Taboo

Incest is verboten, no doubt about it, and for good reason. We don’t need brothers and sisters populating the Earth with little flipper babies. And let me make the statement right now that I’M NOT INTO IT. My siblings are about as sexually attractive to me as my dog, and if you read my post on furries, you know how I feel about that.

But just the same, one of the most frequently used search terms to find my blog is “lesbian twins.” It’s almost as if twins have carte blanche to walk all over our societal rules concerning incest. Twins often have weird relationships with each other anyway, and if they’re identical, then at least there’s no worries about procreation. We don’t mind beating off to incest so long as it’s not us committing the abomination.

What is it about twins in porn? Is it our innate desire for symmetry at work? Perhaps it’s just that it’s so unobtainable. Or are we just doubling our pleasure? Who knows why the hot twins meme came about, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere soon.

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Motherfucker

So the other night I was hanging out with some male friends of mine. One friend, we’ll call him Mordechai, handed around some unevenly poured drinks and another friend, we’ll call him Thaddeus, balked at how I had received more than him.

“I got the boob bonus,” I answered. This is an advantage well-known to all women that has cheated the judicial system out of the price of quite a few traffic tickets. It’s part of what makes being a woman amongst heterosexual men great.

“I hate to break it to you,” said Thaddeus, “but once you’ve gotten married and popped out a kid, you don’t get the boob bonus anymore.”

Mordechai pipes in, “I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but it’s true.”

Lightning! Thunder! Earthquakes! I was incensed. “My breasts are GLORIOUS and you should feel fortunate just to be in their presence!” I shouted. Or maybe not. Maybe I just fell into a black hole of depression for a few days. Who among us wants to be told that we’re no longer desirable?

Which is why I get down on my knees every day and thank American Pie writer Adam Herz for popularizing the concept of the MILF. Even though I spend half my days running ragged with peanut butter smeared in my hair and concerned with someone else’s toileting habits, at least I know that there are people out there that still consider me fuckable.

I mean, fuck Katharine Ross. I wanted to do Anne Bancroft.

A MILF is really any attractive woman over thirty. I’ve seen Freud invoked in discussions of this topic, but I’m not really interested in the Oedipal connotations of MILF appreciation by young men. If you think about it, it’s really a natural pairing: men reach their sexual peaks at eighteen and women at thirty-two. I’m guessing both men and women would acknowledge the benefit of having someone who could keep up with them in bed.

And when I scoff at the twenty-year-old barista at my coffee shop revealing that she plans to marry her fifty-year-old boyfriend, and secretly think chick has Daddy issues, it has to be because the MILF-boy relationship makes more sense, right? And it isn’t a symptom of my feminine bias. Right?

Of course, that being said, Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore still give me a bad case of the ews.

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Raw

A reader recently asked me to blog about condom use. I’m of two minds on the subject. Out here in the real world, where we’re faced with the constant bombardment of little plaguey diseases with googly eyes (I always picture STD viruses with googly eyes. I’m not sure why. Likely some informative video shown to me in phys ed in middle school fixed the image in my mind – THANKS COACH BETTY!…  but anyway) – out here in the real world, I’m all about safe sex.

And you should be, too. Look at me getting all stern at you, cracking the whip.
You see, your sex partner is a nasty, smutty bastard and they should thank you for just consenting to be naked in the same room with them, much less for allowing them to touch your fun bits.

Using protection should be a no-brainer, especially with all the technological innovation out there. The condom companies are working hard FOR YOU! There is absolutely no reason to expose yourself to all the foul sexually transmitted diseases out there, like HIV, hepatitis, and pregnancy.

Okay, enough of this proselytism. I was of two minds, remember? Out here in the real world, and inside my computer in fantasy pornland, where they give away free alcohol, chocolate doesn’t have any calories, and DISEASES DON’T EXIST. At least that’s how it is in my head.

Yeah, I dig the bareback sex in my porn. Condoms are great and should probably be viewed as an essential piece of twenty-first century foreplay, but who really wants to see that shit when you’re jerking off?

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Wild

In my novels I have invented a species of mutant humans called lamiae who are covered in fur and scales. Me being who I am and my books being what they are, of course I’ve included a few scenes where my main character has gotten a little freaky with these freaks. So far I’ve managed to gloss over the peculiarities of their appearance when describing the sex, but I’m coming up on a scene where it might not be possible or desirable to do so. And I’m at a loss. As much I love these characters, I’m honestly not turned on by my own creations. They are almost too bestial.

Which got me to thinking about furries. Now, I understand that the majority of furry fandom is not focused on having sex in animal costumes. They run the gamut from just enjoying anthropomorphic animal artwork to feeling a spiritual connection to a specific animal (which is called – try to keep a straight face, now – a fursona). But I’m not interested in them. Oh no. I want to know about those people who have a sexual fetish for it.

I’ve dug into the Internet, trying to understand what makes these people tick. At first it seemed to me to be just one step away from bestiality and Ckazaal, she don’t go there. I’m all about consent, and I’m sorry, but your dog is not consenting to sex when it licks peanut butter off your hoo-ha.

But the more I look at furries, the more I think it’s about the humanity of the beasts in question. To seek out that which we have in common with something that is alien to us seems almost noble. Just because a being has inhuman attributes, that does not make them an animal.

Right? That kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?

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Both Ways

So my husband says to me “The problem with your blog is that it’s a bisexual blog.”
“Maybe the problem is with YOUR FACE, did you ever think of that?” I cleverly respond.
He tries to make the point that a dedicated readership expects certain things.  A smaller percentage of the population will go looking for naked chicks AND dudes.
So I’ve decided it’s time to reveal to you my nefarious plan.  Yes, ladies and gents, I am a part of the BISEXUAL AGENDA.  And I’m here to tell ya, bisexuality is the best sexuality there is.  Totally ever.  We get the best of both worlds, right?
Except…
…we get a lot of shit, too.  Too gay for the breeders, too easily able to pass as straight for the queers.  And everyone thinks we’re automatically more likely to cheat when we get a craving for the  private bits that are waiting at home.  Or that we’re riddled with disease.  Because obviously when you’re willing to have sex with anyone, you’re willing to have sex with anyone.  And that’s when people are even willing to admit bisexuality exists.
I’ve never seen any reason to divide my chances for love and sex in half.  Honestly, it’s my not-so-secret philosophy that everyone is bisexual.  It’s just a matter of percentages.  We fall in love with the person, not the body, right?  All I really want to do is fuck the world.  What’s so wrong with that?

So my husband says to me, “The problem with your blog is that it’s a bisexual blog.”

“Maybe the problem is with YOUR FACE, did you ever think of that?” I cleverly respond. Ckazaal: National Debate Champion 2010.

He tries to make the point that a dedicated readership expects certain things. A smaller percentage of the population will go looking for naked chicks AND dudes.

But I’m going to keep giving them to you, anyway.

I’ve decided it’s time to reveal to you my nefarious plan.  Yes, ladies and gents, I am a part of the BISEXUAL AGENDA.  And I’m here to tell ya, bisexuality is the best sexuality there is.  Totally ever.  We get the best of both worlds, right?

Except…

…we get a lot of shit, too.  Too gay for the breeders, too easily able to pass as straight for the queers.  And everyone thinks we’re automatically more likely to cheat when we get a craving for the  private bits that aren’t waiting at home. Or that we’re riddled with disease.  Because obviously when you’re willing to have sex with anyone, you’re willing to have sex with anyone.  And that’s when people are even willing to admit bisexuality exists.

I’ve never seen any reason to divide my chances for love and sex in half. Honestly, it’s my not-so-secret philosophy that everyone is bisexual.  It’s just a matter of percentages.  We fall in love with the person, not the body, right? All I really want to do is fuck the world.  What’s so wrong with that?

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Dude, there are some crazy people living in Australia. I mean, there are crazy people everywhere, and many of them have their own reality TV shows, but Australia has recently gotten my attention with their own special brand of crazy.

Perhaps you’ve heard that their censorship board recently banned all pornography featuring small breasted women, as well as that which shows female ejaculation. Their reasoning? The appearance of tiny titties “promotes pedophilia” and the much debated phenomenon of female ejaculation, they have decided, is 1)just urination, and therefore already banned under the classification of “golden showers,” and 2) gushing is “abhorrent.”

I know, right?  I’m all WTF?!, too.

Man, censorship blows. It raises my libertarian hackles. The new internet filter will affect millions of websites which depict these things, as well as those that link to them. Sorry, Aussies! I guess this is goodbye!

“All books can be indecent books, though recent books are bolder.
For filth, I’m glad to say, is in the mind of the beholder.
When correctly viewed, everything is lewd.
I could tell you things about Peter Pan,
And the Wizard of OZ, there’s a dirty old man!”

-Tom Lehrer

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So I was feeling a little under the weather the other day. Took a couple aspirin and started looking up medical fetish porn. Intimate examinations, sexy medical practitioners, enemas, and yeah, it just keeps getting weirder.

Now, I’m all for the naughty nurses. What? You need to check my breasts? Oh, well, if it may save my life, then by all means.

I suppose the idea of turning over your physical care to another person is intriguing as well; it’s just another form of Dominance and submission. Role playing is in there somewhere, too. And it probably appeals to those who seek out ritual: the washing up, the donning of the latex gloves, the sterilization of the equipment. Whether it’s all pantomime or there’s actual cutting involved (unless you have medical training, please don’t do this) (no, for serious, don’t do it) (snicker-snack!), it’s all about the arousal process for the particularly punctilious among us.

I have an aversion to blood and needles and sick people, and so this sort of thing was never really my bag. I can’t quite get past the ew factor. I’m not really sure why someone would be turned on by surgery, catheterization, and dental braces, but I suppose that’s the definition of fetishism: arousal by objects, situations, or environments not conventionally viewed as being sexual in nature. I try not to judge. I’m sure there are a lot of things that excite me that would make some people turn their heads and cough.

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Probed

So I’ve been learning a lot about the publishing industry over the past six months or so. From what I gather, one of the major problems most authors have when trying to sell their books is determining what genre they’re writing. And trust me, there are a lot of them, some of which you’ve likely never heard of. Is it urban fantasy? Or paranormal romance? Romantic suspense? Mid-grade? The list goes on and gets rather specific. Even more difficult is when your novel crosses genres. I start out writing science fiction, but toss in a few sex scenes and suddenly the categorization blurs. I can now add a /erotica to that science fiction classification.

I thought I had better pick up a few novels that called themselves scifi/erotica, just to make sure. It absolutely was for necessary career research. Totally. Incidentally, if there are any accountants out there who can tell me if the cost of my porn novels could be a tax write-off, drop me a line.

So anyway, I thought I might pass along my findings to you, on the off chance you occasionally turn away from your electronic sexual stimulation to the old skool paper variety. I’ve chosen these three not for their particularly stellar literary quality but rather because they follow a common theme: SEX WITH ALIENS!

Go on. Admit you’re intrigued.

The first novel in this research exercise I found referenced in io9’s Ten of the Kinkiest SciFi Books You’ll Ever Read article. Before I picked up this book, I worried over whether there was too much sex in my little creation. When I read The Velderet by Cecilia Tan, I wondered if there was enough. Apparently, portions of her novel appeared as a serial in Taste of Latex magazine, which makes the sex-in-every-chapter thing a little more understandable. It chronicles a culture that has created and mandated an equality of status among all of its citizens in all aspects of their lives, and two of those citizens who harbor secret desires to be sexually dominated. When the sexually and socially hierarchical aliens come a-conquering, Merin and Kobi save the day by bending over and taking one for the team. The aliens are humanoid, of course, with one noticeable difference: the males can enlarge their cocks at will. Now, all three of these books are written by women, and presumably mostly for women, but whose fantasy is that, really? The idea that social equality can sometimes be taken a little too far is an interesting one, and Ms. Tan explores it with a nuanced zeal. Plus, the sex is hella hot.

Daughters of Terra by Theolyn Boese at least presents a somewhat plausible explanation for the similarities between her alien and human characters: the aliens were originally from Earth – sea beings taken by their gods to another world thousands of years ago, only to return now to find women who might make suitable mates, their own females having been rendered infertile by plague. Did you catch that sea beings thing? Yep, they’re mermaids. Or mermen. Whatever. Our main character, Theadora, finds herself taken captive and is told she’s been genetically modified to bear the children of the two men who have claimed her as their wife. Surprisingly, she doesn’t freak out about this as much as you might think. Because she’s into mermaids! Or mermen. Whatever. The story is actually very poignant in parts, and I raced through it, which says something since I am not a very fast reader. But you’ll have to read it yourself to find out how Ms. Boese handles the whole how-do-mermen-fuck conundrum that plagues the fantasies of so many.

Finally we come to my favorite of the three, both for its sheer ludicrousness and for its wild sex scenes that had me reaching for my special drawer again and again: Interstellar Service and Discipline: Victorious Star. Morgan Hawke’s tale of galactic military bondage and erotic discipline is sizzling like bacon on a skillet and the alien? The alien.. OMFG, the alien HAS. TWO. COCKS. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s anything else I can say about this book that won’t be trumped by that. It is an amazing piece of work.

So now you know what I’ve been curling up in bed with at night over the past few months. But just in case you come looking to me for your masturbation inspiration (because obviously there’s no other source on the interwebs) and can’t bear the two to three day Amazon shipping wait, here’s a little something to tide you over.

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Merry XXXmas

Christmas isn’t so much a porn holiday, what with that whole virgin birth thing. (Let me tell you, giving birth without at least first getting to have sex? SO NOT COOL.)

And I can’t even really do much with Santa. He’s such a cartoon that I find myself unable or perhaps unwilling to sexualize him. He’s the castrated elf, good for nothing more than a chaste kiss underneath the mistletoe. He comes into our houses and eats our cookies and I suppose I could turn that into a sweet euphemism but it just seems like too much work.

Christmas. Bah. It’s just the glitzy Las Vegas of holidays. Or maybe I’m just pissed my husband has been working 60-hour weeks dealing with all this retail hoopla and I haven’t had regular sex since before Thanksgiving. I suppose this is the time to turn to Porn. Ah, Porn. Whatever would I do without you?
You are my true love. Well, maybe not, but it sets me up for this little jingle I composed for you:

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me

12 Lonely Wanks

11 Inches Sucking

10 Steps to Porn Addiction

Nine Inch Nails Pole Dance

8 Dudes a-fucking

7 Guys All Bareback

a 6 Pack to Die For

5 Gold Cock Rings

4 Giant Dildos

3 French Kisses

2 Lesbian Twins

and a Goatse for the Very First Time.

Happy Holidays, perverts!

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Jump My Bones

Well, it’s that time of year again when everyone pulls out their sluttiest outfits and goes door to door offering tricks for treats. Halloween is so porn.

Don’t we all love to dress up and be someone else? Behind the mask, there are no consequences.

But Halloween is really about frightening ourselves. Terror gets your heart pounding, your pulse racing. You’re all panting breath and adrenalin coursing. It sets off in us that fight or flight instinct, and opens us up to our most animalistic behaviors. It forces us to face that most primal of multiple choice questions: Fuck it or kill it?

And horror is ultimately about facing our fear of death. It causes us to seek out comfort and the reaffirmation of life, generally in the form of sex. “Horror movies turn on chicks faster than porno.” And sex has always been a constant in the genre. There is the sensuality of the vampire who comes calling at night like a mist through our window, stealing into our beds while we sleep. The werewolf encourages us to give in to the beast within. Witches of were long thought to engage in sex with Satan and his minions, and often they represent a woman in complete control of her sexuality (ooo, scary!). Ghosts and demons possess us and make us do wicked things.

So give in to your masochistic desires – go find yourself a good scare on this Halloween. And then go hide under the covers with a good fuck.

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