Once in a bar bathroom in a girl’s mouth, once in a college bathroom up another girl’s pussy.

(via thatsthestuff)

God, I love pubic hair on a girl. “Hairy” has become like a fetish, a genre of “kinky” porn, but that’s just too unbelievably stupid: pubic hair is a secondary sexual characteristic, it’s what women look like, and I do love a fully shaved or waxed pussy but if I had to choose to have only one kind of grooming for the rest of my life it would be like the pussy pictured above, maybe with slightly more hair. I mean, come on: the pubic triangle! I don’t understand how any straight man or gay woman who went through puberty in the 1980s or earlier 1990s could be disgusted by a woman’s pubic triangle. It’s what pussy looks like!

I say all this really as introduction to something that’s just started to occur to me, which is the question of whether I should groom my own pubic hair. Does pubic hair start getting bushier in your 30s? I never, ever even considered it—especially since I think one reason men do it is to make their dicks look bigger, and I’ve never had any worries about penis size—but I’m starting to feel like it’s just getting a little too bushy. Is that even possible? Or is it instead possible that I’ve seen so much groomed man-bush in porn over the past few years that I just plain have gotten used to that look and I look too jungly by comparison only?

I’ve never gotten a “happy ending” massage. Someone told me recently that the idea that you get jerked off by masseuses is a kind of softened, “family-friendly” version of the story, and that generally what we’re talking about isn’t handjobs but full-on fucking. That was almost disappointing to me.

Would I ever pay someone to have sex? Maybe, if I were single and bored (and rich). But somehow getting jerked off impersonally by a masseuse feels like a whole other category of thing, and I’m kind of sorry to hear that it isn’t so much a thing.

Are facials ever about degradation and misogyny, or like a marking of your property? Sure, I’m sure they are, for some people. But the reason why I’m sometimes blind to that is that they can also be such a beautiful, sweet thing, in a way. One of the greatest miraculous sexual realizations I had was the realization that girls are OK with come. I mean, as a young masturbating boy, I think there’s a tendency—there certainly was for me—to see my ejaculate as a problem, something to be not only cleaned up but also hidden. A wet dream was shameful, and if I was jerking off and came before I could get a tissue, it was like I had really fucked up. (To be fair, who wants his mom to see a come stain anywhere?) But to learn that girls were not revolted by come (at least cool girls), to learn that in fact they kind of got a kick out of it—if only as a physical sign of their success in turning a guy on and getting him off—was like a dream coming true.

And that’s a big part of what I like about coming on a girl: that she’s cool with it and sometimes even turned on by it.

There’s something about kissing a girl when we’re both naked, or at least I am, and we aren’t making out (I guess specifically it’s having a hard-on that she’s aware of but not doing anything about?) that’s a kinky turn-on for me. It isn’t essential that she not do anything about it—I mean, obviously I’d prefer that she do—but it’s sort of the moments before or between her doing anything about it that hit me in this particular way.

I guess one of my favorite things about getting sexual with someone—I wouldn’t say top five or even top ten, but up there somewhere—is her awareness and acceptance of my erection. Her hunger for it is in the top five, but her more casual, matter-of-fact, almost unsexual awareness is itself totally amazing.

Twice I went to naked parties in college. Before going, having only heard about them, my worry was that I’d get hard, but I was assured that, no, in fact, that doesn’t really happen. And that’s true: it’s desexualized enough that there’s an almost startling lack of hardness going on. BUT there’s one big exception to that rule: I went with a girl I was fucking at the time, and we checked out the upstairs of the house the party was in (it was empty) and then, heading back downstairs, we paused on the stairs and kissed for a second—not a full-on, body-grabbing, make-out session, but a real kiss, with tongue. And of course I just got hard as could possibly be, immediately, because kissing a girl when you’re both naked is like turning on one of those mechanized raft-inflaters, peniswise. Anyway, that’s basically the whole story—I had to hide until the shit went down again—but this picture made me think of that.

(I told someone this story and she was like, “Why didn’t your girl just take care of it for you?” Good question, but there are a few answers: (1) fucking of any kind was, I thought, pretty frowned upon there, at least in part because essentially everyone was a kind of show-offy nerd, and this was the furthest thing in the world from an orgy, (2) usually after coming I can assume there will be at least a drop or two of come that makes its way out afterwards, and walking around this thing with semen dribbling out of my dick would be several orders of magnitude more awkward and inappropriate than walking around with a huge hard-on, and (3) I was uptight and sort of sexually repressed at the time. In retrospect, yeah, I should have bent her over and fucked her right there on the stairs. But what are you gonna do.

thatsthestuff:

Showing off.

Coming on a girl’s face is exciting and great for pretty much exactly the first 2–5 seconds after you finish coming. Immediately after that, I start thinking, “OK, let’s get that off you.” I hear it gets cold pretty fast, for one thing. Also, I guess it sort of immediately switches from something the two of you are doing together to something that you just did to her, and/or something she’s doing performatively, as a kind of kinky show, which frankly is not among my favorite things women do in bed. I mean, I like a girl to have a good time, and I like to know she’s having a good time, and I like her to want to turn me on, and so forth, but if it feels like a show, like something she’s doing as a performance, that’s distancing.

Anyway, yeah: I want to come on your face, but I don’t really want to leave it there, is all I’m saying. My guess is that we’re in agreement on that, so it’s not like I’m saying anything particularly controversial.

I practice safe sex. With very few exceptions, themselves limited to established girlfriends, I always use a condom when having sex. And enough people don’t do that that it’s important, on a public-health level, to emphasize to everyone that you’ve got to use condoms, that not using condoms is not OK, etc. But I’m not so good at party-line thinking, or about taking a position because it’s the right position to take when on a truth level it’s incomplete. And on a truth level, the safe-sex position is a little incomplete, because the inconvenient truth is not only (as is often emphasized) that unprotected sex feels better, but also that, on a certain level, I feel like unprotected sex is realer sex than sex with a condom.

I subscribe to the theory that the reason why men are always coming on women in porn (as opposed to in them) is just that we want to get to see the orgasm: the main or original reason for facials, if I had to guess and if we had to pick just one, is to emphasize that she’s made him come with her mouth. In some 1970s porn (like the amazing Opening of Misty Beethoven), the sort of thing in the video above is common: pulling out to start coming, then going back in. Actually, in Misty Beethoven, the guy’s usually still pumping out come when he goes back in. And I fucking love that, because there it really is kind of just a, “Look: see? Coming”—and then back in for the internal cumshot. That’s obviously what dripping creampies are all about, too. Point being: I think that the reason I like the coming-on is that I love the coming-in, and you can’t see that (with some notable exceptions that end up feeling more like a novelty than anything else).

Anyway, the feeling of coming inside somebody—I mean psychologically, emotionally, existentially—is impossible to beat. And, sorry to say, the feeling of coming inside somebody who isn’t on the pill is even better. Because isn’t that what it’s all about? Look, I’m totally pro recreational sex, but I think that the reason why recreational sex is so fun has a lot to do with procreation. I mean, on a basic level, that’s why sex feels good: because biologically we want to reproduce.

Again, I’m the furthest thing in the world from a sex-is-for-reproduction kind of guy; I’m just saying that it feels fucking good to put your sperm inside of somebody, and it makes perfect fucking sense that it does. Comedian Rob Delaney has a bit about how he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, and I love that guy but couldn’t disagree more: I like coming on you, I like coming near you, I like it when you make me come no matter where I come, but I love coming inside you—in your pussy, down your throat, whatever—and nothing in the world can beat that, nothing.