So, I use a lot of Google Alerts to constantly refresh me with story ideas here at The Frisky. One of those Google Alerts is for the word “vagina.” I write about ladybusiness, so you would think the word “vagina” would come up a lot, right? Not true. It’s mostly news stories about the Eve Ensler play “The Vagina Monologues” or random people writing into Yahoo messages boards asking questions about why their/their partner’s vagina smells like it does.
But occasionally, occasionally, there will be some stories in my “vagina” Google Alert that make me at once giggle and despair for humanity. You see, people put a lot of things up there. Things that don’t belong in the vagina. After the jump, a couple of questionable decisions people across America made this week:
Keep reading »
Are you eating? Because I can’t ask you to read a blog post about an art student who stored 68 vials of his own sperm in a school fridge without making sure.
Marc Bradley Johnson, 23, who attends the School of Visual Arts in New York City, planned an exhibition called “Take This Sperm And Be Free Of Me,” displaying 68 vials of his own spunk in a fridge, which he “harvested” himself, that visitors could take home. The jizz was meant to represent “creation, parenting, desire, masculinity, fantasy and reality.” He even agreed to microwave the sperm vials to kill off pathogens (and, bonus, achieve that freshly-harvested feeling of warmth!). Keep reading »
Last week, a 15-year-old girl in the Maldives was sentenced to being flogged with 100 lashes for having consensual sex outside of marriage. Now the Islamic ministry and judiciary are being pressured to halt the public flogging or at least wait to carry it out until the youngster turns 18. If the criminalization of a woman’s sexuality is not bad enough (and yes, the AP confirms that it is usually the women who are flogged), it actually gets worse: the Muslim teen complained about sexual abuse by her stepfather and another man. In other words, she is allegedly the victim of sexual abuse by older men and now could be physically punished for having consensual sex. This is completely disgusting. [Seattle Times]
Here’s a sex advice question that comes to us via the UK’s Guardian:
I am a 23-year-old man and am obsessed with celebrity culture. Whenever I have sex with my girlfriend, I insist that she must wear a mask of one of the female celebrities who really turn me on, such as Billie Piper or Kimberley Walsh. My girlfriend isn’t too impressed with this, but goes along with it anyway. However, when she wants me to have sex with her when she is not wearing a mask, I don’t think I can, because I can only get turned on by the celebrities.
I think I can speak for all of us when I say WHAT?! Keep reading »
When friend had mentioned she’d been to sex parties, I knew I wanted to go, too. Could she bring me along next time, if it wouldn’t be too weird? As it turns out, she would soon be hosting one at her very own house. Sure enough, an invitation came in my email a few days later, sternly worded emphasis on consent.
In preparation, I treated the sex party as if was a date — a group date, of sorts, where I was sure to get laid. So I did what I’d do before a normal date: I shaved the winter fur off my legs, blowdried my mane, and did my eye makeup real fancy. I squeezed into a sequin Forever 21 dress that I first/last wore at a club on my 24th birthday party, then unrolled it off like sausage casing when I realized I couldn’t breathe. I tried on my sweetest LBD and chucked that aside, too, for not being “sexy” enough. I’m supposed to look fuckable at an orgy, right? I’m a slightly overweight feminist WASP with eczema on my ankles. The Victoria’s Secret definition of fuckable isn’t really my look. I settled on jeans, boots, and a gorgeous silk blouse over some pretty lingerie.
Worrying so much about how I looked was a colossal waste of time. Keep reading »
Here is a confession: I am a dude, and sometimes I don’t want to have sex. For good reasons, or no reasons at all. It just depends.
I know that’s not actually shocking, but bear with me here, because that is somehow still a radical thing to admit. It’s still the default assumption about men, still casually reinforced basically every day. And women explicitly get told that it’s true, by men, even when they’re asked directly. Here’s just one recent example, from Cosmopolitan‘s “Ask Him Anything” column, in response to a question about why a woman’s husband wants to do it the moment they check into a hotel room anywhere: “Guys pretty much want sex no matter where they go – work, the mall, funerals, etc,” the “Him” who writes the column says, before explaining that a hotel room is just a part of that endless chain. Keep reading »
I didn’t physically prepare for my first orgy. My husband and I talked about boundaries and asked the friends who invited us about party etiquette. But I didn’t put much thought into what I looked like because I wasn’t planning to do a whole lot. I wanted to meet people, maybe kiss and fondle a few, and generally take in the experience as an observer in order to judge whether a second orgy was in my future. So I planned for comfort rather than beauty. I wore attractive but conservative clothing. My bra was snazzy, but my underwear was generic. And I didn’t even consider trimming my pubic hair.
I’ve never shaved my pubic hair. When I was a teenager, I read “The Vagina Monologues,” which features the harrowing account of a woman whose ex-husband shaved her bush without her enthusiastic consent. I decided right then that I never wanted to shave down there. The occasional hygienic trim, sure, but I’d never shave or wax or remove it in full. Pubic hair serves a purpose, and I like having it. (Plus, don’t let my kinkiness fool you – I hate pain. I don’t even tweeze my eyebrows because it hurts. So the thought of a bikini wax makes my toes curl, and not in an orgasmic way.) Keep reading »
When he wasn’t otherwise occupied writing poems about the president, James Franco has been busily producing a documentary about Kink.com, the premiere web site for BDSM porn. “Kink,” which is debuting now at the Sundance Film Festival, explores the production company that runs Kink.com and their film shoots in San Francisco’s Armory. Franco and his collaborator, cinematographer Christina Voros, showcase the various folks who are drawn to this quirky profession, like Maitresse Madeline, and get the scoop straight from the horse’s ball-gagged-mouth about how some people misunderstand sadomasochistic sex play to be abuse. I’m pleased to hear that “Kink” explains “safe words,” too. Can’t wait to see this when it comes out in theaters! Damn, James Franco, you are really making me like you.
[Black Book Mag]
[The Daily Beast]