sex

The Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus: How to Go Down on a Woman and Give Her Exquisite Pleasure (2nd Edition)

mandy — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 18:00:00 +0000

The Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus is described by the author as a sex-positive, no-nonsense explanation of cunnilingus. The book includes information Violet Blue acquired from guidebooks, the internet, and surveys she sent to people from diverse backgrounds in the United States, Europe, and Canada. The text includes snippets from these interviews interspersed with educational information, hand-drawn illustrations, and erotic stories.

Blue does a great job of taking a pro-sex, feminist stance on the subject of cunnilingus in most instances, noting the shame that many women feel about their vaginas and apprehension that some women might have being the recipient or giver of oral sex. She discusses possible shame and discomfort in a supportive manner and makes sure to point out that the goal of any sexual encounter is too-often focused on orgasm and not the enjoyment that the individuals derive from the sexual contact. She provides common-sense strategies for overcoming fears about giving or receiving cunnilingus that I think are applicable for both men and women.

There are a few instances in which negative societal views of women’s sexuality are subtly reinforced by the language the author uses. For example, when discussing waxing, Blue refers to pubic hair as “the offending hair” and states that vaginas are a “woman’s finest feature.” While there are a few wording choices that may play in to poor body image or shame associated with sexuality, overall The Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus is intended to help individuals feel empowered by their sexuality, and for the most part it accomplishes this.

The author also approaches the book from a non-heteronormative worldview, discussing cunnilingus in the context of same and opposite sex encounters, and even the pictures illustrate both same sex and opposite sex couples. While the book attempts to be as inclusive as possible, it falls short in a few instances. The author periodically makes global statements such as “sex is all about reciprocation,” which fails to take into account the myriad types of sexual relationships people have (for instance, stone butches may not wish to have reciprocal sexual encounters). Still, the attempt to write for a diverse audience is commendable and the attention paid to disability and oral sex is laudable.

My favorite section was the tongue techniques section, which provided tips I hope to add to my own oral sex tool kit. Other techniques are discussed in the book, including: genital massage, the use of sex toys, S/M strategies, and anal penetration. Blue acknowledges that not every reader will be interested in all of the varieties of sex play that can be incorporated into oral sex, but nonetheless provides a variety of information for differing sexual appetites. One additional great asset of this book is the section on suggested erotic books, videos, and the sex store resource list at the back of the book.

The Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus delivers what it purports to: a non-judgmental, pro-sex guide to going down on a woman. I wish more attention had been paid to the techniques than the anatomy and safe-sex sections; however, I also recognize the importance of this information in any guidebook. This is a book I am happy to add to my personal collection and I am sure that many readers will benefit and enjoy its content as well.

Written by: K. Payne, April 23rd 2011

Rad Dad #18: Sex & Love

tina — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Tom Moniz

Microcosm Publishing

After a promising introduction I was ready to absorb the essays that lay before me in Rad Dad #18: Sex & Love, a short zine concerning radical parenting with narratives exploring issues of sex and love. Needless to say, this zine made me feel a range of emotions: offended, entertained, informed, and bored. Some of these essays do not concern love or sex or are only very loosely related to the topics in an abstract way.

Rad Dad himself falls flat in his own personal essay. Using movie script queues, he rambles from one point to the next about memories and experiences that are loosely related or not connected at all. The author's entertaining writing style, passion, and experience are worthy of better organization and editing.

The third essay in the zine, entitled “Making Love,” was bad. I'm still reeling from reading a man's recount of a newly polyamorous relationship. When his wife comes home from an arranged date with another man, the jealous husband thought about sexually assaulting her and “not caring how she felt.” Though he didn't act on these thoughts ("I didn't want to look aggressive"), it was completely unexpected and terrible, especially when it was so graphically detailed. There was no warning; just an in-your-face, deal-with-this description of how he would rape someone. He also goes into detail about cheating on this same woman, years prior. The writer's colorful writing when recounting these gross experiences only cheapens them more. For a few days after reading this, I felt nauseated whenever I’d recall the author's words.

There's also an essay about child nudity and another about a person "breaking up" with the anarchist community. Many of the writers talk about their preference for polyamarous relationships. Some even insult monogamy, which I found unnecessary and misguided. There are a few essays by radical parents who talk about sex, love, and dating in relation to being a parent. I feel that these authors truly understood the zine's topics, while offering their own personal knowledge and experiences. This compilation would have benefitted from more essays like these.

My favorite part of this zine was the last section, “An Interview With Dr. White.” The interview was engaging and interesting and I wish it went on longer and was featured more prominently.

While I am against censoring voices, I feel this zine would have benefited from basic editing. A simple "trigger warning" before graphic material would be a great start. A few snips and cuts to a rambling essay would help the reader understand the authors' intentions and sticking closer to the zine’s topics would be a major improvement.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, April 9th 2011

Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire

andrea — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Bruce Erickson, Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands

Indiana University Press

Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire explores the intersections of queer studies and environmental studies and aims to trouble dominant discourses of nature and sexuality. The authors in this collection argue that we should adopt a queer ecological perspective, a “transgressive and historically relevant critique of dominant pairings of nature and environment with heteronormativity and homophobia.” Drawing on science studies, environmental history, queer geography, ecocriticism, critical race theory, cultural studies, landscape ecology, and LGBTQ theory, this interdisciplinary anthology presents the various possibilities for “queering ecology and greening queer politics.”

What do queer ecologies and greener queer politics look like? To answer this question, the essays use various theoretical and methodological strategies to explore how understandings of nature shape discourses of sexuality and how understandings of sex and reproduction shape perceptions and uses of the environment.

The chapters delve into topics as diverse as animal sexuality, hermaphrodite frogs, eco-porn, biophilia, lesbian rural communities, pollution and overpopulation, and penguins as environmental icons. Several themes weave throughout the entire collection, including critical analyses of homophobic and racist evolutionary narratives and the ways that particular spaces become imbued with sexual meanings. Overall, Queer Ecologies critiques the heteronormative, racist, nationalist, and colonialist narratives that structure popular environmentalist discourses.

The volume approaches these issues through three sections. In the first part, "Against Nature? Queer Sex, Queer Animality," the authors examine how sexual natures are produced through dichotomies such as animal/human and nature/culture. These essays argue that the question is not whether queer acts are “unnatural,” but rather how definitions of nature and culture (and the boundaries between them) are produced and mobilized.

The second section of the book, "Green, Pink, and Public: Queering Environmental Politics," explores the intersections of sexuality and nature as sites of engaged political action. These contributions critique the heteronormativity and whiteness of environmental politics and offer possibilities for radical ecologies and sexual environmental justice.

The final part of the book, "Desiring Nature: Queer Attachments," speaks to the pleasures and losses of engaging with the “more than human” world. The authors in this section explore the links between the regulation of sexuality and the destruction of non-human life. One of the most profound essays in the collection is by editor Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands, who writes on the subject of mourning in queer writing about nature. Drawing on a politicized melancholic sensibility from lesbian and gay experiences of AIDS, she attempts a queer re-thinking of environmental destruction, arguing that few, if any public rituals exist to express mourning over the loss of the environment.

Overall, this collection moves forward conversations in queer and environmental literatures, and makes important connections between discourses of sexuality and nature that offer promising possibilities for productive political coalitions and more critical theories. While the authors are careful to note the materiality of bodies and spaces, the volume relies predominantly on textual analysis. The authors examine familiar cultural texts such as mainstream movies like Brokeback Mountain and Happy Feet, popular documentaries like An Inconvenient Truth, and the poetry of Adrienne Rich and Minnie Bruce Pratt.

Readers will come away from Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire with a complex understanding of the dangerous assumptions that shape environmental discourses, as well as the importance of environmental considerations to queer theorizing and movement building. The queer ecological framework offered in this collection has valuable insights for readers across a broad spectrum of interests.

Written by: Traci Yoder, January 5th 2011

Fast Girls: Erotica for Women

tina — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Cleis Press

Fast. The word itself is a contradiction. By definition, fast can mean unrestrained and held tight; reckless and secure; promiscuous and faithful. A fast girl can be one way and then another or often both at once. A fast girl can be wild, even when caught in the firmest of knots.

In Fast Girls, fast means quick thinking and quicker action. Fast girls see what they want and take it, cleverly making the most of circumstances around them. Fast girls crave attention, thrive in the spotlight, and live in the moment. A fast girl goes all the way, every time, and loves it. A fast girl makes her own choices and loves to defy expectation. Taking her pleasure as she chooses, a fast girl follows no rules of conduct.

The women here are connected by their willingness to experience life as it comes, taking chances and being handsomely rewarded for their bravado. These stories cut directly to the action, focusing on the sex rather than on preliminaries. From quiet arousal to public masturbation, sex in a communal shower to exploration of marital roles, this collection has something for everyone. Many stories explore the darker side of erotica, as women find their pleasure in pain, submission, and public displays of need and desire.

Orgasm is a given in each of these stories; each woman knows what she needs to reach it and she will not be denied. Explicitly detailed, you are privy to each woman’s thoughts, her reactions to every touch, lick, slap. With a lover, stranger, or customer, the woman’s body is the focus and her pleasure the priority.

Fast Girls is a celebration of sexual liberation, where women single-mindedly follow their desires. They have girl on girl sex, sex with boys and sex in groups. They have sex where, when, and with whom they want, without offering any apology. If you are looking for explicit, edgy erotica, dive in anywhere. These girls like it fast.

Written by: Melissa Ruiz, December 15th 2010

Sex, Power and Consent: Youth Culture and the Unwritten Rules

priyanka — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Anastasia Powell

Cambridge University Press

I have been always interested in the problems, points of view, and so much more in the lives of young people; I also decided at the ripe age of twenty that at some point in my life I was going to be a lecturer!

Despite educating teenagers (and being taught by them) for the last twenty years and more, I have not lost my enthusiasm for knowing and guiding them from the perspective of what youngsters of eighteen to twenty consider an ‘old’ wise woman!

How do young people live their lives these days? Do they have the same problems that I had when I was eighteen? So much has changed in the last twenty to thirty years. We are bombarded by a sex-crazed culture, sex-everywhere phenomena. When we switch the TV on, we are faced with sex or violence in movies, shows, talks etc. In the words of Anastasia Powell, the author of Sex, Power and Consent: “contemporary Western Culture has been described as the age of raunch, generation sex, and generation SLUT (Sexually Liberated Urban Teens)."

Being part of such a cultural make-up, what are the views of young people on sex and love these days? Do they have more sex, more sexual relationships than my so-called liberated generation of the late 1970s? Do the youth talk openly about sex? Do they equate sex with love? How long do their relationships last when they are still teenagers? What is it that they want from relationships at the tender age of eighteen to twenty?

Powell’s indisputably needed and thorough book provides most answers to my questions. Her research and interviews with 117 teens and young adults of diverse sexualities in Victoria, Australia, provides readers with a wealth of knowledge about young people of today. She limited her research to one country but unquestionably, it is the representative study of Western youth.

Her book would be of interest to young and not-so-young readers as the author answers many questions that trouble Generation Y (born in or after 1982). It explores issues surrounding youth sex within popular culture, sexuality education and sexual violence prevention. It also clearly presents unwritten rules and the gendered power relationships which have not changed as drastically as I had always thought it had over the last twenty to thirty years. I was surprised to read that despite the apparent sexual freedom, the rates of sexual assault continue to rise with ninety-nine percent of offenders being male and ninety-two percent of sexual assault victims being women (according to Victoria Police data from 2008-2009).

The book also provides practical strategies for young people and for those who work with them towards the prevention of sexual violence. This very well-researched and written study would also be a useful reading for young women who feel pressured into unwanted sex. It might help them to be more aware of their choices, which is always welcome.

Written by: Anna Hamling, December 14th 2010

Nirvana of Pussy: A Conversation with Tucker Max

brittany — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Interview with Tucker Max

All I wanted to know was if Tucker Max was for real. Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you, he is. Explaining that if he has learned anything over the past five years, it is that people are fucking stupid, clearly the infamous Tucker Max was extraordinarily candid when we talked about his new book Assholes Finish First. His candor was particularly astounding, as he knew I was a writer for Elevate Difference, a site with a mission to advance political and social justice, while Max is embodiment of all things politically incorrect. He is particularly known throughout the feminist community for his drunken antics with women, which I personally believe have been consistently misconstrued, and this was my chance to find out if I was right.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that I was dared to read Max’s first book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell that so quickly brought me into his fold, or the fact that reading it made me feel like a subversive sex-positive feminist. More than anything, it was my curiosity about the man behind the controversial books that made this book reviewer seek out the infamous sex writer.

Speaking on the phone, before I even got through my introduction, Max jumped in to explain that his work is not a commentary on male sexuality, but simply writing about his real life. He is a man with some seemingly outrageous stories to tell and us aspiring sexologists should make no further assumptions. Fair enough.

Max believes that we are a society still “too prudish and buttoned-up” to teach sex education properly. He quickly conceded that the next generation of sex ed will largely center on porn and work like his own, and even Tucker Max finds this “shameful.” The fact that anyone is learning about sex from his books and not from school or their parents is truly shocking. Thankfully (or not), virgins across America are turning to Tucker Max for their intellectual and physical sexual education. The fact that thirty-year-olds with no sexual experience and barely-eighteen-year-olds all reach out to him as a sexual celebrity and a familiar person to take their virginity—literally—is surprising, even to Tucker.

Assholes Finish First is Max’s follow-up to the best-selling I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, and it takes so-called “fratire” to a new level. Dividing the book into his pre- and post-fame lives—a decision that emerged as he was writing and friends (the familiar Nils and Bunny to fans) noted a clearly different tenor between these stories—gives a new richness to his work. Because these are tales from only one man, the juxtaposition honestly showcases how fame can change one’s life, especially when compared with examples of other celebrity works.

The book’s bonus section contains stories from the women Max has slept with, written from their own perspectives. He knew this would appeal to his female audience—about half his readership. It also gives a different level of credence to his body of work, because as readers we finally get to hear someone else’s side of his stories—something I wondered a lot about and am sure others have as well. Oddly enough, the accounts from both sides line up more often than not.

What is most striking to me in his post-fame stories is Max’s cognizance about the state of his own life. Most people don’t spend their days writing about themselves; they don’t have that kind of time for self-reflection. Max takes this opportunity and really looks at himself as an outsider. He is in the midst of the common transition from playboy to family man but often documents it as an outside observer. Perhaps most interesting, it is not his own words that encapsulate his feelings about the state of his life but those of his friend (which he does include in the book).

We talked about this quite a bit on the phone. Fame has brought him to this so-called “nirvana of pussy.” The ladies come to him, and they come in droves. What he emphasized was how his life is in transition, from living out his teenage dreams of endless sexual conquests to his adult aspirations for a relationship. He stated outright that, “I don’t know how to live a committed, monogamous relationship, but I want to. Living the life every nineteen-year-old guy wants,” he told me he is now “moving out of it...not fully in either phase.”

More striking was the confession that this “nirvana of pussy” was the “complete opposite” of what he expected. Max’s lesson is an obvious but universal one, even in a book about gratuitous sex: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. He qualified this, saying that it would be “totally disingenuous” to whine about it now. This is what he wanted. The fact that the lived reality was not the same as the dream is a fact of life that needs to be swallowed hard.

After I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell sold over 1.5 million copies, he had unique creative freedom with editors and publishers on the second book, Assholes Finish First. This was why he felt he could include abortion so explicitly, even using the phrase “baby killer.” Though he did not appreciate my take that his story about unintended pregnancy is a PSA for condom use, he did agree he was more actively spelling out advice in his vignette than he usually does. “[I’m] so tired of idiots taking the wrong thing out of what I write,” he said. Lots of sex does not mean lots of unsafe sex. It just means lots of sex.

A big secret: He can quote Betty Freidan. Under her definition, Max is a self-declared feminist. So why the incessant anger from the feminist community? He believes he is often labeled a misogynist because he doesn’t worship all things female. He also thinks “extremeophiles,” those who see all porn as rape, had a large role in much of this labeling. Max estimates that twenty-five percent of his readership is comprised of self-identified feminists, with women as half of his overall readership.

To him, the reality is that that he “makes fun of people,” at-large. Not women, not men, just people that he thinks suck. “Sometimes a woman can be a bitch or a guy can be a shithead, [and they] need [to be called out],” he told me. According to Max, calling someone a slut has nothing to do with his or her sexual experience. It is the power of the label itself. When he’s using such a label, he doesn’t know the reality of that individual’s life. He’s doing it just to get a rise out of someone, because he can.

His most vehement reaction to my series of questions on feminism was around what I see as a common thread in his books, the Madonna-whore dichotomy. Max sees the entire dichotomy as “bullshit” and says it just doesn’t apply to his work.

As our conversation wound down, we talked about his wide readership. Ranging from sixteen-year-olds, who view him as a demigod, to fifty-year-olds reliving their glory days, what makes Tucker Max so appealing? In his eyes, he is simply “objectively funny [and] painfully, authentically raw,” something we don’t see much in media, if at all. He “exists outside the machine.” It shows.

The book launch I attended was at a West Village dive bar, up the stairs in the back, and totally public. Max has no sanctioned book reviews on the jacket of a follow-up to a New York Times bestseller. His Cinderella tale of success—of having his manuscript rejected by every publisher, to building an audience through his blog, and gaining the leverage to write the exact book he wanted—was one of the first, though in the blog-to-book world, has become commonplace. Central to his wide readership, he claims, is his balance between self-indulgence and corporate appeal. He is attempting to create the best art that he can while resonating with his wide audience. Yes, Assholes Finish First is art.

Written by: Nicole Levitz, November 16th 2010

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance

mandy — Tue, 12 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Elna Baker

Dutton

Beginning at a Halloween-themed singles dance for Mormon adults in the tristate area (the party referenced in the title of her novel) a Queen-Bee-costumed Elna Baker sets the scene for the spiritually-infused existential struggles that are soon to come. Although the attendees are adults, the event aches of prepubescent awkwardness and is plagued by the same maladies that afflict these preteen school functions: forced sobriety, abysmal music, sex-segregated clustering, embarrassing encounters with couples dancing, and sanctified social hierarchy. In a room full of college-aged virgins expectantly looking to find a future spouse before spinsterhood sets in at graduation, no one seems the least bit interested in the chubby girl dressed as a mistress of the hive, and for the fourth year in a row, Elna Baker leaves the dance alone.

Being a single Mormon gal in New York City isn’t without its unique challenges, and Baker addresses them with just the right blend of earnestness and self-deprecating humor. More Sex and the City than Big Love, Baker’s story is an uncommon version of a common enough conflict for the modern American woman: how to be yourself and nab the man of your dreams. For a liberal Mormon like Baker, religion gets added to the mix, and The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance takes us through her coming of age—and coming to terms—as she attempts to reconcile her desire to embody conflicting identities: that of a headstrong, adventurous, sexually curious young woman who wants to be desired by men (and envied by women) versus a submissive, straight-laced wife and mother.

Baker’s somewhat unrealistic relationship expectations stem from her own experience growing up in an idyllic Mormon family. They are complicated by the overlapping and contradictory messages about conventional gender roles and individual autonomy that she has gleaned from both her religion and American popular culture. The marriage Baker envisions for herself takes the shape of a traditional man-and-wife coupling where a charmingly pragmatic and devoted soulmate (Mormons only please!) passionately sweeps her off her feet in Hollywood rom-com fashion. But this is real life we’re talking about here, and even Carrie Bradshaw had to wait until SATC made its debut on the big screen to tie the knot with her perfect match.

Kissing boys is fun and all, but after twenty-seven years, Baker is ready to get to the good stuff—just not at the expense of her faith. Having been taught that sex before marriage is the second greatest sin (murder being the first), her Mormonism contributes to the manifestation of a kind of rabid marriage mania. Unfortunately for Baker, the only Mormon boys she finds in New York City are either tragically dull or playing house Dad at the “family home evening,” a weekly gathering-cum-celestial popularity contest for twenty-something Latter Day Saints who prefer wholesome entertainment—like group devotional readings—to the debauched activities on offer in the big city. When Baker finally does meet a guy with zeal, he’s a diehard atheist who doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage or the existence of a soul, much less the idea that Pocahontas was a Jew.

Baker’s lack of firm resolve about the truth of Joseph Smith’s teachings creates a flip flop effect of religious vigor and apathy, as well as an intellectual insatiability that causes her to return again and again to the unenviable position of trying to explain the unexplainable. She seeks solid ground where none can exist, and as a result, Baker can’t seem to find a sturdy core from which to build her belief.

Ambivalence is not a new condition for those who struggle with spiritual (un)certainty—or, for that matter, those who write memoirs about that struggle. After nearly three decades of indecision, Baker finally makes up her mind about her faith: she decides to hang on to God and continue to grapple with the uncertainty. For now.

Excerpted from Religion Dispatches

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, October 12th 2010

Cho Dependent Tour (9/23/2010)

mandy — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Margaret Cho

Anaheim, California

Margaret Cho's hour-long set at The Grove began with a story about her recent experiences as a contestant on Dancing with the Stars that parlayed into a story about using a vocal coach from American Idol while touring in support of her newly released album Cho Dependent. Apparently her vocal coach made her drink shots of olive oil when she developed a sore throat, and as a result, Cho suffered from uncontrollable flatulence and diarrhea. This was a reoccurring theme of the night (I actually wasn’t aware Cho had such a penchant for poop jokes), and while I spent half of Cho’s act loving her intensely and laughing out loud, the other half I found myself wondering if she’d lost her edge.

Shitty stories aside, I’m convinced that Cho and I have the potential to be best friends. During her set I learned that we have many of the same concerns (like who will fuck us when we’re old) and interests (e.g., gay men and the American south). I’m considering a move to the south, in fact, but one of my biggest concerns is the lack of multicultural and LGBT communities, two things that are vital to my happiness here in Los Angeles. Cho touched on the south many times, as her Lifetime show Drop Dead Diva is filmed in a small suburb of Atlanta where Cho now spends a great deal of her time. Besides picking up a southern boyfriend with a massive dick (her words, not mine), she’s made a few gay friends as well.

Cho revealed that while living in Georgia she’s encountered many people who feel the need to share their opinions about homosexuality with her, a majority claiming it’s in opposition to their religious beliefs. She says her standard response to this and other statements made by close-minded folks has become, “Well, fuck you then.” I mean, really, when no amount of philosophizing or arguing will get through, what else are you able to say?

Sexuality is always a major part of Cho's performances, and as always, I applaud her candor. At the Anaheim show she expressed her love of the now-defunct Craigslist casual encounters ads, and joked about her many sexual conquests, her desire to be fucking well into her seventies, and her recent attempts at having a baby with a drag queen sperm donor. (Maybe that last one wasn't a joke?)

While listening to Cho, a woman who seemed so badass and ballsy when I was younger, I realized that the forty-one-year-old comedian may very well be less edgy. Although she may be more apt to discuss topics pertinent to her changing lifestyle, her mainstream success, and her audience’s changing demographics, Cho's biting social commentary, brazen sexuality, and championing of the LGBT community will always be enough to keep me coming back for more.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, October 6th 2010

RingO & BabeLicious

mandy — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 10:00:00 +0000

By Babeland

Sweets for your sweet. Available in Dulce de Leche, Pomegranate Vanilla, Mojito Mint, and Chocolate Orange, the virtues of Babeland’s new BabeLicious flavored gel lubricant are more numerous than its flavors. Babeland has delivered my most favorite lube ever. It’s glycerin and paraben free, the lack of dyes means it doesn’t stain the sheets, and the fact that it doesn’t have sugar shields the user from that cause of yeast infections.

Never mind what it doesn’t have; of course, it’s a winner due to what it does possess. The standard fruity flavorings that plague massage oils and lubes strike me as fit for fighting plaque, not finding pleasure. Those particular chemicals are just too reminiscent of cough drops or the fluoride washes at a dentist’s office to be involved in any fun. In contrast, BabeLicious (I sampled the Dulce de Leche) has a genuine good taste, sweet and with a bit of mocha in the caramel. A dime-sized dollop started things off just fine, and it stayed wet and ready after extensive play.

Water-based and for any place, the only thing that lingers is its scent. After repeated washings, my hands still smelled like a candy shop. (I did not sniff-test other relevant regions.) With its only potential negative being the lasting whiff of dessert, BabeLicious' Dulce de Leche is now my go-to lube.

If the BabeLicious tastes like a sundae, the RingO cock ring looks like an ambitious lifesaver. The fact that it can be purchased in three colors—lollipop red, sky blue, and pinstripe-ready gray—made me smile: do people want to coordinate it with the drapes? Their neckties? Pocket handkerchiefs?

“Longer, harder, firmer,” the packaging promises in all capitals. I did not whip out the micro-calipers to establish the veracity of this claim in ängströms, nor contrive a device to determine Diamond Pyramid Number of the effected organ. However, a splendid time was experienced by all, and for a longer duration. My co-tester exclaimed “Wow! It’s great! I mean it, really: it’s great!” and then insisted that I rate it a “cock-up” and added, “You get the reference? Huh? You get it? They’ll get it?” Yes, dear, they’ll get it.

If you want to get the RingO cock ring, it’s a splendid investment. One warning: it’s firmly elastic enough that it should be placed with some delicacy and a generous quantity of lubricant. BabeLicious would work just fine, or the unflavored water-based gel of your choice.

To date, BabeLicious has been a delight to experience solo or in combination with the RingO. My partner seemed positive enough, but I have a few more questions about these products. We may have to test them again. Oh, Honey…?

Written by: Paulette S. Case, September 5th 2010

Tales of Tokyo

admin — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Alan Rose

Bennett & Hastings Publishing

Full disclosure: Alan Rose and I are friends, and over the years I have enjoyed every bit of his writing. His first novel, the plot-driven ghost story The Legacy of Emily Hargraves, may differ in tone and content from Tales of Tokyo, but the underlying themes aren’t so different. Rose excels at writing about love, passion, the search for answers, and the search for self – and these are recurring themes in both of his books. In Tales of Tokyo, there are even a few ghost stories thrown in for good measure.

The plot follows the lives of four people in their twenties—Americans Chris, Jason, and Sally and Australian Delia—who relocate to Japan to teach English for a year in search of a unique identity. There is Jason’s spiritual quest; Chris’s refusal to give up on the relationship he left in Seattle; Sally’s struggle to find out who she really is instead of telling lies about herself; and Delia’s determination to battle the sexism she encounters at the school and in Japanese society. (Delia accomplishes this through sex, as she spends much of the novel chasing down eligible bedmates.)

Several parallel plots run through the novel, but none drag down the pace. Drawing all of the characters together is the whisper of a scandal at the school that even the most candid of the American staff refuse to discuss—but Chris and Delia can’t help investigating. The sleuthing that ensues culminates in several “gotcha!” moments for the reader—another fun aspect of the book.

Set in 1981 and 1982, there is more than a hint of autobiography here, as Rose spent time as an ESL teacher in Japan in the early 1980s. While more than twenty-five years have passed since that time, he recreates the scene convincingly. Through the American characters—both those in Japan and the friends they’ve left back home—we’re brought back to the Reagan years, and the author, no pun intended, doesn’t write with rose-colored glasses. We’re reminded of the increasingly large gap between the haves and have-nots, and the very first echoes of what will develop into the AIDS epidemic.

Similar to The Legacy of Emily Hargraves, Rose writes candidly about sex—and very well, I might add—and there is quite a lot of sex, gay and straight, in the book. Though it’s not pornographic for the most part, sex is a central issue for several of the main characters. Chris, a true romantic, tangles with lovers who are able to separate sex from relationships while he isn’t. Delia is motivated solely by her hormones. Sally spends a lot of time trying to lose her virginity, as well as seduce Chris, despite the fact that he is openly gay. Only Jason doesn’t focus on sex as the other characters do, although several of them wouldn’t mind sleeping with him.

The only part of the book that moves a bit slowly is a month-long journey the four friends take through some of the more remote areas of Japan. I tend to think of the wilderness as a place to go through between cities, but the nature lover may appreciate that aspect of the book. At roughly 600 pages, Tales of Tokyo is not a short novel, but it is a relatively quick and thoroughly compelling read that convinces you to really care about the characters and wonder what will happen to them. Ultimately, when the book ends, you are left wanting more.

Written by: M.L. Madison, September 1st 2010

Best Sex Writing 2010

admin — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Cleis Press

As a fairly obsessive sex educator, S&M activist, and informal researcher, I didn't expect Best Sex Writing 2010 to make me think nearly as much as it did. I'd imagined it as an anthology that would hit all the usual bases and say the usual sex-positive things: Sex work should be decriminalized! Open relationships can work! Fetishes don't have to terrify us! Women deserve to be promiscuous, if that's what we really want, and we must be empowered to say no to sex too!

The first few essays struck me as par for the sex-positive course—though extremely well-written. Indeed, my favorite essay in the book is the sixth (of twenty-five), an absolutely brilliant work by gay escort Kirk Read that made me want to close the book and start selling sex on Craigslist. Still, it didn't actually challenge any of my current preconceptions, it just made me want to cheer.

But then the book surprised me. As editor Rachel Kramer Bussel explains on the anthology's website, "I want writing about sex that makes people think about it in a new way, that confronts sex and sexual stereotypes, that opens people's eyes, that says things people might find uncomfortable." This even applies to perverts like me, I suppose. The chapters that unsettled me most weren't the explicit ones, but rather the ones that don't align with my ideals of positive sexuality: as openly and carefully communicated, for example, or negotiated with an eye to egalitarian ideals. (No matter how extreme the power differential when a gentleman friend whips me, I approach the relationship itself on an equal footing.)

I felt most grossed out by Michelle Perrot's essay on her upcoming affair, in which she writes: "I don’t want an open marriage, where you and your partner agree that you can have sex with other people. I don’t want hurt feelings and jealousy, all the inevitable trouble that would come with such an arrangement..." but then notes that she's discussed the idea of cheating with her husband, and that "if one of us were to have sex—just sex—with another person, we’d just as soon not know."

In other words, Perrot refuses to style herself as one of those open relationship people—and let's not even get into the stereotypes in her description thereof—because having a tacit agreement with your husband that both of you can sleep quietly with other people isn't an open relationship. Huh? At the same time, Perrot published the essay under a pseudonym "to protect her marriage," which would seem to indicate that she's not actually sure about her husband's consent after all.

I don't mean to pick on Perrot, whose essay was quite well-written and gave me a lot to ponder. My point is that Best Sex Writing 2010 has something for everyone, including material to make a jaded sex theorist think twice. It lacks political sensibility by missing some important bases (e.g., trans people, polyamory, and people outside of the US) and makes one or two truly odd editorial choices. (Why on Earth is Mollena Williams' essay on race play, a fetish so transgressive that it unnerves most people even within permissive S&M communities, placed before Betty Dodson's much gentler memoir that could serve as an introduction to S&M? Are we trying to blindside and horrify the newbies?)

Still, lesbians and sex work and sex education and sex biology and safer sex all appear; S&M is comes up a surprising amount, and even manliness gets a mention. Most importantly, Best Sex Writing 2010 is a genuinely layered and challenging book.

Written by: Clarisse Thorn, August 30th 2010

Brilliantlove

admin — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 09:30:00 +0000

Directed by Ashley Horner

Pinball Films

Manchester is taking a photograph of his girlfriend Noon. She’s asleep. He develops the film while she naps and goes outside to lay on a dingy blanket on the gravel driveway that leads to their makeshift garage-turned-apartment. Did she consent to being documented? No one seems to care. When Noon wakes up, she goes outside naked and has sex with Manchester in broad daylight.

A seemingly enviable hipster couple sequestered from the world in their own squalid little space, it doesn’t take long for things to go south. While Noon stays home preparing taxidermy birds, Manchester gets drunk at a local pub and leaves behind his snapshots of her nudity, their lovemaking. Found a bit too conveniently by a local art dealer who then spends an inordinate amount of time tracking the couple down, Manchester’s amateur, low-light snaps are sold and catapult him to fame, complete with praise for his non-technique—“just a willing girlfriend,” he insists. Not surprisingly, their idyllic, secluded, grungy love is ruined by Manchester’s brush with fame and having their privacy traded as consumable art.

Based on the filmmakers’ obsession with objectifying Noon’s ass in every possible shot, with making her the sexual object in nearly every supposedly erotic scene, it’s painfully obvious that the production team is almost exclusively comprised of men. Should the audience be pleased to see female masturbation, so rarely depicted in film, or should we be revolted by the popsicle prop in one scene, that Noon is accidentally hit in the face with the camera during sex, that physical pleasure seems to trump self respect? Brilliantlove isn’t so much a meditation on love, desire, and intimacy as it is degrading soft-core porn with a bit of art world skepticism thrown in for good measure.

I also have to wonder whether this is just a hipster wet dream. Does someone think, "I can just leave these trashy photos in a bar and find fame?" At a time when it’s hard enough to control any aspect of your privacy, I’m so unbelievably unimpressed by the lack of ethics, trust, and respect displayed by Manchester. I also wonder why, within a framework of already shaky ethics, Manchester’s consent was sought at all, or why these photos weren’t just uploaded to the Internet (which is striking absent from the film, as is bathing, eating, and pre-porn employment). Brilliantlove could have been really interesting. It could have relied on actual character development, on normalizing passion, on queering the perceived normalcy of (hetero)sexual relationships. For many, there’s obviously a big difference between sex and love, and my issue is not with this dichotomy. Rather, this is just one more film made by an all-male team unwilling (or unable) to depict thoughtful, engaging intimacy between two enthusiastic, willing partners.

Both my male partner and I were genuinely disgusted while watching it, barely able to force ourselves to finish it; desperate to cleanse our mental palates, we popped in an innocuous film to chase the memory of this damaging one. If disliking this film makes me sex-negative or some other hip third wave feminist label I deem more judgmental than useful, so be it. This film is a voyeuristic, hedonistic, male gaze fuck fest. Watch at your own risk.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, August 17th 2010

Going Down: The Official Guide to Cunnilingus

admin — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:00:00 +0000

Directed by Carol Queen

Good Releasing

Dr. Carol Queen may be a noted sex educator and renowned for her ability to openly address the subject and raise awareness of healthy, pleasurable sexual relations for us all, but she’s a little over-the-top in this video. Displaying slightly better production quality than a basement porn or self-made flick, Queen explains in appropriate detail the elements of desire and orgasm through cunnilingus. Once that mission is accomplished, it’s arguable that this video’s audience is those viewers with some sexual inhibitions, or who are just delving into a comfortable space to talk about new sexual experiences with their partner. More experienced connoisseurs of sexual practices might have a giggle at again seeing the labia pillow, for example.

To the video’s credit, a variety of relationships are portrayed, though each scene is of someone performing oral sex on a woman. Different ethnicities and sexual relationships are presented, making the video lesbian-friendly and less heterocentric. Also to its credit, many scenes of cunnilingus last quite some time—a good example to demonstrate to a partner who is new to oral sex to help them recognize that this stimulation can take different amounts of time in women to result in orgasm or pleasure.

It is disappointing, however, that the variety in body types is simply a range of hair color, tattoos, and piercings rather than significant differences in sizes or even shaved or unshaved vaginas. Though the video purports to use “regular people” as actors, research reveals that a few of the characters performing as a couple learning about their sexuality are actually erotic film stars of note.

The video does weave instructional and frank conversation with long segments of images and action; for those interested in simply the erotic viewing of the lesson, there is no voice over on the scenes. This is perhaps a good video for sexual beginners, or for a couple new to one another to break the ice. Groundbreaking in its filmmaking or lessons this video is not, though it is valuable as a safe, healthy expression of sexuality.

Written by: Dr. Julie E. Ferris, July 29th 2010

The Last Living Slut: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage

admin — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Roxana Shirazi

It Books

The Last Living Slut: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage, written by Iran native Roxana Shirazi, was a complete and utter waste of my time. The book was championed by writers Neil Strauss and Anthony Bozza, who met up with Shirazi one faithful day and immediately became enthralled by her tails of debauchery with bad up and coming rock ‘n’ roll bands, as well as some oldies, but not so goodies like Guns N’ Roses. Appetite for Destruction never did anything for me musically or otherwise, but apparently the mere appearance of Axl Rose was enough to give Shirazi “gushing orgasms” as a teenage girl and her sexual fantasies about him set her on her path to groupiedom.

I’m not surprised that two men would be impressed by a book in which an otherwise intelligent woman makes a fool of herself by revealing that she’s let musicians piss on her and has had sex while so wasted that she threw up on one of her many partners for the night. According to these boys, “This was a woman who was not a victim, but who made rock bands her victim—and she got off on pushing them to extremes that made them uncomfortable.” Did these guys read the book? From what I could tell, it didn’t take much coercing to convince the men to degrade her, and a person who’s completely at ease with their lifestyle isn’t prone to nervous breakdowns, depressive episodes, or the need to constantly be wasted, as was detailed by Shirazi.

It’s apparent that this book is meant to shock, but I found nothing shocking about it. Shirazi, who calls herself a feminist, defends her use of the word slut before her story begins. I don’t care about her use of slut; it’s not offensive to me in any way. What is offensive, however, is attempting to pass this book off as a heroic piece of writing by a fun and carefree young woman who happens to have a penchant for wild nights and rock stars. If anything, this book just verifies that being a groupie is a lifestyle often chosen by women with low self-esteem.

The first portion of the book details the author’s childhood in Iran where she was a “child basked in gunfire, Islamic law, and sexuality.” Raised mostly by her mother and grandmother, Shirazi was abandoned by her opium addict father, molested and raped by neighbors, and beaten by her step father. It seems to me that these are the kinds of things that shape a young woman.

Having suffered through similar circumstances, I can attest to the fact that burying the feelings that result from these occurrences only sets you up for disaster once your sexuality is blooming and your childhood has left you with the impression that men are supposed to hurt, yell, hit, and take anything they want from you—even when you say no. It seems absurd to me that Shirazi doesn’t make the connection in the book that her feelings as a child, a belief that the abuse she suffered at the hands of men was her own fault, was the most likely reason she grew up and allowed herself to be further taken advantage of, almost as if she felt like she deserved it and that it was her duty to be the thing that men used to get off.

What’s wrapped up to look like a fun package, a carefree romp in the hay, is actually a very depressing book that often reads like a bad romance novel. (“I don’t understand how Stuart found the energy and ability to fuck me so masterfully all night, nor how his testicles were able to produce such a huge amount of sperm.”) Shirazi is disparaging of other women, often only describing them in terms of their weight, makeup, clothing choices, and ability to be fucked by second rate rock stars. You get the impression that she’s the type of person who thinks calling another woman fat or ugly is the biggest insult that can be hurled.

If anything was shocking about The Last Living Slut, it was the author’s implication that the rockers she is sleeping with are fulfilling her “hunger for a free-spirited life, for breaking the rules, for laughing, for knowing the meaning of it.” If fucking teenage boys in bad bands and has-been rock stars in worse bands is the meaning of life—and the new face of feminism—I better bow out now.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, July 27th 2010

The Carrie Diaries

admin — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Candace Bushnell

Balzer and Bray

Sex and the City the television series ended six years ago. One might find this hard to believe, considering the characters and the lavish lifestyles they live have been far from gone in the mainstream media. The latest installment in the SATC enterprise is The Carrie Diaries, author Candace Bushnell’s young-adult novel that introduces audiences to Carrie Bradshaw as they’ve never seen her before—seventeen, virginal, and unsure of how to fulfill her dream becoming a writer. The young Bradshaw struggles through adolescence the same way her adult self struggled through her thirties, and with just as much, if not more, wit and insight. It’s easy to see how Carrie became Carrie as Bushnell chronicles a very real, and entertaining, teenage experience using the skills we’ve come to know her for: realistic dialogue, relatable, yet flawed, friendships; and capturing the excitement and emotion the first moments of love.

As a feminist scholar and critic, and an advocate for girl-friendly media, I was plagued by very familiar annoyances in the reading. Although adult Carrie admits in SATC (season four, episode seventeen) that her father left when she was a toddler, Bushnell posits high-school Carrie as the eldest of three girls being raised by their father since their mother died a few years earlier. Although a single dad raising three young women is certainly an alternative to the status-quo, it is not more or less feminist than a mother working full time and raising three daughters. And in the case of the latter, it provides something very important missing in both fiction and film—positive female role models.

The debate over Bushnell’s characters and their choices has been raging since the debut of the original series. In The Carrie Diaries, the author offers her own feminist commentary that is neither subtle, nor convincing. In a chapter dedicated to Carrie’s discovery of feminism, the twelve-year-old visits her local library to see her mother's favorite (fictional) feminist Mary Gordon Clark speak. The young Bradshaw is chagrined by the woman’s gruff and judgmental manner, leaving her to ponder “How can you be a feminist when you treat other women like dirt?” An excellent question, though I’d be interested in asking Bushnell “Why all feminists must be represented as angry, elite meanies?”

Unlike her adult counterpart, whose friendships offered support, honesty and resilience in the face of obstacles, the high school Carrie is surrounded by a group of friends that are competitive, highly emotional, or just plain bitchy. Her most passionate moments include falling for a narcissistic but gorgeous guy who eventually cheats on her with her best friend, developing her voice as a writer with the support of the Brown-attending George, and eventually being published in the school paper, with the help and support of the paper’s editor—her friend’s boyfriend.

As lover of pop-culture and an advocate for media literacy among the youth, especially girls, I was encouraged to find the positive elements of a story that will surely resonate with a large audience. Although Carrie’s mother is absent in reality, she is ever present in the lives of her daughters, all of which are struggling to maintain her legacy while evolving into who they will be as individuals. The biting yet quirky humor that endeared me to Carrie on SATC punctuates the tensest moments in the novel as Carrie offers teen-appropriate insights like, “Funny always makes the bad things go away.”

Unfortunately, comparing the young Carrie to the character she became on the series leaves me no less than disappointed. The Carrie created here comes out an evolved and matured being, moving forward into the next phase of her life, something that was remiss of her character when the SATC series ended, and further exacerbated in the following two films. In fact, I’d favor a film version of The Carrie Diaries over both SATC films.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, July 18th 2010