All Posts – Page 280
Wrap your hands around my throat
The following post contains some filthy sex chat about erotic asphyxiation – I’ve put it below/behind the cut so you don’t have to read if that kind of thing disturbs you. Likewise, if you don’t understand that it can be well dangerous, please don’t read on. I realise you can probably work this out for yourself, but occasionally I get linked from Reddit and people leave comments assuming I’m instructing everyone to treat sex like it’s a no-holds-barred Ultimate Fighting championship, and I get stressed. So this message is here as much for me as it is for you.
Read some awesome books by women
Yesterday on Twitter I spotted this piece of genius: Tegan (aka BellJarred) has a message on her Tinder profile that tells people to only message her if they’ve read five books written by women. Inundated, she is… but not with messages from guys who’ve read five books by women.
There are two things here that annoy me. Primarily the point that these people have obviously ignored the one criteria she stipulates. Regardless of whether you agree with the criteria, that’s pretty frustrating, no? And secondly the fact that good books by women are not exactly hard to find. Here’s the deal: you don’t have to read books to be a good person. I bloody love a good book, but I’m not going to shit on you if you’re not a reader. What I will be really fucked off about, though, is if you are a voracious reader and yet you can’t name five books you love that are written by women.
In a rage after reading some of the messages sent to Tegan, I did a quick whip-round my bookshelves and picked the first few books I could see that were written by women.
Check out the lists below, recommend more awesome books in the comments (and you get to enter a competition in the process which is FUN), or go and read BookCunt’s blog, because she’s spectacularly funny and sweary and reads way more books than I do.
Disgusting fantasy, or hot distraction? Belts and blow jobs…
Sometimes, like many humans, I have fantasies that are grotesque and dark and weird. And sometimes I have days where I can think of nothing else to write, so with a sense of weary resignation and vague self-disgust, I tell you one of the odder ones. This disgusting fantasy is a not-quite-non-consent story that, I think, is an escalation of the fantasy dinner party. So if you like this kind of thing but the below gives you shudders, you might prefer that story instead.
For the record, it would horrify me if it happened in real life: that’s kind of the point of it. But as a film I play in my mind when I’m masturbating, something about the atmosphere and the attitude makes my cunt twitch.
How to say no (to things that aren’t sexy)
“Do you want another biscuit?”
“Ah, no I’m OK thanks. I’ve had five and I had a big lunch – I’m really full.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure thanks.”
“Go on – they’re delicious!”
“I know. I just…”
“G’wan.”
“OK, thanks.”
And then I sit and eat the biscuit and think ‘for fuck’s sake, I am a grown up. I should be able to decide whether I want a fucking biscuit.’ But then someone will pass the plate around again, and I’ll take another, because I don’t want to be rude. And by the end of the day I will be so sick of biscuits and so sad that these things I love very much (biscuits) have been ruined by the fact that I’ve had them politely shoveled into my face alongside the cup of tea that I don’t really like either.
This isn’t a metaphor for sex.
In their own words: let’s get angry
I don’t have a guest blog for you this week, but what I do have is a couple of things that I’d love you to take a look at. If there’s a broad theme here it’s anger. Anger at shit decisions or anger at something that could be better but isn’t.
Please check them out.