April 17, 2011
When people hear the word fringe they think: on the outskirts, outliers, peripheral. They think of things foreign to them, they think of “fringe areas”, “fringe dwellers” and being on the “fringe”. The lunatic fringe if you will. Especially when applied to sex.
But after the kinky parties I’ve been to and the Feminist Porn Awards I just attended (Best. Time. Ever. More on that later this week) when I use the word fringe in a sexual context it has different connotations. Fringe is no longer just descriptor, not merely an adjective…
It is verb.
It is action.
It is handcrafted, faux fur-lined goods being wrapped around and adorning the shoulders of a beautiful woman.
It is the finest sex toy money can buy being dipped into the silkiest lube on the market and then plunged into…
It suggests ornamentation and beauty, thrust, parry and flourish: the difference between politely clapping and a standing ovation. Or the distinction between a congratulatory card and a victory parade.
Alas, those who know me well know that my open mindedness didn’t always extend this far. But it has been an evolution. A long journey from the narrowly defined missionary position and girl on top dominated discourse of teenage sex to the it’s all good if both parties consent bacchanalia of my old age. Anyway, that’s enough about me.
As part of this – our third fringe-dominated month – let me direct you to a few of the tasty offerings we put forth last summer during our second fringe month.
There’s a little something for everyone, Skye being pegged as a Dom, my own adventures with a little hand to hand combat and Elizabeth Rose’s personal guidelines for submissive and dominant behaviour.
Next we threw in a little breath play, a bit of choking, our friend Ken’s PSA letting women know that his face doubles as an ottoman, and the ever popular anal in “Topping From The Bottom“.
It’s a veritable fringe feast.