiarity and it would remind him yet again, that I wanted him to look at my pussy, I wanted him to imagine what it might feel like to be inside me, feeling me folding in against his fingers and hopefully his cock.
And then it progressed further. I took photographs of me with my fingers pushed deep inside my cunt, raw red at the excitement of it all, gently submitting little trickles of sexual juices onto my fingers so that they could be captured by the lens. I opened my body, pulling back my labia, to reveal the depths of my hole, to show how much room there was inside of me for his erect, hard, horny and huge cock. And as he viewed these photographs, I imagined how it was growing, how it was juicing up, how he was sliding his foreskin down to reveal a purple head of perfect excitement, how we was sitting there jerking off, and I was the one who was getting him there, I was the one who was stimulating him to orgasm, despite the fact that I was some miles away.
I am writing about this now, and I can feel a familiar warmth growing inside my pussy, I can feel the protraction of my g spot, awaiting the touch that it is going to get as soon as I have finished blogging.
I do the photos for many reasons. I do it because it stimulates the recipient but I also do it to satisfy me. I am immensely turned on when I am taking photos of myself. I am turned on because I am finally beginning to understand that I can be sexually arousing, that there is a beauty and uniqueness in my personal sexuality. I am excited at the thought that I have something to offer, that my pussy is interesting, is visually stimulating. I need to take more photographs to truly believe that I have a pussy worth photographing. I am not there yet. I look at my photos and I am almost in disbelief that this is part of me, this sexuality is actually me, the folds and foibles of my layers of inner skin are actually mine. So in some ways it is a voyage of discovery, of knowing my own body and of glorifying in the fact that it is mine, and I can choose who gets to see it, touch it, feel it.
But as I am doing it, taking these photos, it never fails to excite me, to arouse me to such a state that I need to wank as soon as I have finished posing.
So to yesterday. I took some photographs of my tits. They are such clear images that you could see every raised speckle on my nipples. You could see the veined ridges, prominent with the heat of the moment. And I looked and thought 'yes, they have the potential to arouse'. And as I write this, I think 'do they'? I'm not there yet. I think they do. I am told they do. But maybe I still need to take more photos, and have more photos taken, for me to genuinely and categorically believe that this body of mine is of worth in its own right, and because of that it can stimulate, and despite its flaws, of which there are many, it can still be seen sexually in its imperfection. I digress.
Yesterday, I took these photos, and then I looked at them. And I was pleased that the photos of my own tits were giving me the same stimulation and same arousal as viewing other people's tits. That felt good. I was beginning to see that my boobs could be as exciting as that of a porno model, who is used to flashing her tits around. I am absolutely and definitely not saying that my tits have the aesthetical beauty of a well trained and highly tuned body, but I suppose they are good enough, for me and mine.
And as I view them, I remember how they are seen by others as fairly decent tits. And that is horny - memories, thoughts etc. You see, none of this works without the mind, without the thoughts and feelings kicking into gear. You can look at a work of art, see its sexual beauty but not want to dive to the nearest loo to wank, because it may be only using certain aspects of intelligence and thought in viewing. The joy of the individual, the self-prepared photographs is that they are done with the range of thoughts, feelings, awareness and the knowledge that they will stimualte.
I will finish now with the cunt. I took photos of me in my grey, lacy knickers. They were riding into my pussy all day, and I took a photo of them pushing into my vag, so that you could see how they had been resting on my body all day. I liked the idea of them being peeled away from my pussy, and I imagined that if there had been someone undressing me, then they would have removed the panties, and held them to their nose, sniffing deeply and taking in the fact that they had been wrapped around my pussy all day, absorbing the juices from my cunt. I removed the panties, and took some more shots. I took close ups of my cunt, I folded my labs back and stuck them down, with the natural glue that was emerging, so that they created the image of an opening to, I hope, a pretty heavenly place. And then I shoved three fingers inside me, held them there as I took the camera in my other hand, and took the reverse image that the mirror in front of me was providing.
Totally stimulated by this point, I pushed hard and not too long on my gspot and allowed it to do its work, pulsating vibrant and passionate waves over my entire body until I came on the towel placed beneath me.
Greedy me.
Not quite finished.
I needed more. There is some pent up sexuality in there at the moment. I took my phallic bunny from its wrappings, inserted the batteries and switched as many buttons onto high as possible, placed the ears of rabbit in my clitoris and moved the shaft up and down inside me. The stickiness of my lubrication, was very distinct, and it wasn't long before I came again, holding it for some time, exuding sexual sensations everywhere.
And as I finished, I thought, I must have some photographs of me doing that. I must get someone to take a photograph or even a video of me, capturing the stimulation, the arousal, the journey to a very exciting cum. And as soon as the photos are taken, I would like the shooting to be adjourned for a short while, so that I can grab an erect cock and push it inside me, leaving my fingers there so I can feel it within me.
Cocky photos
I have recently acquired a new camera. It is a relatively decent camera, though I have much to learn about how to take and develop a decent photograph. I am exceedingly excited about going to some familiar places and looking at familiar objects, and seeing the different ways I can capture a scene, event or still motion shot with this new and more advanced piece of technology.
I am also, of course, fascinated and extremely motivated to use my camera for very sensual purposes, taking photographs of both myself, other people and occasions when I have the pleasure of having sex with the consent of someone who is prepared to reveal all for the camera. I am incredibly fortunate in that I have someone who is prepared to do this, and also has a distinct interest in the art of erotic photography.
Awakenings are a wondrous thing. Finding pleasure in something new gives zest to life, allows the senses to revel in the delights of the world, gives nourishment to feelings. Sexual awakenings are phenomenal. Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, realising that you have an enjoyment of your own body, of your own sexuality can be enormously empowering. To be able to share that awakening with other people, and to express both in words and actions that essence of sensual realisation and rebirth is so incredibly liberating, and I am eternally grateful that I have had the oportunity to experience this. So grateful, in fact, that I feel a need to reiterate it in words on this blog. And this really brings us onto the art of erotic photography.
I have always had an interest in photography. I have always loved the fact that you can capture such a range of things with one little tap of your finger. I love the way that you can hold onto a second of life that was special and important by one click of a button. I love revisiting places and surely I have enough images of beaches and rivers that I am so familiar with. Yet I could continually take photographs of the same place. You may look at them and see a huge similarity in the photos - similar people, similar clothes, same ripples of water, same sunlight. Yet for me, as Rodney says "Every Picture Tells a Story". Each shot of a beach or a river represents a different time, different epoch of my life. Same scene, different me. It tells the story of the day the photo was taken. It captures the thoughts, the feelings, the laughter, the joy, the sensation of summer sun or winter woes- all different, every time I take it. It tells about my early morning walks, about the families that gather, about the frantic activities and the relaxing siestas. And yet, you may just see a sandy beach, a calm sea, a rushing stream, and a group of bowering trees.
And the very same can be said about taking more intimate photographs. I think there is a huge beauty in male and female form. I sometimes hear people saying that the male body isn't that spectacular with its straight form and unusual little dangly appendage. Well, believe me, that dangly little appendage has huge significance for me. I am extremely turned on by cocks. I love to see them in many shapes and sizes, covered with foreskins or not. I love cocks. I love the total fucking sexuality of a stiff, excited cock. I love the memory of what a cock does for me. I love the solidness of its form. I love the way it stands erect and eager for pussy.
I fucking love big, hard cocks.
But I am particularly fond of specific cocks. And I adore photographs of a special cock, belonging to someone who is important to me. I look at the photograph and wonder what it may feel like to take in my hands right now. I look and remember what it tasted like when it was juicing in my mouth. I look and imagine what it may feel like in my sensitive little pussy if only it was accessible right now. I love to think about cocks and see them in both aroused and flaccid state. (I have a strange fascination in walking through the men's department at M&S imagining the cock that I want to hold inside a range of knickers - but that is for another time). You see, I cannot get enough photos of that cock. I may have tens or hundreds of shots of that cock but they are all so incredibly different, shaped by the time, the event and the feelings that were occurring when the photo was taken.
I remember the first photo that I ever received of that cock. It was taken in the bath, held carefully in the hands of my lover. It was erect and moist. It was pointing towards the centre of the photograph cajoling me into moving forward, pretending that I could take it in my mouth. I remember when it was sent to me, for I genuinely wasn't expecting it. All I was expecting was to see a clothed cock; pants bulging in the form of an erect penis. And I can remember an instant wave of physical passion totally overtake my body, directly from my sexual organs, at the sheer pleasure and excitement of seeing this cock, this photograph, taken for me with the absolute knowledge that it would send me reaching towards my pussy, clutching it hard to contain that instance of orgasmic reaction.
And that is the key point. He took that photograph FOR me, knowing the type of reaction that would incur. He took that photograph because he knew it would set my juices flowing. He could imagine the pleasure on my face as I studied the cock, and zoomed in as far as possible to see every familiar and sexy section of it.
I can look at plenty of horny cocks. I can be remotely turned on by an image of an unknown man clutching his manhood for me to see. It does excite me. It does send a little trickle of sensation between my legs but it is incomparable to the photograph that is taken for me. And I have many photos taken for me. The fact that they were taken for me send me into ecstatic cums. I love to have them near me, as I fuck myself. I love to reach over and look at them, unable to touch them as I have my hands deeply entrenched in my lubricated puss. I love the fact that, when the opportunity arises, I can take that cock back into the warmth of my needy cunt. I love having those photos sent to me when I least expect them. That is such a massive turn on. I like the naughtiness of the moment of taking the photograph and providing it.
So more as and when will be gratefully appreciated.
I have to go now. I was going to talk in much greater detail about photography for I want to share with you the excitement of taking photos of myself, for me and for others. I want to explain what happened to me when I came home from work today, how I went directly to my bedroom and took off all my clothes, how I went naked to the window to let in some fresh air, not remotely bothered if anyone was in neighbouring gardens to peek a view. And I want to tell you all about the photos that I took, the close-ups on the 'flower' setting - la petite vagin! And I want to explain how I took a series of photos of my boobs hidden under a silky red bra, revealed one by one and then another close up of my excited nipple, opening at the point in anticipation of a hungry mouth to grab it and suck it into a state of energised glory.
I am also, of course, fascinated and extremely motivated to use my camera for very sensual purposes, taking photographs of both myself, other people and occasions when I have the pleasure of having sex with the consent of someone who is prepared to reveal all for the camera. I am incredibly fortunate in that I have someone who is prepared to do this, and also has a distinct interest in the art of erotic photography.
Awakenings are a wondrous thing. Finding pleasure in something new gives zest to life, allows the senses to revel in the delights of the world, gives nourishment to feelings. Sexual awakenings are phenomenal. Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, realising that you have an enjoyment of your own body, of your own sexuality can be enormously empowering. To be able to share that awakening with other people, and to express both in words and actions that essence of sensual realisation and rebirth is so incredibly liberating, and I am eternally grateful that I have had the oportunity to experience this. So grateful, in fact, that I feel a need to reiterate it in words on this blog. And this really brings us onto the art of erotic photography.
I have always had an interest in photography. I have always loved the fact that you can capture such a range of things with one little tap of your finger. I love the way that you can hold onto a second of life that was special and important by one click of a button. I love revisiting places and surely I have enough images of beaches and rivers that I am so familiar with. Yet I could continually take photographs of the same place. You may look at them and see a huge similarity in the photos - similar people, similar clothes, same ripples of water, same sunlight. Yet for me, as Rodney says "Every Picture Tells a Story". Each shot of a beach or a river represents a different time, different epoch of my life. Same scene, different me. It tells the story of the day the photo was taken. It captures the thoughts, the feelings, the laughter, the joy, the sensation of summer sun or winter woes- all different, every time I take it. It tells about my early morning walks, about the families that gather, about the frantic activities and the relaxing siestas. And yet, you may just see a sandy beach, a calm sea, a rushing stream, and a group of bowering trees.
And the very same can be said about taking more intimate photographs. I think there is a huge beauty in male and female form. I sometimes hear people saying that the male body isn't that spectacular with its straight form and unusual little dangly appendage. Well, believe me, that dangly little appendage has huge significance for me. I am extremely turned on by cocks. I love to see them in many shapes and sizes, covered with foreskins or not. I love cocks. I love the total fucking sexuality of a stiff, excited cock. I love the memory of what a cock does for me. I love the solidness of its form. I love the way it stands erect and eager for pussy.
I fucking love big, hard cocks.
But I am particularly fond of specific cocks. And I adore photographs of a special cock, belonging to someone who is important to me. I look at the photograph and wonder what it may feel like to take in my hands right now. I look and remember what it tasted like when it was juicing in my mouth. I look and imagine what it may feel like in my sensitive little pussy if only it was accessible right now. I love to think about cocks and see them in both aroused and flaccid state. (I have a strange fascination in walking through the men's department at M&S imagining the cock that I want to hold inside a range of knickers - but that is for another time). You see, I cannot get enough photos of that cock. I may have tens or hundreds of shots of that cock but they are all so incredibly different, shaped by the time, the event and the feelings that were occurring when the photo was taken.
I remember the first photo that I ever received of that cock. It was taken in the bath, held carefully in the hands of my lover. It was erect and moist. It was pointing towards the centre of the photograph cajoling me into moving forward, pretending that I could take it in my mouth. I remember when it was sent to me, for I genuinely wasn't expecting it. All I was expecting was to see a clothed cock; pants bulging in the form of an erect penis. And I can remember an instant wave of physical passion totally overtake my body, directly from my sexual organs, at the sheer pleasure and excitement of seeing this cock, this photograph, taken for me with the absolute knowledge that it would send me reaching towards my pussy, clutching it hard to contain that instance of orgasmic reaction.
And that is the key point. He took that photograph FOR me, knowing the type of reaction that would incur. He took that photograph because he knew it would set my juices flowing. He could imagine the pleasure on my face as I studied the cock, and zoomed in as far as possible to see every familiar and sexy section of it.
I can look at plenty of horny cocks. I can be remotely turned on by an image of an unknown man clutching his manhood for me to see. It does excite me. It does send a little trickle of sensation between my legs but it is incomparable to the photograph that is taken for me. And I have many photos taken for me. The fact that they were taken for me send me into ecstatic cums. I love to have them near me, as I fuck myself. I love to reach over and look at them, unable to touch them as I have my hands deeply entrenched in my lubricated puss. I love the fact that, when the opportunity arises, I can take that cock back into the warmth of my needy cunt. I love having those photos sent to me when I least expect them. That is such a massive turn on. I like the naughtiness of the moment of taking the photograph and providing it.
So more as and when will be gratefully appreciated.
I have to go now. I was going to talk in much greater detail about photography for I want to share with you the excitement of taking photos of myself, for me and for others. I want to explain what happened to me when I came home from work today, how I went directly to my bedroom and took off all my clothes, how I went naked to the window to let in some fresh air, not remotely bothered if anyone was in neighbouring gardens to peek a view. And I want to tell you all about the photos that I took, the close-ups on the 'flower' setting - la petite vagin! And I want to explain how I took a series of photos of my boobs hidden under a silky red bra, revealed one by one and then another close up of my excited nipple, opening at the point in anticipation of a hungry mouth to grab it and suck it into a state of energised glory.
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