All Posts – Page 345
On the ‘describe your orgasm’ competition
Ever wondered what an orgasm feels like for someone other than you? Well, wonder no more! After posting my enthusiastic yet relatively incompetent description of my orgasm on Wednesday, lots of people have had a go at putting one of the most complicated physical sensations into actual real-life words.
If you fancy trying it yourself (and why wouldn’t you? It’s a good excuse for both wanking and wordplay) then either describe your orgasm in the comments below, email it to hellogirlonthenet at gmail, or post it on your own blog and link here. There’ll be a prize for the best one (prize TBC but I’m open to suggestions) and in the meantime you get the glory and joy of creating yet another piece of content for vast swathes of the internet to pleasure themselves to.
What does an orgasm feel like? Entries so far…
I’ll let the lovely Cammies on the Floor begin:
“It starts with pressure inside of me, a pressure of fiction, an awareness of movement in and out of me.
“Then I begin to tighten into the pressure. I can do this at whim, but more often than not, it just happens. When I am short on time, know this is a quickie, or am tired, I can tighten, making me come closer to the sensation faster…” If you’re already dribbling a bit – that’s the idea – please do read the rest over on her blog.
Rebecca’s entry is hot – in both the metaphorical and the literal sense:
“It begins with a warm buzzing around my heart. This spreads to my upper arms and my head and grows, just as the nerves pulse downward towards my groin. Then the burning starts. The burning starts low and wide, around my crotch, then it intensfies and localises in my clitoris, burning more intensely as I hold my breath and stretch out my legs…” Hotness continues in the story over here.
Not to be outdone by the first Rebecca, another Rebecca joins in:
“First, the anticipation. The delicious knowledge of what is waiting. This is what makes me start to breathe a little heavier and start to writhe, ever-so-slightly. Just the mere expectation of the orgasm raises my heart rate, widens my eyes and causes me graze my teeth across my lips…” After an excellent start, her orgasm builds spectacularly.
Ritchie has taken a more methodical approach, breaking orgasms down by type:
“Generally, there is an extremely pleasant warmth that starts around my balls and (and I’m not too sure how to describe this) the ‘root’ of my cock. By root I mean that a cock isn’t blu-tacked onto that bit of your stomach 6 inches or so below the belly button. It goes further in to your body to the pit of the stomach. The warmth spreads, but not too far, and at the point where I am about to come it kind of becomes all encompassing…” If you’re anything like me, you might want to print his comment and keep it under your pillow.
Commenter George has written a charmingly lyrical description:
“I lose control and forget the world; Arms and hands stiffen; My buttocks clench as a mellow pleasure engulfs me; With each contraction, my eyes screw up as ecstasy travels from groin to brain in heartbeat…” And here’s the comment with its poetic conclusion.
Steve dropped me an email with his entry, and it brightened up my evening no end:
“I can vividly remember my first manually induced orgasm. As with many men, this first furtive spanking of the monkey took place in the bath – once that most innocent of pastimes, but from age 12 onwards the location of much fumbling, stroking and general yanking of teenage pork sword. I knew from whispered playground conversations what the mechanics of “having a wank” were. But I’d never actually tried to put these instructions into practice until this occasion.” I’ve posted the full thing in a comment and it’s as funny and evocative as it is hot.
Ian’s description of a building pressure almost makes me feel the pressure in my stomach:
“It’s like a slowly building, but perfectly pleasant, pressure. Something inside that makes me more sensitive, that makes every movement filled with a little more joy, and in amongst that an urge for something more: to increase the pressure, to keep increasing it, with each increase feeling better and better, until you reach the point where the only thing that would feel better than holding this delicious pleasure is releasing it. In that moment of release it’s like a whole body and mind exhalation.” Read the rest of his entry.
Bubbleburst hits on the trembling, shaking feeling:
“When he makes me cum my hands shake. That’s what he likes to focus on after the withering and growling. After my world has become very big and suddenly very small. My hands shake, like proper tremors you can feel right through me….” And it is completely amazing.
Last (but by no means least) Anon put her finger directly on what I couldn’t – her description of an orgasm which ‘radiates’ struck a chord with me:
“Bringing myself to an orgasm is something that I can do in seconds. A few quick rubs, and a tiny orgasm builds up and suddenly there’s a release of pressure and tension that I didn’t know existed. It’s almost like when you get a really good massage therapist, one who rids you of knots you didn’t realise were there. Except these balls of tension built up in my lower back, in my thighs. I get tense and suddenly – poof! – a release…” In case you can’t tell from that, it’s well worth reading her description in full.
Describe your orgasm
As I wrote in my original post, I love the idea of trying to describe an orgasm – it’s something so personal and intimate and – frankly – bloody difficult, that by writing it down for someone you’re giving them a window into something incredibly unique. I can taste the cake you’re eating, I can hear your favourite music, but I can never fully put myself in your shoes (or your pants) and feel exactly how you come.
If you fancy having a go, the competition’s still open. I’ll find something nice (yet not massively expensive because I’m skint) to give as a prize, and keep your entries coming in via comments, email or on your own blog.
On what an orgasm feels like
One of the hardest things about writing filth is that the ultimate aim of it – the orgasm – is spectacularly difficult to explain in words. How do you describe what an orgasm feels like?
On penis pride
Cocks are beautiful. There – I said it. I think they’re not only hot in the traditional sense – i.e. in their potential to be used for doing sexy, sweaty, hot things – but in a more aesthetic way too.
I like the smoothness of the skin, the unique shape, length and girth of each one, and I think that the contrast in colour to the rest of a guy’s body highlights perfectly something that is worthy of individual attention.
The ‘last turkey in the shop’
The idea that the cock is a beautiful thing seems to be a relatively controversial one. On the one hand, there are people who are so enamoured of cocks that they’re willing to collect, curate and rate images of them. On the other hand, there are those who – when presented with these images – say that there’s something inherently hilarious about dick, or that it’s a shame the male sexual organs are either laughable or ugly.
Naturally, what someone finds beautiful is an incredibly personal thing. I, personally, don’t think that cunts are particularly pretty, but I accept that countless thousands do. One person’s work of art is another’s pile of rubbish. If you don’t want to sit down with me and scroll through hundreds of images of erect dicks, admiringly complimenting the features of each one, then I don’t think you’re a bad person.
But I do find it uncomfortable when people say ‘God, aren’t penises hilarious!’ and I look like a humourless arsehole for saying ‘no.’
Penis appreciation
There are a million different pressures put on women – be thin but not too thin, be sexy yet modest, remove some types of hair but not others. Similar pressures are creeping up on men as well – as is evidenced by the large number of guys on the lovely site of cocks who have completely shaved their testicles.
But I can’t think of any part of the female anatomy that is subject to the same treatment as the penis. Women are judged, certainly. But is there anything about us that is assumed to be universally funny? When we get out of the shower are our partners thinking ‘god, it’s hilarious how her tits, when not pictured in a sexual context, are comically ridiculous’? Are there people across the world flicking through Playboy going ‘I know it’s supposed to be sexy, but I just can’t look at a female arse without giggling’?
There’s no conclusion to this blog post, really, other than to say that I think cocks are beautiful. Whether they’re soft, and waiting for a gentle cupping hand to start massaging them to rigidity. When they’re being gripped firmly during a particularly powerful and sexy piss. Or whether they’re rock-solid and glistening slightly with pre-come, red and tight and thick and twitching…
OK, especially that last one. Seeing a glistening, naked cock makes me want to do many things: laughing isn’t one of them.
Someone else’s story: ‘Bending’ by Greta Christina
I want to talk about fantasy and issues around consent. This blog touches on both of these things. Everything in it is consensual, but if discussions around this upset you or make you uncomfortable, you might prefer not to read it.
Consent is utterly fundamental when you’re having sex. It’s so fundamental, so important, that the vast majority of people wouldn’t even need to hear that stated: you just know. As you know it’s wrong to punch a stranger, sneak meat into vegetarian lasagne, or throw a kitten into a lake.
However, despite knowing these things are wrong, we’re more than happy for them to happen in fiction. We’ll cheer when the baddie gets punched in an action film, smile when Tom gets hit by Jerry, or laugh along when David Mitchell suggests that Robert Webb should kill and eat a cat. We’re perfectly capable of distinguishing fantasy from reality.
‘Bending’ by Greta Christina
I was recently sent a copy of ‘Bending: Dirty Kinky Stories About Pain, Power, Religion, Unicorns, & More’ by Greta Christina. It’s a thoughtful, sordid, delicious shock of a book. She and I clearly have some very similar fantasies, and when I read it I was frequently torn between shouting “OH JESUS YES” and sneaking off the train for a quick wank in the toilets. They’re mostly BDSM-focused, and an excellent demonstration of just how much variety there is in even that one tiny slice of the sexual spectrum. If you like my blog, and the sort of things I write about, I’d be gobsmacked if you didn’t like at least a few of the stories in this book.
However, some of the stories deal with fantasies that involve non-consent. One or more of the fictional participants is being cajoled, bullied or forced into doing something sexual. They describe sort of activities – like a cat being served up for dinner – that we wouldn’t want to see in real life. But does that stop them being hot? Does that make them unethical? I don’t think so. And although I could waffle on about this until my feline steak goes cold, I couldn’t put it better than Greta Christina herself.
Here is an extract from the book’s introduction that she’s kindly allowed me to publish as part of her blog tour:
These are not nice stories.
These are not “erotica” — except in the sense that “erotica” has become the term of art in publishing for “dirty stories with some vaguely serious literary intent.” These are not tender stories about couples in love making love. (Except for the one that is.) These are not sweet, gentle, happy stories about unicorns fucking rainbows. (Except for the one about the unicorn fucking the rainbow.)
A lot of fucked-up shit happens in a lot of these stories. Stuff happens here that is borderline consensual. Stuff happens that is not at all consensual. Stuff happens in which people manipulate other people into doing sexual things they don’t want to do. Stuff happens in which people do sexual things they’re ashamed of. Stuff happens in these stories that, if they happened in real life, I would be appalled and enraged by.
Stuff happens here that excites me to think about when I whack off.
I apparently have a very fucked-up sexual imagination.
But there is also love in these stories. Some of them, anyway. There is the love of long-term couples; there is the love of newly-discovered lovers; there is the love of friends. There is affection — between lovers, between colleagues, between strangers encountered on the street. There is respect: for love, for desire, for scars, for the complicated places where love and desire and scars overlap.
Above all, there is respect for sex itself. I think — I hope — that this respect underlies every story in this book. Beneath the excitement and the fear, the pain and the shame, the helplessness and the hunger, the danger and the love… there is always the idea that sex matters.
Since most of these stories are kinky, and since some people reading this may not be super-familiar with kink, I want to take a moment to talk about kinky porn.
Some of these stories are about consensual sadomasochism. They’re about negotiated SM scenes between consenting adults, with safewords and limits and attention to safety. There’s conflict in the stories, and mis-steps, and bad decisions… but fundamentally, what happens within those stories is consenting. They are attempts to express, in fiction, some of the things that consensual sadomasochists do.
And some of these stories aren’t. Some of these stories are about force, and violation, and abuse of power. They are attempts to describe, not what consensual sadomasochists do, but some of the things we think about. They are attempts to describe some of the images that come into our minds when we masturbate, or have sex, or engage in consensual SM. They are attempts to describe some of the activities that some of us consensually act out with each other. They are fantasies.
And every single story in this book is consensual.
They’re consensual because they’re fiction. They’re consensual because they’re made-up. I consented to write them; you’re consenting to read them. If you don’t want to read this kind of thing, this isn’t the book for you. I encourage you to put it down, and read something else.
It’s funny. When it comes to things that aren’t sex, people seem to understand this distinction. People get that enjoying spy novels doesn’t mean you want to join the CIA; that enjoying murder mysteries doesn’t mean you want to kill people; that enjoying heist thrillers doesn’t mean you want to break into Fort Knox. People understand that it’s fun and exciting to imagine things we wouldn’t actually want to do — even things we think are immoral.
But for some reason, porn often gets held to a different standard. Depicting a fantasy of a sex act is often assumed to be an endorsement of that act. So let me spell it out: I do not endorse sexual force, abuse of power, rape, or any form of violation of sexual consent. I am vehemently opposed to them.
I am, however, unapologetic about the fact that I like to fantasize about them. If we have any freedom at all, it’s the freedom between our ears: the freedom to think about whatever we like. And that includes sex.
If this has intrigued you, do check out the book – available on Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, and eventually print and audiobook too.
And if this has enraged you, I’d genuinely love to know why. What makes sex different? I don’t want to live in a world where we can’t separate fantasy from reality. That means not just comedy, cartoons, and action films but sex as well.
Top 5 tips for writing your top 10 dating tips
Yesterday I found a brilliant (read: not brilliant) article on HuffPo giving dating advice to women. You all know how much I love (read: don’t love) both HuffPo and ill-thought-out dating articles. You know the ones – they all seem to be entitled ‘Top 10 tips for women dating’, or ‘Top 5 ways to impress a lady if you’re a man’, or occasionally even ‘Top 10 search-engine-optimised sex manoevres with which to confuse your partner.’
These articles are clearly bloody difficult to write, and the writers frequently fall into a number of traps. To prevent this happening again, and causing me to spit cider over my phone and exclaim “WHAT?! You want me to do WHAT on a first date, HuffPo?!” I have written a guide for dating writers:
Top 5 tips for writing a top 10 dating tips article
1. Try to avoid assuming we’re all stupid. Tips such as ‘post a recent photo on the dating website’ and ‘don’t play with your iPhone during the date’ rest on the rather gargantuan assumption that your readers are a herd of cackling incompetents. You might as well tell us to not to punch the waiter, or ensure we turn up wearing shoes.
2. Before you set pen to paper, try your hand at some research. If that is too tricky, why not simply haul yourself outside for five minutes and meet a real human? This might prevent you from giving tips in which you make gargantuan, sweeping proclamations about the behaviour of the entire species. Clangers such as: ‘if you’re looking to hook up on a first date, that’s fine. Just don’t expect this to lead to a real relationship’ can be easily avoided by speaking to one of the countless thousands of people who have done exactly that.
3. When editing your tips, read them with the eye of someone compiling a 1950’s guide on how to be a Good Heterosexual Partner. Tips such as ‘if you want an over 50’s man in your life, you’d better give him the ability to feel needed by taking care of things for you’ will no doubt have that particular editor smiling with delight. This is a sign that you should cut them. Immediately.
4. Consider whether your advice applies to everyone, or just to you. Advice like ‘don’t wear flattering underwear’ or ‘don’t try to suggest changes to your partner’ only apply to a very specific subset of people – the sort of people who wear flattering underwear, for instance. Or the sort of poisonous critics who are likely to explain – on a first date, no less – exactly which things their potential partner might need to change about themselves. I don’t know any of these people myself, but if you’re writing this tip down, you are probably one of them.
5. Remember that dating is neither a war nor a job interview. When I read these articles there’s an overwhelming sense that the sole purpose of going on a date is for the person you’re dating to accept you. As if the best possible thing that can happen is that they don either a Donald Trump hairpiece or an Alan Sugar beard and magnanimously announce that ‘you’re hired!’
Dating tips writers – I appreciate that on the surface your job might appear to be one of a coach – cheering your team on until they win a shiny prize, and ensnare the man or woman they’re meeting. But actually your role is far more important than that: you’re there to help people have successful dates. By encouraging people to think only about whether they’ll be accepted by their partner, you miss out the rather crucial point that they need to accept their partner too.
Every minute they spend worrying about whether their underwear is too flattering or whether they’re making their date feel ‘needed’ enough is a minute not spent finding out whether the person they’re dating is actually someone they’re interested in.
My top dating tips
1. Talk to your date
2. Listen to your date
3. Decide whether you like them
4. Find out whether they like you
5. If, by the end of the date, you know the answer to both 3 + 4, then no matter what the answers are, you’ve had a successful date.