Recently in Not Work-safe Category
In a post titled "Once a Stripper, Always a Stripper" Lux Alptraum of BOINKOLOGY says of a promo for a new HBO series.
"It’s being written by smart stripper Diablo Cody, and produced by a man named Steven Spielberg. Great, just what we needed—another reason to watch TV."
Get it? Diablo Cody took her clothes off! That’s all you need to know about her. Isn’t it funny? She was a sex worker, and now she’s a screenwriter! That’s so cute!
It’s a laugh a minute, all right.
Yeah, I always wonder if my more political posts would get linked back to more often if a) I was ever right or b) if I'd never posted photos of my booty or c) both.
Shoulda thought of that years ago though.
Oh well, since I did and since Lynn Gazis-Sax and Sungold are still celebrating female desire week I've included three of the photos most often marked "favorite" from my Flickr photo stream after the "continue reading" jump.
(Oh yeah, and while the first image isn't as not-work-safe as it appears, you probably still wouldn't want to try explaining it to someone else from work.)
I'm working my way back through a list of gender-challenging posts that I've found, bookmarked, and the sort of lost in the shuffle. I found this comment, from Sallo in a post about gender, power, roles in BDSM by DevastatingYet of Devastating Yet Inconseqential, and I thought she made a great point about what sometimes seem suspiciously "coincidental" correlations between bold explorations of kink and highly traditional gender roles.
To use a non-bdsm example, when I hear women take a very conservative, traditional sex-role, one-step-removed-from-barefoot-and-pregnant position on marriage or women’s role in society in general, I do blame the patriarchy. It’s not that I doubt that the woman actually does in some sense want that life, but I assume that it is because she has absorbed these views from her (male-dominated) religion, family, or other source. It’s not impossible that this isn’t something that some women would just want for their own reasons, so I am inaccurately lumping them all into some kind of category of the (however mildly) brainwashed. This is quite unfair to those women who have thought things through at a deep level and still want that life, but the alternative is unclear. Taking it at face value that women want what they are willing to say publically that they want, or want the lives that they are living (through some kind of revealed preference thing, as though their choices have not been constrained all along) - that just seems too close to rationalizing and excusing the system.
I don’t immediately see why moving this into the realm of sex changes the analysis significantly.
Far be it from me to criticize anyone for enjoying home and raising children (barefoot, now that I think about it.) But based on how often people say infuriating shit to my partner like "It must be so nice having him help with the house" I gotta say yeah, a lot of people have kind of absorbed their views about it from their (male-dominated) religion, family, or other source. That *still* doesn't make anyone's turn-on *invalid,* of course since *if it turns you on* then... that's just what does. On the other hand, you'd probably want to consider not taking it personally if other people point out that *public policies* or *conservative traditions* your fantasies are tied to kind of suck.
Update: In comments Christina B suggests an excellent test: " I think a good way to measure 'free' is to ask 'what would happen if one day you change your mind?'" Pretty cool tool, by the way, for all *sorts* of situations.
Ok, so the other day in class, during a sex-ed lecture on vanilla intercourse positions our professor was discussing the merits and demerits of rear-entry intercourse.
Anyway, while I was thinking about some of what makes that general position enjoyable for me, someone in class sort of took the mental words out of my mouth by mentioning, with a great deal of enthusiasm, the variation where she's lying on her stomach with her legs together and her partner straddling her with his legs outside hers, and how afterwards she just doesn't want to move. I've noticed that with quite a few partners as well. I mean, people say it's a men's habit to fall asleep after sex but it seems that that particular position more than most others has been most likely to have that effect on, well, quite a few of my partners as well. (Apologies for the even more highly qualified, disjoint sentence than usual there, I'm not sure why but I feel shy talking about it. It's not bragging because I'm pretty sure it's the position and equally sure it's not me. But... eh, anyway.)
Anyway, Linda Sue of Linda Sue's Diary mentions the effect that position can have on men.
I've never known a man who wasn't wildly attracted to the position. It started with my very first lover. Some of my long-lasting athletes -- the ones who can even withstand my killer pelvis oscillation that makes lesser men lose it -- these guys come quickly once they're fucking me from behind.
Read the quote in context here.
Woozie, it certainly has that effect on me. I'm not sure everyone likes their partner to say "oooh stop, stop, please don't move a muscle, I could come any second..." but that's one position where without help from a partner I'm not just done but *undone!*
Once I'm able to adjust to that sort of sensual overload then I can be the majesticall studly stallion men think we're supposed to be like... ok, ok, or pocket vole, mongoose, or leopard, or elephant -- there are after all4,629 currently recognized species of mammals, nearly all of which have intercourse the same way, that are more glamorous than "doggies." Including people. Which brings me back to my point that it was nice to hear someone else corroborate what I couldn't otherwise have been sure wasn't just my imagination.
I might add that maybe it's not even that unusual that such a primal position might produce such, well, primal results. Which are different from the face-to-face positions that, by and large, I tend to prefer for intimacy's sake (love that cheek to cheek feeling, hands around my neck or shoulders, knees locked behind the small of my back, mmm... where was I?)
Oh yeah, face to face. Which brings up a point about rear-entry where -- speaking for myself at least -- I differ with Linda Sue:
Of course a cock in that position always wants to go an inch higher. But that's a story for another day.
Anyway, the point being that while yes, rear-entry vaginal intercourse is awfully darn nice at least for me and evidently a lot of other men men, and, also evidently, for a sizable number of women, most of the things that make it so nice don't actually translate all that well to rear-entry anal intercourse. For one thing, at least initially you have to move a lot more slowly and carefully, something that's not so much in keeping with the "animal" passion people talk about experiencing with rear-entry sex. For another, anal intercourse seems to work best with a lot of feedback and checking in, and face-to-face positions just seem to facilitate that. And finally, at least for the recipient anal intercourse can be a lot more emotionally, physically, and even erotically intense and that's just one more reason face-to-face positions seem like a better choice.
Hmm... if you're inclined to comment I guess there's a bunch of stuff in this post to comment about: favorite positions, their effects on you and what if anything you need to do to cope, how you feel about partners on the quivering edge of orgasm, how you think different genders think about different positions, and then if you're into anal activities what if any positions work for you.
Oh, one last thing about anal intercourse from my perspective: other than the obvious emotional/taboo/trust/be-very-conscious elements, and the need for even more lubrication... sensation-wise it's not *so* different from vaginal intercourse. (Certainly not different enough in terms of *strict sensation* to account for the intense interest in certain lad magazines.)
[Note: Image behind the fold is just barely less work-safe than usual. And except for that only barely different from yesterday's. --fl]
So one consequence of spending all day skiing, coming back to a chilly bathroom, and waiting for the water to heat up so you can jump in the shower is, for some men anyway, the phenomenon of "shrinkage."
Shrinkage is another word for when someone's penis and testicles look really, really small because his body has pulled everything tight against him to conserve heat. And while it's hard to imagine humans have spent enough time in cold climates for selective pressure to have anything to do with it, shrinkage probably helps minimize the risk of frostbite. (I don't have time to talk much about the incredible functionality of the never-will-be-a-word-of-the-day scrotum but for all that the name is graceless and the organ itself is funny-looking they have a surprisingly complex set of small muscles that function to keep the testicles functioning at the odd but evidently necessary temperature of 95 degrees. But I digress.)
Anyway, for reasons that aren't entirely clear a lot of men are nervous about being seen with "shrinkage." (There was even a Seinfeld episode about it, or at least a thread in an episode.)
The problem, I think, is that we've so indoctrinated ourselves to be Teh Manly-Stud sex class, solely responsible for initiating sex, solely responsible for generating sexual interest, and steeled at every instant to be brought down to earth by our heterosexually would-be partners who, we tell ourselves, will *always* find a good reason to be distracted (sometimes, literally, by having cold feet) that we just... just...
Well, we're dead sure you'll think... what? That you couldn't possibly be interested if you don't think we're interested? That if you ever see us looking small you'll never be interested in us again? That just because *we're* not really that curious about cocks that you aren't curious either? That you're so innocent of male anatomy... so set on *remaining* innocent of it... that if we look anything but immediately ready for sex you'll just see it as one more thing to hang a cross-stitched potholder on?
Because back here on planet Earth scientists tell us there are these things called "human beings," *both* genders of which are equally curious, and capable, and intelligent and everything *and* they both, um, like sex.
So...
Whereas there might be one set of scripts whereby women point at shrinkage and titter "eww," or, perhaps, "gee, that looks just like a penis only smaller." Sure. Ya betcha. Another entirely possible (though not comprehensible to those still invested in the "no-sex" class paradigm) might involve other, more universal scripts like "what would happen if I helped warm it up?" Or "I could cup him completely in the palm of my hand and feel my partner grow, thaw, emerge, respond, come to life, unfold, awaken, rise up, greet me, become *my* valentine." All words men are never taught to use when thinking about women and therefore...
unable to imagine it...
we hide from all possibility.
[Caveat: The photo behind the "continue reading" link is topic-appropriate but consequently less work-safe than usual. --fl]
Just a quick follow-up to last weekend's post about expectations of pain in women's sexuality.
Years ago I was involved with a woman who kept mentioning submissive fantasies that were, for me back then, a little too harsh for me to comfortably register. Early on, various partners and I had pretty exhaustively tried pretty much everything in the original Joy of Sex, including, deliciously, the sensation-intentioned but still mostly vanilla bondage and role-playing sections. For instance we both enjoyed pulp mysteries and pulp science fiction but when she mentioned her affection for John Norman's Gor novels I just chalked it down to her being able to handle worse pulp than I. (She also read romance novels which, again at the time, I snobbishly didn't "hold against her.")
In other words while she was clearly trying to tell me something when she'd mention her fantasies I was still, um, oblivious. And perhaps arrogant since, after all, I *had* read the whole Joy of Sex, right? So I didn't notice the significance when she'd cross her raised hands though the rungs of the headboard during intercourse, even though she mentioned she liked to imagine being tied. And when she'd get more, and more, and more passionate when I pinched or twisted or pulled her nipples I was alternately alarmed and interested... imagining maybe she just had "deep" nerves or something. And when she'd say she preferred to start intercourse before she was very lubricated because, she said, it felt like she was "being taken" I just thought she was too wrapped in the inevitable virginity set pieces in those romance novels she also read.
In other words, as I say, I was flipping oblivious! I believed then (and, for that matter believe now) that if sex hurts you're usually doing it wrong. The flaw being that I mistook "usually" for "ever." Because some times a little, and sometimes a lot, of pain is part of the pleasure of sex.
Duly noted.
But! Even allowing for the proper definition of "usually" I'm sticking with my now only very slightly amended story: if you're doing it right then sex with a partner shouldn't hurt, *unless* by mutual agreement you do *extra* stuff together to make sure it does hurt for anyone who wants it to.
Given a chance, I'd do more than apologize to my erstwhile partner.
I mention this all as an exception that proves the rule. If I cluelessly refused to help my erstwhile partner make sex *enjoyably* painful for her, too many other people -- men and women alike -- take no steps to make *unenjoyably* painful sex less painful. Virginity? S'posed to hurt so why bother taking it easy, right? Not. Anal? *Totally supposed to hurt -- that's why Anal-Eze has benzocaine, right? *Oh boy* is that not right!
Just sayin'
[It's a bit fashionable to gently mock Joy of Sex but on nearly every page the author brings home the point that sex is for the benefit and enjoyment of *everyone* who's having it, and that (if you don't enjoy it when it does, anyway) it *shouldn't hurt!* That plus, assuming you're heterosexual and can adjust to the by-now dated language and illustrations, there's an astonishing array of suggestions in there. --fl]
[I was just about to publish this post when I ran into server problems. Turns out it wasn't a coincidence. Doh! --fl]
As I probably mention every time it comes up, I always get a little anxious when my "continue reading..." photos get a little more explicit than usual. On the one hand it feels a little disengenuous to add a warning (or, a warning beyond "...if you're an adult" anyway) in the text. But on the other hand if it's not your cup of tea it does seem polite to let you know.
So anyway, this latest version of Movable Type lets me more easily assign multiple categories and so I'm going to try to remember to add a "Not Work-Safe" category tag to the posts who's photos are, well, not work safe.
Oh, and by the way, feel free to let me know -- in comments or otherwise -- when you feel an image ought to get the designation. More than a "should I / shouldn't I" decision that could really help me decide how to proceed with the photographs. Thanks! (This includes archived posts as well.)
Update:
Oh forget *this* idea! Ok, so while it's probably still a good idea for me to mark posts with the category it's evidently *not* ok to modify the templates so that every time one or more indexes get published the database gets hit with hundreds or even thousands of extra queries everytime, say, I add a new post or you add a new comment.
The idea was to mark each post with the selected categories so you could actually *see* if something was marked "Not Work-Safe" before clicking into it. I made template modifications in preparation for this post and... the possibly-exponential extra processing time is probably what got me kicked off the old host. (The way traffic was growing I was going to have to move sooner or later -- I could have just done it in a more orderly fashion.)
Oh, and I guess those of you who *like* more explicit photos of heterosexual men could find more of what you like here.
Hope this helps. When I find a more processor-efficient method I'll try again.
If I wake up in the morning with an erection
Well, if all I want is an orgasm then
I can have one of those all by myself
In a few minutes
Or, if there's time, eventually...
In an hour or so
If I wake up in the morning with an erection
Well, if I want sex
It's a little more complicated isn't it?
I could just go have an orgasm
If all I wanted was an orgasm
And I could just go play on-line games
Or partake in a flame war
If I only wanted to score something
And yet...
If I wake up in the morning with an erection
Well, if I want sex
And not just an orgasm
And not just score
What then?
Well, then I really want more,
I really want you
This post is partly in response to an email message from a reader who asked why I post an erotic or semi-erotic (and occasionally approaching-pornographic) photo a day, especially since most of my posts, while about sex, aren't so much about the erotics of sex but gender issues and social theory of relationships. I'm not sure I can explain *everything* but I can explain how those photos started.
It's funny about these photos. I started them with a *huge* amount of trepidation soon after I started my blog when it finally soaked in that a) contrary to everything I was taught women are as aroused by images they find erotic as men are and b) they were mostly drawn to gay porn and part of that was because so much of straight porn *isn't* particularly erotic for women. So anyway, after chewing on that for a while it occurred to me that while there's gay porn (for men) and straight porn (also for men) there wasn't anyone actually trying to create erotic images of straight men *for straight women.* After chewing on it further I summoned up *a lot* of courage, got out a camera with a remote control, and took a handful that, I hoped, *didn't* focus on what most male, or male-interest-serving photographers focus on.
I took photos of myself because I really didn't have any other models, and, taking them, I was dead afraid my skinny, ugly, un-conventional body type would distract and/or turn off people so much they wouldn't recognize what I was trying to say. And the results were both overwhelming and, the big surprise for me, overwhelmingly positive!
I *still* think a lot of the appeal has to do with me just trying to be interesting and not so much me as all that attractive (where that means even if I *wasn't* attractive since people insist I am.)
So anyway, after I posted that first series I thought I was done and so I stopped. And received a lot of queries and complaints. And so every now and then I take another series, usually of me doing ordinary things around my home but always mostly just about the small erotics of everyday life and not the exotic worthiness/achievement-linked stuff that's nearly always a part of porn for men. And then I just post one photo a day from the set.
It gets a little problematic for me sometimes because often I'll be in a randy mood... or at least rowdy one... when I take the photos, and then thirty, or ninety, or one-hundred-and-ten days later I'll be distracted or aggravated or wrapped up in ideas instead of erotics... and the next photo in the series will be more, um, naked than usual.
I try to keep going but sometimes I chicken out. For those of you who are into seeing those you can let me know either in comments or email and I'll send you an invitation to go behind the "friends-category" firewall where I'm more comfortable because nobody's seeing anything they didn't expect or ask to see.
And *that's* how the photos come to be there. It's part political, part illustrative, part accomodation, part personal, part arrogance, part payback, part self-education, part self-expression, part force of habit, part self-image verification, part tweaking the "women aren't 'visual'" part of the paradigm... the list goes on and on, and so, till I run out again anyway, will the photos. I'm totally
This is just a bit of an experimental post. (I'm not positive that YouTube will let me keep this video up. And I'm not crazy about the quality and lack of sound anyway.) But for some reason the phrase "knee high by the 4th of July" kept going through my head and this just seemed like the right way to express that.
Happy HNT (or Half-nekkid Thursday!)
Rachel Kramer Bussel of LUSTY LADY has a great post about blogs like hers, or mine, that you can't read at work.
I'll never forget how proud yet also weirded out I was when my best friend told me her law firm wouldn't let her access my blog. I also remember well when Tripod just wiped out my old site, raquelita8.tripod.com, because I had some inappropriate photos on there. That made me determined to stick photos of my naked body all over my new site. Okay, maybe not all over, but on there somehow. I'm still amused when people tell me they can't access my blog or site from work and now, thanks to Lux Nightmare, that has a term that's especially apropos for this blog: The Pink Ghetto.
Read the rest here. Also see an adorable no-breasts, but still NSFW photo of RCB.
Yeah, I get that too. It *could* be something about the title. It could be the photos (see "continue reading," below.) And I knew when I bought it that the URL "www.RealAdultSex.com wasn't exactly going to make me any friends at NetNanny or SurfControl. (I mean that literally, by the way. I was tinkering with political and first-amendment-issues blogging back then and it seemed like the *perfect* vehicle for tweaking those and automated net filter vendors ever time they blocked what would otherwise be a perfectly ordinary political blog based on its URL. But I digress...)
Anyway, if you're trying to read this from work you probably can't, for which I apologize since they already got me at the URL.
And if you're trying to read this from work , then you probably can't because if the URL didn't block it the photos just above probably did. Which means you're not going to find out that I think it would be cool to be sitting together, naked, you on my lap with your back to me, so you could look down where my cock was standing proudly between your legs and against your belly so it seemed as if it were *your* cock, and so you could reach down and feel its length rising from your own groin, and when you reached lower you'd find languid testicles lolling in loose skin instead of your own familiar folds. And when you grew impatient with it outside you, as I kissed and bit your neck and shoulders, as I supported and rolled your breasts against my palm, you could palm my length, rise and slip forward just a bit, and guide me into you, rocking your hips back or forth against me to press me against your mons from the inside before leaning back against my chest, your toes and mine just touching the floor, rocking and gimballing the chair like there was no tomorrow.
Oh well.
Luckily one can find chairs like that in home offices too, and at home there might be a nicely made backless rocking chair somewhere that's *not* in an office. Those work wonderfully well too.
One other thing. If you're trying to read this from work then some combination of the URL, the images, and the text -- not to mention the responsible-adult metadata I put in my HTML headers to properly keep this site blocked out of schools and parentally-controlled computers -- has already gotten me.
Which means you may not no to go to the Dirtyspoke Best of Sex-Blogs page and vote for me in the "Best Male Sex Blog" category, or to vote for all the other great bloggers in the other categories.
Voting ends at midnight, January 31st, so I hope you're reading this from home.
In comments on someone else's blog, Madame X said "I wanna declare tomorrow...SHOW ME YOUR DICK DAY...think anyone will?"
One ordinarily does such things on cock-blogging Wednesdays. Tomorrow's Tuesday. And if had been planning to I'd have done it last week when I had a lot of posts about cocks and erections.
On the other hand, partial participation shouldn't be too objectionable.
I was pleasantly surprised by the reception of my Groundhog's day HNT photo. The good news, at least in my corner of the country, is that the sun never came out enough to cast a shadow. If the idle superstition is correct then spring is just around the corner. (Never mind that, according to the calendar, it never officially arrives before March 20th -- six week or so from now.)
I'll be pretty much away from my desk for the next three days. I'll leave you with a glimpse of what the groundhog didn't see.
Not a creature was stirring, well, one tiny mouse *was* just starting to stir...
I'd like to be able to post less work safe photos from time to time but a fair number of people would prefer not to see them. Certainly not at work. Other people still have dial-up and I've been posting daily full-size images which slows down page-load speed. So I'm experimenting with the little "Continue reading..." feature that comes with most blogging tools.
I don't care much for continue-reading buttons and I often get a little irked when good bloggers overuse them. This is in a good cause, though -- hiding a photo you might not want to see (photos your co-workers might not want to see anyway) and making the page load faster for dial-up.
So *if and only if you don't mind semi-nude photos* please help me test this thing. The photo is the next in the Late Night, Slow Shutter series I began yesterday.
Ok, so one of my big gripes with industrial porn is that the cameras don't roll till the guys "have wood."
Cocks aren't always erect. More often, when we're busy doing other work, they put themselves away.
For later.
If you didn't know better you'd think erections always came ready-made off the supermarket shelves like so many hot-house cucumbers.
Sure, pre-fab is convenient. But then you miss the satisfaction of growing it yourself.
Happy do-it-yourself Cock-blogging Wednesday.
Thanks for everyone's help on my belt or no belt fashion question yesterday. I'm going to post more of the photos over the next few days.
Oops! Here's one more. I sort of skipped this one earlier because I thought you had to make photos public to link to them.
I think this will do as the finale to my extended photo series. Thanks for your patience.
Well, it's Half-nekked Thursday again and for once I'm actually on time. If not quite half naked. Too many buttons.
So for roughly three weeks I've been posting an extended photoset. I hope it's not been terribly boring. You can click the photo, above, to see the work so far, plus one preview showing what's coming up.
I've had a cold for more than a week. Ordinarily I try not to make this blog a diary of my day to day personal life but it's been a bad cold and I swear I'm in the middle of a brand new bout of sniffles and sneezing that makes me worry I'm coming down with a new one on top of the old one. I bring this up because it seems like colds are the unfortunate sex-blog meme of the week. My heartfelt sympathies to all fellow sufferers.
So here are two illness-related items and a gratuitous photo from my Suit Suite on Flickr.
1) So a young woman, seeking to cheer up an older gentleman, knocks on his door and brightly says "Would you like some super sex?" The older gentleman say "Umm, I guess I'll have the soup." (Note: Though no better of hearing, at this point in my cold I'd probably say "both.")
2) Back in April, when I only had a few dozen readers a day, I posted a story about sex in an usual place that happened while my then-partner and I both had the flu. See Sex in unusual places.
3) This cold is a pain in the ass. (See accompanying illustration.)
Again, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps while I'm traveling.
(Last one I hope.)
Again, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps while I'm traveling.
Again, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps while I'm traveling.
Again, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps
while I'm traveling.
Again, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps
while I'm traveling.
I'll be out of town next week and may be only in limited (read dial-up) touch. Here are some photos, not so much salacious as sunny, to help fill in any potential gaps.
About 25 years ago now I used to ride a bus to school. You know how there always seems to be one person on every bus who knows all and tells much to everyone in general? On my ride home there was always this woman who editorialized about her high morality and the degeneracy of pretty much everyone else. I tuned her out most of the time but she said one thing that's reverberated since: she was so glad laws are so strict because otherwise she'd shoplift, steal, and assault people all the time.
I'm an optimistic man but not an entirely naive one. I think she was mistaken. I thing that, under normal circumstances, most people don't need laws to do the right thing.
I've seen several posts over the last year that have reminded me of that.
First, there's this one from the extremely creative Phillip at hotaction.ca
I'll get back to writing in a few days. I kidnapped a beautiful heiress and I've been holding her for ransom. Here are a few photos I took today, deep in my forest hideout.
[He includes six photos of a partner handcuffed in the woods including
this one. --fl]
Then there's a photo ThatGirl of thatgirl's life took around the time of her own trip into the woods.
And, on a similar theme this afternoon, Ruby Princess of Paths, plights, and perils posted the following
you get to catch a glimpse of my evening bound to the bedpost. do tell me, what you think of my predicament? you wouldn't take advantage now, would you?
The funny thing (not really even that funny) is that like most people if I found a naked woman tied to a tree in the woods or chained to a bed I'd go all boy-scout, unbind her, wrap her in a blanket, call 911, try to secure the area as best I could, the whole straight-arrow, true-blue, what-can-I-do-to-help routine. Unless she said "thanks, I appreciate your offer to help but I'm in the middle of playing a scene with Phillip," and even then I'd almost certainly apologize and withdraw rather than take advantage of her situation.
On the other hand it would excite me terribly to play a scene like that with someone who'd bound herself voluntarily. (Allowing me to surpress my involuntary boy-scout reflex -- but with the emphasis on "allow to supress".) Under those circumstances I'd walk up behind her, whisper in her ear "Don't say 'uncle' unless you want me to stop..." and after a decent pause to let her back out, I'd absolutely take advantage of her generous offer.
Questions, assuming you'd put yourself in this position voluntarily: If you were blindfolded would you want to remain blindfolded or would you rather be able to watch my hands reach around you, touch your collarbones and then move purposfully downward? Would it make a difference if you knew how much it would turn me on to make you watch? Remembering you could always say "uncle" would you prefer to be treated gently or roughly? Would you prefer that I treated you as if I was your captor, with the full dominant/submissive subspace experience, or would it be even more intense if I was a rescuer who, despite his best intentions, succumbed to temptation -- maybe accidentally touching your breasts as he reached up to untie you or maybe noticing how aroused you were as he bent to unchain your legs? (Mmm, the more I think about it the more I like that reluctant-ravisher/irresistable-ravishee bottomed from the top scenario.)
I've been working on a non-salacious Saturday post all weekend -- about I guess I've been posting too much dry sociology and not enough "human interest" lately (i.e. photography.) Anyway, people were starting complain and it was a lovely day out. I figured I could either post recipes of meals I've recently prepared or some photos. Apologies if I guessed wrong.
[This images are also part of an extended slideshow.]
[To understand this story you may want to read the Food Issue Introduction. --fl]
I first realized Brandi, the girl across the hall, had a "big appetite" when I spotted a telltale flash red plastic mesh in the incinerator chute. It could only have come from one of the potato sack from the little adult "snack" shop in "Irishtown." I felt that familiar stirring in my saliva glands.
I was pretty sure Brandi ate around with a lot of other guys but the dirty little cook never gave me the time of day. Sure, we'd sometimes go out for a shower after word, and sometimes we'd wind up at her place after but every time I hinted that she might be a little hungry she'd ice over. "I like you Brian but not like that. I mean I really don't feel comfortable moving things out of the bedroom." I mean, her kitchen was just completely off limits. But now I had her right where I wanted her.
I made my plans. Saturday I went over to her place early, too early for her to have had time to "ease" herself. By about 10:30, as we were towelling up I could tell she was getting a little antsy to excuse herself but I kept putting it off. We'd talked about food before, of course, just between friends of course (it's 2005 after all and younger people are willing to be a little more frank.)
I mentioned how I'd once found a recipe for homefries in a magazine in the bottom drawer of my dad's desk. I told her about how it said in a lot of places people eat them with ketchup and I could tell she was getting a little uncomfortable. I looked her right in the eyes and told her in some places they use salsa instead of ketchup. Her eyes said "go" but I could hear her stomach (I hate how clinical that word sounds) gurgle. Her lips were sealed tight but when I saw her swallow I knew her mouth was wet.
With a sardonic tilt of an eyebrow I picked up my pants, and teased a new potato sack from a pocket. She let out a burbly moan and I knew she wasn't just wet, she was gushing.
Grabbing her by the shoulders I told her "you can't hide it from me anymore, Brandi" and pushed her into her kitchen and forced her into a chair. Whipping open the "broom closet" I hit the motherlode. Aprons! And a tidy stack of oven mitts. Whoah!
It wasn't time for nicities so whipped I a couple off their hangers (reveling in the heavy aborptive fabric) and bound her to the chrome-set chair. (Chrome set, if you can believe it, the little tummy lead a seriously secret life.) Of course she tried to scratch me but I put a stop to that with her own mitts!
Her eyes were fixed on me as I sliced and diced. She seemed reluctantly impressed at my pan work. She tried to wave away the plate as I slowly moved it under her nose but it only increased the steam and aroma wafting harder and harder into her reluctant nostrils. On the one hand she was begging me to let her go but the saliva practically squirting from her mouth told me she was mine.
Sitting down in front of her I unwrapped the foil pouch I kept in my wallet and ripped it open and handed her a wipe. I think that relaxed her a little, knowing I was at least cautious enough not to risk food-borne illness. At the last minute I popped the top from a fresh tube of margarine (the real stuff, not the petroleum-based stuff you alwasy get from the furtive western europeans that hang out by the docks) and squeezed ounce after ounce after ounce of the sensuous, gleaming, melting, yellow delicacy on her servings.
With a cry she threw herself on the food, moaning and drooling in abandon. Nearly mad with hunger myself I couldn't help but watch her mouth open and close over and over again -- I mean I'd had a little experience snacking in darkened movie theaters but I'd never really seen a woman chewing before.
She was ravenous! She ate pound after pound of potatos, serving after serving. The more she ate the hungrier she seemed to get. When my margarine ran out she admitted she had some of her own. Of course she was ashamed but by her seventh helping she could no longer help herself. I was afraid it would be the soy-based stuff you get from the Thai but no, this wasn't just margarine it was the real thing! Butter!
Yeah it was taking a big risk but with 13 pounds of potatoes in me I was beyond worrying. I heaped both our plates and added pat after pat of butter. As we waited for it to melt -- much more slowly than any margarine I'd ever seen -- she calmed down long enough to point to the iodine bottle she kept in her "fridge." Chilled at the risk we'd almost taken I spun the top off the chilled bottle and splashed the antiseptic all over our plates... and then... we began.
Afterwards, thorougly sated, I looked down at her ordinarily trim flat belly all swollen from our own personal "feast" and sighed contentedly. "Same time next week?" I asked her?
She looked at me with sultry eyes. "Next week? I don't know if I can go so long without eating with you again. How about... lunch?" I was ready to salivate all over again. The little chef was insatiable! But that's a story for another meal.
While fiddling around with the suit photo set the light seemed pretty nice so I did a couple of studies. If you don't look too close they look like ordinary freshman-level nudes.
[This image is also part of an extended slideshow. All these images are behing my "friends" category firewall. If you'd like to see the rest you should a) realize the content is mildly graphic and decide if you really want to see that, and b) contact me with a request to be added to the "friends" category so you can see them. All you have to do is as, but you do have to ask. --fl]
Before
Click for larger image After
Click for larger image
[These images are also part of an extended slideshow. Most of the images are behing my "friends" category firewall. If you'd like to see the rest you should a) realize the content is mildly graphic and decide if you really want to see that, and b) contact me with a request to be added to the "friends" category so you can see them. All you have to do is as, but you do have to ask. --fl]
Note: These images aren't directly related to masturbation (my seeming topic of the week.) At least they're not related to *my* masturbation... though if you ever feel like helping me with that you could send me a link to your own self-made images. :-)
[Click image for larger version]
Most of this series is behind Flickr's "friends" privacy firewall. You can also the whole set as a slide show here.
I was interested in the play of light on shapes beneath black fabric. Oh, and hoping (eek!) it would turn people on as much to step through it as it turned me on to do. (Gotta stop sounding all cerebral all the time. Most of the time? Ok. All the time? I'm only human.)
[Note: I'm on vacation again this week and have only slow, and limited, net access. I'm seemingly able to receive, but not send, email. I've left a couple of goodies in the hopper to appear later, and with luck I'll have a chance to post more later in the week as well. --fl]
I was looking for pictures of my behind (hard to remember to take those with my own camera.) I came across this and remembered some people asked for more torso photos earlier.
You want to know something? Men's nipples can be as sensitive as women's, at least sometimes, at least mine. Not all the time (but then not all women's are either, not all the time) and it's hard to say when or why, but sometimes when someone plays with them or licks or sucks them, and especially when they're also stroking my cock, it turns me into one happily delerious jelly-man.
For most things about me I often find it hard to explain exactly what I want when it's happening. Some combination of shyness, distractedness, even not being sure myself, keeps me from saying much during, for instance, fellatio. On the other hand I know exactly what to say about my nipple play. Ok, most of the time. Sometimes I can only say "ummm, mmmm, mmm," but usually I can say "in circles, yeah, now suck gently, mmm, make your tongue softer, oh yeah, there!"
I'd like to ask how it feels for you, but I'm not even sure what to ask. (It's a fairly broad subject after all.)
I'm sorry I can't find the link right now but someone recently claimed there's nothing sexier than watching a man fold laundry. I've been folding laundry this morning, but not with a camera handy. On the other hand I was scrubbing algae off the porch this weekend.
Do you suppose that counts? :-)
By coincidence, Spankme of Spank me with a spoon also posted a photo of her scrubbing the floor. I suppose I should have worn cut-offs too, eh? :-)
Update
The actual quote is from The Zero Boss
The One Thing, If Nothing Else, That I Hope My Sons Learn from Me
There's nothing sexier than a man who folds laundry.
Thanks to Ed of A Perfect Marriage for the link.
Originally uploaded by Figleaf.
In comments a while ago someone asked for a view from behind. For everyone else, my apologies.
I have this theory that most (straight) people don't like their own behinds because they don't look like those of their preferred genders. This (so my theory goes) would be why so many women think theirs are too wide and curvy, while men think theirs are too narrow and boney. Reason enough for me not to like mine. :-)
Originally uploaded by Figleaf.
Ok, based on multiple comments in the previous kilt post (which I cleverly may have over-written) here's even more of my pastey legs. With apologies to those who would no doubt prefer David Beckham or even Richard Simmons' legs. If you want more, post a comment. If you want less, post a comment. (I'm thinking about an interesting twist on the pay-site model where subscribers get the photo-free version of this blog.)
Originally uploaded by Figleaf.
I've finally had a little time to process those kilt photos so here's another sample. By the way, clicking the link will take you to my Flickr photo pages. You can see other images there. In the unlikely event you'd like to see even more you can email me or leave a comment and I'll get Flickr to give you "friends" access. (You may need to sign up for a free account to get added -- I'm not at all sure how that part works. If you've already got a Flickr account you can just send me an invitation or link.)
Update: This is a repost. So it looks like Flickr images show up correctly. That's good. Now I can speak briefly to the "headless horseman" problem of naked male bloggers.
Ok, first of all, it's not just a problem with naked *male* bloggers, but for whatever reason people complain more when men do it. (I assume you know what I'm talking about: men who post photos only of their, um, lower-mid torsos and thus don't show their faces.)
First the general problem: anonymity. You've got to be in a pretty secure social/employment/political/family space to identify yourself as a sex blogger in the first place. Next you have to be pretty confident to post "compromising" photos that include your face. (Witness now arch-conservative moralist Laura Schlessinger's "youthful indiscretions" photoset, available if you care to Google for it.) In other words, identifiable photos on the internet are more permanent than tattoos, in the sense that you can theoretically remove tattoos. So that's problem one.
The second problem for men is a more technical problem of scale. If you want to include genitals and face you have to include everything in between and photos at that scale tend to diminish whatever mid-torso items men tend to want others to see in its best light.
So along those lines the choices are: big picture, small parts; big parts, small picture. (I'll get to whether this is the correct construction, in the sense that that's really what other people want to see, in a moment.)
Add the two factors together -- a reasonable desire for anonymity and the impression viewers will be more impressed at more limited scales -- and you wind up with mostly torsos. QED.
The feedback I've gotten is that, in general, men's dangly bits out of context aren't as exciting to women as women's dimply bits are to men. Quick note before everyone hits the comment link: I'm not saying dangly bits aren't exciting -- not at all! -- I'm just saying more people seem to prefer them with more context than less. Thus the appellation "headless horseman" for those who don't provide enough.
My solution, therefore, has been to show more and preserve anonymity by posting tiny, evocative-rather-than-explicit thumbnails. In the unlikely event anyone ever really wanted a larger version there's always email.
---
Aw Bullwinkle, that trick never works
Originally uploaded by Figleaf.
To save bandwidth I'm trying Flikr's Blog This Photo feature.
This is a thumbnail index of some photos I took late at night with a timer and slow shutter, lit only from a single light in the other room. It involved sitting very, very still for a very long time.
Ok, these are still pretty work-safe. Yes, I've got some decidedly non-work-safe ones, and I will post some of them someday, but (to paraphrase Frank Zappa) hand any bozo with a Brownie can show that all complete. Or, to put it another way, pretty much everybody gets erections and they all mean pretty much the same thing, plus it's hard to think when you've got one -- or maybe hard to have one when you're thinking. :-)
Long ago now a friend and I were discussing what constitutes good male imagery for women. She said "What's missing from the only (very little) male pornography I've seen is the graphic quality on a scale even approaching what happens with photos of naked women. Flaccid men, erotic as art, absolutely - or in person with the right man, yes, but - what are you left with when there's neither art nor pornography? If we're going to be expected to get aroused by this stuff (which holds none of the important emotional components or deeper clues to arousal about sex for me) well ... let's get it up guys! 2D boy-toys have much competition around here from their 3D disembodied replicas."
I think the problem with graphic quality in photos of men, by the way, is that they're really not meant for women. Or, since that sounds trite, what I mean is that they're typically made by and for other men and men are often more interested in photography as narrow illustration. For instance men, me included, are notorious for ignoring crossing phone lines when we shoot landscapes and sunsets. In porn terms it rarely matters that the bed's unmade, the backlighting is horrible, the white balance is off, etc., as long as the model's genitals are in focus. A few years ago a non-porn weblog pointed me to a site that Photoshops the subjects out of amateur gay-male porn and pokes fun at the interior décor. In mainstream pornography there's allegedly a standard lighting setup, adapted from portrait photography, that's so uniformly used it almost doesn't matter who's taking the photos or who's in them. That's all a long way of saying I don't know anybody who's thinking about what it means to photograph men erotically -- to present them personally, emotionally, even atmospherically, and not just mechanically.
Since I don't have any good examples I'm trying to make it up myself, with the added stipulation that I want it to still show me the way I am, as a subject of the pictures and not just an object. (Yes, trying to stay anonymous makes it hard not to turn me into a series of objects.)
Anyway, the other day Demure mentioned she likes socks. I'm trying to learn from her I thought I'd try something like Socks-38 and Socks-56. Or you can see me, even more fully dressed and from behind, in WindowBehind009.
I'm not saying I won't eventually figure this stuff out for myself, but it would be helpful to know what you'd rather see. (If you'd rather see nothing at all that's good feedback too.)
Not sure how much anyone wants to see anyway so I'll start (Figleaf-ca~2005) slowly (LuckyJeans01) and wait for someone to say either "stop" or "more please."
Thanks to Cookiebush, ThatGirl, Phillip, and especially LeDemure for the inspiration.
I mentioned earlier that it's hard to photograph yourself. Actually it's easy to photography yourself, it's just hard to enjoy the results.
Looking at photos you take of yourself is just as hard to get used to as, for instance, hearing your own tape recorded voice.
Extra credit applies for
- the extra complications of working the camera
- framing the image (blind of course),
- composing the image,
- composing and posing yourself
- overcoming your surprise that you don't look like you imagined
- getting over how almost everything looks bigger than you thought, including your tummy, neck, and that mole/scar/pimple/wrinkle/chipped fingernail
- getting over how everything that doesn't look too big looks too small
- getting over the shock of seeing various naughty bits from all the "wrong" angles
- getting over worrying what other people would think
- getting over the shock of what your parents/children/co-workers would think
but most importantly
- getting over the impulse never, ever to do it again
The keys are to remember that
- the only thing that gets you past the "shock" factors is practice
- the only thing that gets you past the clumsiness factors is practice
- the only thing that gets you past the posing difficulties is practice
- the only thing that gets you past concentrating so much on the camera parts your arousal vanishes is practice
In other words, practice, practice, practice.
By the way, it's totally fine to erase each photo the second you preview it until you get used to them. Once you get past that you'll do fine, and a bit after that there's a good chance you'll discover it's actually kind of fun and even arousing. The very fact that you're looking at yourself as if it were through someone else's eyes changes your self-perceptions in a positive way.
That's the whole point of the exercise, by the way. Not as a way to turn on friends or strangers by showing yourself, but to learn to see yourself as others *do* in real life or *would* if you ever let them see a photo. No, you don't have to show, or mail, post anything, obviously, and it's perfectly fine to delete everything you ever take right after you look at them, but the exercise itself is a good experience.
One final note: Sometimes you can make lemons out of lemonade. What starts out as a very low-quality photo overall can still be cropped to good effect. I'm not sure how long I'll leave these up, and they're definitely not safe to browse at work and appropriate only for real of-age adults, but I rescued this and this from some very mediocre original shots. Eventually I got to a point where I could do something like this by propping the camera on a chair in low light and using the little timer dealie on the camera.
Update: If you *do* wind up with photos on your computer and you *don't* ever want anyone else to know, then *be sure* you delete them when you're done. Girl with a One Track Mind just posted an excellent case in point.
Update: TheGirl's elderly father(!!!) discovered her incriminating photo while playing around with Google's new Picassa PC photo indexing and editing tool. Two points:
- If you are going to fiddle around with your own photos it's a nice editor and it will evidently find and index every photo on your computer.
- If you're paranoid think of Picassa as a nice way to track down any wayward shots before someone else does.
Update: Self-portrait tips for (and from) the beginner: If you use the on-camera flash it'll bleach and flatten parts you'd just as soon not see bleached and flattened. Instead try natural or indirect light. If you use natural or indirect light move slowly -- the lower light lowers the shutter speed. Avoid direct sunlight as it too will tend to bleach you out -- choose filtered light or wait for a cloudy day. For full-body photos figure out how the little timer dealie works on your camera (this helps reduce camera jiggle in low-light situations as well.) Finally, if you lean against a wall, lit only by light from another room, the light may ridiculously flatter your rather ordinary body.
