“Argh you’ve ruined porn for me.”

This is often how conversations begin in my house. After talking to the boy about traditional pornographic tropes, and the way some pornographers are challenging them by making ‘female gaze’ porn, he says he cannot see a traditional extreme porn close-up shot without thinking “oh, that’s very male gaze.”

Hence, I have ruined porn.

Thing is, I find it hard not to notice this stuff too. Having learned a bit about female gaze porn (and as most of what I’m learning about porn I’m learning from Pandora Blake, it’d be remiss of me not to link you to her excellent discussion of female gaze in art and pornography), I’m trying to work out exactly what it is that I like about certain scenes and films that utterly turns me off about others. It’s hard to explain exactly what ‘female gaze’ is in just a few words – the idea is that much of our art and entertainment uses a ‘male gaze’ perspective – in which women not so much ‘portrayed’ as ‘ogled’. ‘Female gaze’ on the other hand, tends to take a different approach – trying to use images and story that would work to tell a story either from a female perspective or to a female audience. In ‘female gaze’ porn, it often translates into wider shots, more dialogue, more rounded characters or a greater focus on female pleasure.

What interests me, though, is that while video porn is something that – although traditionally assumed to be a male product – is now being targeted at both genders, when it comes to written erotica, the vast majority of it is marketed solely at women.

Which is ridiculous, when you think about it. Porn is a genre of entertainment like anything else – open to different interpretations and nuance and style, each of which will appeal differently to different people. Like the difference between a traditional retelling of Shakespeare and a Baz Luhrmann film with guns and stabbings and car chases, what makes porn sexy for one person but shit for another often just comes down to how you tell the story.

Here are two stories. Which do you prefer?

Version 1: A story about fucking

Girl meets boy. She’s wet. Soaking wet so you can see the slickness dripping from her open cunt. She’s smiling, enjoying it. Cupping her own tits in her hands as she lies back on the bed. Open. Waiting. Eager.

He’s hard – his broad hands stroke his fat cock as he stands over her – taking in every inch of her silky, taut, nakedness. Her nipples are hard, and he teases them with his prick. Rubbing the end over them as she moans faintly. The wetness from the tip of his cock leaves a trail on her chest, and she runs a finger over it then licks it off. She smiles.

He moves down her body, touching each bit of her – squeezing her tits, pushing the palm of his hand onto her stomach, running his fingers down through her wet slit. She moans. Kneeling between her legs, he spreads her thighs wide, holding the tip of himself against the entrance of the hole he’s about to fuck.

“Please fuck me.” No pause, straight in. The request made and granted almost simultaneously. He plunges himself into her and she squeals, reaching down to grip his arse with her hands. He fucks her – swift strokes that make her tits jiggle and her breath quick. She gasps, moans, and looks down to see his thick cock pushing into her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

She flips over, presenting her arse for him to fill. As he slides his cock in his big hands grip her, slapping her and leaving red imprints. She moans again, arches her back, pushes herself onto him as he gets closer to coming.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

And it’s there – he pulls out, his dick twitching and glistening with the juices from her cunt. He grips the base and – with measured strokes – rubs out arcing ropes of spunk. They splash over her – drops and pools of come all over her arse. A river drips down the crack of her arse, mixing with the wetness in her cunt. His dick twitches a few more times: a few more drops.

And they’re done.

Version 2: A story about fucking

Girl meets boy. She’s halfway between nervous and excited: watching him undress has her nipples feeling tight and cold, and her cunt aching to be touched. She pulls off her knickers and lies on the bed, all the better to take in the view as he pulls off his clothes. His dick’s hard already – thick and pronounced through his tight black shorts. He hooks both thumbs under the waistband and pulls them down – grinning as he watches her eyes grow wide.

She’s touching herself – she can’t help it. The sordid hotel room and the look of this guy and the excitement of knowing she’s doing something new. She’s squeezing herself – teasing her own nipples as she hopes he will soon – hinting that she needs him near her.

She wins. With his dick in his hand he approaches her on the bed, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm – she likes that. He’s stroking himself and wants to touch her – as he rubs the tip of his cock on her nipples she can’t help but let out a moan. No words as such, but they both know this is a ‘yes please’ moan – an ‘oh God do more’ moan. So he does it again, and she moans again, using a finger to trace the wet trail he’s left on her nipple, and licking it off. Revelling in the fact that she’s done this to him.

He moves down her body, touching every inch of her – making the most of what they both know will only happen once. He cups her tits in his hands and squeezes, the firmness and her moaning making his cock twitch and his stomach kick with excitement. His palms flat on her belly, his fingers trailing down to her cunt – he doesn’t know which of them is more excited. Which more aroused. It probably doesn’t matter: all either of them wants is the culmination of this night: the tipsy flirting, the hands-under-skirts under the table, the whispered ‘fuck me upstairs’ that she gave him in the lift. The ache he’d been carrying, semi-hard, in his trousers from that moment.

He’s kneeling between her open legs, savouring the look of need in her face, the way she arches her back ever so slightly to make it easier for him to enter her.

“Please, fuck me.” She begs, half-smiling half-frowning as she thrusts herself towards his dick. He does – long, hard strokes, filling her up and making her cry out with satisfaction. She shudders with the delicious feeling of fulfillment, and glances down to watch as he works his cock in and out of her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

He’s close, he can feel it – deep in the pit of his stomach he can feel climax rushing through him. He should pause, he knows, and wait until she’s had more pleasure from him. But the sight of her face twisted into lustful satisfaction, and the sight of her tits jiggling up and down with each stroke it’s… close. It’s tricky. He wants so much to come but he wants to watch her for a bit longer, hear her cries of joy a few more times. Know that he’s doing this: he’s making her cunt twitch and her eyes light up and her nipples tingling and hard.

She flips over, and he takes a second to calm himself. He squeezes the base of his cock. Blinks once, twice, breathes deeply. She’s doing the same – breathing deeply. Reveling in the power she has to take his orgasm from him. She arches her back, pushing her arse out towards the tip of his cock. Groaning loudly as he enters her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

He bites his lip as he comes – a last-ditch attempt to hold himself back and give himself more time. She grips the pillow with her hands, squeezing it as she’s squeezing him, wanting to milk every drop of enjoyment from this evening. He pulls out, gasping as he reaches the peak of his climax, shooting ropes of spunk over her – twitching from his dick and signalling the end he didn’t want to reach just yet.

She feels the jets of spunk hitting her arse – forceful, strong, and copious – and she aches with delight. She locks the feeling away in her head, as she’s locked the sounds of his grunting gasps and the sensation of his cock tracing the outline of her nipples.

While he’s wishing he’d had more time, she’s pulling up her knickers and wishing herself home. So she can relive her triumph alone.

It’s been years since I got that teen-crush feeling. When I was younger my walls were plastered with celebrity crushes – mostly thanks to pages cut from Just 17 magazine (which, incidentally, was perfect for a thirteen year old but by the time I hit 17 seemed childish and disappointing). There were guys I fancied, guys I vaguely thought might be decent boyfriend material, and guys I’d stare at for hours imagining exactly how they’d come in for a kiss. Taj out of 3T had the best pre-kiss build up, if I remember my youthful fantasies correctly.

(more…)

In a fit of rashness, I recently wrote about how anal sex isn’t just hot because of the purely physical sensations. Most sex is – to my mind – enjoyably filthy because of how you do it. Exactly what you do matters less than the dominant, eager way in which you do it. You can wank me off in a way that both of us find tedious and uninspiring, or with the addition of a few dirty words whispered in my ear and one arm gripping me tightly around the chest, you can rub me off in a way that feels close and filthy.

But, in explaining how sex isn’t just about physical reductionism, I missed a key opportunity to talk about how some very specific physical things make me tense with swooning lust. Today I’m going to talk about feeling full.

Three dudes at once, obviously

The dream, of course, is to have three men at once. Something which, despite my very best efforts, hasn’t happened yet. To have one guy filling my cunt while another pushes deep into my arse, and a final man pushing his dick so deep in my throat that I can barely choke new oxygen down to my lungs.

While I’m enjoying being gagged by one guy, the other two can feel not only the aching throb of my cunt and arse, but the taut force of each other’s dicks, sliding together through my own skin. They fill me so I cry out, and push back onto them – wanting to experience the full length of each of them, as deep as they can possibly go. They fill me so I can’t remember what it felt like to be empty. Until I can’t believe anything else will fit. And then, as one, they come inside me. Vigorously pumping spunk into anywhere it will go, proving that I was ever so slightly easier to fill than I thought.

Sadly, this dream of feeling full of cock will have to be put to one side for now: the logistics of finding three willing men, all of whom I fancy and all of whom fancy both me and each other is a challenge that I am yet to conquer. Besides, double penetration looks easy in porn when all the actors are lithe and athletic and don’t seem to mind one dick slipping out every now and then. In my fantasy this can work exactly how I want it to, with none of those pesky physical limitations to get in the way.

“I can come like this”

In the meantime there’s always option two: the late-night lazy fuck that sees me lying on my stomach, being fucked hard from behind. I can grip the iron bars at the headboard and push back to feel his thick cock stretching me open. I can hear the squirt of lube as he covers his fingers, and feel achingly full as he pushes them into me.

A long time ago a guy did this, during the very last fuck we ever had. He pushed two fingers deep into my ass and groaned as he felt the solid length of his cock through my own skin. His fingertips rubbed the inside of me, simultaneously pressing onto the ridges around the head of his dick. Back and forth, faster and wetter and slicker, as I moaned at the feeling of being full. As he moved faster and faster, rubbing at both me and himself, he grunted, and exclaimed with delight: “I can come like this. Just like this.” A few more back-and-forth movements, the twitch of him deep in my cunt, and I felt all the excitement pour out of him and into me.

I still regret that it was the only time he got to do it. I’d have loved to have more fucking stories that involve him revelling in this new trick, testing new and different ways to jerk himself off through my ass, as I writhed in fullness and squealed delight into the pillow. If you’d like to try doing this but you don’t know anyone to try it with, I’m told there are double-holed masturbators that you can penetrate with both your dick and either your fingers/another object of your choice that will allow you similar sensations.

Filling fucks between just two people

The fingers are hot because he can control the sensation – other things are hot because I can control them myself. The feeling of being full doesn’t always require a stable of willing men or a guy who knows how to use his fingers in just the right way. This is one of the places where a well-made and perfectly shaped sex toy has not just a place in my bedroom but pride of place nestled deep inside me.

Sitting dead still on someone’s cock is fun – the moaning, twitching, desperate need for movement and sensation gives me a feeling of total power and control. I could grind slowly, I could clench all the muscles inside my cunt and watch his eyes grow wide as he feels the whole of me squeezing – hugging – his dick. Even more fun, then, to hold him tight in that position, gripping him with force and power, then slowly push something deep into my ass. Something long and slim, that I can control easily. Something that buzzes and vibrates against the length of him. He can feel what I’m doing as I push it deeper, as I angle it so it shivers down the full length of his cock. And as I do it, I squeeze harder – the better to revel in that full-up sensation.

But having the power is a rare delight – something that’s only fun for me because it happens so infrequently. Far more enjoyable, I think, to have him on top of me – bearing down. The fullness is better when someone else is controlling it, and I’m begging for more of it. His dick in my cunt anchors me in place – I squirm and wriggle on it as he pushes something slim inside my ass. Then something bigger. Then, with a growling whisper, he asks me if I can take more. If he can swap it out for the third most filling item in the trio. Despite knowing that it won’t fit, I’ll always say yes. Please. Do it. Try it. I’ll fail, yet again, but the temptation of finding something that stretches me out to the point I know I can’t feel fuller is just too much to resist.

When I fail at the largest one, we’ll step it down again, and I’ll enjoy knowing that I very nearly made it.

Can you come from ‘filling’ sex?

Does it make me come, though? This specific, hot, physical sensation? Of course. Although there’s nothing biologically that says ‘this will thrill the nerve endings in just the right way’, the feeling of being stretched and full adds to all the other things that are going on – the sensation of his dick pushing against the inside of me, the sound of him breathing heavily, telling me I’m so good for taking it. The gentle slaps on my arse, sucking bites at my nipples, rough hands gripping my hips to pull me further back onto him. All of these build, one wave on top of another, eventually pushing me over the edge of arousal and into that rushing, twitching, gagging choke of orgasm.

My final, and favourite trick is the one that brings me there most quickly: crouched on my knees, with my face pushed hard into the bedsheets, his dick dripping with lube and deep inside me, and my hands working busily to push something hard into my cunt. A rabbit vibrator, usually. Despite it’s often twee connotations, it has exactly what I’m after: length and girth to fill me up, and the added bonus of a vigorous buzz directly against my aching clit. I’ll hold it there, right up to the hilt, a still and solid anchor to clench down on, while he fucks up hard against it until he comes. 

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