Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Unscripted

Jefferson had his cock firmly seated in my ass while he nibbled on my toes. I had one arm wrapped around my thigh and I worked my clit while Jefferson pressed one hand into my pussy, pressing up against my g-spot. For all that I was bent backwards like a pretzel and he was practically on tip-toes as he fucked my ass, it felt amazing. After a few more minutes of futile efforts, I gave up on the idea of coming and gazed up at Jefferson.

"Do you have a foot fetish?" I asked. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that," he said, sucking on one of my toes. "When did you pick it up?" I asked innocently, a smile playing around my lips. "I'm not really sure," he said as I wrapped my feet around his face and drew them down to press against his nipples. "I love using my feet when I have sex," I thought about this for a moment. "Usually it's because my arms are tied down. But I've found that they add a nice dimension." I offered him my big toe, and ignored the pain that registered in the nerve damaged part of my foot, turned on by his attention to my feet. Never before had my own foot fetish extended to include my own feet. I could feel the walls of my vagina grow hot and my eyes closed.

"I think it's hot that you have a foot fetish," I said, smiling as I opened my eyes. "I think it's hot that you think it's hot," he said. I love indulging myself and my friends in our shared fetishes, and goodness knows I love me some cute feet. After a while my hips began to hurt and I asked if we could take a break.

Jefferson settled his face between my thighs, his tongue played over my clit, teasing my sweet spot. When I came, I held his face to the junction between my thighs, groaning and riding his face.

He pushed me onto my back and straddled my chest, pressing his cock down into my mouth. He fucked my face while I ran my hands up and down his back. He pulled out and began jerking off. I laid underneath him, oblivious as ever. After a couple minutes it dawned on me what he was planning on doing.

"Don't even think about coming on my face," I said. He gasped and looked down at me, "What? This isn't the time to talk to me." "I said don't even think about coming on my face," I repeated. "Oh," he said. And before either of us could move, he shot his load all over one side of my face and into my hair (on my way to the elevator after I left, I got out my phone to check my messages when I discovered that a few drops had landed on my phone as well).

We sat there in shock for a moment before throwing our heads back and laughing long and hard. After a few minutes of flat out hysterics we bundled off to the shower where I washed my hair and body. When I finished washing up I turned to him. "Did you plan for that to happen?" I asked. "Now honey, you know as well as I do that you can't script comedy like that," he said with a grin.

---


It's a new lay-out, figured it was time for something a little more special. I'm still trying to decide if I like the colors, but I love the image I created. Soo yeah, enjoy!

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Shame

One of the last times I had sex with Simon was in the basement of his ex-girlfriends house. We were all going to some event the following day together, and her family put us together in their very livable basement.

This was during a time when I didn't want to see my body, I was ashamed of it; detested it. I've told this story before; I showered in the dark, wore conservative clothing, and avoided letting people see me naked or partially clothed. By this point I had stopped masturbating, I had gotten some kind of block that stopped me from having orgasms, and whenever I tried I ended up crying in frustration at my bodies refusal to do what it had once done so well and so easily.

I had gone behind a partition that they had to put on my pajamas when Simon came around the corner, he came over and put his hands on my hips, and said something to me, running his hands up under my belly, I pulled away before his fingertips touched my breasts, and he turned away. Muttering about how he didn't need this. I pulled my shirt on over my head, breathing deeply, I tried to pull myself together.

I walked around the partition into the main area where the sofa bed was set up for us. I settled onto the far corner, trying to take up as little room as possible. Desperately trying to avoid contact with him.

"Come here," Simon said, his voice sounded dead. I got up and shyly approached him, I felt skittish on my feet. I knelt on the carpeted floor outside of arms length in front of him. "What are you doing?" He asked. "This isn't like you Eden, I've never met anyone before who was so strong, so liberated in everything like you are. You used to laugh so easily, get excited by all the little things that made you so happy. But I don't see any of that anymore, all I see is someone timid and afraid."

While he spoke, all I could do was think about the day that this had all started, about how desperately I wished I could have gone back and relived that day.

My breath was frozen in my chest, and my hands were clenched tight into the fabric of my pajama bottoms. "Maybe I'm just afraid, can't I be afraid?" I had asked, my voice small and tight. In that moment I wished I had wings, that they would just break out of my back and allow me to fly away into the night.

"I don't know who did this to you, but whoever it was, they don't know you. Don't let some stranger damage your ability to let your light shine," he said. He sank to his knees in front of me and slowly drew my shirt off over my head. My face was turned to the side, with my chin resting against my shoulder. He ran his fingertips up my bare arm and across my shoulder. His hand traced my clavicle and let it run down to my breasts, pressing my nipple together between his thumb and forefinger, it turned me on and made me feel ashamed at the same time. He kissed me gently and tugged me towards the bed, I climbed under the blankets, putting my shirt on the arm of the couch next to me.

He turned off the lights and put on a movie. He climbed into the bed next to me, and I mentally pulled away, desperately trying to protect myself. I remember thinking that that would have been the perfect time to become a nun. Just to pack up my bags and ship on out to Tibet, devote my life to Buddha. He slipped his hand down past the waistband of my pants, his fingertips reaching for my clit. I gasped as he found it, and then I bit my lip; a ball of dread had settled into my stomach. I tried to find my happy place as Simon rolled the condom on and laid on top of me. I was keenly aware of his chest against my breasts, his penis against my labia as he pressed down inside of me.

I don't know why I let him do it, by that time it had been weeks since I had come, perhaps part of me wanted to know if I could even have sex at this point. I could feel my foot hurting, from far away, I had injured my foot a week earlier badly enough to need a cane to get around, and I was still healing. I could make small distances on my own, but anything farther and I needed help.

When Simon finished, I got up and took my cane. I leaned heavily on it as I walked to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was reminded of the faery tale idea of the maiden, the mother, and the crone. I felt more like the crone than the maiden in that moment.

I started to cry, feeling like a lost little child. I cried as I sat down on the toilet to pee, I cleaned myself off and then dried my eyes and blew my nose and went back out into the main room. I pulled on my shirt in the dark, and got into bed. I laid there on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring into nothing until I finally fell asleep.

It would be a few more weeks before I began to have orgasms again, but they never came with the ease that they once did. Each one I had to work for, and in the beginning, I was reliant on other people, because I couldn't manage it on my own. It would be another three and a half months before I could do it on my own, and when I finally managed it, I wept.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Tidbit

I always laugh at myself when I remember this. It happened a couple years ago, in August. I was playing with Boymeat when he asked me if I came from pain. Problem was I was so high on my own endorphins, all I could do was stare at him stupidly and mentally run through my world geography, desperately trying to locate the country 'Pain'. I kept thinking 'No, my family has western European roots, I don't come from Pain at all.'

I was about to ask him what he meant, tell him that I my roots weren't terribly exotic when it dawned on me what he had asked. "It hasn't happened yet," I replied with a quiet smile, and laid my head back in my arms while he continued working over my backside with a cane.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Bob

I dated this guy once for about a month, let's call him Bob. Before I met Jefferson, I had had a grand total of 5 people whom I had bedded. I started associating with the bunny from this video. That bunny and I were real close.


But back to the point. The relationship lasted about a month, we probably would have killed each other if we had let it go any further, but he and I had sex, as couples are wont to do. In his parents basement, that's what cracked me up the most about it. It was so high school. But what really kept me going was that he drove this truck. He worked for his fathers company, so he had this work truck. I wanted to have sex in that truck like you would not believe, and he wouldn't do it. I know it sounds stupid, but really, I just want to have sex in peoples' cars. I never got to do it in high school, never wanted too. Now as an adult, I can't shake the idea.


Back to the point twice removed.

Bob was bad in bed. He gave me one orgasm the entire time we were together. By the time I came, I had earned that orgasm fair and square. It's not to say that Bob was a virgin, but he was inexperienced enough to think that all women are built alike, and all women are capable of g-spot orgasms. I am no such woman. I am difficult to get off, and the first couple times I sleep with someone, I don't expect to cum. I understand that that is not going to happen easily. But I appreciate it when people try.

Anyway. Bob was so sweet and desperate to get me off; but he didn't want to invest in the effort of figuring it out. He just want my orgasm to magically happen. So he would fuck me, and when he was finished, he would look at me and ask me if I came. I would either tell him I hadn't and reassure him that it was alright, or I would tell him that I did. It got to the point where I started faking it. However, the problem with faking your orgasms is that more like than not your going home and putting your hand between your legs or plugging in the ol' hitachi and having yourself a fabulous albeit lonely time.

The one time he managed to get me off I had to coach him. So I'm lying there, going somewhere with this guy's hand between my legs, playing over my clit, and then he stops, not like teasing, he just stops, like he's done, like I've cum. So I shove my crotch against his hand and he keeps going. This went on and on and on, and finally I came, and in the middle of my orgasm? You guessed it. He stopped. I wanted to smack him.

Finally I stopped trying to save his ego, I had given him all that I had, I went down on him, giving him my Jersey Girl Special, I even titty-fucked him, and I'm a b-cup, I don't have a whole helluva lot to titty-fuck with to begin with. But I reached a point where I just didn't care, I started getting myself off openly and often in front of him, while we fucked, I'd finger myself, I'd cum of my own volition. After a relationship where I constantly had to ask permission to cum, I found the idea novel that I could cum and cum and cum in front of someone and they couldn't do anything about it lest I stop fucking them.

I carried more than my share of the weight in that basement, as it were. I'm like a camel, I really don't mind carrying large burdens, whatever their nature, but when he went to friends of ours and COMPLAINED that I wasn't giving enough in bed, I kinda snapped. For a solid half hour I ranted and raved to Aimee that he was just not worth it, for someone who was so into the idea of getting me off, he wasn't into TRYING to get me off.

We broke up a week later.

I completely forgot that I had had sex with him until I was sitting in the bathroom, peeing at one of Jefferson's orgies when it dawned on me that he was number 4 in the line-up men I had slept with. Funny how these things happen, eh?

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Simply Marvelous

It's time to take a break from analyzing everything and write some smut! So, without further ado. . .

This was such a satisfying date, I'm trying to think of where to start.

Duh Eden. Start at the beginning. My idiocy astounds me sometimes.

I got to Jefferson's at about 3pm. Showed up at his door in my work clothes; I was fresh from my first day as an intern and was feeling particularly good about it as Jefferson undressed me, and then undressed himself. We wandered back into his bedroom where we fucked, and fucked and fucked. And then he went down on me.

Going down on me is significant because before I met Jefferson, no one ever bothered to do it with the intent of getting me off, with one exception that I generally try to forget about. So he's going down on me, and I'm slowly creeping towards my orgasm, and then he goes and changes tactics on me. And I made this noise, words like 'grunt' and 'moan' don't seem to define the sound that I made. I made a sound that came from our tree dwelling ancestors, and when I came, it was incredible.

Eventually we wandered off to poke around craigslist for something interesting, we spent the next couple hours wondering if anyone would respond to our ad while we poked fun at each other. I introduced him to the Ultimate Orgy of Ultimate Destiny (click on the armadillo), via the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. He introduced me to the Museum of Creationism, where someone spent like 25 million dollars of their own money and put DINOSAURS in the Garden of Eden where they lived without incident with the other creatures and humans. Jefferson wondered what they did with dinosaurs, I suggested that they were used to plow fields, he thought Ben Hur would have been great if velociraptors had been attached to the chariots instead of horses. Personally I'm still trying to figure out how Eve managed to get tempted by the snake with a t-rex lumbering around.

When it became clear that nothing was going to formulate from our ad, I began to eye Jefferson's coffee table. "Can we fuck on your coffee table?" I had asked. I feel the need to explain to you that I have been wanting to fuck on his coffee table almost as long as I have known him. He said that if I cleaned it off, we could fuck on it. I set to my activity with a fervor, clearing off the surface while Jefferson got the condoms and lube. I laid back on the table and placed my calves on his shoulders, oh I'm forgetting one of the best parts! I went down on him, I'd been wanting to do that for a while now too. Then I tweaked one of his nipples in my teeth before lying back on the coffee table. He slipped inside of me, it felt good to have his cock pound my pussy while I was pushed back into the hard surface of the table. It creaked and groaned in protest to our actions. Then I turned around, got on my knees while he fucked me from behind. This was a good idea for about two minutes before I had to stop, the table just hurt my knees too much. We decided that it was a work in progress.

Eventually we wandered back to his bedroom where we watched a movie, I can't remember the name of it, ask Jefferson, and then we fell asleep.

The next morning we smiled and pulled each other close, kissing and fondling like a couple of teenagers. Jefferson got on top and once again my ankles where put up around his ears while he pressed down into me. And something happened, something amazing! I almost came from straight fucking. I know, I've said it before, but wow, I felt that orgasm and it was close, but then someone moved, maybe it was me, maybe it was him, and it went away. But let me tell you; it was incredible while it lasted.

And then he fucked me in the ass, and it was amazing. Now my ass is a delicate flower, and I have alot of trouble taking it up the ass, but this felt absolutely AMAZING. If Jefferson had been the one to take my ass virginity, I so totally would have volunteered to be the spokes model for the month of ass virgins back in November. It's been days and I'm still thinking about it.

Then we went and got cleaned up and he went down on me and I came again, and it was all kinds of fabulous. In time I packed my things together and headed for the subway, on my way to pick up the Thai food I ordered and catch my bus home to Jersey. All the while floating in the dream space of the newly discovered possibilities that my body decided to offer me.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Disgust

I received this in an e-mail recently, in a dummy account I keep for kinky mailing lists and things like that. Keep in mind I never heard from this person before this showed up in my inbox. He was a complete stranger until he was brought to my attention. I copied and pasted it, it is completely unedited, down to the caps:

MY NAME IS THE PAIN DOCTOR.MY MAIN SPECIALTY IS INFLICTING PAIN BY GIVING CRUEL AND UNUSUAL CORPORAL PUNISHMENTS...MY TECHNIQUES AND METHODS ARE QUESTIONABLE BY SOME,BUT PROVED TO BE VERY PAINFUL AND EFFECTIVE...I AM VERY STRICT AND DO NOT TOLERATE MISBEHAVE DISOBEDIENT SLAVES...YOU MUST OBEY TO EACH AND EVERY ORDER - NO QUESTIONS ASKED OR YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES = AGONY ORDEAL... I DO NOT GIVE ANY "WARM UP" AND GO DIRECTLY TO DO WHAT I DO BEST:TRAINING DISOBEDIENT AND DISRESPECTFUL SLAVES.YOU WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT REAL PAIN IS - UNTIL YOU HAVE MET THE PAIN EXPERT... I HAVE MY OWN TORTURE TECHNIQUES, AND WHO EVER FELT IT,COMPLAINT THAT THEY ARE TOO EXTREME,TOO SEVERE...THE WORDS:MERCY,TOO SEVERE,I NEED A WARM UP,I CAN'T TAKE IT AND SO - DO NOT EXIST IN MY VOCABULARY... I WILL TORTURE YOU AND MAKE YOU SCREAM,BEG FOR MERCY,BEG FOR ME TO STOP AND CRY,CRY,AND CRY...I WILL START THE TRAINING BY SECURELY TYING YOU UP IN UNCOMFORTABLE POSITIONS AND END THE "SESSION"BY PUTTING SALT AND ALCOHOL ON YOUR COLORFUL MARKS, WELTS AND BRUISES... YOU WILL NEED TO USE A VERY SOFT PILLOW TO SIT DOWN... IT IS UNNECESSARY TO MENTION THAT YOU WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO TOUCH AND RUB IT WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.... REMEMBER : YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE YOU NEED TO BE SEVERELY PUNISHED,TRAINED AND DISCIPLINED - YOU MUST NOT ENJOY IT.YOU ARE HERE TO SUFFER,TO FEEL UNCOMFORT,EXTREME PAIN AND AGONY,TO SCREAM, TO CRY, AND BEG FOR MERCY...AND I WILL NOT FEEL SORRY FOR YOU !!!I HAVE MORE THAN 15 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE AS WELL AS ALL THE TOOLS NEEDED FOR ATTITUTE CORRECTIONS.

THE PAIN DOCTOR


Now, I don't think I need to tell you how angry and upset this made me. Why on earth would anyone say these things to me? I reported him to the mailing list, saying that he was threatening me, and was probably threatening others as well. Unfortunately I don't have the e-mail that I sent him in response. But I basically responded by telling him that he was threatening me, and basically telling me that he wanted to assault and abuse me and that he was a shameful predatory woman hater and it was people like him who gave the scene a bad reputation. And I then I shamed him several times.

This is not the way to get my attention. No, I'm sorry, that's wrong, this is a very very good way to get my attention. But the problem with getting my attention in this regard is that I will come down on your head like a safe dropped from a window several stories up, and the end result generally isn't that pretty.

I asked Terra if she thought I was overreacting, but I felt absolutely flabbergasted that anyone would write this to anyone else, let alone a complete stranger. I sat there agape, like a fish when I first read it, the second and third time proved to change little in my behavior. When I read the e-mail to her over the phone, she too was perplexed and concerned by this e-mail. We had no idea what to make of it, we still don't, for that matter. We just know that it's offensive and rude and unacceptable.

I don't know why so many people in the scene think that just because they're kinky and identify with a certain role means that the rules of respect and common decency go out the window. I am much more likely to play with someone who says hi to me, and asks me how I am, and engages me in a conversation before asking me to play. And if I choose to decline, then to simply respect that. But these strangers touch me, and call me 'girl' and tell me how much they want to spank me. These people creep me out, which is why when I go out, I use the buddy system, and periodically throughout the night, my buddy changes, because I find someone to play with, or someone to hang out with while my buddy goes off and plays. However it's sad to me that I have to instate a buddy system, something I shouldn't have to use at the age of 21.

I've been trying to find the words to write about predators and the generally harmless albeit creepy people in the scene, because sadly, they are there, many people I know have had their share of encounters with them, myself included. Maymay recently wrote a very well written post about meeting people in kinky environments, and I'm glad that he wrote that post. He touched on some stuff that I've been mulling over for a while now, and between that and the rather rude e-mail I received above put some things into perspective for me.

When I am confronted with new people in the scene who ask me about how to meet people, I'm always kinda floored. My experience isn't that vast, sure, I've had some wild scenes with some great people, but my circle of friends is pretty small. I try to tell people to please be patient, and not to allow themselves to fall prey to the people who will harm them, like Exhibit A above. I tell them to use the same measuring stick that they would anyone they might meet in the vanilla world. Because the vanilla things do matter when it comes to any kind of relationship with anyone. Kinky stuff is fun, but you need a foundation made up of more than your shared love of canes and spankings for any kind of prolonged relationship.

This behavioral pattern of men, both submissive and dominant, coming up to women, and I can only assume men too, and asking if they can rub our feet or show us their toy bag without even introducing themselves to us is offensive and rude. This isn't to say that there aren't dangerous women in the scene, there are, but in my experience they tend not to be as obvious about their intentions.

It's no different to me than the men on the street who catcall at women as they walk by. They just assume that eventually one of them will take them up on their offer, but honest to goodness, if the first ten didn't show any interest, what makes them think anyone else will?

And this notion of people wanting to prove how dominant they are that they throw the basic rules of social interaction out the window is unacceptable. We no longer live in a medieval society where women are dictated by the wills of their husbands and fathers; the feminist movement happened, we burned our bras and redesigned the maxi pad and demanded the oppertunity to prove ourselves in fields outside of nursing and clerical work. And you know what? We did it too. We got out of the kitchen and we stopped making pies.

And then I go and get up this morning and mosey on downstairs to check my e-mail and I find myself reading this little gem. I'm offended that anyone would write that to anyone else, and I keep coming back to it, keep wanting to write back again. I swear, I want to do a Miss Manner's course on etiquette because quite frankly it's shameful that anyone would consider this a suitable way to introduce oneself. Absolutely shameful.

I'm sure people will roll their eyes and tell me to drop it, that it's not worth my time or energy, that there will always be people like this, and that's probably true, but just because it's true doesn't mean that it's acceptable.

Impact

I was in a book store recently, browsing the shelves before I had to saunter off to work a few blocks away. I wandered in between the aisles, through the bargain books, on into fiction, down through biology and up into history. Eventually I found myself in the section on sexuality. My eyes skimmed over the titles, I wasn't terribly interested in the books. Mostly revised versions of the 'Kama Sutra', and other books on positions. I've given up on elaborate positions, getting off is already hard enough with having to worry about my aching knees or the muscles burning in my back from the strain.

My eye was caught by a book, and I picked it up, and read the back of it. 'Working Sex: Sex Workers Write About a Changing Industry', was the title. And as I began to read it, I fell inside of it. Because it was exactly what I had been looking for for the longest time. Now, I'm not a sex worker, I can't offer you views on that because I have no experience in that arena, but what struck me about this book was the actual stories, not the money that exchanged hands, but the men and women who had these experiences. I feel like we never hear from sex workers because they get pushed down so often, but I think that their voices need to be heard.

I often think of one of Eve Ensler's monologues from 'The Vagina Monologues' titled 'I was twelve. My mother slapped me,' when I think of sex. Because in her intro she says that when she interviewed women about their periods, their stories began to show similarities and patterns in their experiences.

I believe that the same thing applies to sex.

I believe this because when we start to tell our stories, similarities begin to shine through. Love, hate, need, passion, fear, desperation, happiness, joy, elation, fun, healing, and so much more. When we begin to talk about our experiences, we weave together a cloth full of stories that have many different feelings and meanings attached to them.

When I began blogging, I wanted to write about my stories and experiences, I had thoughts and opinions that I wanted to share with the world. But it was never really my intent to write erotica. I wanted to get past the smut, because I honestly believe that sex impacts our lives. I took a guy's virginity last year, how do you think that effected him? How did it effect me? I also fisted a girl for the first time, her first time getting successfully fisted, what about that?

After Jefferson got back from Camp last year, I showed up on his door step with my strap-on, and that night he straddled me, pressing my dildo up into his ass. And we cried and I held him and told him that I had him, that I would never let him fall, and he kept saying over and over again 'I know, I know' while we wept. I think about that sometimes, about the fact that the night that we did that, I did not get turned on, not like I usually do. What transpired between us went so much deeper than sex. Lying there, staring up at him, I felt submissive in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. Deep down inside of my soul something vibrated, and it broke and reformed. Something inside of me had changed, had healed.

So I'm sure you can understand why it frustrates me when I hear people talking about how sex is evil and wrong. How can something be evil and wrong when it has effected so many lives so deeply, for better or for worse? I have friendships with people that I met at orgies, these are people that I talk about music and movies and relationships and everything else with. Back in March I e-mailed Jefferson about an afternoon of casual sex and we've been friends ever since. Sex brings people together, after all it takes two to tango, three can be company, and the more the merrier.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for the people of this world who have chosen to be celibate for one reason or another. I was celibate for 13 months once, and I applaude the people who have done it successfully. But it's not for me, I can't imagine it's for most people. No, my issue lies with the people who try to erase their sex drives, and encourage other people to do the same, the people who tell boys their penis' will fall off if they masturbate, or the circumcision of girls in Africa, or the people who try to 'reprogram' gay men and lesbian women to fit into their concept of what people should really be, instead of what they actually are, which is human.

I feel like some people have lost sight of the bigger picture, so I'm writing this in attempt to make the bigger picture a little bit clearer. To try to erase some of the tarnish that sex has somehow accumulated over the years, and let's face it, those are some pretty substantial years. The people that I've talked to about sex have told me some of the most incredible stories, and I'm so pleased that they entrusted me to be one of the keepers of their tales. When they tell me these stories I hear wistful longing and unfinished business in their voices, I hear regret and pain, and joy, I hear people giggling like they were children again, on rare occasions I've witnessed tears, goodness knows I'm shedding them now, as I write this.

I will probably never understand why some people have such close minded views on sex. I can't help but wonder who hurt them so badly that they decided it was acceptable to destroy one of the pillars of healthy human development. I can only hope that they can find it in themselves to let go and try to heal, to try to see that they are safe and sound now.

Because in an era when we are confronted with AIDS and a host of other STDs, many treatable, others not, with teen pregnancies and botched abortions, where men, women, and children and members of the LGBT community face horrible indecencies, you'd think that more people would be willing to open their eyes and see the full magnitude of what is happening.

It seems like everyone is preaching abstinence, but human beings on a base physical level are wired to want to have sex; it's biological destiny. I would think that knowing what we know now, we would make more of an effort to inform people about birth control and the importance of using protection when having sexual relations. We need to stop trying to be perfect images of control, no man is a god, and no woman is a goddess, we are all human beings, no better and no worse than anyone else. Human beings cannot afford to let hubris win over common sense. The more people know about sex, the better off the whole human race will be.

I honestly don't know how to conclude this post, because if I'm not saying it, then somebody else is. There is no real way to end something like this, it will keep going on, long after I press the 'publish' button below my little window here. So I'm just going to leave it at that and hope that maybe some good will come of this.

 
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