Tag: semen

nymphoninjas:

nymphoninjas:

Approximately 65% of my sexual pleasure arises from orgasming. The remaining 35% is determined by what occurs afterward.

Closeness and cuddling are wonderful but I need more before that, something which demands more than I think I can withstand.

I am not necessarily talking so-called post-orgasm torture—though if that’s on the table, I won’t object. No, I crave something and more gently insistent; stimulation which recognizes and respects my heightened state of post-ejaculatory sensitivity while dismissing the notion that there can be such a thing as ‘too sensitive’.

Alas, this is not something I achieve alone—past a point, my nervous system short circuits and my body locks up.

Being alone for the last four years has caused me to seek out the vaguest hints of the same pleasure overflowing into pain, requiring complete surrender to overwhelming physical sensation.

This is a Polaroid of me—holding my ex’s panties stilling bear the marks of her former longing with which I sometimes in an Icarus like attempt to remembered some shadow of the glory arising from responding involuntarily to touch as if shivering in a desperately cold draft.

I feel like this submission would work really great in an art gallery, the photo is beautiful and touching. And the write up sounds more like an essay than a poem or message. Thanks for your submission dude I really fucking like this one and am proud to have it a part of SS. 

dirtyberd:

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Four years or so ago I watched The Work of Mark Romanek while tripping balls.

Beyond the a vague recollection of the occurrence, I don’t remember much of it except that the dish soap genie thing near the end of Fiona Apple’s Criminal video struck me as undeniably ejaculatory.

Since then I’ve flirted with making a picture not unlike this one on a number of occasions. But this steals practically my entire playbook with the black and white, flashbulb aesthetic.

Of course, I’d want a wider frame. Granted, this would diminish the apparent force of the seminal spay. A loss more than made up for by the flash freezing the trajectory in a floating, ethereal stasis.

Source: hotpornpics

girlonboy:

GIRL ON BOY: Pegging – Anilingus – Fingering » Follow

This GIF reminds me of Johanna, the daughter of one of my mother’s church friends who, in hindsight, was almost certainly sexually abused throughout her childhood.

At six, Johanna was a pretty and knew it. Around adults she adopted an affected shyness. One-on-one she was not unfriendly as long as you did exactly what she said. If you didn’t, she could be viciously mean..

I was a year older and not especially friendly with her. But kids make all kinds of alliances against boredom and it didn’t hurt that Johanna wanted to undertake something illicit. 

She explained to me that although her mother had forbidden it, she wanted to rebuild her Fort.

The Fort, it turned out, was a sort of tent. It had a house shaped frame formed from interconnecting black plastic rods. Said rods needed to be smuggled from her upstairs bedroom through the living room crowded with adults and downstairs into the sun drenched rec room.

It took an hour or so to erect the frame and fit the nylon skin tattooed to resemble an idyllic suburban house over it. 

Johanna told me that we were going to play house. She was the dad and had to go to work; I was the mom and she expected me to clean the house and have dinner ready when she got home. 

She marched off upstairs; I opened the zippered front door and went into the house– inside it was too small for me to stand up all the way. 

Johanna came in behind me and asked why dinner wasn’t ready. I said I hadn’t expected her so early.

She demanded that I come outside with her. Standing beside the Fort she told me she was going to punish me and pulled down my underwear. I tried to pull them up with both hands but she seemed to have expected this and fondled me. Her touch was clumsy; it made my insides feel strange.

She shimmied the waist of her own underwear down and told me to touch her between her legs

She guided my hand and fingers, pressing her body roughly into mine as she explored me with increasing insistence.

I started to feel like I was melting before I remembered how to move, pushed her away and ran upstairs.

…

Five years later, I was waiting for my mom to finish with a church elder’s meeting when Johanna shoved me into the men’s room. Inside, she quickly checked the shower area and stalls before menacing me with the chrome blade of a Swiss army knife. She pushed me back against the wall and pushed metal edge against my throat. 

I will kill you unless you stick your tongue in my ass.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared or worried for my safety. What upset me was having no notion whatsoever of what she really wanted.

Before anything more could happen, my brother walked in on us. Johanna brandishing the knife and charged at him. He sidestepped and she spun, pointing the tip of the blade at each of us, threatening grievous bodily harm if we told anyone then disappearing into the hallway.

…

What happened between us failed to traumatize me. And I bear her no ill will. All she did was tell me to do something when asking would have worked– Johanna was not unattractive and in spite of my deep reservations with regard to anilingus, it’s likely I would have complied.)

I haven’t thought of her in more than a decade. And seeing this GIF my first thought was not to immediate flashback to the aforementioned incidents. I started off thinking about how there are two types of BDSM imagery: those pathologically preoccupied with power dynamics and those focused on the role trust plays in transgressing bodily boundaries. I categorically dislike the former; the latter tend to really get under my skin because I cannot help attributing metaphorical significance to them.

I know I am not normal but when I trust someone it’s not that I expect them to want to tie me up and do whatever they want with my body as much as I just would have no qualms whatsoever if they did. I sincerely feel my trust entitles them to places just as much of a claim on my body as I do. It is as if through friendship I am already completely naked, restrained and at the mercy of another–much like this boy.

It occurs to me that Johanna probably shared this feeling of base nakedness, The difference lay in her willingness to strip others to level the field.

I do not accept such wonton disregard for consent. At the same time, I don’t comprehend why it would ever not be okay to ask for something as long as it is okay to decline.

You’d think most people’s curiosity about the bodied-ness of others would thrill at such openness. Most leave you restrained and walk away. A few will willingly touch you, even fewer will admit they want you to touch them the way you want to be touched and maybe once in a lifetime someone will summon from you a certain degree of the grace which transcends mercy.

Source: fistmehard

On the list of things I’m not into hentai ranks just below the term alpha male used in any non-zoological context and slightly above asparagus—seriously those mini-pine tree-looking shits embody the worst aspects of celery and olives.

Although it’s part of a tendency toward exploiting gender bending for extreme and kink potential, this image gets me very hot and bothered.

The style of hair, clothing, shoes, breast and body language all suggest a teenaged female bodied individual. Yet, this teenage girl is stroking an erect penis protruding from between her legs. She has already come everywhere but still propulsive semen spews out of her.

As I do not even pretend to read Japanese, the context of the scene is lost on me. However, I think its functions better that way—at least for me. I imagine this girl is hearing her older brother fucking his girlfriend and the thought of what the bodies meeting is too much for her to take so she squats, hikes up her nightgown and begins to masturbate.

And while certainly such transgressive impetus appeals to me, also there is the pleasure she clearly derives from her behavior—which seems much more than simple auditory voyeurism.

I can’t help thinking she is not fantasizing about the act of sexual intercourse or having sex with the participants she is overhearing en flagrante delicto. No, it seems as if she is imagining someone claiming her body with such reckless abandon.

I have never understood the ubiquity of facial cum shots.

Yes, I know:

“[E]jaculating into blank space is not much fun, [whereas] ejaculating over a person who responds with enjoyment sustains a lighthearted mood as a well as a degree of realism.”[i]

There is little better illustration of the first point than Andres Serrano exceedingly dull Ejaculate in Trajectory series

However, the veracity of the first point does not extend to the second automatically.

I suspect Faust wishes “degree of realism” to reference concern over what happens to ejaculate when intercourse involves at least one male bodied individual. But, realistically, this is a foregone conclusion in most scenarios involving participants practicing responsible sex. It only becomes when the participants becomes irresponsible—and the majority of porn falls in this latter category.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a prude by quite a stretch. I want my porn to be gloriously irresponsible. The issue I have is when porn is blatantly irresponsible and then points to the tradition of facial cum shots as evidence of its responsibility.

I don’t mind seeing come. In fact, I rather like it. But it has always been a turn off for me to watch a man squeezing seed from his shaft onto a smiling female face like someone trying to get the last of the toothpaste from an already empty tube onto a toothbrush. But that isn’t even what really bothers me, it’s the fact that the man gets off and the woman settles with having her pleasure merely encoded into her semen besotted Mona Lisa smile.

As Wikipedia’s blurb on Cindy Patton’s criticism of the cum shot summarizes nicely:

“[I]n western culture male sexual fulfillment is synonymous with orgasm and that male orgasm is an essential punctuation of the sexual narrative. No orgasm, no sexual pleasure. No cum shot, no narrative closure. In other words, the cum shot is the period at the end of the sentence.”[ii]

Pornographers most certainly do view the male orgasm as “the period at the end of the sentence.” But just because I think that is bullshit—the male orgasm should be a comma in a fucking German paragraph running for fifteen pages.

Still, my own bias aside, there are absolutely more aesthetically interesting means of displaying the requisite thick, milk white discharge while also facilitating mutual pleasure.

Take the above picture as an example:

First, note that in keeping with the usual the pornographic modus operandi the camera is a foot too close to the action. Although, to the image makers credit it does not rely on the usual visually bankrupt knee-jerk overuse of extreme close-up to titillate. As such, excepting her amputated shin/ankles, the woman’s entire body is within the frame.

Taken perhaps a full minute after orgasm, we see the aftermath of the stud pulling out after filling the woman with his seed; it slowly seeps from her, pooling on his abdomen.

Look at the expression on their faces—if it is not exactly pleasure it is still both intense and compellingly arousing.

Though for me this is moment the scene begins, not where it ends.

captio:

(via snusk)

Largely, pornography is produced as a single-serving ‘experience’. One watches it, masturbates to it, gets off and then shuts it off.

On occasion there’s an image or video returned to over and over—something about the chemistry between the performers, the scenario, etc.—because nothing else reaches the itch it scratches quite like it.

For me, this is such an image. Although it is not without problems—namely, the woman is displayed like a trophy while the men remain hidden. Still, it manages—probably accidentally—to upend these troubling facets in interesting ways.

This is ostensibly a group sex scene: a woman and three men—the woman holds the photographer’s member. (The head of which is just visible in the frame.) Another man covers the woman’s genitals with his left hand, fingers glistening with her wetness. You can see another male foot in the upper right corner of the frame. Splotches of semen appear on the the sheets.

The woman—face flushed, eyes closed, the edge of her lip pinched between her white teeth—is enjoying herself.

What makes this image stand out is its subversion—at least in my reading— of porn’s tendency to encourage voyeurs to imagine themselves as part of the scene. While seeing this makes me wish I had been a party to this event, I never for a second get the impression that I would be welcome were I suddenly to appear en media res.

That is not really a problem, though. It is enough to know there are really people out there having and further enjoying the type of sex I dream often of having.