People sometimes say that we will know feminism has done its job when half the CEOs are women. That’s not feminism; to quote Catharine MacKinnon, it’s liberalism applied to women. Feminism will have won not when a few women get an equal piece of the oppression pie, served up in our sister’s sweat, but when all dominating hierarchies - including economic ones - are dismantled.
Lierre Keith  (via iamelliebusch)
Tampons were packed with their strings connecting them, like a strip of sausages, so they wouldn’t float away. Engineers asked Ride, “Is 100 the right number?” She would be in space for a week. “That would not be the right number,” she told them. At every turn, her difference was made clear to her. When it was announced Ride had been named to a space flight mission, her shuttle commander, Bob Crippen, who became a lifelong friend and colleague, introduced her as “undoubtedly the prettiest member of the crew.” At another press event, a reporter asked Ride how she would react to a problem on the shuttle: “Do you weep?”

One thing that continues to be frustrating is using intercourse as the sexual benchmark for these studies. Why are we measuring the start of sexuality by a penis going into a vagina? First,  it’s a heterosexual framework, leaving out a chunk of the sex-having population. But also, our V-Card Diaries story collection is full of young women writing that everything they did pre-intercourse was pleasurable, but intercourse itself was a let down.

No surprise: that’s not how most women orgasm, especially when they’re first starting to have sex. But the study insists on measuring women’s pleasure by how much they enjoyed intercourse, and then they’re actually surprised that it’s so low. Please let’s stop selling intercourse the big sexual prize for women and recognize there are lots of ways to have sex that don’t involve a penis in a vagina. READ MORE

The physical act of being that intimate with someone is horrifying for me.


My story is… I have no story. Technically, I suppose, I’m still a virgin. Never allowed myself to be touched in this way, never been kissed or allowed myself to be kissed. It’s not as if I haven’t had offers for it. One boyfriend was so passionate and insistent it alarmed me, but nothing happened because I was completely uninterested. It may have just been the hormones, I don’t know: Once sex crowded into the room, I stopped listening. He treated it as an area of “finding out.” If my lips flushed, he KNEW I was aroused. Sadly, he always got it wrong. My disinterested nature didn’t help, of course. It does play against my passionate nature.

I think it’s an area of personal space I’m very sensitive about, and dislike it being invaded. The physical act of being that intimate with someone is horrifying for me. So, I think the person I would want would have to be something special- otherwise I could never go through with it. Read more here

As it turns out, when you post an ad as a 22-year-old redheaded virgin, people get interested really quickly.


I grew up in an exceedingly conservative home. Sure, we watched mainstream TV and went to public schools, but we were taught at home and at church that sex was a dirty secret meant for marriage. While I never adhered to the ‘premarital sex is dirty’ mantra, I personally chose not to engage in any partnered sexual activity while I was a teenager. The year I turned 22, I decided I was ready. The only problem was, everyone I knew was super religious, in a relationship, or not at all attractive to me.

I turned to the anonymous classifieds site Craigslist to help get me started. As it turns out, when you post an ad as a 22-year-old redheaded virgin, people get interested really quickly. I received 1800 responses in 3 hours.  Read more here…



destroy the idea of the “average father” coveting his daughter’s virginity and “protective brother” making sure no men lay their unholy eyes upon his sister who has given them full permission.

slaughter the idea that men are allowed to be gatekeepers for sex and have a duty or a right to “save women from themselves” when it comes to sex

kill the purity myth

A special offer for our Tumblr followers: The first 20 people to use the code TUMBLRLUV get 10% off streaming the documentary “How To Lose Your Virginity.” More info here

“I learned so much. Also, I felt validated in many of my private thoughts and feelings. What a gift that is! It’s urgent to dilute the powerful social/religious shaming messages that have gone unchallenged for so long.” –K.

A Submitted Post! Lupercalia: A Story

A story of virginity, awakening and ancient erotic rituals

By Spanking Theater

The priestess’s magical prestidigitations soon opened Claudia like the petals of a glistening flower. Her finger touched the entrance of her small pink slit, gently at first, rubbing, sliding through the girl’s own wetness. Then she probed deeper, just entering inside her vagina, feeling her tightness squeeze her fingertip. She poured more warm oil on her mound, letting it seep and dribble into her folds, massaging it into her slowly widening hole, as she gently slid in and out.

Her finger had penetrated to her knuckle when she felt a springy little obstruction in the smooth passage, and Claudia flinched. Some girls who took the Rite had no hymens, but that wasn’t important. For those who believed in the Way of the Fawn, virginity was a state of inexperience rather than innocence. A state of mind, that you had either embraced your sexuality, or you hadn’t. The meaning of the Rite wasn’t the deflowerment of young women, but their empowerment. Those fortunate enough to take part would have a memorable first sexual experience, far better than the uncomfortable fumblings in the dark that happened after one too many amphora of wine.

There was one last lingering kiss from the priestess between Claudia’s legs, and then she helped the woozy girl to her feet, and escorted her towards the sound of drums…

The ceremonial chamber was at the back of the temple, and entered through what looked like a fissure in bare rock. Carved into stone above its entrance were six words:

“Speluncam ire times… Aurea quaeris est.”

In the cave you fear to enter… lies the gold you seek.

Drumming reverberated around the small intimate chamber, a slow, processional, almost martial beat, thumped out by players elsewhere. The chamber was unoccupied and surprisingly sparse, without statues, tapestries or sacred adornments. Its walls were hidden by darkness; the space being illuminated by three large bronze mirrors angled towards a hole in the far wall, through which the afternoon sun streamed in impressive crepuscular beams, which were thrown by the mirrors down onto a single spot in the middle of the room.

On the floor, in the centre of this pool of light, was a long slab of white marble. Its base was only ankle high, and a foot length’s wide, and in its centre the stone had been sculpted into life-sized phallus. It had been sculpted erect, its bulbous head pointing towards the heavens, its oiled surface glistening with a golden hue in the reflected light.

The priestess lead Claudia by the hand towards the phallus, and as she entered the pool of light she could feel the sun’s warmth tickle her skin. Kneel here… the priestess suggested, pointing out the two hollows on each side of the slab where she should place her knees. Claudia did as she was instructed, sinking to her knees, so that her wet lips hovered just above the head of the marble phallus. Despite being just an inanimate shaft of stone, Claudia looked between her legs and could almost sense the cock’s eerie intention; it meant to penetrate her. It made her feel rather light-headed.

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