Sexual society and sexuality

I would like to suggest a rather radical and possibly naïve theory about the British and sexuality. I am not sure whether there is anything in this idea of mine but it may be worth further consideration.

This week as I have been driving walking around our city, I have noticed a range of sexual images or enticements. Now this has not been a deliberate attempt to see all aspects of life from a sexual perspective. I haven’t had to search very hard to find both implicit and explicit reference to sex. It is all around us, everywhere we look.

If you look in clothes shops and see how mannequins are dressed, there is an emphasis on displaying the clothes, particularly in the front window, that are at the slightly more daring end of the market, the ones that when worn could make you feel sexual, the ones with the lower necklines, coupled with high heeled shoes or knee length boots. But it is not just in clothes shops you see a sexual undertone in what people are trying to sell.

Window dressers are obviously in the game of aesthetically pleasing or enticing the customer, and personally I think there is a huge correlation between the feelings you get from aesthetically pleasing sights and the feelings you receive from good all-encompassing sex. So the result in other shops is a subliminal hint of sexuality; well dressed aesthetically pleasing shop fronts with a poster here, or an innuendo there, that implies the product on view has the potential to be sexual.

Obviously, this is not apparent in every window you walk passed, but it is there.

Driving along the streets this week, I have noticed some large bill boards. If people want to sell a product, you can almost guarantee that there will be some beautiful model, usually female, somewhere within the vicinity. A decent looking bird sells stuff!

Visual stimulation, the molding of your mind into associating a particular perfume with the potential of having this beautiful woman in your life, is all powerful stuff. But as I was driving, I noticed an extremely large yellow bill board with vivid red lettering, with a simple message, “Are you getting enough sex?” or words to that effect. It was far from subliminal. It was overt and explicit, posing a clear and concise question to the great British society, allowing them to consider for the split second that it came into view whether they were actually receiving enough sex, and whether that sex is of a decent quality as well as quantity.

Happily, as I drove along knowing that I was within minutes of having glorious mind, body and soul fulfilling sex, I raised a smile and thought how wonderful it would be if everyone had enough quality sex at the end of their journey to be able to merely look up at the poster and just answer in the affirmative.

A few years ago, this type of poster may not have been allowed, especially on a three lane road where all eyes should be on the road, but we are becoming more and more overt about sexuality in this country. Along this same stretch of road, there are a number of billboards. Take films, always advertised with a particular star looking at their sexy best. And it is not just women. I can remember vividly the furore over the still photograph of Daniel Craig coming out of the sea in some sky blue shorts with his lunch box extremely vivid for all to see. And furore is not too strong a word in this instance. People were appalled that his sexuality was so obvious. Yet here in itself is a funny thing and an example of the contradictions of sexuality in our country.

In discussing this image, people talk about his “lunch box” or his “manhood”. They suggested it was inappropriate for him to be seen in this manner by so many impressionable young people. Heaven forbid, it might give them ideas? What ideas?

There are quite a few issues to address here which hopefully illustrate my point about the irony of the British and sexuality.

Firstly, why can’t people use the proper words? People cannot see his lunch box, they can see the outline of his cock, or even, if you want to be less overt, his penis.

Secondly, are children and young people going to be detrimentally affected by seeing the outline of someone’s dick? Is this going to suddenly make them rush out and want to have copious amounts of sex?

Thirdly, surely this image is no different from seeing men in swimming pools or walking along a beach in the middle of summer? Let us please face facts. Men have cocks and in tight fitting shorts or even tight fitting trousers, if you so desire to look, you can see the outline of their “manhood”.

Fourthly, would the same sort of furore happen if a woman was fully clad revealing the shape of a decent set of tits? (I’m not talking here about semi-clad, I’m talking about a mere outline of breasts).

The issues that are raised here are important ones and yet again demonstrate the contradictions that are apparent everywhere in our society. Apparently, there are people out there who find disgust in overt sexuality, yet it is precisely this sexuality that sells a product or, in this case, subliminally entices you to see a film. There are people apparently who are offended by this overt sexuality yet they cannot see that, if you are intent on finding sexuality in every day life, it is there for you to see.

And here is the big one. Are we as a society becoming more sexually explicit in our conveyance of sex because we cannot express ourselves in a sexual way? Is there a sexualisation of society because we are still not comfortable with our own sexuality?
Is the sexualisation of our society a mere manifestation of our own sexual frustration? Are sexual advertisements and the accessibility and increased frequency of sexual images merely a phallic symbol, the only way that us Brits can express ourselves sexually, and when we complain about this overt sexuality, are we not actually complaining that we do not have the emotional and spiritual capacity to embrace and value our own sexuality?

I am beginning to think that there is a direct correlation between the increase in overt sexuality in our society and the lack of honesty about our own sexuality. It is far easier to make things around us more sexual than to confront our own needs and desires for sex.

And in many ways, I think this is more abhorrent and more distasteful than any sexual image pushed in front of mine or my children’s nose. Even worse, if this increased depersonalised sexuality flourishes and remains, is it going to prevent young people from being sexually liberated in thought and feelings and actions? If all the energy and sexuality is placed in overt sexualisation all around us, is it going to take people away from learning how to and enjoying the expression of their own individual sexuality?

Essentially, I am probably posing a question. Is the over sexualisation of our society a dishonesty, an unwillingness or inability to express ourselves in our own lives in a sexual way? Is it, to all intents and purposes, a lack of spiritual intelligence? Is it a way that we can tick a box and say “Yes, of course I am a sexual being. I am not confronted or offended by these images, therefore my sexuality is in tact”.

Are we hiding behind explicit sex? Is it alleviating our sexual frustration?

Maybe I am asking many questions and maybe I am only just beginning to think about this subject. Clearly, all of these points need further clarification and certainly need to be clearly ordered in a logical and well-thought out piece of writing. All I am trying to do here is start the conversation, allow consideration of this parody.

Sexuality should be important. I have no problems with sexual images all around me as long as it is not masking an individual’s opportunity to understand, appreciate and value their own sexuality.

If less overt sexuality meant more people could come to terms and truly express their own sexuality, then I would happily lose an image or two in the shops or on the billboards, and I know it isn’t quite as simple as that.

But in essence, sex is so fascinating. Whilst I may hanker over being deeply sexual with someone that I care about and whilst I may have fantasies about having sex in front of other people, this is merely titillation. It is fun and horny but it is not the real story of my sexuality.

Sex, in its purest and most enjoyable form, is about intimacy. It is about a partnership between two people who can fully engage with one another, who can revel in one another’s bodies, who can jigsaw together in the most beautiful and energising way, who can express their feelings through the conjoining of bodies and can feel the warmth and adoration in every movement, every kiss, every shared silence.

This is a million miles from explicit sexual images and the use of sex to sell us products. There is a place for that. I have no problems with people using sex to sell things but being sexual in this way is incomparable to the real thing!

So to conclude this short piece of writing, I think we have to consider the inconsistencies and contradictions about sex in this country. I believe that we have to consider a growing use of sex and how this is potentially a polarisation from dealing with individual sexuality.

I think we need to consider what impact these contradictions are having on young people. We literally shove sex in their faces and then do not equip them with the skills, values, attitudes or opportunities to be able to contextualise this within their own lives. That is criminal actually.

And we need to consider once and for all the ridiculous irony of a sexualised society that is so sexual, so overt yet there are thousands of people who cannot even use the words cock or cunt without feeling utter disgrace and even more importantly, cannot embrace the delights and intimacy of spiritually fulfilling sex.

Tits

I’ve changed my mind. I have decided to start a blog tonight after all. It has been a long and somewhat frustrating day, very mundane and tedious. Grocery shopping, fighting with parking attendants and rude women tutting at me at the supermarket – goodness only knows why. So to ensure that I sleep soundly, for I am now convinced that there is a deep and meaningful correlation between my sexual satisfaction and sleep, I will write. And yes, bizarre as it sounds, I do get sexual satisfaction when Zenpuss puts fingers to keyboard and let’s her imagination flow, to the best of her limited ability.

Today, the subject is tits; big, juicy, boobs, knockers, jugs, whatever you like to call them. I am going to talk about tits, about my own, other peoples and the fascination that the world seems to have with tits.

I was in a shop today, looking at some chocolates. A huge variety, all carefully manufactured to entice and lure the customer into choosing more than they intended. There were some interesting plump, spherical chocolates with a pink icing at the centre. I passed them by. A family stood next to me and the bloke said, “Blimey, they look like boobs!” His two teenage daughters and his wife were horrified at his proclamation, and sternly criticised him for airing his opinion. I, on the other hand, decided to help the poor bloke out, and told the family in a jocular way that I too had thought they looked like boobs. The mother then looked at me, in slight awkwardness but still jokingly, stating that she could understand a bloke coming out with a comment like that but was surprised a woman had thought a similar thing.
Oh dear! Found out! Alert, alert! Sexual weirdo in the shop! Woman who mentions tits! A woman who sees something sexual in a poor innocent ball of chocolate! Whoops!
Well, now you come to mention it, I can think of something very sexual indeed to do with little balls of chocolate!

Seriously though, this woman – the mother, epitomises the sort of pent up inability to think let alone speak out about something sexual in public. She looked a modern, trendy type of 40 something woman and I honestly didn’t think she would be remotely shocked by my comment. Surely she must have looked at the sweets, and seen a certain resemblance to a pert pair of tits with a protruding nipple discreetly blobbed on the top? I think she did see what her husband saw, but as a woman, she couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t be right. Wouldn’t be proper or appropriate. Leave it to the loony. I bet she thought I was coming on to her husband too for that matter.
And I think this links with previous blogs about women just not been sexually liberated, not being in touch with their own sexuality and the obvious sexuality that is screaming out of various subliminal places if you choose so to interpret. Alternatively, of course, I am a raving nymphomaniac who sees sex in everything. Not so, I am afraid.

So let us consider tits. Let us think about how this woman who I met today might think about tits. Let us see whether I have a point to all of this.

Girls, at an early age, are quite interested in the changes and developments to their own body and those of their counterparts. The first girl in the class to have the chest growth spurt is considered to be the most mature, irrespective of her emotional or intellectual maturity. Others are in awe and somewhat envious of this onset of womanhood. She gains a status in the group, and others wait in eager anticipation to join her. Yes, boobs are a serious status symbol at this point in life. In the shower at school, in changing for PE lessons, girls do look at one another and discover how their bodies are developing in comparison to their peers. I would go as far as saying that there is an instinctual directive that tells us, allows us to look at other people’s bodies at this point in life, and it is perfectly normal. So when does it change from a healthy interest in puberty to something more intimate, more unnatural, less socially acceptable? When, as women, do we learn that looking at boobs is not appropriate behaviour? Because this does happen. Over a short period of time, we go from looking and wondering to shying away at the first opportunity. In the case of PE lessons, we clasp that towel to our bodies, as we try and manoeuvre the 30 inch double A bra around the circumference of our bodies, still clutching to the towel which is strategically placed to conceal our upper bodies. And the angst if mother has packed a towel that is handkerchief sized so you have to almost double up into the foetal position to simultaneously hide your fanny with its little glimmering of pubic growth. This change happens subliminally, but somewhere young women are already picking up a sign that a) you should not reveal your tits to the world and b) if someone accidentally drops their towel before the bra is secured in place, you certainly shouldn’t be looking.
And what does this start to tell us about how women perceive their bodies, and what does this tell us about tits?

Well, I guess it tells us the following.
Tits are a sign of development. They are a sign of womanhood. They are a sign that we are moving from one stage of life to another. And as that stage moves forward, we learn to conceal our boobs because that is the socially acceptable thing to do. By concealing them, they become something private, something possibly sexual, something that suddenly becomes a taboo. The unspoken.
And young women are already in a learning curve that tells them to not think about tits, not look at them, and certainly don’t reveal them. Yet, there is an interesting paradox taking place at exactly the same time. The fashion industry then manufactures clothes that are revealing, that require bra removal to wear the products that sexualises our bodies at, quite frankly, too young an age. On the one hand, you have so –called ‘normal’ society directing young women to just pretend that boobs are not there and on the other hand, persuading them to be as sexually precocious as possible in the manner of their attire. Is it any wonder that we have such mixed up views about sexuality, about what is appropriate and acceptable, about what is allowed and what is unmentionable?

Same as periods, same as fannies. Our societal taboos are really detrimental to a woman’s understanding and appreciation of their own sexuality. No wonder, we cannot talk about sex. Maybe the whole thing is a misogynist directive, ensuring that all women are subservient to the men folk of their society, but that is probably a little over the top. Who knows? It is just a thought.

So here we have it. Women, who are a developing an unhealthy disinterest in boobs. You start with a serious interest in having a look, and gradually, through various societal messages, you are reminded that women do not look at other women, unless of course, they are raving dykes.

Well, I am here to say that I do not have lesbian tendencies. I have stated before that I am a fond ‘consumer’ of the cock. It fills me, satisfies me, stimulates me. I want cock deep inside me, penetrating the sensual parts of my body that respond so effectively to its touches. Yet, I think, retrospectively, I have always had an interest in the shape of other women’s bodies, maybe not in a sexual way, but I have always had the ability to look at a woman and appreciate the aesthetics of a rounded, sexual body. And whilst looking at a beautiful woman, your eyes are naturally drawn to the shape of their body, the curvature of their breasts. This genuinely doesn’t have to be a sexual thing, merely an appreciation of the female form. But surely, I hear you say, that if you are looking at a woman like that then there has to be a sexual entity to it? Well possibly that is so. Maybe, I have always looked at women’s bodies and seen it sexually, wishing that I felt that sexual about myself. Maybe I have always looked at women’s bodies and contemplated touching them, feeling around the outer edges of the boobs, thought about tracing my finger in a circular motion around the side of the breasts, spiralling them in towards the nipples. In truth, I just don’t know. I do not know whether this is what has been happening to me all of my life. What I do know is that in my blossoming epoch of current sexual growth, I can see a very clear and definite sexual pleasure in viewing other women’s tits. And I have thought about this. Maybe, through learning and appreciating my own sexuality, I have discovered a love of the beauty in other people’s sexuality. Maybe, I have learned to enjoy looking at tits as a means of understanding a sexual partner’s interest in boobs. Maybe I have been suppressing a desire all of this time. Maybe I have suddenly remembered the times in the past, when I have felt a stirring within my pussy at a picture of a naked woman. It doesn’t really matter how I came to this understanding. The fact is this – I do like looking at women’s tits. I like the vast differences in their shape, their voluptuousness, their position in relation to the rest of the torso. I like seeing women holding their tits, proudly showing that they are sexual beings with wonderful, powerful assets that delight so many. I like to see good, strong, protruding nipples that stick out eager to be touched, licked, fondled. I like the beauty of a woman’s form and I like to see what it is about this that is so appealing to a heterosexual man.

Furthermore, there are times when I want to touch tits. I want to feel the fullness of them in my hands, just in the same way that a partner feels mine. I can appreciate my own tits and their significance to my partners if I have experience of another woman’s tits in my hand. And that is good. Tits are good. Tits are incredibly beautiful. They epitomise womanhood. Sexuality. Lust.
Confession time here. I used to hate people touching my tits. I loathed a sexual partner touching them sensitively. I was happy for them to grab them but not to gently stimulate the nipple.
But this has changed. I want my partners to feel the weight of them in their hands. I want them to suck hard on the side of the boob. I want them to lick my entire boob, moving their tongue around and around as they progress towards the centre, taking my ample nipple in the mouth and pulling it into an erect state. I want them to blow on it, to sensualise it. I want them to take photographs of them. I want them to gain the greatest excitement of undoing my bra and revealing these big, buxom breasts. I want to feel cock between by boobs. I want him to slap his cock in my cleavage, pushing either breast towards the middle, so that his cock is stimulated by the mass of boob either side, and he can slide in and out, revealing a head of luscious cock as he moves.
I want to taste tits. I want to lick all around and move towards the nipple, I want to push the nipple around in my mouth, circling and sucking, creating climax for a partner. I want to push myself down on a woman so that our boobs are compressed together, so that our nipples clash against one another, so that they kiss together in a height of sexual stirrings. I want to hold tits and caress them whilst the rest of my body is in close proximity to pussy. I want to have my tits held and kissed by a woman. I want to offer my tits to be sucked with a vigour and urgency by two people simultaneously. I want to have someone touching my tits whilst I am being carefully fucked by a huge and horny cock. I want someone to watch my tits bouncing up and down as I am fucked from behind, watching them sway in time to the thrusting motion of that cock sliding in and out of my body. And I want cum all over my tits. Cum that splashes and sensationalises the nipples that can be smothered and spread across my tits.
I want you to read this and desperately want my tits in your face right now. I want you to think about touching them, holding them, wishing for them to be near you right now.
You can just imagine how wet my cunt is as I write. Very, very juicy.

Tits. Good, wholesome tits.

Tits are incredibly important. I haven’t even mentioned their absolute significance biologically, possibly because I wasn’t too good at it. However, there is a huge significance in that as soon as a baby is born, it is the boob that is required before all else. The boob is the first point of contact for all of us, man or woman as we arrive in this world, ready, lactating, eager to serve. Maybe this is why instinctively, we have a love of boobs whether we choose to suppress it or not.

And now for my boobs. They have been through various stages of progression. They have been small and useless sized and they have been enormous, useless sized too! We joked at school and took the pencil test. I failed, unable to hold the aforementioned writing implement underneath my tit. There wasn’t enough of it to retain it in position. And then they grew, possibly with the weight gain and development of the rest of my body. And they began to blossom. I actually needed to wear a bra then. And I liked their growing voluptuousness.
After giving birth, they obviously grew. They were like footballs rather than discusses. They had a strength in their size. And now they have settled to be a basic, average size – comfortably shaped in the context of the rest of my body. I’m not happy with them. I cannot yet see their beauty. I can feel their fullness but in all honesty, they are nothing special. They would not necessarily have appeal on a porn site. They are just basic forty year old boobs with rather flat nipples. Yet, I am very aware that other people appreciate them, possibly because they are mine rather than for their generic aesthetical beauty. And that is positive. I am honoured and delighted that other people look at my boobs and get a satisfaction from them. And that has an extremely positive effect on my psyche.
And everything that I mentioned before about sucking, licking, sharing boobs, well, I am glad that others get off on my tits. I love the fact that what I wrote previously about what I wanted has actually taken place. I have had my tits caressed and fondled by man and woman. I have enjoyed the kisses that start on the mouth, work their way down my neck towards my tits. I have felt the eternal joy of having two people sitting in front of me, each having one of my tits in their mouths, me straddling them and leaning back in the sheer, unadulterated joy of being sucked and fondled by two simultaneously. I have had someone grab my tits with utter urgency as he feels the warmth of my gushing cum soak his cock and balls as he slides in and out of my juicy cunt.
They are here, ready and waiting for a return visit.

So to end. Finally back to the start of this epic piece of writing. The wife in the shop. I wonder whether she has experienced some of the things I have discussed. Does this notion of tits resonate with her? Surely she remembers what it was like as a teenager with flourishing developments in herself and her peers? Did she actually stop seeing beauty and sexuality in boobs? I somehow doubt it.
Come on girls. Let’s be positive about our bodies. Let us celebrate that we have sensational bodies that need to be seen as wonderful entities by all. Let us liberate ourselves and be proud of our sexuality and let us now allow it to be exploited by others. Let us take control of women’s sexuality once and for all, and girls, that means being a little more honest about what turns us on, including tits.

c word

The C-word. The unmentionable. We are back to semantics here again, aren't we?
I have just been reading the blog comment that I received yesterday, and I liked it enormously. There was this man, honest and open about his sexuality, which in itself is invigorating, explaining how he likes looking at cunts. He sees a desirable beauty in them. He can distinguish and discriminate, identifying all the intimate and preferable parts for him. He can enjoy for his own stimulation but he can equally use the visual information for the benefit of his sexual partners, using this knowledge to excite and empower the women with whom he chooses to have sex with.
I am delighted that he likes cunts. I like to see the look in his eyes, as he delves inside mine, carefully peeling the folds of skin away, plunging his fingers inside to manipulate and widen an already open and needy hole, sensitising every fibre as he smoothly submerges himself.
But he is probably unusual, maybe unique. Firstly, in that he is utterly genuine about his love of the beauty of a woman's cunt but secondly in that he is prepared to talk about it openly, without inhibition (within reason!), explaining quite candidly, that he is not mad, he is not perverse. He is simply an honest man reflecting his joy of the woman's body without feeling the need to hide his love of pornography under the sheets of his bed.
But let us explore this word - cunt. The word that is so disgraceful that it has its very own single letter acronym. How many words are known by a single letter? Do you know the A-word, the D-word and the S-word? Well I suppose there is the F-word; another unmentionable that we should pretend does not exist. ‘Cunt’ has such derogatory undertones. It is not a word that can be mentioned in public in the same way that ‘fuck’ can. It is deemed to be uncouth using this word publicly, so that when you use it in a 1:1 sexual situation, there is a slight unease with the first mention of it. I can remember sitting in a car, some time ago, when the man mentioned above wanted to explore me in a very intimate way. It wasn’t the first time that he had finger-fucked me in his car, but he, like me, enjoys sexual language, and he realized very quickly how much I enjoyed him languishing his linguistic expertise in my ear as part of a marvelous and enticing foreplay. He, being a thoughtful and politically correct person, mentioned how he was excited and energized by having his fingers in my cunt. And then he asked if I minded him using that word. I had no problem with him using it in that context, despite the fact that in other situations, I did feel uncomfortable with it. My discomfort with the word ‘cunt’ however, is the same as any other word that is used to deliberately degrade women. The word ‘bitch’ though is far more cutting, sharp and demeaning. And I do dislike the word cunt being used to describe something as dirty, bad, the ultimate nasty put down. I dislike the fact that people automatically see the word ‘cunt’ and think ‘yuck’!
I wonder whether our friends across the nations have the same problem with finding a word that reflects the wonder and the intense sexuality of a woman’s parts. The French word is ‘vagin’. What are their alternatives? I don’t know. What I do know is that one of their so-called slang words for vagina is ‘petite fleur’. How wonderful that our lovely counterparts across La Manche automatically use a beautiful image within their terminology for this thing of divine beauty.
But of course, as with any word, the meaning is in the use and visa versa. It is about context.
Let us look further. Our feminist friends have not really helped the cause. They too have taken umbrage with the word. It is a dirty word. It is degrading. It is denigrating women. Well, if you allow it to, then yes it is. But tell me an alternative that is appropriate. Ben Elton did a wonderful sketch a few years ago about the acceptable word variations for the penis, and the fact that there really was only one appropriate word for a woman’s bits – the VAGINA!. Isn’t vagina, he went on to say, such a clinical sounding word. I cannot replicate the humour but needless to say there was a long list of words used to describe the male sexual organs – cock, dick, willy, prick, manhood, schlong, shaft – the list is endless. All of these words were deemed to be okay, able to spoken aloud in general. What were the alternatives for vagina? Cunt (socially unacceptable – infact I am not sure he was allowed to use this word on the BBC), toot toot (honestly) miff, pussy. Even the latter was deemed as unacceptable by the majority.
So you are in a situation with a new partner. You badly want to explain how you are in dire need of penetrative sex. What are your alternatives?
“Hey, I would like your penis in my vagina”. Wouldn’t do too much for me.
“Hey, put your cock in my vagina.” Okay – may have used the cock word, which is a bit raunchier but the v-word is like an antidote for the blue pills.
“Hey, put your cock inside my cunt”. It really does have a certain ring to it, doesn’t it? It gets you in the mood. It makes you think that there is some worth to making that journey. Well, let’s make this known. Use the word for your benefit lady. After all, you do want something out of this sexual experience don’t you?
Maybe, there should be a feministic re-evaluation of this word. Maybe, we should reclaim it as our own. Maybe, we should get more women to consider using this word as a sensual, exciting word that reflects the rawness and earthiness of their sexuality. By placing it in the domain of women, then we can choose to make the word acceptable. How joyous it would be to do that, to lift a word from its social prison, allowing it the freedom that it deserves. Its very make up with hard consonants at the beginning and end of the word, with that mute, downward pushing penultimate ‘n’ and that urgent and most underused of vowels, standing its ground in the phonetic make up just epitomizes the urgency, the excitement, the thrill of the part of the body that it is trying to describe. So yet again, I call upon my fellow females to have a little rethink about this word, about how it is used, and see if we, with the aid of some well-meaning and sexually adjusted men, can reclaim this special little cunt word