Intriguing Reading #11

Posted on | January 28, 2012 | No Comments

My regular roundup of interesting reads, found from all over the place.

The Invention of the Heterosexual: “And I think that really points as well to the fact that these are constructed categories.  This is about your subjectivity, it’s about your allegiance, it’s about where your social networks are, it’s about the kinds of cultural priorities that you embrace and that you endorse. This is not just what gets you hard or what gets you wet. This is not just about what kinds of sex you have, or the congenital configurations of the people you have sex with.  It’s very much about what cultures you participate in.  What cultures you ally yourself with, you know, whose flag you fly.” (Hanne Blank interviewed by Thomas Rogers / Salon)

Linking Queerness with Fatness: “Fat and queer bodies both challenge the spatial dominance and impermeability of heteronormative bodies, albeit in different ways.” (David / Axis of Fat)

A Scenic Guide to Your Abnormal Pap Smear: “Having HPV doesn’t mean you did something “bad,” or “dirty,” or “slutty,” ever, at any point, period. It doesn’t mean anything except that you are infected with a strain of a virus which very rarely causes cancer, and that we’re going to monitor you so that doesn’t happen, and if it does we’ll be there with you treating it. If simply having had HPV makes you bad/dirty/slutty, then 80% of adult humans are bad/dirty/slutty, and I always swore that if there were that many bad/dirty/slutty people on this earth I was going to another earth and I’m still here, aren’t I.” (Lola McClure / The Hairpin)

“Any History of Suicide Attempts?”: “My brain does not work properly.  I’ve kluged together some extensive work-arounds, which passes for wisdom sometimes, but I know its true name: experience.  But if my underlying architecture wasn’t so poor, I wouldn’t have to think so hard.  I’d just act in healthy ways.” (Ferrett Steinmetz)

Why I Punched a Stranger: “Isn’t it interesting that he first addressed me with interest because I was holding hands with my girlfriend, and when I turned on him I was suddenly a dyke and a faggot? This shows how these guys don’t see women and lesbians as people, they see as whatever they want to see us as – certainly, less than human. ” (Silverspeakers / Jezebel)

Fiction: Bound to Die: “Holly moaned. Not moving was worse. It was as if the device interpreted her lack of movement as encouragement to try harder. The mechanical tongue was picking up speed and doing gyrations that no human mouth could attempt. Erotic science was going to get her off and when it did, she was going to twist and writhe before the speeding bullets made her twist and writhe for entirely different reasons. ” (Shon Richards)

My Thoughts on Mandatory Condom Use in Porn: “Teach kids that watching porn for education is like watching a James Bond film to learn how to become a spy.” (Amie Wee)

The Polyamory Trap: “Further marginalizing the marginalized is just the wrong trajectory for any liberation movement to take. And it reminds me of the way that some mainstream gay activists have sold out transgender and gender-nonconforming groups. We’re the married gays who make neighborhoods stable and herald the arrival of cool coffeehouses; we’re not those awfuldrag queens. This is all trash, it sells out members of our own community who deserve more than that, and it’s a punt, really, not an argument.” (Jay Michaelson / Salon) For a change, the comments are worth reading. Including one from Janet W. Hardy on page 4.

Go Where? Sex, Gender, and Toilets: “The segregation of washrooms is based on an assumption of heterosexuality, predatory in men and passive and vulnerable in women; the association of sexuality with sex, and the conflation of sex and gender. In other words, it is nonsensical. One thing we don’t segregate washrooms by is sexuality.” (Marissa / The Society Pages)

Poly in Pictures

Ask Aunty Dee: How does a vac bed work?

Posted on | January 27, 2012 | 1 Comment

The luscious BadBexie wanted to see me in a Vacuum Bed, and I was happy to oblige. I like it in there!  But a quite a few people wanted to know more about how they worked, so it seemed like a good idea to get some photographs and explain it all.

In order to get to ‘wow you can totally see my hair!’, there’s a whole bunch of steps that need to be taken first. For starters, you have to assemble the Vac Bed – and that’s a bit of a challenge itself!

The Vac Bed is a latex envelope, a bit like a sleeping bag. Hylas’ one has a zip running up one side, and that’s the side the person going into it has to wriggle into (more recent versions allow you to get in at the top). The downside of one with a zip is that it’s not quite air-tight.  You can see the open side, with the zip, to the right in the image below.

In addition to the latex envelope, there’s also a plastic frame, made up of tubes. Those tubes have holes along one side of them (you can see them if you look closely), and, once you attach a vacuum cleaner  to the nozzle at the end there, they’re what pull the air out of the envelope and create the vacuum.

The frame has to be assembled in the right order and the right way around (holes facing inward helps), and the nozzle that the vacuum cleaner needs to plug into needs to be in the right place too. Once the frame’s assembled the envelope is stretched around it.

These are the holes that will take all the air away. And make funky noises if skin accidentally presses up against them.

Eventually it’s all assembled. And there’s just one bit of frame poking out. Hard to put the vacuum cleaner in the wrong place, when there’s only one spot left!

Next, it’s time to prepare the person going in.  Making sure they’re not horribly claustrophobic is important – although if they are, they probably aren’t interested in going in anyhow!

Next is making sure they’re not wearing make-up, copper, jewellery, or anything sharp. The first two can degrade the latex. The last two can damage it. Thoroughly washing skin that’s been in contact with copper ( including coins) prolongs the life of the latex.

Handily, you can wear stuff in the vac bed. So if you want to stay in your undies, you can. If you want to make pretty patterns by keeping your fishnets on, sweet! Ailuros has been in wearing a fursuit (and looked awesome). And, if you’re a gusher … putting a towel down will stop juices being sucked up those holes and into the vacuum cleaner!

Being able to breathe when you’re in the vac bed is one of the essential bits. You can get ones now where the head is exposed (I want me one of them) with a seal at the neck – but this version, with a breathing tube, works pretty well too. The latex moulding around your face can be one of the most intense parts of the experience.  The tube is, as you can see, strapped around your head, and the end of the tube is held between your teeth, in your mouth. The rest of it is very long, so you’re able to pull it through the hole in the latex envelope, and breathe.

Hylas and I have indulged in light breath play using the breathing tube – it’s easy to block the end of it, and to limit breathing. But we are very careful with it, and are well aware of the risks of doing so.

Getting into – and out of – the vac bed is one of the most challenging parts. Especially if you’re not small! You need to lie down, slide yourself sideways up and over the plastic tubes and between the latex layers, turning your head sideways so the breathing tube isn’t caught. Then shuffle yourself along and into the envelope, straightening your head, and lifting the sheet above you enough to thread the breathing tube through hole.  Having an assistant for this part definitely helps.

Then comes the scary, fun, scary, intense, wow, stuff. Zipping the bag closed. Turning the vacuum cleaner on.

Hylas, for new players, always follows this routine – and communicates it all the way through, telling the person in the vac bed what he’s doing to do, and checking in after each time:

• He turns on the vacuum cleaner and lets it run for about twenty seconds. This pulls some air out of the vac bed, enough for the latex to start to mould down around the body, but not completely. Then he turns it off and lets it unseal.
• If the person indicates they are okay with it, he runs it the vacuum for about a minute, letting it pull more air out of the vac bed and mould more completely to the persons body. This also lets it mould to the face. He then turns it off and lets it unseal.
• If the person indicates that they were okay with that (and some are not, at this point, and ask to be let out), he then lets it run for about five minutes. After that time he turns it off, and asks if they want more, or if they have had enough.
• If they want more, he turns it back on. And then it’s time for some sensation play!

Sodom: It’s a Date

Posted on | January 26, 2012 | 4 Comments

It didn’t look like much from the outside – places like Sodom usually didn’t. But once you had entered, it was a different world. The club had two floors, and within that space it encompassed wide shared areas for play and voyeurism and smaller rooms for more intimate play. There was also space for suspension, areas for tie-downs, take-downs, soft floors for orgies, sofas for time out – and, of course, areas where you could sit and relax. But nothing was particularly particular. The only hard and fast rule was a limit on drinking: two maximum per night.  Where was the fun in an arse plundering if you couldn’t remember it in the morning?

**

They came to Sodom every week, although not necessarily together. Sometimes Otto would arrive up to an hour before Saul, and so he’d get himself a drink, sit back on the long tawny sofa – if it was free – and enjoy the view of the wide main floor. He always did like to watch the action – that’s what’d gotten him noticed in the first place.

Six months earlier he’d been sitting, legs sprawled, on the plump chair near the cage.  He was relaxed and temperate, wearing nothing but his underwear, watching the crowd ebb and flow, idly stroking his cock through his jockeys and enjoying the press of the silicone plug in his ass. It wasn’t a particularly large one, but enough to warm him up, and he was hoping to find someone who appealed. Someone who’d replace that plug with tongue, and maybe something larger.  He really did want something larger.

Thinking of things in his ass got his muscles clenching, and his hand stroking a little faster. Which was when he spotted him. The guy with the low-slung jeans and the tattooed chest. The low-slung jeans with the heavily-hanging crotch. Whom obviously had something larger to offer. And who was eye-fucking Otto like his life depended on it. Otto, very slowly, licked his lips. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it from bottom to top. And then he waited to see what the stranger would do.

The stranger crossed the floor, maintaining the eye-contact all the way. He stepped around the occupied cage and past the sofa to stand over Otto. Then he lent down and pressed his mouth to Otto’s ear.  ”I’m Saul. My arse needs licking. I think yours might too. What do you say?”

Otto’s mouth suddenly was flooded with saliva, and he nodded his head, turning to respond. “I’m Otto. And I’d say it’s a date.”

**

They stood and moved to a smaller room, pulling the door closed to signal a desire for non-interruption. Like most Sodom regulars, Otto was well aware that anal with anyone for the first time needed some quiet, some conversation, and some privacy to make it happen, and happen hot.  The room came with standard equipment – a large bed, towels, condoms and dams (both latex and latex-free), and a choice of water and silicone-based lubricants. Not to mention a very large mirror.

Almost as soon as the door closed, Otto’s mouth was on Saul’s, and they were kissing, tongues rolling and sliding. There were hands groping, and Otto could feel one of Saul’s hands pressing gently at the flare of his plug. Saul broke off the kiss long enough to murmur at Otto, “I see you come prepared.”

Otto’s only response was to slide to his knees and begin to unbuckle Saul’s jeans. But a hand on his stilled him.  ”I should let you know…” Saul said.

“Know what?” Otto asked. All he wanted was to get a look at that cock, feel that heft.

“Well… here. Let me show you.” Saul stepped back from Otto, and began to undo his jeans himself, turning it into a strip-tease.  The button popped open while his ass swung enticingly. A tilt of his hips and then he turned around entirely and wriggled his ass. The sound of his zip was loud in the room as it came undone, and then denim slid free of his hips. Saul was also wearing jockeys, but there was something a little different about them. Otto couldn’t quite tell what.

Saul turned around to face Otto again, his jeans slipping to his ankles. He slid one hand into his pants, palming his cock. His heavy cock. Otto was mesmerised, watching. He wanted it. All of it. He could feel the throb of his lips, his crotch, his ass, at the thought of it.

And then Saul slipped his jockeys down. Exposed the cock he was fondling. Showed the heavy flesh he was sliding in and out of his hand. Showed that it was silicone, and strapped to his body.

“This,” said Saul. “You need to know this. I want to tongue your arse, and I want to fuck you with my cock. And this is my cock. Are you okay with that?”

**

If Otto hadn’t been so ready to fuck that he was about ready to cream his jockeys, it might have been an issue. If Saul had been less open about his cock, and himself, if might have been an issue. If, as Otto admitted to himself later, Saul had been less of his type, it might have been an issue. And if Saul hadn’t been such an amazing kisser, strip-teaser, all-around eye-fuckingly hot guy? It might have been an issue.

But it wasn’t. Otto had shaken his head, shrugged, said “That’s all right by me,” and they’d gotten on with the tongues, and the asses, and the cocks, and the fucking.  That ’something larger’ of Saul’s had been a revelation – as Saul himself had been. What had started as a hot guy on guy pickup at Sodom had turned into a regular date, and now each week they took their pleasure in each other.

This week they occupied the long tawny sofa, and were fully entwined upon it. They both enjoyed playing out in the main area, losing themselves in each other, knowing they were watched, then taking a break to watch the crowd themselves. More often though, they’d be a tangle of arms, of legs, of tongues. Anyone looking would see the shifting of muscles as one cock slid slowly and deeply into the open pucker of the others ass. Whether it was a silicone cock or a bio one was irrelevant.

This was Sodom, after all.

**

Sodom: Invitation Only

Peaceful places

Posted on | January 25, 2012 | 5 Comments

Sometimes you’ll find a peaceful place when you’re not expecting it. On road-trip down to Wellington late last year we found such a treasure.  Hylas, Kiana and I had been having fun looking out for spots to take Scavenger Hunt photos – we did the public toilets in Otorohanga, and later found the Ruakawa Falls Lookout as well. But what we had really been hoping to find was a good old New Zealand cemetery. The kind you see on the roadside, full of old headstones and tottering rails. Not an in-use cemetery, but an old one. An interesting one.

Well, we certainly found one all right:

We followed the sign and turned up the road, not sure what we would find. And we were a little flummoxed to find… nothing? We parked the car and had a look. No, there was a cemetery – but you had to walk up a hill to get to it:

It was beautiful. And while it had been my plan to Scavenge in a cemetery, it didn’t feel right to do so. So instead I did so just outside, leaning on the fence. I still think it counts, though!

It’s a cemetery with a lovely view, I have to say.  Not to mention a rather sturdy gate …

Once we’d done the Scavenger Hunt photos, we went into the cemetery proper to have a look around. It was … peaceful. Here are some more images, just because they’re too beautiful not to share:

While this was an old cemetery, it was one that was looked after. Not that it was all manicured lawns – it was wild, and deliberately so. But it was fenced so wild animals didn’t get in, and many of the graves had new markers with the names and dates (as the original ones had worn away).

Some had been left as they were – and were beautiful that way, as well.

All three of us have had people dear to us die in recent times. And all three of us felt that this was a peaceful place. We took our time here, looking around together and apart, grieving and gazing and accepting in our own ways.

Everyone dies. That we can be so remembered afterwards? That’s a graceful memorial indeed.

**

Photographs taken, variously, by myself, Hylas and Kiana. Don’t ask me who took which, though!

Shining Ailuros

Posted on | January 22, 2012 | 12 Comments

When presented with a lovely sexy kitty who needs a little shining up, of course I’m going to oblige! Ailuros is alluring in any outfit or none at all (as I have been discovering), but as Leela the Snow Spottycat there’s a look of sheer cute that’s hard to deny!

So using silicone lubricant and a soft sponge (and later my hands) I make sure I get all the spots that Hylas has left for me…

Once we had a very shiny kitty? Then there was touching and sliding and petting and fondling – all that stuff kitties like a lot.

And it turns out I like to make this kitty purr.  So I’ve kept on doing it.

And that makes me purr, too

**

You’ll be seeing Ailuros again, from time to time.

Intriguing Reading #10

Posted on | January 21, 2012 | 2 Comments

My regular roundup of interesting reads, found from all over the place.

“Excessive Genital Detail”: Photoshopped Vulvas in Men’s Mags: “If you go to an art museum you’ll find that female nudes rarely feature realistic genitals. They were either covered up or the artist simply glossed over the details, creating the familiar “smooth mound”. Public hair was considered to be obscene. As far back as Roman times they were leaving out the all-important slit and the tradition continued up into modern times.” (Ms. Naughty)

Alex on going top free: “There is no excuse for this double standard – there is simply no good reason why a woman’s chest should be indecent in the same context in which a man’s is innocuous. At the festival, when I asked for a justification the first thing they said was “there are children here.” Yes, God forbid an innocent child should see a woman’s bare chest, they might… what, exactly? Be corrupted into thinking that a female nipple is no more obscene than a male one? See a woman enjoying the sunshine?” (Alexandra Hill / Naked Vegan Cooking)

Great Geek Debates: Disney Princesses vs Hayao Miyazaki: “The contrast with Miyazaki’s vision of romance couldn’t be any greater. Sexual attraction certainly plays a part, but it is only one component of relationships between men and women. More often than not, the relationships between romantic leads are created by forces other than just physical attraction, and friendship is always a component behind the relationships.” (Erik Wecks / Wired)

Full Bush: “Otherwise, my muff has stayed hairy ever since I caught sight of my first pubic hair in 1999 (yes, I still remember the year, what of it) and thought it was a speck of dirt.  My mum tends to love to remind me of that fact. She watches as my face contorts in horror, as I relieve the perfectly intact memory of the moment. Lying in the bath, still able to look at my mound… the hair. The hair!” (Jilly Boyd)

“Not Just ’cause You Insisted”: “This, perhaps, relates to our cultural ideas of Romantic (sexual) Love as unique. You can love many children or friends or cats, but only one lover. That person is your True Love. We can only have one of those loves at a time. If you fall in love with a second person, you must be taking that love away from the first, because Romantic Love is a finite resource. Even serially, if you find a subsequent True Love, then the previous one must not really have been proper love. And perhaps that’s why we’re supposed to be so careful with “I love you.” Thing is, for me at least, that simply isn’t true. I can be in love with more than one person at once. I know because I’ve done it.” (Emma Hart / The Lady Garden)

“They” is me: “For those people who use their legal name and have never had any dissonance in their head or life with the name given to them at birth versus the name that feels like their name, well, I am glad for you, I really am. It must be fantastic to have all your ID match your face and your gender and your tits and your birth certificate and what the border guard sees when he looks at you and decides whether or not to let you on the plane. You are lucky.” (Ivan Coyote / Xtra)

Self Harm by Proxy: “With my new kinky partner I was able to explore the thoughts and fantasies that I had always had but was afraid to admit to. I also discovered that spanking relieved the stress that previously had led to my self harm and biting. I also found that once I was living my kinky lifestyle a lot of the stress just vanished. Suppressing one sexual desires and kinky desires is in itself very stressful.” (Fred Bloggs)

Worst Lube Ever: “There she was, this 20-something, beautiful woman using Vaseline as a lubricant for intercourse. That gooey, thick byproduct of gasoline? How on earth could she not know about lube?” (Ducky Doolittle)

Clive

e[lust] #32

Posted on | January 20, 2012 | 2 Comments

Photo courtesy of Lady Grinning Soul

Welcome to e[lust], the sex blog round-up- The best posts from the hottest and smartest sex bloggers all in one place! This edition highlights topics such as libido, fake orgasms, teenage lust, voyeurism, BDSM consent and so much more. Want to be included in e[lust] #33? Start with the rules, come back in February to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ The Top Three Posts ~

Assent Matters by SherynB – Find your emotional power to recognize and say “no” to what you don’t want BEFORE you get naked and tied up and give up your actual physical power to walk away to anybody.

Forever The Night – ‘Why the hell shouldn’t I listen? This is my home, my bedroom after all’. So I do listen and I do feel myself twitch at every minute sound on the other side of that fucking wall.

Hands. Fingers. Pleasure. – This was the first time a boy’s fingers had such unfettered access to my pussy. Prior gropings under and through clothes had never been like this.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

The Fake Orgasm: You think you know, but you have no idea – I am 34 and I have faked orgasms. There ya have it. But I have never and will never qualify doing so as “I did it for him”.

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

Sadie Says… Awake – In the haze of my missing libido I also lost myself. I began to wonder if I remembered who the hell I was?

Continue reading “e[lust] #32” »

Sodom: Invitation only

Posted on | January 19, 2012 | 9 Comments

To actually have received an invitation to Sodom – to know for sure that it did exist, to become part of the mystery yourself – made you part of a rare group. But there was no secret handshake or ring to wear; no way of identifying ‘members’ on the outside. What happened in Sodom stayed in Sodom for a very special reason: there was no other place quite like it, and every person who received an invitation, and attended, knew it.

**

Caroline had first heard the vague rumours of Sodom over a decade earlier. She’d been making her first tentative forays into kink, and when a munch discussion turned to whether or not such a place really existed, she had assumed it must be a myth. A club dedicated to the pleasures of the arse, open to all genders, sexualities and fetishes? Surely such a place would either be well-known, or not exist at all!

She’d certainly been proven wrong there. For Sodom did exist – but was rather discerning about who came through its doors. Or who knew where to find its doors in the first place.

A little over two years ago she’d met Linus at a friend’s dinner party. It was a non-kink affair full of non-kink people, and yet somehow the glint in his eye matched the spark in her own. They’d spent the evening making polite conversation across the table, followed by double-entre’d conversation on the sofa, flirtatious conversation on the veranda, ending with a long-held glance along with a swapping of phone numbers.

Less than three weeks later Caroline was calling him Sir, and he was calling her pet. She’d thought that she was a fairly well experienced kinkster, but Linus brought up her inner cravings, opened her to so many more desires and wants and needs she’d never known she had before.

Together with him she discovered not only her adoration of rope (as beautification as well as bondage), but also the intensity of electricity play, the pleasure/pain dichotomy, the delicious hazy daze of orgasm denial … and the glory of anal play.

How had she never explored her own arse before? Thirty years of living with one, and never had she slipped a finger in when cleaning herself. Never had she thought about lubing up a finger, or playing with a vibrator, or feeling the sensations when she clenched and relaxed. And how much had she been missing out? Her Sir had shown her all the joys, and given her the delights of exploring for herself as well. For herself and for him, she discovered how it felt when she teased herself with fingertips. She wore small crystal plugs around the house. She was able to pull out, slowly, the beads up her arse, when he gave her permission to orgasm.

And then, finally, eventually, her owner used his own fingers on her. Gentle fingers. Probing fingers. Teasing fingers. Fingers putting plugs and vibrators up her arse and leaving them there while he plundered her cunt. Other times, putting dildos up her cunt and then teasing her arse with fingers. Eventually, on an evening when he’d firmly tied her to the headboard, he put fingers from one hand in her cunt and had them meet fingers from the other in her arse. How that made her squirm!

Two weeks ago, after three months of Caroline begging every single day for it, he had finally fucked her arse. He laughed as he did so, saying he would have taken her anal cherry earlier, but she begged so prettily he hadn’t wanted her to stop. Linus laughed as his cock slid so very easily into her arse, as she whimpered and squirmed and pressed onto him in pleasure, her back bowed and her breasts mashed into the bed. He laughed as she laughed, as she loved it as much as she did, as she tensed and clenched around him.

The next day he gave her an heavy vellum envelope. ‘Caroline’ was embossed on the outside. And inside it, to her disbelief, was an invitation to place she hadn’t thought existed.

**

Sodom: Enter the Fist

Sodom: It’s a Date

Examining the self

Posted on | January 18, 2012 | 5 Comments

On the night of Dionysos’ wedding, I took some time out for myself. At big social events I often need to take a break, spend a little time recuperating in the presence of my own thoughts, and this was no exception. So as the guests danced and socialised and wrote funny messages on the whiteboard for the couple in question, I found myself a lovely rimu bench outdoors. I could smell the garden, see the band preparing, and hear various outdoor wanderers conversing.

And I played with my camera. Because what better way to examine the self, and the changes the years have seen – those with Dionysos, and those without – than through the lens?

Click-throughs on all images this week.

I was wearing one of my favourite dresses for the wedding – not only is short, but also deliciously clingy. Some people might wear a shift beneath it, but not me – I like to feel it moulding to my curves. And I definitely got compliments for that!

My legs aren’t usually an area I pay too much attention to – but they sure looked good framed by this dress.

I was also, unusually for me, also wearing makeup. This happens somewhere between four and six times a year, and only on very special occasions. Hello eyelashes! And considerably paler-than-normal cheeks…

Eventually, after about thirty minutes to myself, Apollo came and found me. (Which was handy – because I couldn’t for the life of me take a full-length shot!) Seeing him made me smile, but also meant the end of self-introspection. Time to go and dance, shimmy, and wriggle those curves … that’s what weddings are for, right?

 **

It’s amazing how well behaved I can be when I’m made to promise …

Intriguing Reading #9

Posted on | January 16, 2012 | 2 Comments

My regular roundup of interesting reads, found from all over the place.

The Internal Clitoris: “What really blows my mind is the plethora of misinformation that exists in textbooks, professional medical guides, and on the internet.  Take for example, in one of my undergraduate textbooks titled Understanding Human Sexuality, the clitoris is depicted merely as just the glans.  The sad fact is it wasn’t until the 1990’s that researchers began using MRI to study the internal structure of the clitoris.  By then, the intricate details of the penis were already well known.” (MelodiousMsm / Museum of Sex)

ConTuesday: Those little disappointments: “I get people complaining that I do things like check for circulation and breathing, or that I ask for a list of hard limits, or that I spend the first few sessions getting a feel for the bottom rather than just wailing on them until they safeword. The way I learned it, that’s how to be a GOOD top. Unfortunately, it’s also the main reason cited when I ask why people don’t want to play with me again. Said people then go off to Creepy McWifebeater because he “doesn’t play with limits” and “provides the TRUE submissive experience”.” (Anon Confessor / Quizzical Pussy) Be sure to read the comments, too!

Obscenity Trial Ends: “Sexuality is not a hierarchy of extremity, with fisting, urine, and blood at its apex. Sexuality is not a linear progression from missionary-position, procreative, within-marriage, monogamous mating at one end and goatse at the other. Talk in public about what you think goes too far and you have undermined your support. You are, unwittingly, using the same ‘line in the sand’ argument that the prosecution pursued.” (Dr. Brooke Magnati/Belle de Jour)

Book Review: Vulva 101: “In fact, Vulva 101 is a great antidote for any woman considering labiaplasty to “correct” her “unattractive” genitalia. It’s also a great response to activists complaining that today’s porn, which shows primarily shaved or waxed vulva, is subtly training men to desire pre-pubescent girls. In these dozens of bare vulvas, no one could possibly say there’s a little girl among them.” (Dr. Marty Klein)

Porky Pig: “We no longer hold animals morally culpable for having sex with people, but we’ve now Bambi-fied domestic animals to the point that they’re regarded as sexless innocents. Even the phrase “human-animal sex” is smoke and mirrors: There’s really only animal-animal sex: It’s just that, for still unknown scientific reasons, some human animals are into nonhuman animals.” (Jesse Bering / Slate)

How (not) to communicate new scientific information: a memoir of the famous Brindley lecture: “The Professor wanted to make his case in the most convincing style possible. He indicated that, in his view, no normal person would find the experience of giving a lecture to a large audience to be erotically stimulating or erection-inducing. He had, he said, therefore injected himself with papaverine in his hotel room before coming to give the lecture, and deliberately wore loose clothes (hence the track-suit) to make it possible to exhibit the results. He stepped around the podium, and pulled his loose pants tight up around his genitalia in an attempt to demonstrate his erection.” (Laurence Klotz / British Journal of Urology / Wiley Online Library)

 The Five Artiest Brothels in France: “From the early 1800s until they were finally closed down at the end of the WWII, the country’s legalized brothels — known as maisons closes, or “shuttered houses” — were renowned amongst travelers for their lavish paintings, sculptures and décor. In the belle époque, dozens of impecunious French artists helped decorate the most palatial of these bordellos for a little extra cash, including the young Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. By the early 1900s, the so-called “fantasy brothels,” which offered Disney-style themed rooms along the lines of Versailles, Venice and the Orient, even opened themselves up to tourists by day.” (Tony Perrottet / HuffPo) Be sure to click through and look at the photographs!

Owning My Sexuality as an “Owned” Slut: “I consider my sexuality to be “owned” by my BDSM partner. That is one of the tenets of W’s and my relationship. But, I do consider “owning my sexuality,” owning my identity as a sexual woman, with needs and desires of my own, and owning the right to express and have those needs fulfilled, a principal of being a “slut” in the best definition of the word as expressed in the anti-slut-shaming movement. If being a sexually adventurous, active and proactive woman makes me a “slut,” then I wear that title proudly.” (Pieces of Jade)

John Yossarian