sexual arousal

Britni Shameless On the Myth of "Stretched Out" Vaginas

Wed, 2010-06-02 08:25

Britni of Oh My God, That Britni’s Shameless, who blogs about sex toys as well as sexual assault, counseling, feminism, and BDSM, has a PSA about pernicious myths about “stretched out” vaginas.

Attention people (especially guys, because they seem to be guilty of this most often) that are grossed out by women sticking large objects in their vaginas: SHUT THE FUCK UP. Don’t be horrified by the size of the toy and please, don’t make comments about the woman getting “stretched out.” Because guess what? VAGINAS ARE STRETCHY AND ELASTIC. After a fist has been in there, it retracts back to normal very quickly. The same with a toy like Randy. Yes, the vagina will stretch and expand to take the large object. But the elasticity also means that it will shrink back again.

...

[S]he can push a baby out of that thing; a fist is nothing! So you and your penis need to stop with the inferiority complex and marvel at the wonderous things that vaginas can do. ‘Mkay?

She said it here.

Even more eerie? When I did that really massive survey of Tumbler-style porn-photo blogs earlier this year I was reminded again that most people don’t seem get that women’s vulvas change when they’re aroused. Like, a lot. Like that old lyric “lips so sweet and tender / like petals falling apart” vulvas don’t just become “moist,” they engorge with blood — the outer labia push out and open, the inner labia can become almost erect, and the swelling of the clitoral hood led early researchers to mistakenly think the clitoris lost its erection as orgasm approached. If you’re completely clueless about women’s actual bodies, and actual sexuality it might seem alarming; once you figure it out it’s kind of awesome.

A surprisingly common reaction when someone miraculously does appear to be engorged and juicy with her own actual lubrication is that she looks “stretched out.” Hello! You know how people talk about porn giving people the wrong expectations? That’s a really wrong expectation! (As bad as seeing only unaroused penises in porn and then deciding you had to ice them when they got erect because otherwise they looked “wrong.”)

BTW, I’ve got very large hands and yeah, just moments after fifteen minutes of allllmoost (did I mention I have very large hands) fisting someone she squeezed my perfectly-average size hard enough to make me jump. It felt very nice but it was also a very strong squeeze. So yeah, inserting something even very large doesn’t even temporarily “stretch out” anyone’s vagina.

Another Challenged Assumption: Feminist Consideration of Men's Bodies

Mon, 2009-01-26 22:53

I was so nettled by the first sentence in a quote from that NYT article on “What do Women Want” that I neglected the following one. Amanda Marcotte of Pandagon is on the case. (Italics mine.)

Unfortunately, if [Marta Meana] didn’t strain herself to avoid feminist explanations for women’s so-called narcissism, she would have a better chance of stumbling on the truth.  She has all these theories about why women like to look at the female form, tend to see “sex” in women’s bodies more than men’s (just like straight men do), and respond so strongly to being desired.  Many of them have the strong whiff of bullshit, like this:

“The female body,” she said, “looks the same whether aroused or not. The male, without an erection, is announcing a lack of arousal. The female body always holds the promise, the suggestion of sex” — a suggestion that sends a charge through both men and women.

Men’s bodies can be sexual without an erection — look at the statue of David for a classic example.  There is nothing inevitable about the sexualizing of the female body and not the male one. 

She said it here.

Yeah, good thing Dr. Mena tiptoes around because feminists are all querrelous about Teh Sex! With Menz!

Seriously! (I know, I know, I’ve been saying that a lot.) For all those clichés about feminists scorning men it’s kind of… interesting just who keeps pointing out that men’s bodies ain’t exactly chopped liver… and just who insists straight women only see sexy in other women’s bodies. Sheesh! And people wonder why it would be in a male sex blogger’s interest to side with feminism?

In the Face of Expectations

Fri, 2008-01-11 10:48


Photo by Photobucket user Wolf2Roger. Copyright Photobucket.com

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
They said, ‘it would be grand!’

‘If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
‘That they could get it clear?’
‘I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

from Lewis Carrol’s The Walrus and the Carpenter

Samara Ginsberg of The F-Word Blog reviews the Seduced exhibition of sexuality in ancient and modern art at the Barbican museum.

By far the most interesting installation from a feminist point of view was Requiem – k r buxey’s answer to Andy Warhol’s Blowjob (a 35-minute film of a man’s face as he receives oral sex). Buxey films herself receiving oral sex from an unseen partner to the soundtrack of Fauré‘s Requiem. The idea behind this is a subversion of mainstream porn, in which female orgasm is either fake or irrelevant.

I see it as an irrelevance whether or not buxey is “conventionally attractive” (she’s not). But what is very relevant is that she has made no effort with her appearance. She wears no make up. Her hair looks truly abominable. And she is totally unselfconscious. She does not look at the camera, she does not pout or lick her lips. She pulls really weird faces. Sometimes she almost looks as if she’s in pain. In fact, at one point I started thinking that if I didn’t know any better I might guess that she was giving birth.

That for me is the difference between sex-based art and porn. Porn exists to get the (usually male) viewer off. Art depicting sexuality has no such purpose – sex is just a subject matter. If it gets you off, good for you, but that’s not what it’s there for. In theory Requiem is an incredibly interesting idea, but the reality was really rather dull to watch. Afer I got over the initial, “Oh my God, she’s actually filming herself getting head”, I just wasn’t interested any more. It wasn’t the slightest bit titillating, and the heterosexual male friend I was with said exactly the same. And the fact that watching someone having an orgasm can be so dull when it’s real and not intended as a show is fascinating in itself.

Read Ginsberg’s thoughts in context here.

Before I say a ton of positive things about Ginsberg’s response to k d buxey’s content can I just quickly say WTF to her contention that buxey’s not “conventionally attractive?” If you can handle modestly not-work-safe pages you can judge for yourself here (she’s most visible in the lower-right video) or here or, grouped together with Alan Rickman, and other notable Londoners, here (again bottom row, second from the right.) Point being that I think women are taught to hold other women to standards far, far higher than men do. And also note that while she says buxey’s appearance is an “irrelevance” to her, Ginsberg’s “making no effort…” packs quite a bit of judgment. But while I have a serious quibble about that, it’s still just a quibble. (Another quibble: Face-only orgasm porn isn’t that uncommon, see for instance the fairly long-running Beautiful Agony that’s dedicated to nothing else.)

But ignoring my ignorable petty quibbles, Ginsberg’s got some great points, the biggest one being that we don’t look like movie stars when we have sex! We often don’t make eye contact. We almost never look demure or rugged or coy or… mostly any of the ways sexy people look in glossy advertising and other forms of porn. Yeah, we often don’t notice because even when during sex with the lights on (still not all that common) we’re often glasses off, or too close to each other’s faces to focus, or too busy kissing, or at odd perspectives when sucking or licking our partners (and they’re necessarily at least partly obscured when they’re mouthing us), or depending on position we might not see their faces at all. And even when we could focus clearly on our partner’s faces we’re generally pretty caught up in our own erotic reality with it’s own delightful perceptual distortions.

Which means that, unless we videotape ourselves or our partners, or accidentally catch our own eyes in a mirror, we rarely have any idea how we, let alone others, really look when we’re really approaching our climaxes.

As Ginsberg says “Sometimes she almost looks as if she’s in pain. In fact, at one point I started thinking that if I didn’t know any better I might guess that she was giving birth.” Which requires a little additional unpacking. First, because without knocking her at all, to say “if I didn’t know better” is an accurate statement for almost all of us: we literally don’t know better. First because, of course, we really don’t see that many people giving birth, but second because we really don’t see that many people having orgasms either. We do look more like we’re in pain than not, though, and for that matter, during the early stages, when our focus is shifting from neurons at the top of the spine to those towards the bottom, our expressions more closely resemble anxiety, fear, or deep distraction.

Which all boils down to we’re not particularly pretty when we’re authentically aroused, and we certainly don’t look like properly appointed members of the gentility… [Aside: in this respect, at least, we do resemble people giving birth: just as there’s no way… or reason… to maintain one’s carefully composed, um, composure while pushing a baby, neither can one, nor does one need to, maintain composure during sex. But I digress… —fl]

As I was saying, we may not seem terribly genteel when we’re rocking our own or each other’s worlds, and we may not look conventionally “pretty” when we’re there, but oh my are we awesomely, amazingly, immediacy-of-nature beautiful.

Finally, it’s worth noticing that, as opposed to contrived conventions of what we’re taught arousal ought to look like, unless we ourselves are aroused or prepared to be, real arousal can draw our attention, yes, but without arousing us.

All cool insights that a) make me think that porn would be improved by Hollywood and b) make me wish for ways we could all become less self-conscious of our own arousal in the face of c) so many photogenic, perhaps, but therefore idealized sources.

The paradoxical purpose of fuck-me pumps in the no-sex class paradigm

Tue, 2007-10-30 16:35


Photo by Flickr user Year of the Monkey. Used under a Creative Commons license.

Sigh.

When you’re horny your eyelids grow sultry and heavy
And I know, unless…

When you’re horny your lips grow full and red and soft
And I know, unless…

When you’re horny your shoulders go back, pushing your breasts our
And I know, unless…

And when you’re horny your hips tip up and back, tightening your belly, arching your back, cocking your butt back for… well… my cock
And I know, unless…

And when you’re horny your breath grows soft and short and your voice falls to a trembly whisper
And I know, unless…

And when you’re horny your cheeks flush
And I know, unless…

I know unless…

Unless…

Auggh, I hate to shift gears but… unless fashion obliges you to hide it overtly with burka or wimple or veil, sure, or also unless…

Unless we say all eyes must always seem horny/sultry under makeup
Unless we say all lips must always seem horny/full/soft/red under lipstick
Unless we say all breasts must always seem horny/up and forward under “wonder” bras
Unless we say all bellies must pull tight, unless all backs arch, unless all hips must always seem horny/tilted back for cock perched high atop fuck-me pumps
Unless we say all breath must always seem horny/short beneath corsets or endless Pilates crunches…

Trading the certainty of bred-in/bone-in signs of sexuality for the uncertainty of sexualization, we’ve created the conditions where we can’t know if you’re ready to carnally devour us or just bite our heads off for presuming.

Madness, surely, and as mad as mistaking your arousal for disease. No less mad than excising clitoris and labia altogether. And for what benefit?

That even when you’re gagging for it we can maintain our own smug illusion that you’re a chaste flower who without our deft prompting, our seductions, our offers of Ferraris, of life-long financial support, or of darker forms of persuasion you would remain unplucked and, surely, unfucked.

Dressed like a whore, dressed like a virgin, so much more convenient to the “no-sex” class paradigm if we can’t tell the difference.

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