Sexual Napalm

It’s time to face facts. I’m a geek. To my core. I play WoW (World of Warcraft for you non-geeks). I join Harry Potter sorting communities on Live Journal. I play role playing games on line, aside from MMORPGs like WoW. I read geek books. I watch geek TV shows. I can geek out about anything, really. Though, I do admit that since keeping this blog, it’s been hard to geek out about sex. I mean really fan girl it up about sex. I have tried. I have. But perhaps it’s a female thing? I don’t think about sex ALL THE TIME. There are times when I don’t think about it at all to be honest. Though I do LOVE reading about it in stories and novels.

I want to be able to write about more than just the funny stories I’ve encountered in my dating life or the funny websites that mention sex in some fashion. I want to be able to blog about all the wonderful (and some not so wonderful) things in my life, which I have to admit revolve around geek stuff. And perhaps an occassional story about sex.

So, when my boyfriend showed me the following cartoons, I knew they had to be posted. There are the perfect blend of sex and geek and I figured they would be such an amazing thing to post on my way to transitioning this blog into a more all encompasing geek blog.

So, for your sexual geek pleasure….enjoy!

That is how GAMER GIRLS ROLL.

Hee!

A picture says a thousand words. I shall let the picture do the talking.

Except for the fact that this picture was posted on Facebook by my awesome friend Kara and she lovingly got it from Victoria Alfaro, who I believe is the model in the photo.

In honor of the holiday, it is time for an erotic turkey dinner, thanks to www.juxtapoz.com!

Everyone have a safe, wonderful and sexy holiday!

Ah, the orgasm. That wonderful sensation. That often elusive and magical thing that happens when your muscles contract and your brain goes fuzzy and everything seems to be perfect for one moment in time.

The orgasm has mystified men and women, doctors and philosophers alike. It is a wonder to this day, and it is necessary to good health, both mental and physical.

I don’t know what it is about an orgasm that seems to make things seem better for at least a few minutes, sometimes hours or even days afterward.

Of course there is, at least for women, the feeling of satisfaction even when we don’t reach orgasm. And let’s face it; we don’t orgasm every time we have sex. We don’t even orgasm every time we masturbate. But that doesn’t diminish our pleasure. There is often a sense of peace and at least for me, a feeling of being inherently sexy even if I don’t have an orgasm. At least during sex. When it’s a vibrator, and me well the whole idea is to go and go and go until an orgasm is reached and I feel all wobbly and weak-kneed. But during sex, even if there is no orgasm, the feeling of having been filled, of having been desired and wanted is often just as powerful. The entire process of being touched and fondled and played with before actual intercourse makes me feel like a goddess … like I am the only woman on earth who can experience such amazing pleasure.

In truth, there are probably millions of women thinking the exact same thing – at least I sure as hell hope they are! Feeling desired is something I find irreplaceable. Sometimes I enjoy that feeling almost more than I do the actual orgasm. It evokes a different feeling. It evokes a feeling of being cared for and loved as well as desired. And that makes the sex even better.

I don’t know how men feel about it, but I know from personal experience that a few kisses and a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am is a whole hell of a lot different than being worshiped with someone’s hands caressing your whole body and their mouth tasting and teasing you.

I’m not gonna deny it: the fast and furious sex has its place. Thrown up against a wall with primal desires taking over is something I have yet to experience, but is high on the list of things to try. But I am such a big fan of warm hands exploring my body, making me relax and think about how sexy I am, and how much my lover desires me. Of course, hearing him tell me I smell good and taste good gives me an amazingly heady feeling as well.

Of course once you experience real desire and being desired, you miss it when it’s not there. For whatever reason, too tired being the most common for me, I have to remind myself that I’d rather get less sleep and feel truly relaxed post-coitus than forgo it and sleep longer. Of course in a perfect world, I’d be able to have both! But my world is nowhere close to perfect so I’ll take what I can get.

I will admit, though, that sometimes the cuddling is the best part, even if there is no sex. It makes me feel loved and safe. Of course, I can’t seem to get sex off my mind so my hands wander during cuddling and I start to get that frisky feeling!

Which is better: a bone-shattering orgasm or a loving cuddle? Why choose? If you have a giving and considerate partner you can experience the little death (as the French call it) and enjoy other sensual pleasures as well.

According to an article I read on Oprah.com science has come up with some new facts about sex. I’m honestly not sure whether or not to laugh or cry that money was actually spent on this research. So, let’s get started with their findings, shall we?

Science factoid #1:

According to a study conducted by the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel, a woman’s tears decrease sexual arousal in men. My first question is did they monitor HOW the woman was brought to tears? I mean let’s be honest, if it’s the guy who made her cry, I would expect his arousal to decrease. She’s probably pissed or hurt by some douchebaggy thing her lover/boyfriend/husband did. Now that’s not always true; she could just be PMSing and moody which means she probably doesn’t want to have sex anyway, so his arousal is the last thing on her mind.

However, if it’s not any of these things, she could be grieving over the loss of a loved one or not feeling well and in this case she needs comfort not sex. And if you GIVE her the right kind of comfort, the tears could stop and she may be grateful and her sex drive may switch on and you could get lucky. Or you could do it just for the sake of being a decent human being.

I’m just sayin’.

Science factoid #2:

The University of Toronto conducted the next scientific study, which showed that potential female mates are less attracted to males raised with more sisters than brothers. IN RATS. UM … no offense, University of Toronto, but humans aren’t rats! I mean unless we are talking about NIMH rats, I really don’t think this study is very helpful. Perhaps you should try this study on oh, I dunno, HUMANS and see if you get the same results as you did with the rats.

I don’t know whether to be insulted or laugh my fucking ass off!

Science factoid #3:
Now, the University of Guelph in Ontario has done a study I can get behind. According to their research on natural aphrodisiacs, ginseng root boosts arousal and sexual satisfaction, and chocolate increases desire.

I see a new dessert in the future: ginseng root chocolate! I think that study would have been fun and most likely NOT run on rats! I doubt chocolate is very good for rats.

So, chocolate (especially the dark kind) is good for you because of all the antioxidants, it increases one’s sexual desire! I see this as a total WIN/WIN.

Science factoid #4:

The last study, which, by the way, provided no information about the actual study or where it was performed, says that a man is less likely to break up with a woman for cheating if it’s with another woman. And the opposite is true for women: that if her man cheats on her with another man she is more likely to break up with him.

Okay, they really had to spend money on a study for this? WOW.

Most men DREAM of girl on girl action, so yeah, a lot of men wouldn’t mind if their women cheated with another chick! He’d probably do his best to get his lover/girlfriend/wife to invite her lover over so he could join in the fun, or at the very least watch. DUH!

As for women breaking up with guys who cheated with other men, again, duh! The idea that you’re married or dating or even sleeping with a man who could be gay (or at the very least bi-sexual) is not something most straight women are into.

Now, I know of quite of few women who don’t mind, and again, would ask if they could participate in that, making an epic Male-Male-Female (MMF) threesome. Especially if it happens to be a celebrity pairing they are slashing in fan fiction.

But on the whole, most straight women just want a straight man that they can love and will love them back just as much.

I recently attended Comic Con in San Diego. Comic Con has changed. It is not your geeky brother’s Comic Con anymore where comic books were the main source of entertainment. It’s turned into a media circus where all of your favorite TV Shows and Movies have panels and you can squee and fawn over your favorite stars.

For a lot of us, it’s a time to show of our geek – whether it’s by dressing up as a favorite character from comic books, anime, TV or movies, to just coming down to shop and see the panels.

I am of the latter group. I come down to San Diego to shop and see the panels. It’s a helpful way to learn actually. Some of my favorite authors have had their books turned into movies or TV shows. Stephen King of course has had many of his best selling books turned into amazing movies! Then you have George R.R. Martin, the author of the Song of Fire and Ice series, better known as Game of Thrones on HBO.

And then there is the Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris, which have been magnificently turned into the HBO show True Blood by Alan Ball (also the creator of Six Feet Under for the same network).

True Blood has turned into a phenomenon. I’m not kidding. No matter how geeky (or not geeky) my friends on and off the internet are, I’d say 99% of them are in to True Blood!

And why, you ask? It’s a smart, funny, sexy and kind of gory show! It’s an “adult” show that doesn’t play down to anyone. There is more sex on True Blood than on a lot of “soft core porn” shows! And it has vampires. For me, that’s a win win!

Since the show began, my friends and I have been attending Comic Con almost specifically to see the True Blood panel. In fact, I first found out about the show from going to Comic Con. It had a huge advertising campaign and I was enticed to watch it because of the presence it had at Comic Con.

I watched the first episode and I was HOOKED! Since then, I have watched all the shows, read all the books and loved every minute of it.

Now, the show gets much more bloody and much more sexual than the books did. I loved the books but found myself wishing Mrs. Harris would actually delve into the sex in more detail. But this is of course, coming from a girl who started reading romance novels at 12!

The show makes up for that in spades! They not only talk about it, they show just as much (sometimes even more) than soft core porn! So, when I attended the panel this year at Comic Con, I was just shocked by the fact that they had to watch their language!

Every guest had a name card and on the back of that card was a blurb about how many people in the audience were under 18, and that they should refrain from certain kinds of language.

Um. This is the TRUE BLOOD panel. People under 18 shouldn’t even be WATCHING this show, let alone attending the Comic Con Panel! I mean here we are talking about threesomes and how many people Sookie will hook up with, and about Lafayette’s gay relationship with a witch and the fact that he’d been a drug dealer and Tara discovering she liked girls, and seeing Alcide and Eric’s naked asses!

This is not subject matter for kids. They shouldn’t have been in the panel. And therefore the actors and producer shouldn’t have been worried about offending sensitive ears.

Especially since I believe the True Blood panel was the last panel of the day! There was no waiting for another panel. True Blood was it. If you were in that room, it was to see the True Blood panel.

It seems such a small thing to rant about, but it irked me. That panel is always lewd and sexy and funny and inappropriate for young ears. And yet KIDS went up to ask questions of the actors! It was kind of disturbing.

But, I guess people raise their kids differently these days. I really shouldn’t judge.

Four things that start with M that made my toes curl and made me say just that – mmmm.

I have done it again. I snuck out of my house at one o’clock in the morning to meet a guy. From the same website (LPSG) on which I met the previous guy. However, this experience was far, far better than I can possibly put into words. But I’m sure as hell going to try!

He found me on LPSG, found this blog, and then proceeded to find me on Facebook where he messaged me and we started chatting. I was immensely impressed that he took so many steps to find me. And I was, interestingly, not creeped out by it at all, especially after we started talking. We have many, many things in common. We are both musicians, he has been playing piano for much of his life, which by the way is a trait that not only appeals to me psychologically, but physically as well. It boils down to the fact that he has strong and gentle hands, and he knows how to use them. And of course that he has an understanding of classical music and how it can affect the heart, body and soul without my having to explain that it means a great deal to me.

We are also both geekish, which is a quality I prize. I pride myself in my geekiness. I’m not a computer geek by any stretch of the imagination – if my Mac explodes, I’m taking it to the Apple Store and the Genius Bar just like any other average Joe – but I like sci-fi, and the paranormal, and literature and history, and many other geeky things and I wear that badge with pride! So to find someone who has at least some of the geeky qualities I have is an excellent bonus!

There are myriad other small things that we have in common that just gave me a really good feeling about meeting him. So, originally we had planned to meet in a couple of days. But on a whim we ended up meeting that very same night. He drove his classic Mercedes over to my place and I snuck out again, and we found a dark street to go to and park his car and smoke a lot of pot and make out.

We started by smoking some of the excellent Humboldt marijuana I had been given as a gift (hey, why waste it right?), getting extremely high and then leaning our plush leather seats back to relax and chat.

There is always that moment, when the mood changes. When things go from light-hearted banter and silliness to sultry and seductive. When you both know you want something to happen; when you know what you want and you wait for one or the other to make a move. I can feel it in the atmosphere: the air gets charged up like someone ran an electrical surge through the area and I get this beautiful knot of anticipation in my stomach.

And that is when he leaned over me and kissed me with large, soft, gentle lips and a tongue that was powerful and strong. The combination was a heady mixture that I found addicting. Just recalling it makes me warm all over again and makes my heartbeat speed up. I even remember saying to him that I couldn’t stop kissing him and he said back to me, “Is it my big, soft lips?” And I answered yes it was, but that it was that and his tongue. I loved the contradiction of gentle strength he exuded; a warrior in an artist’s body.

I know his hands were anxious to touch me, because my skin was desperate for his touch. I unzipped my velvet hoodie and let it fall open, knowing I was wearing only a bra. Quickly the bra came off, and his mouth was surrounding my erect nipple making me moan and my hands were thrust in his mass of silky black hair. He gave each breast equal attention, driving me crazy with his tongue and his lips and his hands.

Soon, I was naked in the front seat of his car, his hands all over me, exploring my body as best they could in the limited space allowed in the bucket seat. He was able to see, to feel how wet I was, how turned on he’d made me. And I told him my one and only rule about making out. I don’t give guys head unless I’m pleasured orally first.

There is a reason for this. I have been passed over on this heavenly event too many times. And I am not okay with a “blowjob here and there among friends.” Not when I don’t get anything out of the bargain.

Now, during sex, that’s different. I’m happy, more than happy to give my lover a blowjob. It turns me on to no end! But I do not expect that to be the only form of pleasure happening in an evening.

And I was not disappointed. Not one bit. As awkward as it was, he went down on me with an appetite I was quite pleased to experience. And I have to say, it felt phenomenal. Sadly, the positioning was not the best, even with my help, and he couldn’t maintain it for long, so sadly he wasn’t able to bring me to orgasm, but I don’t begrudge him for this one bit. He did an excellent job under awkward circumstances and gets an A for effort and execution. I just can’t wait until his repeat performance; that will be a masterpiece even Beethoven would be jealous of!

After that, we took a little bit of a break for the blood to return to his head (not that one, his actual thinking head) and his hand just played with my skin for a bit. It was wonderful. I leaned over to rest my head on his stomach, and he said he needed a few minutes to get hard again, as he had been so focused on my pleasure and concentration on his precarious positioning that he’d lost a bit of his erection.

So we started to kiss again, and I could taste myself on his lips and smell myself on his skin and it made me wild for him. I kissed him with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. I told him I could taste myself. He was concerned I didn’t like it. I told him that I had, in fact, tasted myself before and thought it was a huge turn on. My hand snaked down to find that he was rock hard already. In mere minutes he’d gotten hard again. And I could not help myself. I had to get my mouth around him. He was gorgeous. Practically perfect. Around 8 inches, with a nice thickness, circumcised, with gorgeous balls and a beautiful head.

I licked and sucked, varying my technique, listening to his reactions, his moans and his body’s movements, and when he said things like “That feels so good,” hopefully doing what he enjoyed. I listened to his instructions, when he asked me to stroke and suck a certain way, how he buried his hand in my hair to help guide a rhythm he liked until he came. Normally, I would have swallowed, but we had nothing to drink, and while I don’t mind the taste of a man’s semen, it’s not the best tasting thing in the world and I do need to wash it down with something. So, this time, I didn’t. But he didn’t seem to mind too much.

I think what happened was one of my favorite parts of the evening. Before we’d started making out, he’d changed the radio station to the only classical station left in L.A., KUSC. I have to admit that making out to classical music really does something wonderful to me. I love the mood it creates.

And when a Ravel piece came on the radio we sat there, while he stroked my arm as if playing the piece on me. His movements were sensual and erotic and I loved every minute of it. We didn’t speak, we let the music fill the car and I let it carry me away while he played the piece on my arm, sensation driving me to a place of both peace and erotic sensuality.

The only bad part of the evening was having to get dressed and go home. Which I did at oh, about 4:30 in the morning. I had a hard time sleeping that night because I kept replaying the night over and over in my head.

I can definitely say that night began with MMMM and ended with mmmm.

I’m 35 years old, and for the first time in my life I snuck out of my house. Now, why do you ask, as a 35-year-old woman do I have to sneak out of my own house? Well that is a long story and one only my shrink can really explain fully, but in a nutshell, I take care of my mother who is in her 70s and has severe rheumatoid arthritis. She may be disabled, but there is nothing wrong with her mind and she thinks she is still the Master of the House. You do the math.

So, when I got the invitation to hang out after midnight, I hemmed and hawed – not because I was nervous about meeting a new guy, but because I was more nervous about sneaking out of my house. Can you imagine? A grown woman nervous about sneaking out of the house? Well, I have said I was a bit of a late bloomer haven’t I? This proves it!

It was exhilarating though! It was one o’clock in the morning when I actually snuck out and ended up hanging out at a new friend’s house. We met on a website. Not on your typical dating website though; he and I met on a website called LPSG.org. LPSG stands for Large Penis Support Group. Now, I know you’re laughing. Men who are well endowed really don’t need a support group. Not in the way cancer patients or amputees need a support group. No, this is a website where men with huge cocks join to show off and pat each other on the backs for having such huge cocks. Women who go there – and yes there ARE some women on the site, but not tons – are there because they love big cocks. Of course, having experienced the alternative I can understand why. This is why I joined. I wanted to experience the other end of the spectrum, so to speak. In point of fact, I want to actually have sex with a guy who has a larger than average cock, which was the whole point of my midnight quest.

I finally found a place to park and then realized, I didn’t have his phone number, nor had he told me which apartment number was his. Luckily, he met me outside at just the right moment, and walked with me upstairs to his very nice two-bedroom pad. He had a pool table in his extra bedroom, which in Los Angeles means he’s doing pretty damn well for himself. First clue: he doesn’t have a roommate. Second clue: pool table.

We sat down on his couch and he offered me a beer, which I took. In turn, I offered him something to smoke. We sat on his couch giggling after her turned on Top Gear on BBC America and we talked and talked and talked. He said it was so refreshing to meet someone who was so open about sexuality and about talking about it. Which I thought was incredibly flattering. I told him I wrote a blog that dealt in sex and erotica and that it was hard to shock me. He then asked me about my blog so, I told him, and he immediately got his laptop and started reading articles and asking questions about them. He said he’d go back and read more when he had the time. I was, of course, very flattered. I love when people on the site say they like some of the pictures I’ve posted, but I get all warm and fuzzy when they say they’ve read my blog and are huge fans!

After that he asked if he could be mentioned in a blog post. I said, Sure! So we went into his pool room and I took a couple of pictures of him while his cock was still soft and I said I wanted some soft and some hard for comparison. But sadly, he couldn’t get hard. You see, lucky duck that he is, he gets to drink while he’s working. So, he’d been drinking all damn day at work, and by the time we tried to get him hard it was 3:00 a.m. and he wasn’t exactly loaded but he had been drinking all day. And no matter what I did, take my top off, tease him … stroke him … nothing worked!

So, I’m not posting his pictures until I get to post BOTH sets, the soft AND the hard. Unless I never GET the hard ones, and then the soft ones will go up in a post all by themselves; but I want to at least get the full story before posting the pics.

Please note that I do not condone sneaking out of the house for random sexual encounters; especially not young people. Not that young people should be reading my blog anyway. This is an over-18 blog for sure! But, if some of you devious young people find your way here, DON’T follow my example. I’m a grown woman who can make my own decisions. What I did was VERY risky and could have ended badly, but I got lucky. Please be safe. I mean that!

But the whole idea of sneaking out that night for random sex was extremely exhilarating! Needless to say, the sex never happened, and sad to say I haven’t seen him since. I also found out afterwards that he only wanted random blowjobs, no sex. It’s probably better that way of course. But regardless of not getting to have sex with a guy who had a big cock, the whole sneaking out of my house thing was more exciting than I ever thought possible!

I’m not sure if I’m itching to do it again or itching to not have to!

I had never given a lot of thought to the differences between romance novels written by American authors and romance novels written by authors from other countries.  Aren’t all romance novels created more or less equally?  Then, by chance, I picked up a novel entitled The Price of Desire (Avon Red)
by Leda Swann.  “Leda Swann” is actually the pen name of a couple from New Zealand who write erotic romances together and, whether it is that they are from New Zealand or the fact that there is a man involved in the writing, The Price of Desire was substantially different from any romance novel I have read before.

First, the plot.  Our heroine, Caroline, is the daughter of a wealthy banker in late 19^th-century England.  Papa goes bankrupt and shoots himself, leaving his six … yes, SIX … children without enough money even to buy food.  Caroline’s fiancé breaks off their engagement and offers to make her his mistress for barely enough money to support what remains of her family.  She decides at this point that she and her siblings are better off dead and resolves to shoot them and then herself when she gets home that night.  She expresses many regrets about dying young, but among them is that she will die a virgin.  It is at this low point that she meets our hero, Dominic.

In most novels I have read Dominic would do one of two things: magically divine that she was in despair and nobly offer to marry her and support her five siblings or magically divine that she was in despair and quietly pay her father’s debts while vowing to win her heart.  Leda Swann doesn’t offer such pale fare.  Dominic mistakes Caroline for a widow whose lover has cast her off instead of a grieving daughter whose fiancé has just deserted her, and promptly fucks her in a conservatory.

They go their separate ways: Caroline to remove her family from the face of the Earth and Dominic to contemplate how he can get the delicious widow in his bed and keep her there.  The next fifty pages are frankly harrowing as Caroline attempts to shoot her family but finds she can’t do it. They are tossed out of their family home, so she marches the six of them to the nearest poor house where they are humiliated, separated, barely fed and required to do physically demanding work for which none of them are prepared.  When the board of governors meets to decide if the siblings can stay in the work house permanently, Caroline’s former fiancé tells the board that he made an offer of support and was refused, so the family is told they can’t stay.

Most romance novels present the heroines with a minimum of real conflict.  Sure, there is always the danger of living in poverty or the threat of marrying the stinky old guy to support her family, but rarely is she actually required to experience any of these awful outcomes.  In The Price of Desire we get a hard look at life in a work house where the inhabitants are scorned for their need and where food rations are cut when one can’t work, effectively starving to death the people who aren’t well.

Caroline’s family is facing life on the streets when Dominic discovers where they are and arrives to bear off all six of him to his house.  Once safe and fed, Caroline strikes a bargain with him: she will be his willing and enthusiastic mistress in return for his support of her and her siblings.

And both parties live up to the bargain.  Caroline glories in playing the submissive while she lays back and Dominic masturbates to orgasm over her chest and face.  They admire each other’s genitals as beautiful and take great delight in sex in all its forms.  A note to the faint-of-heart: if the “c” word (starts with “c” and rhymes with “hunt”) distresses you then stay away.  America is home to one of the few cultures that views this word with loathing and these New Zealand authors use it frequently and with great relish.

As their relationship develops they become more and more adventurous.  There is sex on a train, Caroline plastered against the window.  There is a great deal of oral sex and mutual masturbation.  There is anal play.  Finally, at a house party for couples with adventurous sexual tastes, they start to realize that their feelings may be more than mistress and patron.  They play a game in which each member of the party appears behind a sheet to create a silhouette, wearing only one piece of clothing.  The forfeit, should one’s partner correctly identify one, takes the form of a spanking, oral sex or full penetration with every member of the house party.  The great variety of sex in this novel is very different from so many American-written books, where penetration from behind is presented as daring.

The character development at the beginning was a bit shaky.  I found myself not particularly liking Dominic for a while – it’s hard to enjoy a romance novel in which you would not fuck the hero or heroine – but he became a fuller character and after a while it was possible to understand why Caroline would feel affection for him beyond his sexual prowess.  Caroline was admirable from the start.  Frightened, brave and determined to do right by her family, she struggled with her choice to accept money for sex but never adopted an attitude of shame, in spite of referring to herself frequently as a whore.

The Price of Desire was instructive in the differences between what we as Americans find acceptable in mainstream novels and what other countries accept.  It was also an entertaining, well-crafted and very hot read.  I tip my hat to the authors and suggest that readers looking for “a bit of spice in their lives,” as Leda puts it, check out a Leda Swann novel.  (A note of interest: another Leda Swann book entitled Captive apparently involves capture by pirates.)

“The English language, with its elaborate generosity, distinguishes between the naked and the nude. To be naked is to be deprived of our clothes, and the word implies some of the embarrassment most of us feel in that condition. The word ‘nude,’ on the other hand, carries, in educated usage, no uncomfortable overtone. The vague image it projects into the mind is not of a huddled and defenseless body, but of a balanced, prosperous, and confident body: the body re-formed. In fact, the word was forced into our vocabulary by critics of the early eighteenth century to persuade the artless islanders [of the UK] that, in countries where painting and sculpture were practiced and valued as they should be, the naked human body was the central subject of art.”

- Kenneth Clark, The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form

I am a frequent reader of a website called Romance Writers Behaving Badly. It’s a wonderful resource for romance novelists and upcoming novels and often their novelists blog about things that just tickle my fancy.

Today was no exception. While checking Facebook this morning, I ran across an article that caught my eye.

An author named Vivien Jackson posted an article that discusses the difference between nude and naked. Mostly she posted art; really nice art that depicted the male form beautifully nude.

While most people usually think nude refers to art, I think there is a greater difference between naked and nude. To me, naked implies a certain kind of vulnerability that the word nude does not. Nude entails confidence and comfort with the unclothed human form. And the unclothed human form is beautiful; from Michaelangelo’s David to Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and all of the wonderful art that came before and after those masterpieces.

Vivien also talked about how hard it was to write about a man in a romance novel without referring to Adonis, the youth who was a favorite of Aphrodite. Adonis has become synonymous with the perfect male form; the marker that everyone uses. Of course, with the myriad handsome models and actors in our midst these days everyone has a different opinion about what Adonis should look like. Just ask the rabid TwiFans who is hotter, Jacob or Edward, and you’ll see what I mean.

Of course, in her blog entry, Vivien also refers us to yet another site wherein the male form is depicted with far more humor than reverence. Post a Penis.com is a site solely dedicated to … you guessed it, the Penis. There are images ranging from a Tetris-like game using penises to serious artwork of the male sexual appendage. And there’s a little bit of everything in between.

Post a Penis.com provides the opportunity to make our own distinctions between naked and nude. What level of comfort does it take to submit an oil painting of your own genitals to a public website? Does that convert nakedness to nudity? What is the difference between a man streaking across a football field and a man posing for an art class? You might give it some thought the next time you’re wandering bare around your own home: “am I nude or am I naked?”

To help you answer the question, I suggest you click the links and browse. They are TOTALLY worth it!