Work-out

I really hadn't realised just how much I had let my PC muscles go. It's no bloody wonder that my orgasms aren't what they used to be! A few days ago, I have started seriously exercising them again, and I am already seeing results. Or rather, feeling them. My orgasms are already becoming more intense and long-lasting again, and I am also getting wetter again! I hadn't realised how much of a difference it made. As a side benefit, which I hadn't even really noticed, my bladder is a bit more resilient, too. Totally obvious, I know, but I honestly hadn't noticed the difference.

I just had a conversation with my housemate about how the labia minora can really make intercourse more challenging. ::chuckle::

A new theory, and some musings stemming from it.

It's a doozy: the female "rape" fantasy. Of course, those words having passed my metaphorical lips, I immediately have to add this: No, women do NOT want to be raped, and if you believe that they do, you are a fucking moron.

There, that's out of the way. Now on to what I've wanted to say: something occurred to me today. Okay, no woman wants to be raped, but there does seem to be this universal little fantasy that seems to bubble up from the depths of our reptilian brains. What's up with that? I mean, there does seem to be something in it that is consistent with the rape theme, doesn't there? And to explain what occurred to me, I'm afraid I'll have to delve into the concept of rape a bit more. My apologies, I'll try to make it quick.

When you get right down to it, what is rape all about? A man getting so turned on that he just loses control? Shyeah, right. If you honestly think that, then go crawl back into your cave. It's not like only attractive girls get raped. It's about control. Sure, I'll concede that there probably are cases of rape out there where a guy starts out getting normally friendly with a girl, and she draws the line, he gets pissed off, and rapes her. But by then, from my understanding, it's fuelled by the anger at having the control taken away, rather than actual arousal.

In a "civilised" world where, let's not candy coat here, women are still in more danger of that sort of shit than men, women tend to cling to their control. And let's face it, you really can't fault them.

But I reckon that beneath that vice grip on that control, there is a desire to let go, and, even more importantly, for it to be safe to lose control. But even that loss of control isn't the be all and end all. Judging by a little stray fantasy that entered my mind today, I can have a stab at what it is: it is a desire to not be the one in control when entering into coitus with someone one is insanely attracted to, but, for some reason, shouldn't be sleeping with. It washes our hands of the responsibility. And many a woman may lust like crazy after some particular man who is taboo, like maybe someone with whom she has a strictly professional relationship, or a housemate, or a friend's spouse... she may not even let herself really fantasise about it, because she's a good girl and would not do that, it's just not on, and she can't get into it. But what if this hot piece of manflesh were to sneak under the covers with her, flooding her in those delicious pheromones, and though she wants it, she still says no, but her words are drowned out by heated kisses until she hangs limp in his grip, dripping wet, ready to be taken?

Sound familiar? Yeah, Mills and Boon built a fucking empire on this shit. And it does sell. While I admit I have never read any of them, I get the impression that a large chunk involve the feisty lassie asserting her toughness (Psh!) by, well, being feisty and oh-so-inflamed and angry at the smug muscle-bound alpha male, who proceeds to strip away her defenses with his, er, sex appeal (oh, she so wants it!), and gives her a thorough rogering. It's always made ever so clear that she just wants him so fucking much, even though she, you know, technically hates his guts. Which, by the way, leads into the hate-fuck, which in turn fits well into that theme.

I guess what it boils down to is that the line of consent is blurred. But even so, it can still be defined: she wants it on a primal level, but has some other issues, usually something to do with society not deeming it acceptable, that make her say no. It's still a thing that can't truly be recognised in real life.

So this, I suspect, is how the fanasy works. And some rapists do seem to say, "Oh, she wanted it, the little slut". Again, if this is a belief of yours, I advise you not to say that in front of a militant lesbian, or even a sweet yet assertive lass like myself, because I certainly couldn't guarantee that you would leave with your reproductive system intact. Let's dispel another myth here: "Sluts" do NOT want to be raped EITHER. Some people seem to have this fucked-up idea that you can't rape a whore, because she loves it. Fuck. Off. Let me tell you something: it already pisses me off enough that some peopel seem to believe that I will fuck anyone who asks, no matter what, just because I am sexually liberated. No. N-O. NO.

Let me clarify something here, while I'm on the topic: I love sex. And if I am attracted to someone, chances are, I will try and get into that person's pants, and not give a flying fuck about "waiting" or the "slut" stereotype. But if I'm not attracted to someone? They don't have a popsicle's chance in hell. And if someone tried to get pushy on me, and would not listen to polite refusals, no, I would not stop at kicking their arse.

Over the last few years, I have been shocked to hear recounts from my female friends who had sex with someone, because they deemed it to be safer to just play along. They were basically pressured. And just the other day, I myself fended off the advances of a man of whom I suspect that he is the type who ends up getting lucky with those women who don't fucking speak up for fear of ensuing violence. The guy wasn't even a bad person, from what I could tell, but he seemed to have developed this perception that if you push hard enough, and break into the fortress of a woman's defenses, you're home free, and it's all okay. It doesn't help that many women who aren't interested don't have the guts (for whatever reason) to just say no. I did politely refuse this man, and push him away, and he behaved. But I still felt dirty afterwards, partly because I couldn't help but wonder how many women slept with him just because they decided saying No wasn't worth the potential danger. It makes me sick, because guys like him probably wouldn't become rapists, if you just made it clear he didn't have your consent. It's just one little word. One word is all it takes to make it crystal clear. So many of us are so paralysed by fear that we don't even get out of the situations we do have some control over, and that's just fucking stupid.

And, on the other side of that particular spectrum, I do actually think it would be nice if less women who are interested in the fellow felt the need to be wheedled into bed over a period of who knows how long, just to satisfy their own fragile egos. Grow up. You're not bloody helping. While it's fine to want to take a relationship slowly, and be clear about your motives, it's another matter entirely if you're playing "hard to get", and keeping someone guessing, just because you need them to validate your attractiveness. We really don't need the line any more fucking blurred than it already is.

Yes, I have said before that I think a lot of my fellow women are full of shit. And it is that kind of behaviour that I mean. But even so, there is never, EVER and excuse for sexual coersion. Guys, if you're going to be fulfilling a girl's "rape" fantasy, chances are it will be previously agreed on, with safe words. It's the illusion of losing control. And frankly, I'd be tempted to say that if a girl plays "hard to get", then bloody drop her. Chances are, she's not worth it, and only reinforces a negative stereotype. Both men and women have their share of responsibility to take here. And at the end of the day, it is never EVER the victim's fault, so anyone trying to push the blame on them can just fucking fuck off. Even if the victim is one of those reinforcers of negative stereotypes.

Okay, I'm done with the vitriol. So much for keeping the delving into rape part short.

Always the way

Today, I got propositioned to be the co-dominatrix in a threesome of sorts. The other two parties being a male dom and a female sub.

I had to decline, of course, as I am currently attempting to be monogamous. Sure, I've been tingling like crazy the last few days -- it's been ten days since I last had a cock inside me, so I am approaching that two-week insanity mark where I just want to fuck something now, damn it -- but I still have more willpower than that.

Actually, a thing that I am awaiting much more impatiently than the green light to have sex again is to see the fruits of my labour. But it's still a little while to go until then, unfortunately. Aargh!

A tragedy

One of the big problems about being fluid bonded is that it really complicates blowjobs. With Stripey being so far away most of the time, if I wanted to give head to someone, it would always have to be with a condom. If you ask me, that takes a lot of the fun out of it. If you think fucking with a condom is just not the same as without, try sucking with a condom. For me, it just ruins the experience, so I only do it very rarely. As a result, blowjobs have become a much more intimate thing for me, more intimate than actual intercourse. Not that that's a bad thing, because I think a blowjob does require a lot more loving attention than just climbing onto a cock and grinding against it does.

The thing is, as a result of this, Stripey is pretty much the only person I ever go down on. And with him away for such long stretches of time, the result is that I get out of practise. Sure, I still retain my basic technique, but my endurance and my fine-honed skill is pretty much gone. I became painfully aware of this on the few occasions when I went down on him while he was here. And even worse, my gag reflex seems to have increased! Nooooooooo! I hadn't realised how much of a difference my teenage attempts to suppress my gag reflex had actually made. Looks like I'll have to get back into practise with that again.

I suppose there's also the fact that back in the days when I was still in practise, Stripey and I didn't see each other as much as we do when we're on the same continent. As a result, we always had time to build up that withdrawal-symptom arousal. I fondly remember one incident when I popped into his office, and we ended up locking the door, so I could gleefully suck him off. I made small work of him, and walked away satisfied that I had done a samaritan deed -- he had been really stressed out, and the orgasm had improved his state of mind.

But at the moment, I seem to be completely incapable of finishing a blowjob, and that really irritates me. If I weren't fluid-bonded and temporarily monogamous, I'd be tempted to round up a few of my male acquaintances and say, "Excuse me, do you mind being my blowjob guinea pig? I need practise."

Oh well. I suppose that's what root vegetables are for. While they don't exactly give you feedback, they can come in handy in terms of increasing endurance and suppressing that pesky gag reflex.

Watch me.

Perhaps I am a flaming narcissist. I'm certainly pretty fucking vain. And, by the looks of it, a bit of an exhibitionist. Maybe they're interchangable.

My recent dip into the Amateur Porn industry has kick started a few interesting things inside me. As I very briefly mentioned in the post linked here, it was a positive experience. I had never expected this to happen, especially as I was already pretty happy and confident with the way I look, but... well, that feeling of being happy in my own skin has actually increased. Now, more than ever, do I look at myself with my little pockets of flab, cellulite, stretch marks and all, and think myself beautiful. Even when I'm having a "fat day", I can still look at myself and like what I see. It's like I have become less self-critical as a result of this.

But that's not all of it. I also discovered that I liked the idea of people looking at explicit nudes of me. And it makes me hope that I get a call again sometime soon, for the sake of one of the masturbation videos. I like the thought of people seeing them. I want to be able to say, "Hey people, this is how a real woman comes! Watch and learn." I guess it comes from having masturbated in front of quite a few lovers in my time. Originally, it was a combination of still being horny post-coitus, and wanting to show my lover what to aim for when attempting to get me off. But, I guess, as I time went on, I started to get off on having someone watch me. And having me in the throes of my pleasure on film, being watched by who knows how many people... well, the thought is kind of satisfying.

And it was with this thought in mind that I wanked myself silly today. I had already had two orgasms for the day -- one before getting up, and one whilst on the phone with Stripey -- but ended up wanking to what must have been another five. It was greedy and hot and in rapid succession. And they were pretty damn good orgasms, too. I came quite close to fisting myself, near the end. But I suppose I was pretty fucking horny anyway. In fact, I have been taking a lot of opportunities for flirtation lately, even if I am currently being sort of monogamous.

To grope, or not to grope, that is the question.

The other day, I had this entry brought to my attention. The tone with which it was mentioned? A great evil, a horrible thing.

So I read it, trying to figure out what the deal with all the vitriol was. And frankly, I didn't really get it. Something about reading the entry made me a little uneasy, but why the big outpouring of hate? There seemed to be a conviction that the events recounted were downright misogynistic. What the hell?

Don't get me wrong, I think the so-called "Open Source Boob Project" had many flaws. Mostly, it didn't take into account the fact that, guess what? Women are wrought with insecurity and bloody obsessed with the notion that they're being objectified. I honestly think it causes many a woman to go off half-cocked. Starting that sort of project with such an emotionally explosive social group (I'm sorry, okay?) is bound to get messy eventually.

I know I'm probably totally betraying the sisterhood here, but I frankly think that women should learn to understand that just because a man is preoccupied by her breasts, that doesn't mean that he thinks her breasts are all there is to her. Remember, men are less well-equipped to multitask than we are. It is a physiological fact. Therefore, he will most likely pay attention to what preoccupies him most, and guess what that tends to be? Ka-ching! Yep, it's the boobies. No need to be offended about it. I say just give him time to get over it, and then show him that, yes, you're smart, too. Then you can preoccupy him with that. Or something.

My point is, I'd be very surprised if, in the moments when a man stares at a woman's breasts, he's thinking, "Oh, look at this complete embodiment of who this person is, I know everything I need to know about her just by looking at her breasts." Er. Doubtful. Sorry, but I still choose to have a little bit more faith in my male counterparts than that.

No, I think the real problem with the open-source boob project is that it was dealing with a bit of a touchy subject, pardon the pun. Really, I do think it's kind of a nice idea, in theory. Unfortunately, "In theory" is the operative term here. In an ideal world, where women (and people in general, really) are less worried about validation, it would be kind of nice to be able to ask, and to be able to get an honest reply, without discomfort. That's the thing, women do have a tendency to feel pressured, even if that's not the intention. And that, unfortunately, probably comes down to it being an evolutionary advantage dating back to the stone age. I'm not going to go into it now, but if you really want to investigate, you might like to read The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine, M.D.

And even if a woman is very confident in herself, and will quite happily say "Yeah, sure have a bit of a feel if you want"/"Nah, I'd rather you didn't, no offense or anything," (for pity's sake, be polite!) there are other issues. Sure, we can go on about how a woman would feel pressured to give her consent, or wouldn't want to seem prudish, or would want validation of her attractiveness, but frankly, I think that's a lot of wank. All that comes down to is, in my book, an unhealthy lack of confidence, which the rest of my sisters should really bloody well own up to instead of making it the problem of the men out there. Feel free to slam me for this, I probably deserve it, but it has to be said. I'm not going to pull any punches here just because we have the same bits between our legs.

The biggest problem in my eyes is this: there's still the matter of choice. A woman may be perfectly happy to have one stranger feel her breasts, but feel a lot less happy about another doing the same, for whatever reason. What if they're standing next to each other? Oops. Talk about a minefield. Of course, if you don't mind treading on a couple of toes, then I suppose that's not a problem either, but I think the object of the exercise was not to tread on any toes or make anyone feel uncomfortable here.

I guess that's what it boils down to: there is just too much potential for discomfort here, even if it's not intended. A bit of a pity, really, because a lot of this would probably be much less of an issue if we were all more confident in ourselves and our own attractiveness. In fact, I'd say let's all go lynch the media, instead of getting into fights amongst ourselves, but fat chance of that happening. A better alternative would probably not to let the unrealistic ideals of beauty we are presented with get to us, and just like ourselves the way we are.

I'm probably repeating myself a lot here, so I'll try and wrap it up now. I wanted to say a whole lot more about the whole objectification thing, and how it would probably bother us less if we weren't to a certain extent made to believe this objectification ourselves, but I've crapped on enough here.

Grab your dick and double-click for porn, porn, porn!

Okay, I've been holding back on this for ages, but here goes: I have recently become involved in the world of amateur porn.

It's difficult to write about this, mostly because I'm not sure how much I can say without giving away precisely whom I got naked and sweaty in front of the camera for. And even more aggravatingly, I don't want that to be a worry, because it's certainly not a matter of embarrassment or anything. I'm not terribly worried about the possibility of someone I know coming across the stuff featuring me, and getting off to it, or, alternatively, being disgusted at me.

No, what's more of a worry is the implications this kind of thing can have on someone's career. This society seems to believe that if anyone (especially a woman) has participated in some sort of pornographic thing, they're good for nothing else. If you boil it down even further, you could say that a horny woman is good for nothing but sex, and deserves no respect for her other skills. At least, that's a preconception that The Girl seems to have fallen victim to, and that seems to be alive and well.

Yes, men can complain about women putting up the "bitch shield", not letting them in, etc. And it is true, it only tends to filter out the nicest and most respectful, leaving the arseholes with less competition. But the fact remains: there's still some negativity towards women out there, and certainly some stigma towards women with a high sexual appetite. Many women feel the need to put up defenses, which unfortunately often backfire. The question is, what kind of "defenses" keep those that they are meant for at bay? I don't know.

That being said, I knew the risk I took, thought about it, and decided to go ahead. And I don't regret it. In fact, I'm glad I did it, enjoyed myself, and look forward to seeing the results. And I just wish that I could sing it loud, sing it proud, with my real identity and all, and not be judged for it. But I think we still have a ways to go before we get to that stage. Pity. But nonetheless, I have promised myself that if I ever get outted and someone tries to judge me, I'll bloody keep my chin up and say, "That's right, I did it, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

A happy place.

I ended up taking part in an impromptu aerobics session today. It made me think of this clip:



Okay, so the lack of pussy wedgies is a tad unrealistic, but I still never get sick of watching this. Ever. Doesn't help that with Stripey back on the other side of the world, I'm horny as hell. I spent most of today anticipating an opportunity to wank. Probably why aerobics gave me such a pussy wedgie, my equipment was probably all engorged and spread apart.

My dear, your posterior looks ever so fetching.

I got wolf-whistled and honked at a few times today, just on my way to getting groceries. This is mildly unusual, especially as I was just in a T-shirt and jeans. Okay, they were both quite form-fitting, but still. Although lately, when looking in the mirror, my arse has leapt out at me (figuratively speaking) as a positive attribute. Perhaps those squats I have been doing have toned it up a bit or something... the people who honked at me and wolf-whistled me were coming from behind.

So, are we going to fuck, or are you going to watch porn all day?

Last night, Stripey and I went to our first ever swinger's party.

It was specifically for newbies, and for couples only.

We were the first to arrive. So much for being fashionably late. We had actually thought that our cab was a tad late, but we ended up arriving only five minutes after the appointed time.

We were greeted by the cheerful, buxom organiser, who answered the door in a little black see-through number that revealed her lingerie. We got a tour of the venue, which included a spa, several bedrooms with just normal double beds, and others which were practically bed landscapes, for the larger groups. It was a nice enough house, really, and nicely mood-lit.

Bit by bit, other couples started to file in, and the first two hours of the party were spent just mingling, chatting to various people, and so on. There were two or three couples that were of vague interest. Of course, they shall remain nameless, as I really can't be bothered to make up a fake name for six people just for the one single blog entry.

The first ones we chatted to were an attractive young pair, I'm guessing mid-twenties. They were nice enough, and I found myself looking at both of them and thinking, well yeah, I would. Amusingly, we also found that they had just celebrated their anniversary, and in fact had been together for only one day less than us. Still, I came to the conclusion that my attraction to the pair was purely physical, I didn't really feel any particular brain sparks. That, and their body language was kind of closed. I don't think they ever intended to have any sex that night. I suppose that's the problem with these newbie things: a lot of newbies are too shy to have sex the first time round, so I'm guessing that these parties end up a lot tamer than the ones chock-full of seasoned veterans.

The second couple were the most interesting in my eyes: a little bit older, I'm guessing early thirties. Attractive, friendly, and with a little common ground with us. Yeah, I thought, I definitely would. I thought I caught some appreciative glances from the fellow, and I noted that the girl was giving Stripey an open, relaxed smile as they talked. The signs would have all been good, if it hadn't been for the fact that she was clutching her drink close to her chest in a very protective gesture. Damn it, I thought, what the fuck are we going to do about that? How does one open up that kind of closed body language? She would occasionally drop her hands and open up a little, and by the end of the conversation, we were standing a little closer than at arms' length, but it just wasn't going to happen. Oh well.

The third couple we spoke to were a little older, and not really my cup of tea on a physical level, but they seemed like very nice people. The woman was a bit of an old hand at that scene, which was a nice contrast to all the shy newbies all over the place. We chatted for a bit, which was pleasant enough, and then drifted our seperate ways.

Of course, we met a whole lot of other people, but for the most part, names flew in one ear and out of the other. There were quite a few attractive people around, but few of them really out to get laid that night, by the looks of it.

A lot of us ended up congregating in the hidden TV room, up to twenty people crammed onto the huge couch, watching some very eighties-like porn. The young couple from earlier were sitting next to us, and we ended up deconstructing the porn, which was really pretty woeful. The scene involved a fairly normal slightly curvy brunette, and a very young-looking guy with a big dick and a terrible haircut. Ah, porn. We came to the conclusion that most men in porn aren't terribly attractive, so that the men who watch it don't feel superceded. I found myself wincing often at the way he tugged at her clit piercing, and it was obvious that she was dry upon the actual penetration, and occasionally he mask of "pleasure" would slip. It made me want to go out there and actually find some good porn. Something that was actually sexy, rather than just cheesy and cringeworthy. We eventually all got sick of that, and went for some lesbian porn instead. The girls in it were pretty hot, but I just wanted to groan at their repetitive fake orgasmic noises. Sheesh. I couldn't help but think, Shortbus was so much sexier than that.

That being said though, even when I think porn is absolutely shit, my body still does respond to it, I find. During the porn-viewing, a couple would occasionally get amorous and then wander off to find somewhere to fuck. Eventually, Stripey and I decided that actually having sex was preferable to watching a very woeful fake re-enactment of it. We went and claimed one of the smaller bedrooms, and canoodled for a bit. Stripey briefly wandered off to relieve himself, and I ended up in conversation with a fellow who happened to wander past the open door and spot me in my bra and jeans. When Stripey returned, the guy at the door asked if he and his lady could join in. I wasn't actually sure which one he had come with... I thought it might have been one of the slighly curvy thirty-something blondes I had spotted around the place. In any case, Stripey and I hadn't quite figured out how we felt about that, as we hadn't really spoken to this bloke before, and, seing our uncertainty, he backed off pretty quickly. It reminded me that in a setting like that, if you want it, you don't waste time about saying yes. I'm guessing if one of our first two couples had come a-knocking, we probably would have, though.

In any case, we left the door to our bedroom open, and I did occasionally notice someone hanging around outside, watching the action for a bit. We stripped down pretty quickly, and I kissed my way down Stripey's chest, heading for his cock. He was semi-hard, apparently still not quite warmed up to the setting, so I took him in my mouth and lovingly coaxed him to hardness. He wavered again as I put the condom on him, but still rose to the occasion enough to fuck me as raucously as we ever do. In fact, I think we attracted a bit of attention wih the noise we made, despite the fact that I made an effort to turn the volume down a bit. There were, after all, neighbours.

After Stripey withdrew, I ended up masturbating to another orgasm, for which I had an audience standing outside the door. It makes me wonder just how much of an exhibitionist streak I actually have.

Shortly afterwards, we got partially dressed again, and went to see what else was going on. The TV room was still crammed with porn watchers, which, post-coitus, I really couldn't fathom. Why watch it when you could be having it? Although we did go and watch some of the other less shy couples for a bit, including the third of the ones we had spent a reasonable amount of time talking to. They were going at it with quite a bit of gusto, though I found myself wondering just how obvious the average girl's orgasm is. I seem to really be unusually obvious.

We left the others to their coital activities, and wandered back to the spa, where one fo the male organisers was chilling for a bit. He left shortly afterwards, and I decided to go in for a bit. It's been a long time since I last submerged myself completely in nice warm water. Aaah, heaven. I really need a bathtub, I think. Stripey kept me company outside the spa, as he didn't feel like going in.

The party wrapped up pretty shortly after that, and after getting dressed, we called a taxi back home. It was actually really nice to be home again in our very friendly little place, which is a big contrast to how yuppie-ish the house of the party was.