The new movement detected no silliness—sincere, insincere, whatever—in any porn, and nothing defensible. It was this argument that all porn is misogyny—queer or straight, homemade or big-budget, rough or tender, elaborate B.D.S.M. orgy or unaccessorized vanilla coupling—that put Royalle off. That and the idea that all women who acted in adult films had been railroaded into it. Royalle hadn’t always loved her choices, but she’d been the one to make them. She wrote a letter to Ms. (which declined to publish it) demanding to know why the publication seemed to “want nothing to do with a woman who’s been directly associated with the adult film industry unless she has a horror story to tell.”

She was intent on “letting men see what many women actually want in bed,” as she put it. There would be no money shots of men ejaculating hither and yon; she didn’t happen to care for those. Nor would she feature women having sex with each other just to titillate male viewers: “It has to be intrinsic to the story, or they have to be lovers in real life.” She’d treat the performers with respect and appreciation on the set; in response to the AIDS epidemic, she introduced safe-sex protocols. (In a vignette from the Femme movie “A Taste of Ambrosia,” from 1987, a woman applies her partner’s condom “so slowly and meticulously,” Kamensky notes, “that the scene could be used in a sex ed workshop.”) On the other hand, Femme films still included genital closeups (“meat shots,” in the industry parlance), the requisite six sex scenes that Kamensky says mainstream porn movies featured, and blow jobs aplenty.

A large number of the women I know who watch porn watch female massage porn. That is, porn in which a woman receives a massage from a masseuse of any gender, and at some point the masseuse switches from kneading her sore muscles to kneading something else. Few of us want to actually receive an erotic massage — the thought actually makes my skin crawl. Ever since massage porn became ubiquitous in my porn, I have been unable to endure professional, nonerotic massages: The porno version has worn a groove in my psyche that is too deep to ignore. In my mind, massage tables have become sexual apparatuses, and I cannot be near one in the presence of a stranger.

I do not like fucking machines. Initially, I attributed this to my gender. Surely this is a straight-male fantasy, I thought. It’s about performance anxiety, or the male desire to make women orgasm without exerting oneself or risking failure. Many of the machines advertised on Kink would seem to require poses involving the aforementioned hip-flexor issue. But Fucking Machines is the second-most-popular channel among Kink’s female audience. A spin through Kink’s message boards reveals that the appeal can be quite similar to massage porn — minimum plot, maximum pleasure — but for women who are more sexually intense (and perhaps more flexible) than I. One woman’s extreme-penetration fucking machine is another woman’s gentle massage.

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