Tag Archives: feminism

Turkey and Misogyny

blissfullyinequal

I woke up this Thanksgiving morning to a hard cock parting my plush rounded ass cheeks.  As the length of him submerged between them, he trailed the head of his cock through my velvet flesh, parting my pink pussy lips with the thickness of him.  His cock immediately slicked with his cum trickling from inside of me where he released hours before.  Reaching around my body, he took his thick, calloused hand and wrapped it around my neck, squeezing.  His vascular forearm nestled between my ample breasts, pulling my body into his as he thrusts his solid cock inside of me.  His thrust forces the concoction of our cum to trail down his length and pool around the base of his shaft.  I feel his coarse body hair against my back and his thick beard brushing the back of my neck. His breath is heavy, and his moans are deliciously low, a primal rumble from deep inside his chest. I could swear I absorb every drop of his masculinity through all of my senses, permeating the very pores of my skin.

I get high off of his masculinity, the opposite that makes me whole.  In nearly every moment of the day, I am reminded about how grateful I am to have a man who fearlessly embraces his masculinity, and not in a way that mainstream society would find acceptable.  My man is a devout believer in patriarchy and as ironic as it sounds, a loving misogynist.  Although this may not work for many women in today’s society, I thrive off of his belief in being superior to me in most ways.  I am not his equal, a belief we both share, and that belief is in no way a threat to me or my sense of self.  Conversely, his embracing his masculinity apart and separate from the feminine is exactly what heightens my sense of femininity in myself.  You see, my personal belief is that a man that embraces feminism, or routinely touts gender equality, is simultaneously diminishing his own masculinity.  I appreciate the more traditional aspects of how relationships and marriage used to be.  Men are being demonized daily; meanwhile, many women are sitting back, spectating or even supporting such movements whilst chanting, “We don’t need a man!”

Well, I do.

I don’t just want my man. I mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically and in every way imaginable NEED my man.  He is the counterpart to my greatest attributes, ones in which he cannot embody nor desires to embody.  I am the perfect counterpart to his greatest attributes, ones in which I cannot and do not wish to embody.  By embracing our inequality we cultivate a organic equilibrium within our bond.  Power struggles do not find life in our home.  My husband and I do not fight over who gets to wear the pants.  He does.  Give me the dress and heels.  I want absolutely nothing to do with those pants; I couldn’t possibly fill them as perfectly as he does, and thus, suit him so much better than they ever could me.

I feel the modern day woman is doing a disservice to both themselves and men that women will soon (if they are not already) live to regret.  For every time a woman chants, “I don’t need a man”, are they not also acknowledging that men don’t need THEM?  As women preoccupy themselves with raising fists in opposition of the patriarchy, how could men not begin to disassociate themselves from women?  Why would a man choose the limp embrace of a woman who (admittedly) doesn’t need him, when he could find comfort in the arms of a woman who does?  Why would a man appreciate and value a woman for her femininity if he is not validated, acknowledged, and respected for what makes him naturally different?  In modern day, heterosexual relationships*, our quests for equality is perpetuating a divide between the couple and dissolves intimacy.  Viewing themselves as “equal” does not guarantee a more fair, loving, and nurturing relationship; On the contrary, by not embracing what makes us so beautifully different and complementary, we are neglecting the validation of such admirable qualities in our partner.  Sameness is boring.  While equality may be seen as more “fair”, it certainly is not more balanced.  The balance exists when two people can accept where their partner far surpasses their capabilities, is acknowledged for those gifts, and by association, acknowledges the converse of such gifts in their partner.

This morning, as my glorious husband pushed his thick cock inside of my tight pussy, two uniquely different bodies were made whole.  His strong, masculine body pressed against the smooth, healthy, feminine shape of mine leaves me in revere of our differences.  His grasp leaves me feeling secure and safe.  He would risk his life for me and I dedicate mine to his.  I admire him, and in such admiration, I find him to be my BETTER half.  I do not see him as my equal and I am grateful for my position.  In my position I am treasured, taken care of, and admired in a way that no “strong, independent” woman could be.  Yes, I absolutely need my man.

Now, I’m going to go bake a cake in all my domestic goddess femininity and enjoy him devouring my “cake” later.

*I emphasize this because I have no knowledge or personal experience to reflect upon any other kind of relationship; thus, have no business making assumptions about them.


Feminist Facade


Feminist? Not me.

I don’t want equality.

I don’t want you to feel like you must fight me for a position of authority in our relationship.  That you must assert yourself in the face of my emotional whims.  I don’t want you to feel like we both have something to prove, and your assertion of such points must trump mine.  I desire not to corner you, belligerently belittling your spirit for my personal validation.  To feel power over a threat, merely a phantom.  To place you ahead does not render me last.

There are no wars for power here.

I view myself not as beneath you, but beside you. Albeit, preferring a view from slightly behind the curve of your muscular shoulder, the force of your strength leading me forward with each step.  You guide me.  You lead me.  I have no desire to be directly beside you.  I love you in the lead.  Forever keeping in step with you, with eyes alert to awaiting obstacles.  We will traverse them with relative ease made of a balance found between two uniquely different, naturally complementary, forces.

When I’m on my knees before you, I don’t feel devalued; rather, I feel elevated beyond the physical position of my body.  I feel larger than life and greater than the sum of my parts.  With the downward caress of your strong hand through my hair, I am elevated in my service to you.  Your eyes cast downward, connecting with mine, render me gracious for your presence.  Gracious for your presence that is not only physical, but emotional; not simply loving, but loyal to the conservancy of my being.  For your downcast gaze is hardly one of degradation, but admiration.

A very strong and capable woman, indeed.  But, I need not prove to you my independence by forgoing my desire to serve you well.  I need not persistently deny your request to provide aid, to sooth my upsets, or to supportively criticize, in order to reason with my facility.  My strength unveiled with my submission.  The fortitude necessary to forge the iron, strong enough to withstand a blow, however vulnerable to the fire.  You, my weakness.  You, my fire.  I burn in your presence. I melt for your power.

I need not do what you can do to feel equal.  I need not do it better.  I need only to provide to you the soul of a woman who has devoted her life to complementing you.  Where you are right, I will make up the left; whenever you grow far, I will pull you near.  If you shall find yourself sinking, I shall elevate you.  A dance of mutual attendance.  A dance of complementary forces, neither one in need of convincing the other of our position.  Neither one in need of demanding their value as greater.  No need to rehearse for the sake of a convincing performance.  Not a single toe stepped upon.  Complementary.

The fantasies that lurk behind the fortress you’ve built to preserve yourself from the fray, you offer them to me.  The darkest corners where monsters are rumored to thrive; I see beautiful beasts of burden, grown angry carrying the load of societal pressures.  I offer comfort, lure them from the recessed corners and hold them securely.  The beast is aggressive, but I feel no fear of harm.  The beast is physical, but I fear no attack. The beast is rough, but softens at my caress.  I feel the beast tremor as I caress over the scars that form trails along his hide.  I remove his burden.  The beast has no need to conceal any longer.  The beast is in no need of taming, nor training; in no need of demasculinization.

I envelop him in my feminine embrace.  Press upon his flesh the breasts of a woman for pleasure not purpose.  Caress with the touch of delicacy instead of efficiency.  A body with the curves composed of sensuality, not simply capability.  A beautiful cunt to converse the most intimate of conversations, not an agenda.  A woman.  His woman.  His needs are my needs, and my needs are his. In this, we are freed.


We Shall See…

Another casual, light-hearted update for all you lovelies…

On top of an exceedingly demanding professional life, I am working on a significantly long paper  for a class.  I was *cough, cough* “fortunate” to have an uber-feminist professor in this class, which has resulted in some interesting debates between she and I, as well as some of my other classmates.  I am not anti-feminist, per se, in the sense that I believe equal treatment for equal work.  However, I do believe that men are significantly misrepresented within our present society by a virtual pendulum swing toward feminism in the name of emasculating men.  Ultimately, I believe heavily in evolutionary psychology and cognitive development as it applies to biology.  I believe men are men and women are women for reasons primarily dictated by biology; I believe hormones, physiology, and thus, brain development coincide with our responses toward the environment.  I do believe culture plays a heavy influence as well, akin to adding standards of performance to a basic blank slate:  As if taking a large boulder and carving it into a beautiful sculpture; the beautiful sculpture may represent something upon it’s surface, but at it’s core the subject is simply rock.  Culture carves.

Anyway, my professor has assigned readings for this particular class that I find are bias against men.  If I were a man in this class, I would feel as though I was a pig on a spit, rotating and roasting before a crowd of chanting, spear wielding women.  They would extend their fists vehemently into the air, exposing the hairy pits of rebellion.  They would dance around the rotisserie man with dangling breasts of stretched tissue and “beaver bump” one another in the name of “fem-araderie”.  Roast that man for all his oppression – Men and their penises are to blame for all our problems in the world….

I cannot stand this course.  Such potential in the material to be squandered away by personal bias.  Anyway, I digress…

After numerous debates, I have decided to compose my final paper on cultural dynamics as it effects aspects of BDSM culture and alternative relationships.  Ah, yes.  Imagine the joy I will have once I receive a poor grade in this course due to the fact that I will discuss being a female sub to my male Dominant.  My professor is notorious for grading according to personal opinion and perspective.  Undoubtedly, my close-minded professor will know little about the lifestyle, as she will see it as another way culture oppresses women.  To expose that fallacy, I plan to discuss the role of dominance and submission, as it pertains to the individual and not the gender of the person.  Ultimately, I plan to show the BDSM culture as a place where gender is an illusion; a place where a person is accepted as an “individual” and not as culture would define him/her or his/her chromosomal make-up.  She likely has read Fifty Shades of Grey and was repulsed by that pathetic depiction of the community – even though she likely masturbated to images of being dominated by a man.  Typical.  I’m going to blow the top off of this bitch, and I am looking forward to it.

Again, I can’t wait to write a substantial piece for pleasure, for a change.  Presently, my language has been reduced to legalities and formalities, and I am feeling creatively handicapped.

I also was nominated for the “Bad Girl Blogger Award” from the lovely Whispering Girl, which has brought me great joy!  I am incredibly flattered.  Thank you for such lovely words of recognition.  I am chomping at the bit to assume my more creative pursuits, I just have to get through the next week or two.