Jake drove me into the desert to fuck me. I’m not sure why. I would have fucked him anywhere. But we were talking, and somehow it came up that I liked the desert. We had been flirting at school and at the bar for a few weeks. He had broken up with Miranda, this tiny Japanese girl with blue eyes and a meth habit.
I’d gone over to Jake’s apartment once. We played Nintendo and joked around a little bit. He didn’t try to kiss me or anything.
That night, it must have been after some party because I remember I was wearing a dress with stockings, he said “let’s go to the desert.” … Continue Reading
Anyone who has read Guts by Chuck Palahniuk knows that things can end very badly when we don’t carefully consider the risks of exercising our proclivities. But just in case you didn’t get the lesson (or you fainted during one of Palahniuk’s infamous readings of the story), we have some more gruesome tales for you, fresh from ER gossips around the country. … Continue Reading
“As you know, California is an all-party consent state,” I say, putting the iPhone on the table. The banter around me dies down immediately. “I’m going to take the lack of screaming as consent. If you speak from this point on, you’re consenting to being recorded. All right, let’s hear that story.”
“What story?” Daniel* asks innocently. He takes a sip of his drink and begins: “We met on a cruise. It’s what I call a vacationship. The vacationship that went way too far. We went on a cruise to Bermuda in June, spent seven days together and stayed in touch over the summer. I spent the summer on the East Coast, so I’d drive to see her and we’d be involved. Sexually — if I need to announce that for the microphone.” … Continue Reading
Tonight she watches. Legs crossed, head cocked, a bemused smile on her lips. A softly fuming cigarette at her fingertips. The taste of vodka. … Continue Reading
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he lamented insincerely; barely audible over the rustle of fabric. The buttoning of buttons. His watch snaps closed. … Continue Reading
I returned to one of my former stomping grounds, San Francisco, for my first Folsom Street Fair since I “came out” as a kinkster. I lived in S.F. in the early- to mid-80′s and remember going to one of the very first Folsom Street fairs. Back then, it was a small, neighborhood affair, with a strictly hardcore gay leather crowd. As jaded as I was, it was shocking to see all those bare man asses and cocks hanging out right there in public, in broad daylight! … Continue Reading
As the saying goes, it was the chase that thrilled her. The locking of eyes across a darkened room. A haze of sweat and cigarette smoke.
She enjoys a slow seduction. A rhythm that swells and retreats with the quickening and softening of heartbeats. The pulse of an evening. This one was a child, really. A man in years only. Full of his own estimations. He was ripe for instruction. … Continue Reading
A week ago a Twitter user asked the perennial question, “Jackie or Marilyn?” Would you rather be the elegant, stylish idol Jackie O, or sexpot goddess Marilyn Monroe? (For the younger generation, Team Jennifer or Angelina?) Virgin/slut, wife/mistress, girlfriend/hook-up, whatever paradigm you use to explain the roles available to women in society. They always boil down to good girl versus bad girl. Which one are you? An even better question, which one would you be?* … Continue Reading
The door closes behind him. Her skin is still warm. His retreating footsteps beat a rhythm and she sings to it softly, tracing a line from hip to breast with her fingertips. His favorite bit of her, he says.
Brief, fleeting, fervent, she loves him in three hour intervals that begin and end with the rhythm of steps. In one direction and then in the other. He is not like the rest. … Continue Reading
The Houston Press unceremoniously outted Sarah Tressler as a writer, adjunct professor and stripper, suggesting that she’s only doing what she’s doing because she wants a book deal and a movie made about her life. “It’s all pretty much what you’d expect,” he says. “Writing in the style that really, really wants to be described as ‘fearless’ and ‘intelligent’ and ‘funny’ and ‘sexy.’”
In a world where employers can easily find out everything about you, where insurance companies can decide to give or deny coverage because they see some status update as representing a liability, where a judge at family court can take away your children because — God forbid — you had a photo taken at Playboy West some Halloween… It’s not a matter of the web exposing you. It’s a matter of no longer having the ability to segregate different aspects of your life as we were once easily able to do and the concern is entirely valid.
But there is one question we just haven’t been able to answer to our satisfaction — at least not without exposing the absolutely disgusting hypocrisy of people who claim to be interested in preserving the beautiful tradition of freedom and autonomy that this country represents. The question was posed simply enough: “The conservative party’s devotion to preserving the life of the unborn is admirable, but their concern seems to only extend to the unborn. Why are people so devoted to life in the name of God treat the very children they have saved as unnecessary burdens on the state, to be excised like so many malignant tumors?”
Every woman knows the word slut has power. Whether you love it or hate it, the word “slut” is an evocation of a gender double standard used to control women and no woman alive hasn’t thought about what it means to be labeled in this way. In some cultures, where honor killings take place, it is a matter of life or death. If you’re a “good” woman, don’t kid yourself. It means you’ve spent your life and will continue to spend your life calibrating your appearance, speech and behavior so that you are not a slut.
Initially, it is unclear whether Limbaugh repeatedly cites this fraudulent article as a means to justify his dishonest tirade or if he truly failed to do the appropriate research regarding Fluke’s remarks, but as his show continues and Limbaugh plays more clips from Sandra Fluke’s congressional hearing, it becomes evident that he is picking and choosing what he wants his listeners to hear, in order to corroborate the allegation he made in a previous show that Fluke is nothing but a slut who wants everyone else to pay for her birth control.
Hoping to provide pro-choice supporters a space to counter anti-abortion rhetoric and activity surrounding the “40 Days for Life” Lent campaign, a Tumblr has been erected to cheer on those who believe that a woman’s body doesn’t belong to society.
Sex and the 405 is what your newspaper would look like if it had a sex section.
Here you’ll find news about the latest research being conducted to figure out what drives desire, passion, and other sex habits; reviews of sex toys, porn and other sexy things; coverage of the latest sex-related news that have our mainstream media's panties up in a bunch; human interest pieces about sex and desire; interviews with people who love sex, or hate sex, or work in sex, or work to enable you to have better sex; opinion pieces that relate to sex and society; and the sex-related side of celebrity gossip. More...
