Tag: sexy

Source unknown – Title unknown (20XX)

I have so many complicated feels about this…

On the one hand the way she’s curled in the frame with the dude pressing into her from the left while pinning her wrist against the couch as the other guy leans in so that she take his cock in her mouth is super problematic–tied up in patriarchal notions of female receptivity and convenience with regard to male sexual gratification.

And yet, that’s countered–to a small degree–by the way that she is stretching to meet the dick she’s sucking and the way her foot is pressed into the other guys face is probably some foot fetishist shit but it does suggest a degree of control and willful participation.

(I also completely fail to understand non-queer instantiations of group sex–but then I tend not to really understand normal human boundaries beyond the most basic notion that your right to swing your fists ends where my face begins. Also, I find it hilarious that with that heteronormative wisdom that a woman is supposed to save herself for a man while men can fuck whomever, whenever–that strictly hetero threesomes increase the woman’s number by two and the male participants by only one. Lastly, if you’re in a threesome, why not maximize your pleasure. I mean I’ve never been in a full blown threesome but the times I have that have gotten close, I’ve instinctive engaged physically with both participants. I just don’t understand how it’s any fun any other way. And if you’re a dude who likes gay-for-pay lesbian action and still fully believe that the actresses are straight but you’re not okay sucking a little bit of dick to liven things up then you are super gross.)

Really, what appeals to me is the sort of twisted empathy I feel towards her. I’ve mentioned before how we speak of desire most often in terms of hunger. I don’t experience it that way. My experience of desire is closer to thirst.

I don’t think you can read this in a way that illuminates anything about thirst but as far as hunger, I feel like these dudes are hungry for her body and their very real and physically demonstrable hunger functions simultaneously as a sort of you are hungry and I care about you so I want to feed you, I am not hungry but I am thirsty and the way you need me takes a bit of the edge of the thirst I feel.

I have to have that feeling of being needed and if I were ever in a situation to have people need me in a fashion of a kind with the above image, I would not squander it.

Source: xxx-filesss

This is a self-portrait made by Zoe, a precocious, articulate and self-possessed sixteen year-old who blogs as Posh-Lost.

I admire her spunk.

Admiration aside, I have misgivings about posting this—not the least of which is the image maker being too young to ‘legally’ browse this site. Also, does displaying her work alongside more explicit content unnecessarily sexualize it?

Laurie Penny uses an ingenious coinage to refer to the well-intentioned worry we shower on the behavior of teenage girls: concern-fapping.

It is patently fucking absurd to think young women are not foundationally aware of the degree and extent to which their bodies are sexualized by society.

Further, anyone looking at this picture should know better. This is not some cell phone bathroom mirror selfie; light shines in through a window visible along the left edge of the frame, a la the Dutch Baroque. Further the staging speaks to an interest not in seeing while being seen but something closer to a preoccupation with the perception of self by another.

The flimsy, semi-sheer camisole is sexy; but whether sexy translates to something libidinous or reciprocally desiring remains pointedly unresolved.

Granted, it is not free of flaws. But it is thoughtful and I find it thoroughly and unironically interesting. But I can’t lie—there is something else to it that gets under my skin.

Long story short: I have never disclosed my gender on this blog. I’ve implied through omission, undertaken some linguistic gymnastics and mostly embraced opportunities to shore up ambiguity.

I have mild-to-medium gender dysphoria. As a child, I wanted to be a girl. When other kids played super heroes—I didn’t give a fuck about the perpetual fight over who got to be Superman because I was Wonder Woman. This was frowned upon. Frowns became stern words escalated to outright threats.

A dear friend suggested that if I was meant to be a woman, nothing would have stopped me. I think that is sage advice.

If you need a hammer but you only have a wrench, it doesn’t really work the best but you can more or less make due. From the standpoint of how my body relates to my sexual identity, this metaphor serves.

I pass as male and straight although I’d never embrace either. This creates a-whole-nother layer of complication. On the one hand, there are social expectations of me with which I find so uncomfortable they are debilitating; on the other, I have privilege in that I can somewhat function under the assumption that I am cisgendered. My ‘problems’ seem charmed compared to the struggles of the rest of the gender dysphoric community.

Additionally, I have a pathological aversion to anything related to medicine. Gender reassignment surgery is not a consideration. It’s that I feel more feminine that masculine. azura09 always says she thinks of me as a really dyke-y Daria Morgendorffer.

And yes if there was a Matrix like scenario where I could take the red pill and wake up female-bodied, I would do it without a second thought. Even if the ante was upped and I would die five years after taking the red pill, my choice would be the same.

I know this image is Zoe and she seems really amazing and the last thing I have any desire to do is co-opt her experience or her own depiction of her body but—fuck me—this is to a T the way I see myself in my head.

If there were surgical procedures that would make this awful body conform to this image, they couldn’t cut fast enough for me.

Maybe then someone might be able to love me.

Normal
0

false
false
false

EN-US
X-NONE
X-NONE

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Garamond”,”serif”;}

Source: enbasdechezmoi-blog

vanishing / Nicole / slowly, she did by Alessandra Celauro

Increased proximity to a subject expands the detail seen. But expanded detail comes at the expense of contextual clues with regard to the position of the subject and the relationship between the subject and its surroundings, etc.

Such is the primary reason I have such a profound distaste for close-ups.

This series is a notable exception; here, the lack of context adds a salacious charge.

The tight focus on the open mouth, pink lips, elastic bubblegum and tongue provides the viewer with an unusual vantage. Beyond the center images title, all cues with regard to gender, age and positioning in space/time are absent.

Although the images are stridently coy, there seems to be an anticipation of this criticism on the part of the image maker that is at least partially ameliorated by titling the images.

Still I can’t help thinking the cleverness of the work is just a smoke screen covering an inquiry much closer to spirit of Eadweard Muybridge work on Leland Stanford’s behalf.

Either way, it’s solid work from a talented young image maker.

Source: moll-jc