Twisty Faster of I Blame The Patriarchy, while fulminating against the ills of vaginal penetration in general, efforts to relieve vaginismus and, especially, to treat it with injections of brand-name botulism toxin, also has a good point. In a footnote, sure, but still a good point.

This psychnet-uk.com is a real peach. It appears to reject the notion that anything short of “actual intercourse” may be classified as sex. Orgasms achieved through clitoral stimulation are categorized as “foreplay.” Seriously! in 200-fucking-9!

Read the quote in context here.

Um. Yeah, by their definition the partner I had the most memorable, whole-body-shuddering, hands-trembling, heart-thumping, can’t-speak-in-complete-words-let-alone-sentences, years-later-wake-up-dreaming-about umm… um… series of physical-relationship engagements while hardly ever having “sex” at all.

Frequent vaginal penetration, yes, but not with the body part Twisty loathes most, and frequently no part of mine at all. Nor at my instigation. Nor for that matter by my hand or any other part. (Well… actually sometimes with my hand, or most of it.)

But as far as I can tell since it wasn’t vaginal penetration with Teh Cock none of that was sex either.

Hmm… since she didn’t have (external) clitoral orgasms it wasn’t foreplay either.

Dang, we must have been bored senseless!

Worse, since what we did do never counted as sex then none of the other ways we gave each other and ourselves sometimes almost painfully intense orgasms wouldn’t have been foreplay either.

You know what we did do though? We talked a lot (we didn’t always live in the same place.) And we showed each other what we liked to do to ourselves. And we spent a lot of time with each other. Naked. Touching each other. All over. No, I mean all over. Like massage. Only erotic. Like back scratching. Like shoulder rubs. Like exploring each other, your hands on top of theirs not guiding but following, their hands on yours but again not guiding but following. Like tracing each others faces, and backs, bellies, toes, ribs, throats, insides of forearms, insides of knees, curling little wisps of unshaved hair and always, always trying to get as close to tickling as possible… without tickling at all… till your skin was almost electric, till just warm breath was erotic fire. Like licking, sucking, mouthing each other, slurping fingers, ears, lips, toes, breasts, labia, cock, throats. Like oiling each other and then sliding over and across each other, reveling in not just the sensation but the weight. Like cupping each other’s groins, hers wet, mine hard, glowing in the infrared with hot blood heat. Like jacking and jilling ourselves and each other…

But since she loved penetration… but was never moved by intercourse… at least not with me and maybe not with anyone mortal… what we discovered together instead was, well, some of the most erotically profound not-foreplay-nor-sex-according-to-psychnet-uk* I’ve ever had in my life.

—-

Here’s the thing about Twisty though. Everybody assumes she’s a lesbian. Or asexual. Or a survivor of this or that. Or an internet troll. Maybe so although unless she says so out loud it’s really none of our business. But even if she turned out to be the founding matriarch of the F(eminist)LDS with 131 husbands stashed away in a compound somewhere near Waco it still makes sense that patriarchal crap (like Psychnet-UK’s assertion that another vagina-related psychological disorder, dyspareunia, can be caused by insufficient foreplay or infection and can be treated by counseling and psychotherapy or with medication or lubrication) would drive her batshit insane.

Actually it would make more sense that the grand matriarch of 131 husbands would have zero tolerance for standards of phallocentrism so rigid that sex isn’t even defined for a woman without a jack lodged firmly in her pulpit. For that matter just assuming that she’s a polyandrist would also explain her sense that women, being human, should have sovereignty, acknowledgement, place, compensation, and co-location with men on the species definition of H. Sapiens Sapiens.

I’m not saying she is or isn’t any particular way because I either don’t know or don’t remember. Just saying it wouldn’t be necessary to be a radical feminist separatist lesbian to carry on the way she does. And therefore it’s not terribly useful to assume she is… and to use that assumption to rule out everything she says… instead of just the stuff you disagree with.

Still following up on the twenty questions I found at Amorous Rocker of Not Your Average Chick that I decided to answer one at a time instead of all in a rush. So…

12. Dirty Talking or Dirty Talking To:

This is probably going to be short. And maybe even sweet. I can write dirty words, and certainly think dirty thoughts. I can even role-play talking dirty if I have a little time to think about it. Although I tend to prefer innuendo to the actual seven dirty words. And of course there’s all the things two or more people can say when they’re flirting.

But past that? Pretty much by the time you have your hand have moved anywhere on my body but my shoulders I just have a very difficult time forming complete words. Let alone complete sentences.

It’s not that I become clumsy any other way. Quite the opposite really. It’s that the more physical I become the more my ability to express myself migrates from centers of speech into my body — my hands especially but my arms and legs, my mouth, my torso and cock.

I still have ears, though, and so if you can still talk dirty I’m likely to respond very enthusiastically.

Update: Outside the scope of the question I’m just as enthusiastic about soft sighs or sharp intakes of breath.

Photo by Flickr user tapperboy. Used under a Creative Commons license.

Still following up on the twenty questions I found at Amorous Rocker of Not Your Average Chick that I decided to answer one at a time instead of all in a rush. So…

10. Bite or Suck:

Usually when someone says “bite me” they’re being… well, non-gender specific, maybe but still not exactly polite. On the other hand they also say “you suck” so I guess that’s a wash. Which is sort of a nuisance since both can feel wonderful under the right circumstances.

When I was very young and learning about sex from a variety of pre-1960 and therefore not terribly helpful medical, anthropological, and psychological texts (with the occasional almost-a-stroke-book pseudo-academic works thrown in) I learned the following about the Kama Sutra: “The book contains five chapters about what we’d consider “normal” foreplay and sixteen chapters about biting, scratching, and slapping one’s partners for erotic effect.” And yes, I’m sure I have the exact numbers wrong but not the approximate proportions. It didn’t sound very tempting** and so I generally left off all that.

My loss, as I’ve learned since beginning to read other anonymous and then not as anonymous bloggers of kink.

Still, given a choice between the two I’d choose suck. And lick. And kiss. And mouth. And breathe warm breath across spots tender and mild. The latter, by the way, seems to work as well on recently spanked, bitten, or scratched spots as not… but not in my case if I’d agreed to pick only one. :-)

And again that’s given my choice of one. A choice I’d rather not make.

I haven’t been bitten much but if it’s not oversharing once you arouse me to a certain point I adore having my nipples bitten. But then at that point I adore having them sucked as well. You hear every now and then people praising little nips during fellatio. My experience has been that it’s… not so great. The side of my neck works well and so does the very top inside of my thighs. And while I’ve really enjoyed being bitten on the arms and shoulders it wasn’t the sensation itself but the shared level of emotion, combined with a willingness to sacrifice a little comfort in the interest of not alerting parents.

Sucking though? I love, love, love fingers and toes. When I suck yours. When you suck mine. Not hard so much as warmly, wetly, and deepy… mmm, that’s lovely almost any time. Earlobes? Yours or mine it’s also wonderful. The inside of arms, yes, and all up and down the throat and shoulders and neck, too.

Breasts? I actually don’t go in so much for sucking, or at least not the classic baby-nursing style though it’s a lot of fun to slurp as much of your nipples and breasts as I can with a gentle suction and then swirling my tongue around and around. And around. But I love licking breasts even without suction at least as much. I don’t know about you but I’ve noticed most people I’ve tried it with go deeper into haze when I kiss, or lick, or stroke the curves of the breast just below and to the outside rather than right over nipples. And, as I mentioned above, there’s blowing gently over wet flesh first to chill it and then re-warm it again with hands or lips or tongue.

And speaking of lips and tongue, does anyone else enjoy licking and sucking their partner’s lips during kissing? Gently biting there works wonders too, or would if not for that darn choice. It’s always the lower lip that gets the mention for sucking but I’ve noticed the inside of most people’s upper lip is a marvelous erogenous zone for that.

And of course there’s all the different non-bite-y things one can do during cunnilingus. I used to think that eating a partner was end-of-the-world, I-could-die-happy paradise, and while I’ve gotten over that a little in the sense that I’m no longer outright fetishistic about it I still… mmm… what was I saying? Oh yeah, something I’ve wound up doing especially during side-by-side (as opposed to top or bottom) sixty-nine, you know, where you’re each pillowing the other’s head on your thigh, is gently slurping… ok I mean sucking an inner labia deep into my mouth and then swirling the flat of my tongue across the inner surface. Like maybe a lot of people I can get pretty distracted during sixty-nine but doing that doesn’t take a lot of concentration. The only risk is that it tends to really distract the other person.

As for me? Well, fellatio tends to work in waves for me (I think this is true for a lot of people during oral, men and women) so one minute every nerve ending is on fire and a minute later I feel almost numb… although fortunately after another minute it’s back to… where was I again? Anyway, when I’m cycled down it’s wonderful when you pop me out of your mouth and tongue or slurp on the large, loose, soft vein along the side. You’re not going exactly lose my attention no matter what but that’s definitely going to keep it till my tide comes in again.

Anyway, I’m not going to say of biting that I could take it or leave it — there are too many nice ways to do it to give it up completely. But sucking? I’ll take that in a heartbeat. And give it just as quickly. Any time.

How about you?

Still following up on the twenty questions I found at Amorous Rocker of Not Your Average Chick that I decided to answer one at a time instead of all in a rush. So…

9. Rough or Gentle:

Hey this is a fun question. I’ll start out by mentioning a lesson I learned from… somewhere a long time ago about roughness and gentleness between the sexes. (Yes, even I agree that anatomy creates some differences between men and women.) Anyway, the advise was to keep in mind that men tend to touch women’s clitorises they way they like to be touched (very firmly) while women tend to touch men’s cocks the way they like to be touched (fairly lightly.)

Learning that worked wonders for me both ways. Oh yeah, and here’s the rub… doh! sorry about the pun! Anyway, one consequence of each of us touching the other the way we’d like to be touched is that it really *only applies to cocks and clitorises and not our entire bodies, our brains, or our lives! Women touching men gingerly doesn’t mean you’re hung up, you’re doing exactly what makes sense. Similarly men aren’t necessarily knuckle-dragging Neanderthals, we’re just doing what we think would work best. (And yes, communication can work wonders there.) But the thing is that just because we like you to hold the shafts of our cocks much more firmly doesn’t mean we won’t melt the same way you may if you softly nibble our necks. And just because you want us to stroke your vulvas way more gently than we stroke ourselves doesn’t mean the rest of you is made out of fragile flower stems either.

So that’s one part of rough vs. gentle.

Another? Sometimes I want to send the buttons of your blouse flying and pulling the tattered sleeves down to your elbows to pin your arms as I devour you where your shoulders reach your neck, other times I want to spend an hour going button by button and warmly, wetly kissing each inch of newly bared skin.

Sometimes, when you’re crampy, I want to deeply knuckle the bones of your hips and tailbone, and then a minute later I want to gently rest my palm over your lower belly to let the warmth of my hand soak through your skin.

Sometimes I want to gently fingertip your nipples till they crinkle, and then gently soften them again with my warm palms. Other times, when your lips are molten hot against mine and our breathing is short and sharp I want to maul your breasts with open hands, and catch your nipples hard between my fingers.

Other times (ok, more often than not) I’d rather tip our hips towards each other so knowingly, slowly, and so gently expert in our familiarities that the distinction of inside and out, while exquisite, are almost impossible to tell.Every now and then, though, I might want to pull you up to your knees by your naked hips, lean over you with my bristled chin scratching your neck and cheek and gravel pirate-like about being unsure whether to have you like a woman or like a boy as the curved underside of my cock presses against your perineum.

Sometimes there’s the rough carpet in the back of a station wagon or van when the weather outside is frightful. Other times it’s nice to feel air wafting gently across us while we’re underneath a single sheet while the weather outside’s delightful.

All in all I’d hate having to choose just one. You?