quizzical pussy

Once, long ago, I said a thing to my good friend Miriam Spiralti, and she never forgot it. In fact, in a way, I think she believes it encapsulates my personality. In her mind, this is probably my catch phrase. At least she brings it up a lot and cracks up every time. And what is it? I’ll tell you.

“Sometimes you just want a dick in your ass.”

The reason Miriam finds this statement so profoundly hilarious is the simple reality that no, she does not in fact ever just want a dick in her ass. But obviously I do.

Interestingly, I divulged this information before ever having successful, non-painful anal intercourse. But there was this craving that existed long before pleasure was thoroughly invoked. I’d grasped tantalizing teasers of how great it could be, but always cut with discomfort and pain because I was too passive and ignorant to insist on lube. But my body still knew what it wanted. Bodies are weird that way.

So I’m not really sure why it took me so long to try a butt plug.

I have a hard plastic slimline vibrator that I allocated for ass duty, and it enhances my fapping considerably. But putting things like fingers and hard plastic and rose quartz up your ass isn’t quite the same as using something firm-yet-squishy like a penis* or, say, the premium silicone Tantus Little Flirt.

The Little Flirt is wee, only an inch(ish) around at its thickest (not counting the base, which is rectangular and flared). It is definitely a beginner’s plug. There’s a Big Flirt, which I haven’t tried yet, for those who feel that they’ve graduated to something bigger. The Little Flirt is, well, little.

The silicone is softer than I expected, but in practice it feels right. It and the tapered tip allow for comfortable insertion with a little water-based lube (keep in mind that silicone lube and silicone toys can result in silicone mess), but the shape retains a good degree of integrity even if you’re gripping the hell out of it in the throes of an anal orgasm, although the toy can sometimes feel dangerously close to being pushed out if the orgasm is mighty.

Let’s talk shape for a moment, shall we? Its contours are modest but you can feel every flare and cinch of them because they are happening in your butt. It’s awkward that I can’t really compare it to other anal-specific toys, but here’s what I know: it feels good when I have it in while I’m masturbating. And I keep meaning to try it whilst fucking.

In the interest of journalistic rigor (or something) I decided to bring the Little Flirt grocery shopping with me. While it was inside me, if you didn’t happen to infer that all on your own. Some people like to have a butt plug in all day, and premium silicone is one of the safer materials to use for that purpose. So I decided to go for it, although prolonged butt obstruction isn’t really a turn-on for me.

I want to be very clear that I was wearing sweatpants, no makeup, and I still had bedhead at two in the afternoon when I embarked on this adventure. It just goes to show you that the person wearing the butt plug in your local grocery store will often not be the first person you’d guess. Anyway, here’s what happened:

2:00 PM (in bedroom, just after insertion): This is going to be awesome. I think I’m already getting a little wet.

2:05 PM (leaving house): It feels like it might possibly slip out at some point. Get ready to be embarrassed, me.

2:10 PM (in car): It can’t possibly fall out while I’m sitting down. I am an evil genius.

2:15 PM (in parking lot): I can sort of see how someone could wear a butt plug all day.

2:20 PM (walking around store): How in the goddamn do people wear butt plugs all day long? It’s getting wicked uncomfortable now that I’m walking around. I need to adjust the Little Flirt a bit as I pass the makeup aisle. I hope it just looks like I have a wedgie.

2:30 PM: This feeling. The one in my butt. I do not love it. Also, Christmas music alfuckingready? Is that seriously what we’re doing today?

2:40 PM: The bathroom is now on the opposite side of the store. I am trapped on the far end of the grocery store with a piece of food-grade silicone in my ass. I brought this on myself.

2:45 PM: I WANT TO GO HOME –Oooooh almond milk’s on sale– RIGHT NOW PLEASE.

I’m going to go ahead and call this experiment “not a success”. I can’t tell you whether my shopping adventure would’ve gone better with another plug. Maybe I’m just not cut out for taking anal play to the streets.

The biggest downside to the Little Flirt, though, is really that it’s more gateway drug than toy. There’s the kind of pleasure that’s whole and satisfying unto itself, and then there’s the kind that ignites a burning need for more, NOW. We’re dealing with the latter kind. The Little Flirt is a warmup, a tease, a… actually, it’s exactly what it says it is. It’s a flirt.

In short, it is a beginner’s anal toy. It might not take long for you to crave something bigger, but it’s excellent for getting over your novice timidity.

Thank you, Babeland!

(image source)

*Apologies to people with penises for insinuating that your organs are anything short of titanium-hard, but you know what I mean, right? Rest assured that I find penises  much firmer than this toy, for what it’s worth.

One year ago today, I posted the first entry on quizzicalpussy.com. According to math, that means this blog is one year old!

This thing I’m feeling? This is what passes for a sense of accomplishment in my world. Maybe I should just be impressed that time has lurched past me and my website with half the grace and all the dizzying speed of an an alarmed Saluki. But really I’m rather pleased with myself for not letting wikis, headaches, fruit flies, or space lizards distract me from writing about fucking and other miscellany. So yay me, I suppose!

But truly, yay you. Thanks for reading, thanks for posting comments,  submitting confessions, sending emails, and just generally making it so I’m not muttering to myself across the unforgiving steppes of cyberspace. Thanks for making this blog so much fun to write. Hopefully you’ll still be here, I’ll still be here, and we’ll get a chance to have this little talk again in one year’s time.

(image source)

ConTuesday! Time of secrets, great and awesome!

I found my G-spot and fapped furiously. My mother was in the other room watching television.

You see, science? The G-spot is true!

I *really* want to get a realistic dildo – specifically the VixSkin Johnny – but I’m worried about intimidating my boyfriend. We have a long-distance relationship, and our sex life consists of camsex on Skype. I typically use vibrators when we do, and it’s amazing – so much better than when I’m by myself, because he’s watching and getting off too. Thing is, he’s got a cliche fragile male ego about them. He frequently talks about how when we’re together, I won’t need them anymore – which is absolutely not true. I enjoy masturbating on my own and I intend to continue to use them regardless of my relationships. But for some reason, it’s so much better when I know he’s watching me do it. I’m afraid it’ll bother him a lot if he sees me fucking myself with a cock that isn’t his. I don’t want him to think I’m replacing him with a hunk of plastic.

Insecurity is really to blame for 90% of sexual issues. And obviously I made that statistic up completely, but it feels true. If a guy told me I could get rid of my sex toys because I had him I’d be all “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA your sense of humor is what I cherish most about you, dude.”

Now, this is probably like suggesting you buy a Kia when you’re looking at BMWs, but have you thought about cloning his willy? Maybe he’d be more comfortable if it was his cock you were pleasuring yourself with.

So I was dating a guy that for some reason I would eventually marry (and then divorce, because I later realized that I’m a lesbian after all, but that is a totally other story! With a happy ending even so don’t worry!), and it was still very early in our relationship, and for some reason during a very late night cuddle session he decided it sounded like a really good idea to wait until I was apparently sleeping and then hump me. This was extra bizarre because he was a preacher’s son and SUPER HUNG UP about sexuality entirely, and we’d never even gone past French kissing. I had such a hard time even parsing what the fuck was happening that I just shut down and barely even tried to stop him…I just pretended to be asleep and waited for it to end. Somehow it got vaguely apologized for and years later I still wonder off and on if it was rape but you know what, why wouldn’t it be? A guy did a sexual thing to me I didn’t want him to do and it made me feel awful and totally skeeved-out and so ashamed that I couldn’t even tell anyone for so long that I only finally told one person. Except the real reason I haven’t told anyone is I dealt with it and I’m fine now, still angry but using the anger pretty productively to set and enforce boundaries and be assertive, and I don’t want people to go “oh poor thing” and freak out and think of me like a victim. ‘Cause dammit, I’m not a victim. The only reason I would tell everyone is so they can know just what a dickbag this guy has been even though he’s always such a saint in the public eye, and the only reason I’m not telling is because I don’t want to give people the power to tell me I’ve been broken when I’m not at all. (That and I can’t think of any way to actually bring it up in conversation other than “SO YEAH, ONE TIME THIS GUY ASSAULTED ME, WHAT A DOUCHE, JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW, LOLOLOLOL” and somehow that just seems way too out of the blue to even bother with. Such social graces I have!)

I understand you’re not asking for my opinion or anything, but just to make this very clear to anyone who might be reading, that was absolutely, completely, 100% rape. I’m glad you have a happy ending and honestly can’t help hoping he does not.

Send your secrets here.

I want to talk to you for just a minute. This is serious time. I’m not even going to be dorky or silly on my blog today. At all. That’s because this shit is important. Are you ready? Are you sure? Show me your ready face. Good.

Stop hating your body.*

Today, now, right this second, and for realsies. Just stop hating it. Because most of the time your body is not the problem. The problem is you’re mental.

I’m running into way too many gorgeous people lately who seem to genuinely think they’re unattractive. To the point where it’s clear that their self-perception and actual looks aren’t on the most basic of speaking terms. If they, the resplendent, cannot muster up a modicum of customary smugness over how fucking pretty they are, how am I supposed to achieve basic self-acceptance? Please, you privileged, you ugly-impaired, you kings of New England, can you please stop making this about you and realize it’s about me?

I read an article several years back about some study that showed series of pictures to a bunch of men in Great Britain to determine the perfect B.M.I. for ultimate attractiveness in a woman. It’s 20.65.

Even today I still remember that number to the hundredth decimal place because upon reading it I immediately went to one of those online B.M.I. calculators, entered my height, and determined exactly what I should weigh to be scientifically hot.

And lo, I weighed more than that. And I was slightly more convinced than ever that I was irredeemably ugly. I definitely already felt that way before, but I was firmer than ever in my conviction.

But to be honest, if I were exactly– to the ounce– at that utterly arbitrary-but-for-a-random-internet-article goal, I’d probably have still hated my body. I would likely hate it now. I will probably always hate it to some extent. I also realize how completely fucked up that is. Which is why I’m telling you not to. I’m also telling me not to, incidentally.

Here’s the weird thing: the women (also the men) I’m attracted to have B.M.I.s all over the map. If I think you’re sexy as a person, then your curvy softness, or sculpted musculature, or sparse silhouette, or bountiful roundness, your whatever is an intrinsic part of that. The quirks, the realism, the tender truths make me weak with lust because they’re so damn pretty.

But me? I can’t possibly expect anyone to like me unless I’m flawless. It feels highly insulting to others, making them look at me while I’m so imperfect!

I’m realizing, however, that pretty much all of us (except PUAs, who seem to be more the exact opposite of this) have absurdly high standards for what we’re supposed to look like, and a healthy appreciation for diversity and natural beauty in others.

So what I guess I’m saying is, you’re probably a lot sexier than you think you are. And especially if your body is healthy**, and strong, and generally does what you ask it to, you should really start loving it. Hard. Because it’s amazing. And it’s probably also really, honestly beautiful.

(image source)

* Oh no, I do realize I’m not the boss of you. I really do. Please don’t be mad.
** I’m excruciatingly aware that there’s this whole other level of complexity when you’re not healthy and your body seems like a total dick sometimes. But still, your wracked-with-pain body is very likely more lovely than you’re giving it credit for.

(…with not-so-quick explainy stuff before and after)

Do you seem to get into a lot of arguments about rape, and you don’t really know why? Have you ever wondered why your statements about rape get negative reactions from feminists and victims/survivors? If you’d genuinely like to understand what’s going on, and maybe even reevaluate your stance on sexual assault, please read on…

It has occurred to me that many people may not understand what being a rape apologist means versus someone willing to be an ally to victims. Like it or not, in a discussion about rape, you will usually come off as one or the other. There is no side of any rational argument saying “Rape is great! There should be more rape!”, so often when people think they’re representing a middle ground they’re actually the extreme side, the apologist side, against the “Rapists are made of pure, unadulterated suck!” side. Just accept now that “Rape is never okay, but what did the victim think was going to happen when she went back to that dude’s apartment wearing that postage stamp of a skirt!?” isn’t the cool-headed voice of reason between two equally valid arguments.

We tend to not see self-described rapists entering public, philosophical debates about rape. So an apologist ends up as the rapist’s de facto voice (most often not intentionally), representing the rapist’s interests and trying to divvy out the blame more evenly. This is why people, especially rape victims or those who empathize with them, don’t tend to exclaim “Thank you for your brilliant and original perspective! Bless my buttons! I’ve simply never thought of it that way!” when confronted with an apologist’s comments.

Rape apologists aren’t rapists (see: rapists), nor are they consciously trying to defend rapists (see: trolls). Blaming the victim or insinuating that the victim has some responsibility for an attack (a maneuver coincidentally known as “blaming the victim”) are rituals woven into the fabric of society. It doesn’t make you an automatic monster, or even rare. But understand, please, that because of this your opinions are also far from revelatory, marginalized, and vital to the discussion.

This type of discourse about rape can be very hurtful, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how it’s helpful. You might not know if you’re coming off as speaking from a rape apologist platform. You probably don’t feel like you are. “Rape apologist” isn’t exactly a self-identification. But, you know, there’s an internet quiz for everything these days, and ZOMG here comes one now!

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Quizzical Pussy’s Quick and Dirty Rape Apologist Quiz!

Read the following statements and try to react to them naturally:

1. Approximately 1 in 6 women is raped or otherwise sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Approximately 1 in 33 men is raped or otherwise sexually assaulted in his lifetime.*
2. Rape is underreported.
3. Nothing any rape victim does or leaves undone before, during, or after a rape can make the rape her or his fault or responsibility.
4. Rape can and does occur by means of physical force, coercion, and/or lack of the victim’s ability to consent.
5. Rapists are responsible for the rapes they commit, and they have the choice to not rape.

If you can fundamentally agree with these statements, not just here, but when you confront them on the internet or in real life, and (this is key) you don’t feel compelled to add a “but…” then we can probably have a productive conversation about rape. If you contest them or continually need to add a caveat, then the way you discuss rape might come off as more compassionate toward the perpetrators than the victims. In that case, you are being a rape apologist.

_____________________________

Be really honest with yourself here. If you fall into the latter group, it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible ogre and have no right to speak your mind, ever. It doesn’t mean you have to suddenly agree with everything I say, or even that this five-item list comprehends the entirety of points and truths related to rape. And yes, you have every right to voice your opinions. But you’re very likely not as useful to the dialogue as you believe you are.

I simply don’t understand what you think is going to happen if you just listen to the anti-rape, pro-victim point of view without getting defensive and argumentative. Do you feel like we anti-rape extremists are going to get too comfortable with having our views go unchallenged and start filing police reports indiscriminately? Do you think we’re going to collectively decide that every time we had consensual sex in the past, gee, now that we think about it, we were probably raped?

The whole “All intercourse is rape” thing is about as much a strawman as “Rape is great!” Sane people don’t feel that way. Believe sex bloggers don’t feel that way. What we (I’m going out on a limb and speaking for others here) really want is to not be raped. But at very, very least we want to be taken seriously if we are, and to be allowed to be compassionate to rape victims without getting blamed and lectured, or having our experiences trivialized.

* Please note that rape is also perpetrated upon those who don’t identify as fitting within the gender binary.

Why do unicorns like virgins so much? That’s just something to think about. If you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, here are some anonymous confessions to read:

I get ridiculously turned on reading about the female reproductive anatomy, especially the vulva, vagina, and cervix. Somehow the words are completely and totally linked up to memories of what the body parts actually feel like during sex/masturbation. Reading about the bulbs of the vestibule just makes me wanna give it to myself, hardcore.

The word “cervix” makes me cringe a little for a very similar reason. It’s linked to memories of pelvic exams and penises accidentally mashing into it. But I’m with you on the others, but more when people actually say them. Hot.

I’ve only fucked virgins, and I’m horribly afraid I’m not doing sex right.

If they’re having a good time you certainly aren’t doing it wrong! Anyway, if you stick around for a while, your partner will get more and more experienced even if he or she started out a virgin, and will be able to give more meaningful feedback. Hopefully.

I just had the best, most awesome, weirdest, most unusual sex dream I’ve ever had.
I was having a generic, run-of-the-mill sex dream about a coworker, who had me chained up and was shoving things into my vagina. When he suddenly sprouted a giant mustache, and began to blow raspberries- you know, purse your lips together and buzz? Bzzzzz…
Next, he’s vibrating into my vagina, and I swear to god, I could feel it buzzing. It was astounding. In my dreams, I never really feel sensations like hot or cold or pain, and pleasure is kind of a dull remembrance of what it’s supposed to feel like. But this was AMAZING. I have never felt anything like it. Oh my god.
Then suddenly, a wave of warm water splashes over me in the dream, and I woke up. I sat up and thought to myself “Did I just orgasm?” And I think I did.

Zerberting someone’s pussy is actually a pretty brilliant idea! I like to think that Cliff Huxtable did this to Clair all the time. Awesome dream.

In reference to that guy whose wife thought a threesome might be fun, but who couldn’t think of a way to bring it about: I’m a hot bisexual woman who would love to be some couple’s third. I’d be totally into it. Thing is, I’m currently in a monogamous relationship with a man who I really love and who I’m sexually attracted to, and he wouldn’t be into my being a third with another couple at all. Dan Savage keeps saying that a bisexual woman who’s attractive and wants to play around with another woman (and who loves porn) is almost every straight man’s dream, but my man feels threatened by my orientation and my frank love of porn. Bah.

Being the unicorn in a threesome is totally a fantasy of mine too. In my experience, too many guys are too possessive or insecure to appreciate a horny bisexual chick. I finally found one who does, but he is literally the only man I’ve ever dated who’s been comfortable with it.

Confess your secrets! Keeping them locked up in your head isn’t healthy.