Sex Science Enriches Vintage Boomer Porn by Kathleen K.

The woman who explained the female orgasm

By Thomas Maier, Special to CNN

updated 4:05 PM EDT, Fri July 26, 2013

(CNN) — Virginia Johnson once told me something surprising about her famous partnership with Dr. William Masters, which helped revolutionize America’s understanding of human sexuality.

Despite Masters and Johnson’s worldwide fame, “We were absolutely the two most secretive people on the face of the Earth,” she said. “There’s simply no one who knew us well. People have a lot of speculation, but they don’t know.”

On Thursday, as I read the obituaries about Johnson’s death at age 88, I was reminded of Virginia’s words. There’s a sense of marvel about her life story and how she managed to affect the lives and happiness of so many people, especially independent-minded women like herself who wanted to make their own decisions about sex outside the dictates of men.

Time would underline Johnson’s impact even more. Despite their guarded language, the first book documented the power of female sexuality, showing that women were capable of multiple orgasms — a veritable fireworks display — compared to most men’s single firecracker.

Their clinical evidence became part of the spark for America’s so-called sexual revolution of the 1960s and 1970s, reflected in everything from key feminist writings to Hugh Hefner’s Playboy magazine. Even the rosy women’s magazines, filled with recipes and homey bromides, began writing about sex, using the same clinical phrases that Masters and Johnson made acceptable in polite society.

Link to original article.

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COMMENTARY by indie author-publisher of sexotic-erotic books Kathleen K.

Vintage boomer porn is a direct descendant of this liberation of sexual mechanics; we were able to articulate in specific language how men and women operate.  It was critical that a woman be part of this educational movement, Virginia Johnson incorporated a feminine sensibility back when it was even more so a man’s world.

What a fascinating playground for my novice novelist ideas to inhabit, roiling in the background as I moved through adolescence, bursting out just as I crested high school and hit college.  Women stood forward, spoke up, and unloosed the bosom!  Shifting the culture forward, female power was quantified to them, by them and for them.  This re-conception of sex as measurable made it all the more describable.  We ratcheted forward one complete revolution to make it ordinary for a single female of my age and station to have her own apartment, her own opinions, and her own income.  Like all golden ages, it would pass.  What remained was the presumption of participation for more people.

In that freer world I could form the dream of self-publishing and through the decades trust that I would retain my liberation.  It wasn’t a fluke of social unrest but an honest-to-goodness shift in emphasis enriching the culture beyond measure.  Boomer chicks aren’t airheads; they farmed communes and reshaped governments.  They got daddies in to the delivery room.  They integrated themselves into health care and finance at leadership levels (they’d always been there as front-line labor).

In this vibrant social whirl, women could move with grace and purpose, having a whole bunch of fun.  That put sexual congress on a new footing as people could seek mates of contrasting strength.  As a backdrop, beneath the surface, each of my books presents the storyteller with choices that define the outcome.  I’m all about the finitude.

Example sentences using the word finitude:

It is part of our finitude , but it should not be taken as the key marker of our humanity.

Finitude and limits give us something against which to define our existence.

To live in the consciousness of finitude and dependence means to look for help.

They mark the discovery of finitude in the experience of desire.

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Coming.  Soon.  Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen offers us a modern female narrator who can sum up her new relationship in this four-word volley:

“Spread ‘em.”

“Spread me.”

SAMPLE

Watching Nathan mount a female fascinated me.  I didn’t waste time being jealous; I could do that later.  I wanted to see him do what I had felt him do.  I would not recommend this to the fainthearted; I was staggered by the feelings as I witnessed him giving his prick away to someone else.  I curdled inside when he reached around to her front, she was endowed with cherry-topped perfection, anybody could see she pleased him and also that he was pleasing her by the way he handled her generous body.

Nathan was a powerful fucker; he took the time to adequately prepare his partner so that she yielded her deepest acceptance.  When Nathan rolled that other woman onto her belly and lifted her by her hips so he could plug into her, I wanted to knock her out from under him and slide in.  How dare he do it my way with her?  I saw his dusky cock glisten with her happiness and it was a lesson to be learned.  Sex was bigger than just the two of us, no matter how primarily we were attached.  His body could work with her body; he had not lost his response to other women even as he committed more intimate acts with me.  He insisted we confine our sexual escapades to carefully orchestrated scenes like his balling some guy’s wife while the wife’s guy and I watched.  Her husband and I weren’t going to fuck this particular time; we were busy watching at the moment.

øøø

I’m not defending Nathan, I’m explaining him.  I consorted with this dog and thought he was a man (making me his bitch?).  The sad part is that Nathan was a man in many ways, in basic ways.  95% genetically similar.  5% canine/lupine.  (It’s less than 1% difference from human to chimp.)  I was used to men as house pets but then along came this hound.  I was feeling sexually adversarial at that point in my life; I was tired of being nice.  Acting sweet didn’t get me over the rainbow.  I needed a commanding male|mate against whom I could struggle.  The last thing in the world I wondered about was his bank book (since I wasn’t showing mine).  I was far too busy sifting impressions of a most searing affair.

I didn’t want somebody to love.  It was more selfish than that, I wanted somebody to enjoy my body with me.  Screw me joyfully, with wit and daring.  Seduce me, not entrap me.  I wanted to feel the maleness of a man, dagger unsheathed for drawing blood to the pelvis… fluids rush, nerves tingle, the move is on.

Nathan might choose to be erotic spectator, director, participant, reviewer.  He reserved the right for each of us to adopt roles in our love life.  He was not to be considered a dick; his was not always central to our pleasure (nor was my box).  He commandeered my whole body.  He needed me for himself.  He needed me for his friends.  I got off on pleasing him, and his friends.  I had dropped my guard, all the gates were down, I accepted my lover, Nathan, as a man.  He could have been a frontiersman, an astronaut, a fisherman.  External objects didn’t signify to me, it was a time of voluptuous indulgence, outrageous comfort, skintimacy.

My involvement was pure; I had no thought of paining anybody.  I didn’t mind a secret love life because how could I have explained these sexotic games to people I worked with, or to people at my health club?  My family said I was looking fit.  It was true I’d rather have sex than eat, I’d walk bra-less in short shorts for two miles with Nathan six paces back watching people watch me walk.  He’d hump me standing behind a park bench in a secluded copse then we’d walk home hand in hand, acting innocent but looking smudged.

KathleenK.xxx for the rowdier reader

KathleenKBooks.com for complete catalog

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Greetings from Kathleen K. I am interested in your comments. Thanks for taking the time.

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