Degrade Yourself

I've always had quite an undecided opinion on the topic of what constitutes as 'degrading yourself', particularly when it comes to porn/having sex/nude modeling, etc.

I'm stuck somewhere between two poles of agreeing that if you're in control of a situation then to make money from it is your perogotive...if you can make money from the weakness of a man/woman then who can call that degrading? Who's the one paying to see something?
The other end is a very uneasy feeling that comes from the traditionalist view that your body is a temple. Stemming from the belief that only someone you love (potentially marry if we're going that far into it) should have the opportunity to see your body.


A quote from Pure Filth magazine (roughly):


'I don't think it's degrading when I'm lying next to a pool, in the sunshine, with a hot girl going down on me and I'm getting paid for it.'

It sounds awesome. Although I have also heard stories involving multiple pissing scenes on freezing cold sets and ending up with a kidney infection...

I have to say though, who doesn't have bad days with their job?

Anyway. I came further on in forming my opinion today while in the shower (think tank).

If a band 'go mainstream' then they 'lose respect' from people for supposedly making music for the sake of making money and not because they're making something because it's what they're creating. Degrading themselves.

If an artist becomes 'mainstream' and makes art to make money and not because they want to express something then they lose respect from their peers. They are degrading themselves.

So I guess in a way, having sex for money or baring your body for money, if we're going along in the same way, means that you are degrading yourself.

But you know what. Those muscians, those artists and those people are making a living for themselves doing something that they enjoy and there are a hell of a lot of people that would be damn pissed off without them around.

To Sex Or Not To Sex?

I was made to think recently about my vivid sex life and what's worse, was made to question it.

I don't have my beliefs questioned too often so it's not something I have to contend with much; I'm friends with like-minded, lovely people, I work for an industry that is based around sex, I grew up reading Cosmopolitan and Scarlet magazine, telling me it was okay to like sex. Having an orgasm is not a bad thing!

On this instance though I had to tune into my pro-feminism mind and reassess my actions, asking myself things such as;

-Why have I had sex with the number of people I have?

-Surely it's inevitable that people rack up a certain amount of sexual partners if you haven't been in a long-term relationship?

-When I'm starting to see someone, why is sex included so quickly?

-Do I think sex is an emotionless act?

I'm, obviously, not the kind of person to treasure sex as a sacred thing between two people to be betroved and I'm doubtless that I have been exposed to such an amount of sexual content in media that I've been desensitised to some extent.

However, this does not mean that I go around screwing anything with a pulse, that I am any less of a person than anyone else, that I am not to be trusted, that I am inconsistant or can't commit and that I don't care about the person who I have sex with, amongst other horrendous assumptions.

Not only do I get labelled with these assumptions because of the quantity of people I've had sexual relations with but because, worst of all, I talk about it.
(To be clear, when talking about it, no one would really know if I was talking about my experiences with the same person or whether my experiences were with different people.)

Yes. I talk about sex. With my girlfriends I talk about funny things that happen, about when odd things happen, when things happen in general!

With anybody I will happily reference sex, happily be open that I masturbate (This is never an issue for men and they even go as far as to say 'I'm going for a wank'.), that I used to test Sex Toys (it's a job that people have to do!), happy to correct common generalisations about how females view sex...
I just don't understand how in this day and age, where we talk about drugs, murder, global warming, war and where songs, that are frequently aimed at the generation of people who partaking in sex is illegal for, are littered with sexual innuendos, how it is still taboo/looked down on for a twenty-something girl to talk about her sexual encounters.

I feel like it's almost like religion... We're all happy to live together, happy that other people have different beliefs but some individuals ruin it by choosing to enforce their beliefs onto other people.

Anyway, this single girl is no longer single (sorry), so once again I can be put in the 'can be trusted' box....

Either way, I'm not going to stop being who I am. People can see me as some kind of insensitive and callous person but I know I'm just a wild, free-spirit.
I know I follow my heart and at the end of the day, your heart still connects to your clitoris!

Sex Toys and STI's

I recently had an experience of tackling the subject of Sexually Transmitted Infections with a new love interest.
(Do you notice how I start all my stories with 'recently'?)

Now. Before you take this as some kind of new-angle take of writing a blog about the more serious things in life or trying to 'teach' others new things, I'm not.

This is how the situation should have gone...

Me: I think before we do anything together sexually we should both make sure we're free from sti's.
Him: Yeah, I think that's a good idea.

This is how the situation actually went.... (Condensed and simplified)

Me: I want to suck your dick.
Him: I want to go down on you.

Half-naked times commence.

Me: I want to have sex with you.
Him: Okay, let me get a condom.
Me: I'm on the pill.
Him: Errrm....
Me: Oh... Are you worried about the other thing?
Him: Yes.
Me: I see. Well. But.... I don't understand, you just went down on me... If you're gonna get something... You can get it from that as well...
Him: What.

At this point I explain that sexual fluids are sexual fluids and have to break it to him that you can still get aids just from giving oral sex. Sigh. Making him feel stupid. Feel like a bitch.

Him: Well, since my last STI check-up I've used a condom everytime I've had sex.
Me: Yes but I've only had sex with a girl wearing a strap on since I last had a check-up. And she's a porn star. They have to be checked all the time and be safe....I'm pretty sure you can't catch an STI from a strap-on! (Sigh. I'm being a bitch again.)
Him: .....


And now it's almost Christmas. I have to try and get a sex-test around the Christmas period.

It's going to be ages before I can have sex.

I feel like I'm living in a, safe-sex at the holidays, booklet...

Father Christmas's Guide To Safe Holiday Sex!  

I think I'm onto a winner...

Ramble and Bamble

I don't even know where to start on my escapades of late.

They involve;

-Being on the set of a glamour shoot and watching some live porn (Cue, jealousy from all the 19/20 year old guys I work with.)

-Hanging out with a pretty famous rockstar (not naming anyone) and him giving me a lift home... to my shitty little town. (Yup. Bit weird.)

-Basically having sex with a girl for the first time (Although, I wonder how you define having sex with a girl if you're a girl? I mean, unless you have a strap-on, there's not really any penetration... Help?)


On the plus side though, these small fabulous moments in my life are taking away the flailing groan of my usual tragic life.

Like Internet Dating.

Yes. Internet Dating. You heard. And yes. I'm giving the term capital letters.


To throw in some more of the usual events though, I tried to make my friend a dinosaur birthday cake. I got cocky. Cake=1 - Madison=0  

A Weekend In Another World

I spent some of a recent weekend with my current love affair.

We lived the life I want.


We sat in the sunshine, we drank summer drinks, we went for dinner, we strolled through beautiful places, we kissed behind rails of clothes in shops....


So, just to turn this away from sounding like a stupidly gag-inducing post I'd like to clearly state now. We fucked.


We fucked so much we tore the sheet on the bed.... (Sorry hotel people.)




Later on, after a much needed sustenance break, we resumed with our antics.

We are just as amazing in bed as we are out of it.


And then something even more magical happens.... Remember that kiss under the fairy lights? The perfect moment for a kiss? Yep... Well, this is more magical...

He comes. While inside of me. (Yes I know this isn't something that's magical.) I'm in a kneeling position on him and he's sat up. 
He comes. And then I come. He sets me off. I almost knock him out in my shuddering orgasm. (That's the magical part.)


Something out of a novel right?
Well, what makes it more magical for me is that... I never come in sex.

This isn't down to my partners I'd like to say. I fully enjoy sex but I don't enjoy it when someone's spending their time trying to make me orgasm and I'm like, seriously, this is great but my clitoris is used to vibrating rabbit ears. Let's not spend so much time on it that it becomes awkward.

And let's face it. Who the hell wants sex that's just about one person. You might as well be masturbating. On your own.


So, in the past. There have only been two people who have achieved this magic. (Yep, decided to carry on using 'magic' as my appropriate metaphor.)

They've both been long term boyfriends.

The first, I'll just point out, was when I was 16/17.
I didn't even know what an orgasm was. And we weren't even having sex. But this happened on three separate occasions until my best friend and I had a talk and she confirmed that indeed, I'd been having orgasms. (Something that was rather an amusing in-joke between us.)


The other, last happened, sometime in 2009? Is that right? (Like I'm asking my vagina that question....)



Where this whole event gets worse is when I'm talking to one of my friends about it. (The same one who thinks my life is 'hilarious'.)
I confess that this has only happened with people I've been in love with and that even then, it was never so.....synchronised.
She gasps. (Maybe.)

'This basically means you love him!'

I protest. Of course it doesn't. I can't describe my feelings really, although I do admit that having a best friend and then having passionate sex with them does basically make it a relationship kind of feeling.
But, no! It's not like that....

She just looks at me and says 'You're in trouble.'


And of course, she's right.


Damn.

A Walk In The Park

So.

Following on from my last post I'd just like to give you an experience I had recently.

I had a day in London with a current affair a while back. It was wonderful. Tense. Exciting.


He held my umbrella for me. Very charming. (Doesn't take a lot to impress me.)


We'd been pressed into each other's personal spaces all day. ALL DAY.

If there's one thing I do adore about the London tube system it's that. What an excuse to press up against someone. (Hell, if strange men can use it as an excuse to press against me then I'm going to use it as an excuse to press against someone I know!)

What a thriller. It's like some kind of exhibitionist tantric foreplay.


Eventually, after getting wet (in the rain), having dinner (and being the most charming couple to the waiter), drinking cocktails and the abuse of busy tube services we went down Southbank, along the river. (Romantic).

It gets worse. We get to an opening in the path and within all the bricks of the path are lots of small spotlights in blue and white (colours open to correction). There's a few benches in a kind of semi-circle and some classic, round, bushy trees. (You know the type, the ones you usually draw whenever trying to draw a tree.)
The trees have blue fairy-lights all over as well.

So, to quickly set the scene, lights, everywhere, it's dark, it's the riverside, there's not many people and it's warm.


He chooses that exact moment to pull me to one side and kiss me. Under the lights that are like stars.

Do you realise how sickeningly romantic this is? Yes, you must and what's more is that you're still reading this which means you're either just waiting for this is get funny or to a point (maybe you're reading this blog by mistake) OR you actually appreciated how romantic this is.

 

Gag.

DEALBREAKER

You can’t get hard

Things were great…we like all the same things…you speak Spanish…you’re a socialist… I’m half in love with you because of your political ideology, and you’re tall, which is a huge plus. So I work my charm, and finally get you to invite me over. We have a couple drinks, I begin to get a little drunk, and next thing you know, we’re making out. I’m sort of pulling all my best moves and when I ask you if I should get the condom, you say yes. Okay well thanks for wasting my condom, you chode. As you’re trying to squeeze your playdoh (LOL JK playdoh is stiffer) in, I realize that isn’t going to work because my vagina isn’t build to take in globs of skin. I ask if everything is okay, and you say it’s because you’ve been drinking, uh….okay… so you insist on keeping the foreplay going and I play along because I haven’t had sex in over 5 months. All of the sudden, your little soft self decides to slap my butt…several times…umm, okay…. Maybe I would forgive this if you could have actually gotten me off. All this messing around, and your little downstairs friend still doesn’t want to give me the time of day. I’m pissed and want to go to sleep, but for some reason, you still have hope in your broken penis.


I wake up the next morning, and as I’m all dressed, you finally are ready. So I decide to give you another chance and waste my last condom. Things work out, and I get my mediocre fuck. As I lay down, I notice a guitar, and ask you what you like to play. You say, Guns ‘n Roses and Nirvana… yeah… I’m going to catch the next bus…





I’m offended that you still haven’t talked to me since, but then I remember that in my sexual frustration towards your malfunctioning dick that I called you a child molester for fucking a girl that is 10 years younger than you. Oops.





-Written by twogirlsonecup (Courtesy of http://dealbreaker.tumblr.com/)

How can you tell these days who's worth your sweet time?

These days my thoughts on whether a man is suitable for me are based on remedial things such as whether he's a cat or a dog person.
If a dog's behavior is anything to go by (which let's face it, dogs and their owners are usually like twins) then I'd rather pass on a long, wet tongue falling about in my mouth with drool hanging down my chin.
Or worse yet, being licked.
On my face.


Call me old-fashioned but I'm still impressed with a man who can take me places. Literally. Obviously I'd like him to take me to a higher realm of intense pleasure but other than that I'm still bowled over by a certain gentleman working towards his pilot's license.
Yes, he flies planes! I do realise that he doesn't actually have his own plane and he's in copious amounts of debt from this but still. He flies!!

If he can handle a device of that size and intricacy then he's already got one up on all the men who can't even handle a tin-opener.