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.
Submitted by 1722 (not verified) on Tue, 2007-10-30 18:08.
I was getting all hot and bothered until the reversal.
Nice rhyme. Unplucked, unfucked. Unplucked, unfucked. Unplucked. Unfucked. Plucked, fucked sounds like the action itself. Plucked, fucked, plucked, fucked.
Ferraris? Perks up ears. Joking, couldn't get into one, I don't think.
I want to be a hot and sultry chaste flower. But I can see how that would create confusion.
[Actually hot, sultry, and chaste is the desired effect! Because simply hot and sultry *or* chaste would be unambiguous and lead to way, way fewer unwanted advances (and maybe even more *wanted* ones) and... ok, I'm not sure *why* that would be bad but we're investing a lot in trying to pretend that it would be. Thanks, B! --fl]
Submitted by 1722 (not verified) on Tue, 2007-10-30 19:41.
Oh this is nice. And very perceptive. I will have to contemplate this more, especially since being short I am pretty much never seen in less that 2.5 inch heels (it helps to reach the blackboard). I don't like the idea of disguising signs of arousal.
[Better perceptive than daft. And the problem with my little brainwaves is I can't really be sure till someone lets me know which it is. So thank you very much, E. I appreciate it. --fl]
Submitted by 1722 (not verified) on Tue, 2007-10-30 20:48.
The picture was definitely a funny surprise, especially under that title. Took me a minute to figure it out. I love f-me shoes when I can wear them. Fortunately they make them more comfortable these days.
[Talk about paradoxes! I've heard they're still not *that* comfortable but yeah, compared to the olden days! Thanks, B. --fl]