Marc Blackie

by Horror Sleaze Trash on June 5, 2012

Thoughts on Female Genitalia, by Marc Blackie.

In which, I mean in no way to sound derisive of all those secrets that ladies carry about themselves, tucked away discreetly inside of their various undergarments, but rather the obvious and ‘moth to a flame’ like fascination that such body parts inspire with the male of the species.

Which probably sounds odd, coming from someone to whom eroticism is a stock and trade, a means of expression and an obvious method of banging my head against the wall in a fit of wild stupidification, but having just had a little exposure of my work on a mainstream website and a massive influx of visitors it strikes me as notable that by far the most popular photos are the ones that feature vaginas.

Again, I really can’t over stress my appreciation at how obvious this sounds and am aware also that I may likely be a little spoilt when it comes to “genital exposure” (so to speak), but I think my point still remains…

Of course, I can still see the appeal – I don’t think that I am that jaded as yet when it comes to the subject matter in hand, but when I see that so many people have followed a similar pattern of sifting through the hundreds of thumbnails on my site and only clicking on the (four or five at present I think) thumbnails that promise a little labia, an open pair of legs or a bent over reveal of the inevitable conclusion of the digestive process, my ghast is flabbered.

On tumblr also, the most popular photos I post are always of the more explicit variety, with the exposed intimate flesh being often an aside rather than a focus and generally securing the most reblogs and other such needle prick ego fuckery than a far more modest (and interesting image) would inspire.  I could understand this a decade or so ago, when as a culture we hadn’t been so saturated with the omnipresent representation of our own origin, but am surprised that the novelty has yet to wear off.

I guess that here is still an inbuilt knee-jerk reaction to the cunt, the anus and (my personal favourite) the perineum.  A stirring in the groin, a few drips of saliva escaping from the side of the mouth, a clawing at the screen and a stamping of feet.  Maybe some over excited clapping, a howl at the moon and an irresistible compulsion to gaze upon the increasingly over familiar wonder that might soon end up as passé ornamentation.

It reminds me of train spotting also – an ever accumulating list of things seen that maybe ends with a thought along the lines of “Yes, I have seen four hundred and eighteen vaginas today.  Who knows what adventures I shall have tomorrow?” that flicks across the mind before the head hits the pillow, before the eyes close, before sleep comes and before the inevitable dreams (of vaginas, no doubt) ensue.

I like to think that the end of the World is coming soon and will be brought about by such over saturation.  That by the time it comes to procreation everyone will be so bored of fucking and so jaded when it comes to erotic expectation that no more children will be produced and people will spend the last of their barren days awaiting the latest delivery of shit they don’t really need from the internet.

In fact, I am almost certain that this is the self same fate that befell the dinosaurs.  Even if their little arms were way too small for masturbation.  Although that might have just been a last ditch attempt by evolution to stop them wanking all the time.

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