Queerligarchy;
A queer comic book about shame, failure, and anarchy.
Illustrations by Justin Maragoni
Storyline by Amy Saunders
*If you want to order a copy, inbox me!
[Flash 10 is required to watch video]
(via iwroteastoryonce)
The Vice Guide to Eating Pussy - bearnnakkedd:
Originally ran September, 1999 - The Vice Guide to Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll.
Men suck at eating pussy. Not because they don’t like it but because it’s really fucking hard. You have to learn it. Giving good head is the key to just about everything in life (including getting good head later on), so it’s time we broke it down. Like this.
The secret to giving good head is to read the signs. You could be the best sexual mechanic in the world, but if you can’t read the emotional road signs, you’re going to end up wandering around in a desolate labial wasteland until, eventually, you drop from exhaustion, hot tears of confusion streaming down your face.
Think of eating the puss as your way of saying, “although I am about to rock your insides with 3 000 lbs. of explosives, here’s a little intimate treat session to show you how I really feel.” Instead of screaming “OH MY GOD!!” like her baby has been trapped under a car (which is what fucking should do), cunnilingus elicits a more splendiferous “ooohmygodohmygod-ohmygod.” Kind of like being massaged with exotic fruits by a muscular Arab oil sheik. A good mange (that’s French for “eat,” you brutes) is like a thousand years of Saturdays or one of those Flake adverts.
Break it down!
BE DOWN
Don’t go down unless you’re down. Unlike fellatio, cunnilingus can never be done as a favor. Doing it when you don’t want to will only bring on the dry heaves. Eat like a pig at the trough and a lot of stupid mistakes get forgiven.
DON’T SAY HI TO DRY
A dry pussy is an unhappy pussy. If your fingers graze a dry bush, go back to the kissing and hugging for awhile. Just make sure you actually dip your finger between the lips. Sometimes moisture gets trapped between the labia and a little fingerial coaxing is all that’s needed to get the honey dripping.
Once you’re sure the beaver is wet, give it a few light, teasing strokes with your finger. There’s nothing worse than rushing into this, so make sure she’s really begging for it before you get under the covers.
Extra tip: Be like Prince and bring up a wet finger that both of you can share like a 1950s milkshake with two straws.
Important: Don’t play your trump card too soon by putting your fingers all the way inside. This can detract from the upcoming penetration and kill the tease factor. Try to remember that 78% of a woman’s pleasure is about yearning. Poking it in too soon is sure to put out the fire.
SUBMARINE MISSION FOR YOU, BABY
Once she’s lathered up, it’s time to go down. Get your fingers out of there and don’t touch anything for a bit. Let your lap do a bit of grinding and get some last-minute necking in like you’re going away on vacation.
Though it’s very tempting on your way down to pull the blankets over your head like the little mole-man that you are, this is a very bad idea. It gets super hot down there and whipping the duvet off your head and gasping for air ten seconds before she comes is pretty much going to kill the mood.
Start by kissing her boobs and stomach and slowly working your way down. Don’t get carried away with those stupid tits, though. That’s something you should have taken care of before the pants even came off. Right now it’s all about the stomach and inner thighs. A little bit of gentle biting is good, but a sure winner is to start at the knee and move towards the muff in a slow, shark-like swoop. Nibble your way right up to the edge of her cunt, then skip across it and head for the other knee. Repeat. Doing this a few times will get her really hot and save you a lot of pussy-eating time in the long run.
When you’re just about ready to do the deed, start practicing on that weird crevice next to the lips. Don’t spend too long there or she might start to think that you think that’s the actual cunt.
By now she should be dying for you to make your move. If you’re doing it right, she’ll be moaning and trying to force your head between her legs. Stretch this phase out until she looks like she’s been holding her breath for three days.
Extra trick: Hover over the bush for about five seconds before the first lick. If you wait longer than that, she might think you’re having second thoughts because it smells bad. Of course, we all knows that motherfucker smells sweeter than a bowl of steamin’ crawdaddies.
Important: Never bite the cunt in any way whatsoever. If this needs more explaining you should probably just stick to jerking off.
PARTING THE RED SEAS
Isolate your playing field. Pubic hairs are to eating pussy what cavities are to dental hygiene. You’re never going to be able to identify all the parts if she looks like that PIL album That What is Not. One hot trick is to get her to spread her lips apart so her pussy is all set up for you like a great big buffet.
THE GRAND ENTRANCE
Do your first lick super slow. It’s good to groan and moan too. It shows you’re digging it while sending microscopic audiophonic vibrations right up her snapper. Start just above the anus and take it all the way to the fur. Do about a dozen of these “St. Bernard licks” before moving on (take it really slow, like four seconds per lick). This is a good time to figure out what kind of clit she has. If it’s real sensitive she’ll probably convulse as you pass over it and that means you’re probably in for an easy ride. If there’s no reaction when you graze over her clit, she probably has one of those nerveless little pea clits and you’re in for a thirty-minute session of tongue-tendinitis.
ROCK THE BOAT
Eating pussy is so gentle it can make you feel like a bit of a fag. If you’re getting tired of being ballerina boy, take it out on the clit. Figure out how much abuse it can take without making her uncomfortable and show the little bastard who’s boss.
After all, Mr. Elusive is precisely what makes muff diving so difficult. He’s surrounded by labia and, even after you find him, all the pressure can pop him over to the side. All of a sudden you’re giving the pee hole the seeing to of its life. Think of the clit like a tumor in a pile of ear lobes. When you push down on the area he’s the only one that can’t be squished. Once one of your tongue troopers finds him, call for reinforcements. Use your lips to get hers out of the way and focus all your attention into getting him alone. Once you find him, give him a bit of a hard time for trying to hide from you. Frisk him and give him a couple of whacks across the head. More on this punk and his bad attitude later.
Extra important tip: The best way to stimulate the clit is to run your entire tongue over it after you isolate it from the lips. The man in the boat should feel the texture of the entire tongue pushing down on his body and his boat.
IDENTIFYING THE CLIT TYPE
After the slow licks it’s time to get this party started. There are essentially two types of clitori. Ones that enjoy a serious going over and ones that don’t. The latter suck about as much as a one-inch penis and you should dump her right away.
Extra tip: Clits come in all shapes, sizes and sensitivities, but that doesn’t really tell you much. All of them want to be treated slow and soft at the beginning but the only way to tell if you can go fast at the end is by reading her reactions. This is impossible to teach but just do the best you can. All we can tell you is convulsing means take it ease and “Oh my God” means bring it on.
CLITS THAT NEED A SERIOUS GOING OVER
These are the most fun because you can be creative. Pretend your tongue is the bad cop and the clit is the guy who killed your partner. Separate him from his buddies (the lips) and suck him right up into your mouth. Now he’s on your turf. Keep him erect by creating an air-tight vacuum chamber in your mouth. Slap the little bugger upside the head with one big tongue bonk. He’s not going to tell you shit because he’s a clit and he has no idea what you’re talking about, but kick his ass anyway. After a few teasers and swirling circles, rat-a-tat-tat him senseless like a boxer whacking a speed bag. If she starts freaking out like it’s too much, ease up on the interrogation and go back to the St. Bernard licks. The vacuum is a great way to bring her to orgasm, but it’s a bit much sometimes, so mix things up with some circles around the clit and some tongue fucking.
As you’re closing in for the kill, go back to the vacuum and give the suspect a relentless head smacking. Up-and-downies are usually the most effective, but your tongue will get less tired if you throw in a few side-to-sides. When you feel the inner thighs start to shake, this is it. Be repetitive. Do NOT be creative. You’re almost home and this is not the time to start changing tactics.
Extra tip: To keep the rhythm going, try repeating a chant in your head that goes with the movement of your tongue like a Mic Mac Indian (hi-yi-yi-ya, hi-yi-yi-ya, hi-yi-yi-ya). Any inconsistent action may throw her off, killing the mood or at least setting you back a few minutes, which is bad for morale.
Important: Keep going several seconds after her orgasm. Remember, it isn’t over until the hands come down from above and lay you off. If she’s multi-orgasmic you’ll have to keep going until you’ve done the whole routine another four or five times. If you’re not sure what to do, just keep giving her shit until the magic hands come down to pull you off.
CLITS THAT DON’T
Some clits don’t want to be singled out and battered around. These are the boring ones that need to be treated with gentle care. Just do casual St. Bernard licks until she cums, pure and simple. If you’re getting bored try going in some different directions for a while. A good way to keep it random is to spell out different letters of the alphabet with the tip of your tongue. You could be looking at half an hour here pal, and that can be problematic. If you go for that long and she doesn’t cum, you’re going to be in a foul mood, so if it’s too much work, move on. On the bright side, going for thirty minutes is something few people have the patience for, so sticking it out will lead to some payback when period week comes around.
THE CONCLUSION
Once you’re done (totally finished) she’s going to want you out of there pronto because the whole area is sensitive. Instead of leaving, stick out your tongue and lay it down on her like a thick, soggy carpet. Make sure you don’t move it or anything because that can actually hurt her. Just let it sit there like a dead manta ray for about thirty seconds. Then come up and wipe your face like a pirate. You now have a good minute to get the condom on and take her from the quarters of Prince Muhammad Muhammad Saddat to the cockpit of an F-15.
(via kevingreene)
oh. my. god.
lol.
o
Looking for the love I had sought to seek- I have lost the tolerance in me.
I remember all the things I used to silence, all the reasons I felt out of time, out of place- I’m pure defiance.
I catch myself praying to a hybrid: the evolution of my god, the evolution of my science.
And all the suns, I see them crying; the stars to vanquish with stones: the liars.
I have struggled with my heart and passion, settled out of court: my nutrition, my rations.
I had fed myself, my drink: compassion. But all the while, my stomach hastened.
My brain was drunk and merely fractioned. I hid myself in the darkest fashion.
To love thyself and know your madness: to see you with my eyes, half blindness.
I find myself confused and righteous: I find myself too heavy for lightness.
To believe that I am nothing great, but to see the world as a pure, beautiful slate:
But I have become everything I hate.
alpha cliterati
BASHME: Sierra’s response
bash-me
For the first time of my life I am scared for my personal security as a queer woman. I thought that the projection of an androgynous and tough dyke-like style could and would protect me from the violence of patriarchy on women’s bodies. I was wrong. Although I haven’t experienced the violence first-hand, my heart aches for the young queer woman that got beaten up last night.
According to my friend Candi Politano’s testimony, “A queer female employee of the Underground pub was at The Ab pub in Winters College after work with some coworkers. She was walking to a female bathroom where she was questioned about her gender and which facility she was using by three men and subsequently beaten up by these three men once she exited the washroom. York Security was called. By the time Security arrived the men had already taken off. Security took a statement and description from her and then said they had to leave to respond to a fire alarm. The Toronto Police were also called (York Security returned when the police arrived), they took a statement and will be reviewing the security tapes today.”
At first I was surprised and indignant that this happened at the Ab pub. As a Winters’ Frosh, I always felt that winters college and the Ab were safe spaces where one could flow freely through a crowd mostly made up of artists and left wingers. Apparently these were false assumptions, and who knows maybe these individuals were just visiting, but that’s beside the point, a woman was still subjected to terror and assault on her body that did not seem to fit the womanhood ideal.
As a queer individual, I always feel a certain discomfort when having to choose which washroom to use. It makes me anxious to have to choose, to have to identify my gender when I need to perform one of the most basic human need of evacuating bodily fluids. It’s like those women and men washrooms signs were put there as a reminder, dress like one or stand like one. Recently the signs for the 2nd floor washrooms of Founders College were taken down to fix the nicks and scratches on the doors. Someone put up temporary signs of “women” and “men” as to direct individuals to the appropriate spaces. What I don’t get is why we have to divide, why don’t we just have stalls for everyone, it’s not like there is a crucial need for those divisions. I proceeded to disturb these categories by writing “what is gender” on the respective doors…. Really everyone evacuates the same materials, why the needs for separate spaces. What about the individuals that fall in the cracks, or in between categories?
To come back to the events at the Ab pub, it is interesting to note how the system works to create an escape route for the perpetrators of violence. “By the time security arrived” because we know how long it takes for them to respond, “they had to leave to respond to a fire alarm”, because we know that there is always something ‘better’ to do than combat violence against women’s bodies. The fact that they avoided searching the area or pursuing the investigation immediately proves how these issues are always relegated to the back burner, I bet they thought it was damn good for her to get disciplined and reminded of her role as woman living in patriarchy. Furthermore, it is interesting how the Toronto police were called to investigate when they rarely have women victim’s interest at heart. I bet they were thinking, “If she didn’t want to get beat she shouldn’t of dressed like a boy”.
-Sierra
ETA… ?
“Ten”, she replied. Assertive, determined and humorous, all the things I love her for.
In my car we open up the bag, full of white formed hangers, ready to assort one’s wardrobe… but that is not their use tonight.
“How should we do this?” the question reverberated. I started to twist, unwind and reconstruct. “Ahhh, okay” she replied.
Scope the scene, so serene when it’s bathed in dim streetlights. Once around, then twice, this will suffice.
Three pieces of me, we all reflect each other in ways. Ambitious rage consolidates us.
On the side of the car, on an empty street we manage ourselves and organize our collective.
We are black as the night in our attire, meant to blend with the solitude of our bodies. We cover our face, since they consider us a disgrace. It seems fitting to be attracted and own it.
Cops slowly roll by us, stop, roll, then pull over.
The scarves are pulled down… how I loathe the police. Your surveillance of civilians make us criminals. Your flashlights insight suspicion. Your guns symbolize an authority I never gave you.
But I sweet talk… That much I learned, that much I use.
I doubt he believed me, but what can they do? There was no ‘blood’ on my hands yet
The mangled wires twisted her stomach…I think she knew
They carried on and so did we
With our mangled testaments gathered we walked straight for the park.
It is no ordinary park. It is the Queens.
In the center a man and his horse have their asses to us, ironic…
What better place to stick reminders of what comes last in this society.
Wealth before health
Deception before inception
Lust before love
Violence before peace
Authority before minority… I could go on
The ground was hard. This wasn’t easy. We twisted, shoved and struggled
Much like they must have
Once inserted the blood flowed out of us with ferocity and velocity
Three pieces of me in the dim streetlight claimed our right, our assemblage, and our statement
It is what I stand for…and what I don’t
It is what I create and re-appropriate
It is what we destroy and create and create and destroy all over again
It is you…it is me…it is us
I look up and see massive bronze balls
We should have covered them in blood.
-Limax
i don’t aspire to the cock, i wish to improve it.
—Sierra, cliterati
We were standing outside of Lima’s car, finding a way to carry all the mangled coat hangers- at least thirty of them. “Alpha,” Sierra said, “there’s cops coming”. I pulled down my facemask and told Sierra to do the same; she was wearing a red bandana around her mouth and nose, with her black hood up so all that could be seen were her eyes. I figured the least we could do is show we aren’t afraid to be seen. The cops approached, it was around 1am on a Sunday. The male cop flashed his light in my eyes, I bit my tongue and tasted blood: I’ve always had a severe disdain for police officers. I busied myself with taking the coat hangers out of the car, my face in full view, but of course- we were all dressed in black. His flashlight went continually from my face with suspicion to my bag on the sidewalk filled with ten bottles of red paint. Lima sweet-talked them and assured them this was her car, pulled out her keys and everything. Sierra scoffed at the idea that we would be breaking into a car in plain sight on a Sunday night near Queens Park- “You only need one coat hanger to steal a car,” she said.
-alphax
