Tag Archives: sex

When People Fear Sexual Expression

Or Gay Porn and Other Delicacies Part II: Was going to be ‘What I Like’ but the pictures I want to insert are pretty embarrassing to look for in a public library.

I’m at a new school. My computer may have been utterly destroyed with all my writing and pictures and music, et cetera, gone for the most part. But my itch to write has gone to shingles level, so here I am, trying to pinch out a blog post in one or two hour spurts. I put out that one before- about Blurred Lines? But that was a ‘Moment of Inspiration’.

Miley-CyrusSo you’ve heard about Miley Cyrus, of course. At the time my sister was watching the VMAs, and I had been there in the living room most of the day studying for German, which I hadn’t taken for more than a year and have now jumped into its intermediate class.

When Miley came on, my sister and I agreed that her hair looked stupid and nothing about her was really appealing. Her song was okay, her part of “Blurred Lines” was horrendous (though I might be biased because I fuckin’ love that song, besides the non-consensual connotation that I keep hearing about). My sister (and the other family members that joined us) were so shocked that the Disney star was dancing like that.

And I couldn’t help but think… Isn’t she, like, twenty? Matter-of-fact, she was the aforementioned sister’s age. And my sister has a two-year-old daughter. You don’t think Miley, like the rest of us humans, grows up beyond canned laughter and the tried and true best-friends-fight episodes, that-boy-isn’t-all-he’s-cracked-up-to-be episodes, the friggin’ surprise-birthday-goes-wrong-but-it’s-all-about-love episodes? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ll watch such episodes of a show I really like (Supernatural or Spongebob, for example), but I know what they are, and I know what’s beyond.

My, what if she stayed like Taylor Swift. I’ve never listened to an artist so glued on monotony (wait, Maroon Five… But they are, like, a band… And Levine has some curve to his voice sometimes).

Anyway, I don’t mind it. I don’t listen to any of her songs, but, I’m good, and it’s just tiresome to hear the craziness that can follow.

I recently had a conversation with my new friends about Miley Cyrus, and one of the ladies there said that Miley ‘doesn’t have to be sexually provocative to be popular’ (Swift, a case in point- and notice how I call Miley by her first name… but not Taylor Swift? Hm.)

‘You don’t have to be slutty’

‘You don’t have to act like a whore and grind’


Yea… But what if you freakin’ want to?! Do people who say this, and there are soooooooooooooooo many who do…. so many… Do people who say this think that all people who act sexually for money don’t actually LIKE doing it? That perhaps, hey, it’s fun. I can wear less clothes and it’ll feel freeing and controlling and get a whole lot of attention? And I would like to be freeing and controlling and get attention by being sexually expressive? No, I don’t want to write a damn book and I don’t want to feed all of Libya. I want to strut what little I got and have fun?

Now, I wouldn’t do that, mainly because it seems tiring and I don’t have the complexion for it. And I like writing and translating a lot more.

Which brings me to the gay.


I guess this isn’t gay, per se, but the number of conceptions you build upon seeing this image (WHORE- MANWHORE- GAAAAAAAAY- OBJECTIFICATION- *scream*) is one of the many ways we express our limits of sexual expression.

There’s a sort of subtlety, but not really, when we come across something like Channing Tatum backin’ that ass up, and some guy screams out, “That’s fucking gross! I don’t wanna see that.” Or, the many times my mom and other women would see a female strutting some which way and would just be completely grossed out and say terrible things like ‘slut’ or some such.

Of course, if you give them the stink eye, they’ll scream about their heterosexuality, but I’ve come to realize, to actually be able to voice my dilemma about such a defense. It had come as a super confusing intuition before, but then I actually realized:

Being straight doesn’t mean hating the same sex.

And it definitely doesn’t mean you hate the same sex whenever they are being sexual. Straightness’ only connotation to me is: you enjoy the opposite sex, probably within the parameters of the sex’s stereotype. (Females are smaller, softer, cuter. Men are bigger, muscular, handsome. Whatever.)

On the flip side, many people have wondered why I enjoy homosexual men so much. Many could understand my affinity for lesbians because 1) most who have asked me are men and 2) someone like me who also likes women would probably like to see lesbians/lesbian sex.

Again, intuition reigned supreme, and I couldn’t relinquish a straight answer. Most of the time, it wasn’t a question I found interesting and needed answering, but now I do:

Gay men have better sex, especially in yaoi.

Now, I’m not saying overall. What I mean is, the only lesbian fiction I’ve had the pleasure to read were- minus a few gems- porn for men, which gets real old, real fast. Or it was too much on the romanticism. I love romance, I do. By itself, no. I don’t like much by itself. (And neither do you, I think.). I can’t, like I said in Gay Porn and Other Delicacies, even take a lot of romance in gay fiction- like Maurice. Romance (and sex etc.) must be twisted upon by something else.

Wolfin'And whatever medium – book , film, tv- can have gratuitous amounts of sex and blood, but as long as something else is there, I can manage it. Fortunately for me, the kink genre in gay erotica has just that extra pizzazz for me to sit down and enjoy, even though sometimes it can hold back and I doze off.

And most yaoi I’ve read- whether it’s Alcide/Elric crazy kinky vampire-werewolf fanfiction or a saga about a pair of detectives, have much more of that extra than I can ever hope for. And as an extensive, intensive reader, I feel entitled to a bit of spice every now and again and, if I want, in every fucking cake I eat.

Really, I feel, just, indignant when anyone wonders why or even hints at “You read/watch that stuff?” and I’m like, well, what do you do in your spare time? Because if you aren’t reading yaself a book, teaching yourself a language, practicing an instrument, writing short stories of any any nature, crocheting a blanket- you know, such things that I do nearly every day, don’t talk.

The thing about sexual expression is that it takes over.

False! But, really, yea, that’s pretty much true. There doesn’t seem to be any existence to a person whenever they sexually express themselves, unless it doesn’t matter in that fashion to a certain person in the first place. When people think about yaoi, for example, gay porn is the only thing they’re left with (this process of ‘minimization’ occurs elsewhere as well- you know, like, when people complain about a movie and say it’s a ‘boy-meets-girl’ story, while completely ignoring the fact that the guy is a zombie in a near post-apocalyptic zombie-infested world and the girl is the daughter of ArmyDadDeluxe, and that an extreme form of zombie was posing a risk to them all. By the way, that’s what I heard from someone about the movie Warm Bodies. And I was like… Really? That’s what you got from that?)

Sex is a compliment to life, and while having sex around others not involved is frowned upon, sexual expression doesn’t come close to it. There’s no need to fear it, whether from your preferred sex or not.


Over time, my tastes have broadened to an extremely zesty horizon that many would not touch, and it’s come to my attention that I can’t relate at all.

I actually cannot really… I don’t think ‘understand’ is the right word- I get it. But whatever the wavelength of empathy I cannot seem to connect to is, I can’t do it with people who are 100% gay or straight. I have come to ‘understand’ those orientations as simple preferences, like how I will not go out with someone who is religious or has bad breath.

I would just like that other people who can realize preferences as real, they can realize preferences for sexual expression are real as well, and it may not be anything as provocative as say….

I’m dressing like this because I want the D.

But simply, I look fucking hot in this and if you don’t like it, don’t look.

Which brings me back to the gay.

It’s hot, beyond the the reasons I mentioned before, the dichotomy between two swell-looking guys, or  cool-seeming guys, is pretty hot, and is often not seen in heterosexual fiction (No, I don’t think it exists…), and lesbian fiction I’ve come across hasn’t been beyond what I’ve seen (although I’m trying). Add in kink and supernatural and we got just crazy things to look forward to.



Oh, don’t tease me.

“Blurred Lines” from a Wanting Mouth

From the Mouths of Rapists

Now, I understand the rapist reading. I overheard it in the African American center here at my school. The song played on the radio, and the people there were discussing how it was a rape anthem, non-consensual anthem, and the rest. I didn’t really listen, as I was reading Husbandwife and wasn’t really interested.

Still, in the back of my mind, I thought, That wasn’t how I heard that song at all!

While reading Lance Manion’s Facebook post about the astronomical number of people who view astrology/horoscopes on a daily/weekly/monthly basis, I stepped on another link that led to the first link above. And then I understood.

Still, that wasn’t how I think of the song at all!

Let me follow you through my logic.

[rap(e)genius.com, thanks!]

[Intro: Pharrell & Robin Thicke]
Everybody get up, WOO!
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

When I first heard this song, everyone in the car said I would like it, because I like very few songs that come regularly on the radio from the station that we often listen to. They also all knew I would love Ellie Gouldings “Anything Can Happen”.

[Verse 1: Robin Thicke]
If you can’t hear what I’m trying to say
If you can’t read from the same page
Maybe I’m going deaf
Maybe I’m going blind
Maybe I’m out of my mind

At this moment, I honestly have no idea what he’s getting to, though I’m sure it would be sexual, since this was the ‘mix’ station, and Robin Thicke. Obviously, there’s some miscommunication.

[Bridge: Robin Thicke]
Ok, now he was close
Tried to domesticate you
But you’re an animal
Baby, it’s in your nature
Just let me liberate you
You don’t need no papers
That man is not your maker
And that’s why I’m gon’ take a

And now I’m hooked. I was immediately thinking of all the people who think I want to stay at home and sew socks and have a pleasant romp every week when the man brings home the bread and maybe that pretty ring from Jared’s (btw, I don’t like jewelry). Or people who want me to shave my legs and do my hair to its prettiest degree. Etc.

[Hook: Robin Thicke]
Good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You’re a good girl
Can’t let it get past me
You’re far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you’re a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

And here I thought, yes, everyone thinks I’m just a good girl. Which is why no guy who wants some no-strings-attached casual sex would ever look twice at me. I’m just a good girl, whom people see and say: “God bless you!” or “You curse?” or “You watch porn?” (It’s not that I like porn, but that it’s me who likes porn because I’m a plastic good girl who will NEVER EVER break from her mold, until she speaks). 

And then there’s the blurred line: Is she a good girl really? Or would she be interested in getting her ass broke in two? To be more specific, just because she dresses like that and dances like that, is she really interested in some crazy one-night-stand, or is she a ‘good girl’ just having fun?

What’s getting to me about the rape reading (which is completely justified, mind you) is that he keeps baiting this woman. “Hey, if you wanna get at it, come and get it. Because I’m honestly at a fuckin’ lost and don’t know what’s going on. Shit, I’m making a song about it. Can you clear it up and we can have a fairy tale ending like in Taylor Swift songs?”

[Verse 2: Robin Thicke]
What do they make dreams for
When you got them jeans on
What do we need steam for
You the hottest bitch in this place
I feel so lucky, you wanna hug me
What rhymes with hug me?

Now, here, although I don’t see any rape readings quoting this verse, is when I feel it gets the biggest rapist vibe. He’s definitely thinking about sex with her, she hugs him, and now he’s thinking that she might wanna fuck.


She does!


But I’m not fucking sure, and I want to be fucking sure because it will be rape otherwise, and I don’t want to rape her.

[Verse 3: T.I.]
Hustle Gang Homie
One thing I ask of you
Lemme be the one you back that ass up to
From Malibu to Paris boo
Had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you
So, hit me up when you pass through
I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two
Swag on ’em even when you dress casual
I mean, it’s almost unbearable
In a hundred years not dare would I
Pull a Pharcyde, let you pass me by
Nothin’ like your last guy, he too square for you
He don’t smack that ass and pull your hair like that
So I’m just watching and waitin’
For you to salute the true big pimpin’
Not many women can refuse this pimping
I’m a nice guy, but don’t get confused, this pimpin’

Nothing in this rap that I hadn’t heard in rap before. He thinks he big and bad, and she might want it, and he is going to talk about it until she agrees or throws a drink in his face.

I’ve seen the quotes of smacking ass and pulling hair, and I’m like, um, yes, please? As the lyrics suggest, a ‘good girl’ wouldn’t be interested. A ‘bad girl’ would. Is she a ‘bad girl’ or a ‘good girl’? But make no mistake, this is just one good night of romping.

[Breakdown: Robin Thicke]
Shake your rump
Get down, get up-a
Do it like it hurt, like it hurt
What you don’t like work

No, what I don’t like won’t work. But he doesn’t mean it that way, not with the former line. You’re not supposed to like it when it hurts. When it hurts, it means it’s ‘not working’. But if you like it like that, you like it like that. And you’re, like, not a ‘good girl’.

[Verse 4: Robin Thicke]
Baby, can you breathe
I got this from Jamaica
It always works for me
Dakota to Decatur
No more pretending
Cause now you’re winning
Here’s our beginning
I always wanted a

Love this part. Now, we’re getting in those clouds and getting to it. She’s made it clear, and he’s freaking excited because he’s been singing for about three minutes on how he wants this woman so bad.

[Hook: Robin Thicke]

He’s always wanted a ‘good girl’. Whose never been propositioned to be ‘bad’. And now he and she are having a fun time.
[Bridge: Pharrell & Robin Thicke]
Everybody get up
Everybody get up
Everybody get up
Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey, Hey

No, I ain’t getting up, the song’s almost over.

[Outro: Pharrell & Robin Thicke]
Everybody get up, WOO!
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Great song. Now, I’mma listen to Goulding.

P.S. Those people have some nerve to complain about this song when they listen to that station all day. Whose listening to it, if this song is what sets them off and NONE OF THE OTHERS DO?



“642 Things to Write About” with Crystal-Eyes the Sex-lover

I added pages to my wordpress. It’s a lot of my writing! How exciting! Yaoi! Yaoi! Yaoi, everywhere! Kink, kink, I am there. And now, on topic:

Prompt #8: The long lost roommate

My response (caution, mentioning of underage solicitation): 

When I went to Cumberland’s mental institution, for the first time, back when I was fourteen, I had the room to myself, then a weird roommate who came to hate me (who left before me, for some reason, even though she seemed to have it worse), a SUPER-WEIRD roommate who I came to hate (also left before me), and then the room to myself again, before I left.

I want to talk about roommate numero dos, who I shall name Crystal-Eyes, for she had beautiful blue eyes the color of light sapphires. Oh, she was a cutie alright. Because of the nature of her problems (ref. above), even though she was young for the institution, she was with us older kids.

When she entered the room, I was doing one of my hour-long prayers that I was pretty much known for when I was that age (I even took the moment of silence to pray, continuing to stand into the announcements to finish some of my most fervent prayers). We exchanged pleasantries, our names, why we were here, our ages. Eventually, it was time for sleep. I was thinking about her problems, something that I would have gladly switched for, if I was pretty and interesting enough, like her, when she asked me:

“You want to have sex?”

At the time, I wouldn’t have minded at all. I’d never had sex before and she was pretty, and she was willing to have sex with me! How exciting!

“They’ll catch us, and they’ll keep us here longer.” I was there involuntarily, and wanted to leave as soon as possible. I was missing valuable schoolwork, for they didn’t have German in Cumberland’s school, or the correct Geometry book, or an English book that suited my needs. My obsession with grades didn’t exactly help getting out….

“I did it with my other roommate the last time I was here, and the time before that. We didn’t get caught. We just got back in the bed when they came  and checked our rooms,” was her quick answer. She had gotten up on her elbows as if thinking, Holy shit! That’s the only thing holding her back? Alright!

“I’m a Christian.” And, at the time, I was. But it was such a flimsy excuse, since the first excuse I brought up was, indeed, us getting caught. The first reaction is usually the truest, and I was most scared of getting caught and being forced to stay there longer than I needed to be.

“God won’t mind. God’ll forgive you.”

I remember thinking at the time, why would I worry about forgiveness if God doesn’t mind? Of course,  I didn’t really care about God. I didn’t walk anyone walking in on us.

“You’re too young.” We both were. Well, not like we had to worry about babies or anything, but it’s the principle of the matter (whatever that means). “And you’re in here for sex. This isn’t going to help you, at all.”

At the time, that was what sealed it. I was in the hospital because of stress, depression, and loneliness, and she was a nymphomaniac. Sure, at the time, I was probably watching and reading more porn than the average sixteen-year-old, and every day upon coming home from school I was looking up yaoi stories to read, but that wasn’t getting in the way of life like my stress, depression, and loneliness, and how sex, for her, was ruining her life. This was the third time she’s been in the hospital. She needed help, and I wasn’t going to set her back.

As I thought this, she started crying, and hissing, “Knew you were goody-goody, a goody-two shoes. You love God, huh? That’s why you’re ugly. You’re ugly and you’re never gonna have a boyfriend. Goody-two-shoes.”

Man, she really wants to have sex. She really needs some help. 

Eventually she got up and went to the window and crushed the flowers my family had brought,walked around and  knocked my stuff down off my desk, pulled my towels from their racks. She tried to take the blanket off of me, and I said, “I will tell Mr. Big-Eyes. I’ll call them all down here. Go to bed, Crystal-Eyes.”

She stomped to bed and masturbated all night.

Of course, she was just the perfect angel to everyone during the day- she even told people that she was a Christian and a “bit of a goody-two-shoes *giggle giggle*” She was so good, I thought maybe she was just having a bad first day back at the hospital or something like that.

But for the next two nights, she did that immature stuff because I wouldn’t answer her cries for sex, and masturbated constantly. Eventually, I told the orderlies that I needed a room change. They kicked me out to a room to one by myself. I got a special talk with a couple of nurses.

They didn’t believe me. They knew Crystal-Eyes was here for sexual abuse. I didn’t think she wasn’t abused… But she had sex problems. I told them that. Unfortunately, I had my own cries for help. Earlier that week, I had snapped and pushed somebody, and I had thrown my tray at the wall, wrote pretty shifty things on the Feeling Card, threw a gasket after knowing they wouldn’t release me after my eighth day there, screaming for my homework and books, and I was generally known for my moods to go up and down at random.

So, yea, things didn’t do well for me. All the friends I had made stopped being my friends as Crystal-Eyes manipulated them. Even after Crystal-Eyes left, or maybe especially because, they disliked me. I say especially because, because she left before me. And it’s kind of an unwritten rule that the more horrible your problems are, or the more messed up you are, the longer you stay.

Later, after I came back to high school, I saw someone who looked like her and pushed this girl into a locker. I got detention, long after realizing that random girl’s eyes were green.

Sister’s response:

It was our freshmen year in college when we first met. At that moment, we were best friends. We shared common interest and mind. But everything changed when she vanished. I was alone. Yeah I had a few friends here and there, but they were nothing compared to her. Some say she left because of family issues. Some say she went psycho, pregnant, stress, blah blah blah. I believe she would’ve told me what was going on.

Since she didn’t, I can honestly say I have no clue. Where is she? Why did she leave me? Why didn’t she tell m? Those questions rushed through my head. Sophomore year. Still by myself. I think I would’ve gotten a new roommate by now if she was actually gone. What in the world is going on? People stopped talking about her. Some even completely forgot about her. Senior year was upon me and so was the person tapping at my chamber door. She’s back.

~~~~(She was thinking of Avatar The Last Airbender and  Edgar Allen Poe for some reason. Short and sweet, probably how ya’ll like it, yea?)