What do you think about when you’re having an orgasm?

Nothing. 

Maybe you’re thinking, but I know I’m not thinking. My mind is clear. My mouth goes on autopilot, the sounds coming out of it may occasionally be words but they have no intellectual thought behind them. The “oh god”s and “fuck”s are almost a mantra. I am a blank puddle of nerve endings, completely open to sensation. I have no control over my rapidly contracting lower abdomen or my flailing limbs. My back arches, dragging my shoulders over the now damp sheets, pushing my hips down into the mattress. Warm inner forearm skin pressing into my hip bone and leg hair gently crunching against the back of my thigh. 

What’s going on here is pure haptic sensation. Touch. 

Touch is a basic human need. My go-to example for this is the post-Ceasecu situation in Romania’s orphanages. We need physical contact with each other. We need to touch and to be touched. Both sexual and non-sexual snuggles produce Oxytocin, which scientists say appears to stimulate bonding and might do things like help our bodies heal faster. I’m not a scientist, but I know anecdotally that skin-on-skin contact relaxes people. A good hug really does help. Laying around with each other like a pile of kittens is so delightful that Jess and I’s couch for years was an almost non-stop cuddle-puddle of whatever friends happened to be over at the time. 

Yes, I am going directly from a paragraph that starts with abused orphans into a paragraph about sex.

The process of peeling my clothing off with another consenting adult and finding the most enjoyable ways to fit our naked bodies together is something I think of as my inalienable right as a person. It might be one of the main points of being human and alive. When I share my body with someone, I’m sharing more than the purely physical. When everyone involved allows themselves to be truly open, we all come away with more of something (amazing and indefinable) than we started with. Putting someone’s appendage into one of your orifices and opening yourself in a personal and emotional way are two different things. When they happen simultaneously, that is where sex becomes so wonderful that poets start to make sense and you lose the ability to pronounce ‘fine motor skills’ much less make use of them.

What do you think about when you’re having an orgasm? 

I’m too busy feeling.

We’re in the car. I’m tired of wearing clothing, I feel constricted. I pop the clasp on the back of my bra open and remove it. You encourage me to take my panties off as well if it’ll make me feel better. You’re filthy. So incredibly filthy in the best ways imaginable. My pussy contracts involuntarily and starts to get wet. I slide the matching net briefs down my legs and put them in my purse.

When we get to the parking garage I keep my knees together as I get out of the passenger side door. We walk back to my building and as we’re headed up the stairs you put your hand up my skirt and run a finger down the length of my lips. I know you can feel how much I want you. You slowly enter me with that finger. I can feel the calluses, the muscle. Who the fuck has muscular fingers? You do. I love your hands.

“Let’s go, cutie.”

I’m pretty sure you’re walking me up the stairs by my vulva. You’re in control. You have the control because I’ve given it to you and we both seem to enjoy this arrangement very much.

I take my skirt off and sit on the bed. You spread my legs, kiss the inside of one thigh and breathe on my pussy. I shiver. You do it a couple of times, alternating this with blowing a cooler, more focused puff over my clitoris or towards my asshole. You can be such a tease. It’s hot and cold and I might melt and then you touch me with your tongue. Yes, touch. Not lick. I know you’ll get to that eventually but you keep your tongue virtually immobile on my clit until I really may not be able to stand it any more. The first lick is slow and almost torturous. Can torturous be used in this context? You’re so delicate with your tongue. Precise. So very purposeful. You eat pussy like a chick. Like you know where we’re headed but you’re going to take your time getting there because you know this part is enjoyable too. Yes, torturous can absolutely be used in this context. I need to come. It’s maddening. I’m trying to push a little harder against your mouth when suddenly you grab my clitoris firmly with your lips or teeth or something and start doing something that feels like you’re suction cupped to it. You drag the orgasm out of me. You take it because you know you can. I can’t control myself any longer. My legs come up and wrap around your neck, my hand on the back of your head. I’m humping your face, probably cutting off the supply of blood through your jugular with my thighs. It’s like dying. My brain shuts off. All I feel is tactile pleasure. I may explode, I do explode, and then I’m sliding down, away from your mouth. The half grown out facial hair feels nice. My vaginal secretions are dripping off of your chin. I hope you can understand now why I enjoy it so much when you come on my face, in my mouth.

“I wish I could fuck you and do this at the same time.”

You’re filthy. You’re amazing.

——-

I am coming down from a series of orgasms which culminated in one so intense that it re-set my vagina. My only option is to lay there under you and glow for a few seconds before my body can even consider building towards another one. You’re thrusting into me with a steady rhythm. I feel sated and relaxed. I just want to push back with my hips and give you some dedicated you time. I want to make you come. I want to pay attention to every detail.

I can feel you get slightly harder. This always surprises me. Your cock fits me so nicely that when it swells up that little extra bit I can feel it push against the inner circumference of my vagina and it drives me crazy. Every time, I can’t believe you could feel any better than you did a few seconds earlier, but you do.

You’re going to come. You say you want to come inside me. You say this because you know it turns me on, and I think because it turns you on, too. Sometimes you try to fake me out, you say you’re going to and mimic an orgasm inside me and the thought of it is so hot but I know you’re far too respectful and responsible to do that unless I asked you to.

Unless I asked you to.

It’s a terrible idea, but…

“Do it. I want to feel you come inside me.”

I grab you by your butt cheeks and pull you in. Your pubic bone brushes against my clitoris, it feels nice but every single nerve in my vaginal canal is so awake and so tuned in to what’s about to happen that it barely registers. I feel you fall into me hips first. Your cock twitches, expands, a burst of hot, tingling fluid fills me up. I feel it splash off of my cervix and this moment is so beautiful I want to hang suspended in it forever. One more spurt of liquid and I’m full. You gently lay your upper body down on me. I run the pads of my fingers gently over the warm skin of your sculpted back and shoulders. You make a slight backwards movement with your pelvis as though you might pull out. I think you don’t want to squish me.

“No, please, stay.”

This feels so good I want to draw it out as long as possible.

A trickle of your semen dribbles out of me and over my asshole. I can feel you still engorged, pressing against the front wall which so loves to be pressed up against. I am so turned on that I am teetering on the cusp of another orgasm, but to do so would stop the feeling I have right now and I don’t want it to end. It’s delicious, being right on the edge and holding back like that.

“You just came inside me.”

“I did. It felt so right in the moment.”

It did feel so right. So very right. I could fall asleep like this, you on top of and inside me, your face nuzzled next to mine, your big hands holding me so gently by the waist. You start to go limp and I treasure every centimeter of internal caress as your dick slides out. This is something so much more than lust.

Thank you very much, Laura.

It’s always nice to hear positive feedback from people who’ve enjoyed my pornographic work.

I do hope you continue to laugh at porn though, if for a different reason. Sometimes I laugh when I’m making porn. I laugh when I’m having sex at home, too. I really believe sex should be fun, and it’s all pretty silly when you stop and think about it.

(or: Stoya vs. Lady Porn Day Part 2: The Twat Talk Just Keeps On Comin’)

“Stoya’s experience is that the porn industry cares about what her body – including her vagina – looks like because of production value. That I understand: if the vagina was the bedroom of a house, each wall should be painted, the floor should be finished, the glass installed in the windows and a door frame put in place. Each vagina – and cock, and anus, and mouth – should look finished and clean.
However, mainstream porn – and the cosmetic industry, and mainstream media – has gone further than that. They’ve homogenized vaginas into a single “preferred” look that screams pre-pubescence: tight, light-colored and completely hairless labia, with a bare pubic mound (okay, sometimes there’s a liiiiittle tuft) and a bleached anus. Not only must the bedroom be “finished and clean,” but every window should be square, every door made from the same wood, every wall painted beige.”

-Reply by Jennifer Nicole via the Demoiselles

Uh… hey ladies… I kind of really hate to break this to you… but I work in mainstream porn. Digital Playground, the company that I’ve been with for the entirety of my hardcore career, they’re about as mainstream as you can get.

They’re everywhere. I can’t walk down the street in a major metropolitan area without seeing my face (or butt cheeks) in the window of an adult store. That Pirates movie was cut into a softcore flick and Blockbuster carries it. When Vivid still had a booth at the Adult Entertainment Expo, Digital Playground’s was sandwiched between them and Hustler.

Google ‘em real quick. Digital Playground is the company that launched Jesse Jane and Tera Patrick. That very same mainstream porn company sends someone running outside with an umbrella if they see me wander into the harsh LA sunlight on set. They don’t want me beige. DP’s main director, Robby D., is the one that got me to grow my pubic hair out in the first place.

Aside from my desire to defend the company that I’ve directly worked for and can speak from personal experience on, there really is plenty of pubic hair in porn, a variety of labia sizes/shapes, and a reasonable amount of different vulva colorings. I’m starting to wonder how you arrived at the opinion that this pre-pubescent pudenda look is so prolific in the adult industry.

Oh, and thanks for posting that sweet photo of my sweet outfit from AVN this year, but I only made the skirt. The top is a vintage Vivienne Westwood ebay find. I should really re-check that post and see if my wording is misleading or unclear.

A few weeks ago I emailed Tumblr with a request to be listed in their directory under the Sexuality category. Here is the full text of my email (with links added for your convenience):

My tumblr account is: http://stoya.tumblr.com/

My posts fall into one of three categories…
1) Photographs, blogs, and responses to questions that document or are
informed by my experiences in the adult industry as a successful
contract performer and sexual intellectual.
2) Re-blogs or posts that talk about and link to people (mostly women)
that explore sexuality (ie. Amanda Palmer’s Map of Tazmania video).
3) The occasional post about sewing/fashion (in my opinion pure
fashion has much to do with sensuality and the pursuit of appearing
more sexually attractive - not to mention the more blatant connections
between push up bras, fur, high heels and sexual response) and the
occasional book review (usually books such as “Wetlands,” “The Mating
Mind,” “Fast Feminism” and other texts which are of mostly sex theory
or gender role commentary).

… and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I believe I should be
included in the Sexuality directory on your wonderful website.

Thank you for your time,

Stoya

I didn’t hear back, aside from the automatic “We have received your email” email, so I asked my followers on Twitter to campaign for Tumblr (which has a twitter account) to list me.

You guys were absolutely great. I was flattered by your arguments and very appreciative of how many of you were willing to do something that requires a bit of effort when I asked you to. You’re awesome.

I’m still not listed, and here’s why:

A couple of days later Tumblr let all of their users know that they were getting rid of the directory. They cite the diversity of most users’ blogs as the main reason.

Bastards.

(joking)

I’m counting this as a win, because while I didn’t get what I wanted, you all helped effect a change. Which is pretty freakin’ cool.

Thanks for the support,
Stoya

I am a porn star.

I am a lady that makes porn.

I hear a lot from women about how they are uncomfortable with their vaginas. They wonder if it looks right, smells right, is the right color, shape, size, proportionate, if their labia stick out too much (or even not enough).

I hear that they appreciate my comfort with my own protruding labia and take it as validation that they don’t need a hairless “coin slot” vulva where everything is all tucked in in order to be attractive.

It’s nice to hear that ladies like my body and like that I run around with no clothing on sometimes, but seriously, you need to understand something.

Dudes do not give a fuck.

I’m focusing on female/male sexual interaction here because men that only have sex with men have reasons for not wanting to touch your pretty lap flower that have nothing to do with its scent or aesthetic value, and I really hope that women who have sex with women are already openly down with the fact that pussies come in a wide and beautiful array of looks, feels and smells.

But seriously, dudes that are into chicks don’t give a fuck.

Porn dudes don’t give a fuck.

Dudes that I have sexual things to do with in my off time do not give a fuck.

I don’t give a fuck either. Personally, if I am touching the vagina of someone I find attractive, I am much more focused on joy that I am touching it and figuring out what the best way to make it orgasm is.

I’m pretty sure I missed #ladypornday on rabbitwrite.com. That’s fine because the only days for me that aren’t lady-porn-days are usually rhinestone-something-within-an-inch-of-its-life-and-practice-removing-it-gracefully days or lay-around-with-little-clothing-on-and-discuss-sex days, which are really only semantically different. I think anything that encourages more of an open discussion and dialogue about sexuality is wonderful. I did, however, feel the need to respond to something written by The Demoiselles for #ladyporn day. In the piece, the writer says

“Because looks are everything when someone’s about to give you an orgasm.
…well, okay, maybe in porn they are.”

and I just can’t let that go without replying to it. On the porn sets that I have been on, the director, production company, camera guy, etc. care what the vaginas look like. They care for the same reason that a contractor might leave a light switch plate off in his own home but really ought to make sure every detail of a home they are building for someone else is perfect. We are producing a product and every detail should have the highest production value possible.

But the male talent? They don’t care. They get paid to have fun with the most meticulously groomed ladies available to the adult industry, and (in my experience) even if you’re having sex with them off set just for fun they don’t give a flying rats ass what kind of half grown out razorburned disaster area you’ve got going on in your crotch as long as it doesn’t look diseased and you’ve taken a shower recently. Even then, the shower might be negotiable.

Men outside of the porn industry that I’ve had sex with don’t care. There was one who couldn’t stand to look at the bloody mess that period sex created because he associated all that blood with somehow hurting me, but if a towel was down and the lights were off, it didn’t matter at all. Men in my personal life don’t expect me to be perfectly groomed, over glossed and decked out in fake eyelashes, nor do they expect the C cup breasts that I appear to have on my box covers.

Please… get to know your vagina. Find out what it looks like in various states of arousal. Find out what it smells like over the course of your monthly cycle. Get in there with a mirror and a speculum and really get to know it. Whatever it does is right for it, and the only time you should be concerned is when your Gynecologist is or if it’s doing something out of character. Don’t let a sexual partner tell you something that’s normal for your body is gross or wrong. If they do, don’t let them back until they’re ready to deal with the reality of sex.

But seriously. Dudes… they aren’t really known for noticing details. They usually don’t give a fuck.

I answered this question privately for a friend via email this morning, but thought it may be relevant here as well:

“What’s with those porn clips where it’s like a fake dick cumming gallons of jizz on a girl? I mean, like is that a thing people are into?”

There’s a part in “Sex at Dawn” that talks about sperm competition.

The theory is that humans are naturally more like Bonobos than
Gibbons, so the biological idea is more to drown other dude’s sperm
with your own than it is to convince your partner to be monogamous.

Therefore, a man seeing women have sex with other men is a turn on.
Also, seeing HUGE amounts of sperm would be the heightened version of
a sperm competition trigger, just as those 48WWW sized ladies with
novelty chests are the heightened versions of natural attraction to
the female breast as a fertility indicator.

So yes. That is a thing that some people are into.

-Bookish-but-not-a-scientist-Stoya

P.S. As always, if you *are* a scientist and have corrections or extra light to shed on the matter, please feel free to let me know.

Were I to start banging pop stars, I would much prefer sex with Geri Halliwell.

I am so excited to be touching Jiz Lee’s shapely derriere. So… very… excited. :D

Full gallery at Fleshbot (NSFW)

Aaaand the teaser video (NSFW)

Perhaps you haven’t noticed this, but I like books. I like to read them. I like to turn their pages and feel their weight in my hand and soak up the information they contain with my brain or let them take me on a frivolous and entertaining ride.

Sometimes life gets hectic and I don’t have much time to read. Other times, like yesterday, I feel icky and end up on bed rest and get to do nothing but read which entirely makes up for whatever symptoms have landed me in pillow land.

I’ve been slowly working my way through Geoffrey Miller’s “The Mating Mind” over the past few weeks. It’s a heavy book. There are heavy concepts and words that are probably quite light to a biologist or evolutionary psychologist but for me require lots of thought and looking up things. It contains fascinating ideas like:

“The handicap principle suggests that sexual selection could even have favored a masochistic taste for memorable discomfort, since the ability to survive hardship reveals fitness. Even in the carnage of mechanized warfare or the intellectual bloodbath of an academic job interview, one can always think, “This will make a hell of a story someday.”“

and (while discussing the human face):

“The head is a major target of sexual choice in both sexes. It is rich in fitness information because it is such a complicated piece of the body to grow, and so many things can go wrong.”

The main goal of “The Mating Mind” is to explain things like art, music, humor and moral codes from an evolutionary standpoint. None of these traits are explainable in the context of Darwinian Natural Selection. I’ve heard numerous men state that the only reason they go out on stage, write a song, or build a company is to get laid. It was really interesting to see a scientific theory elaborating on this concept in less flippant terms.

After that brick of information, Neal Stephenson’s “Snow Crash” (recommended and lended by the gorgeous Ryan Keely - who you should totally investigate via the NSFW hotlink) was a very enjoyable palate cleanser. All of the Babel/Infocalypse stuff was mental a walk in the park, comparatively. Interesting, fun, verrrry cyberpunk. I do like sci-fi/speculative/cyberpunk authors who have the knowledge and education to write convincing scenarios.

Next in the stack is Leonard Shlain’s “The Alphabet Versus the Goddess” which so far is coming off as a ‘women are oppressed because ____’ anthem. I might move on to something else for the time being. Has anyone else read it and feel like giving me an opinion?