Category Archives: Women’s Department

Unprotected Sex: What if Condoms Make the Guy "Soft"

I am militant now, in my “old” age, about protection during sex. The question is, why isn’t everyone?
The images, albeit creepy and disturbing, are some very effective AIDS-awareness posters from France. I thought they illustrated this posting well.
A reader named Helen left a great comment today on a posting I think everyone should read, personally, called Getting Laid, Getting Tested, Getting AIDS,* that I wrote two years ago.
(Proof that I see every single comment I get, so start commenting more, peeples!)
Helen wrote:

What really irritates me is that guys still ask for [sex] ‘without a condom’. As soon as I hear that now, it’s such a big turn-off, as I know they’ve done that before, and probably don’t give it the concern I do. Even if we use condoms, yes there’s still a risk of herpes, warts, there’s still contact. And I end up thinking about that too much. Why do they ask?
Of course, the worst is the guys I know who seem to lose it as soon as the condom is on. You’re all turned on, gasping for it, and it’s gone. It’s like being held to ransom. He’s feeling bad, you want sex, it’s all too easy to give in and make it alright. Do you have any tips for this? Because it drives me crazy. I know it sounds weird, but can’t they try to masturbate with them, or somehow try to associate them with sex? I know it doesn’t feel as good, but there’s clearly a mental element too that they could work on.
I just wish they found the prospect of HIV as much of a turn-off as me.

And condoms can break, so even then you’re not guaranteed protection, which is why I “sleep around” very, very objectively, even with condoms. 99% ain’t 100%.
I had a sexual “professional” in the escort biz email me once to say she’d used a condom EVERY SINGLE TIME she had ever had sex, and somehow wound up pregnant. This development left her absolutely terrified to continue in her profession.
As for Helen’s example, I’ve had that happen, that when a guy puts a condom on, he suddenly deflates. He tried to use the “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a relationship for the last 11 years, so I just can’t get used to it” bullshit excuse.
And that’s MY problem, how? “Wear the fucking condom, or we don’t fuck. You can’t wear it? Your loss. I have vibrators. I’m better off without fucking someone like you, anyhow, because now I can’t trust you,” was my response to him, and the night came to a very premature close.
My advice, Helen? Stay the course. If men want to argue against wearing condoms, then fine, let them. But don’t give in. Never, ever give in. It takes ONCE. Just once. See my addendum at the end, because my friend who knows the night he was infected, he’s dying as a result. From once, just once.
You’re absolutely right — the ones who ask for bareback ARE the ones who’ve done it with others. They’re the ones to be concerned about. Just because they’re charming and got that far with you doesn’t mean they’re safe. It’s the excessively charming guys that worry me more, to be frank.
I have a male friend who just recently decided a couple months of seeing this chick meant it was a nice, committed relationship, and he felt he could trust her. They had unprotected sex, and the next day, literally, he happened to see a text message on her cellphone in which a guy texted her “BTW I think I came in you the other night. Too late for a morning-after pill?”
My friend told me he ran to the washroom and vomitted, since he’s never been a promiscuous guy and only recently got out of his 12-year marriage, and has been just gutted with worry the last month.
The day BEFORE he told me that, I’d been to my doctor and was talking about getting tested again, for my bi-annual test, whether I’m sexually active or not. Doc told me rather darkly that he’d just finished testifying in a court case in which a FEMALE patient of his KNOWINGLY infected a male patient of his with HIV.
We want to believe everyone’s as ethical as we are. We want to believe they’re not fucking with skanky people who use no safe practices. But that’s just naivety at its finest.
There are untrustworthy people out there. There are mean people out there. There are people with no scruples nor standards. There are destructive people out there.
Vigilance is the only thing we have to protect ourselves with, aside from condoms, and neither are 100%.
God, since the late ’80s we’ve heard the slogan “No glove, no love” and you’d think people would get it by now. Particularly these men who want to keep asking for bareback sex.
You think condomless sex doesn’t feel better for women, too? Of COURSE it feels better. I LOVE BAREBACK SEX. Love, love, LOVE. I just never have it. Why? Because it’s so fucking 1970, man. Jesus.
Women have more at risk than our random male shags might. We could get pregnant — which often is a greater motivation than protecting oneself against AIDS and other STDs, and is stupid, but there you have it. If that’s what it takes for women — who are the fastest-growing demographic for new AIDS & HIV infections — to start forcing partners to wear condoms religiously, then I’ll take it.
Guys, if you’re one of these selfish pricks who has a fucking problem wearing a condom, THEN GET OVER IT. Whiners.
It’s a MENTAL problem and YOU need to deal with it, not US. If it means jacking off with condoms as practice, then do that. I don’t know what you but-I-can’t-wear-a-condom, you-can-trust-me men need to do, but you got to fucking figure it out. We’re your lovers, not your mothers, so figure your shit out without burdening us with the hassle.
And to all the men who are religious about wearing condoms: We love you men for making this easier for us. You have no idea the bullshit every single woman has dealt with over the years from those ignorant, dumb-ass men who are selfishly thinking only of getting off, and not taking our well-being (or theirs) into consideration.
AIDS isn’t over. In fact, the picture is even less rosy than it was just weeks ago. Why? The CDC in America has released a study in which they report that they think their estimates for new annual AIDS/HIV infections are a whopping 40% TOO LOW. Instead of 40,000 new cases a year, it’s 56,000, and growing.
In fact, Ronald Johnson, the AIDS Action Deputy Director, says, “This is not just another set of statistics. There are people behind these numbers. People are becoming infected with a disease that is preventable. We know how to prevent HIV, but we have been fighting this epidemic with one hand tied behind our back, reflecting a disturbing dismissal of HIV-prevention as a public health priority. The new, higher estimate is yet one more wake-up call to our national leaders that they need to do more, starting with developing and implementing a real national AIDS strategy.”
I’m gonna guess that strategy is that of educating ignorant people about wearing condoms.
Personally, I think that, even if you’re in a longterm committed relationship, and you even THINK your partner is cheating on you, you should demand condoms be used. Ain’t a conversation I’d be keen to initiate, but when your life’s literally at stake and trust isn’t what it used to be, that’s a conversation that needs having.
What can I say? The lack of sexual responsibility used by some segments of society leave me absolutely paranoid about who it is I should or should not sleep with, and as much as I trust my instinct… I’m no fool.
Neither should any of you be. Why chance it?
*NB: The friend I’ve mentioned that contracted AIDS from a night he could pinpoint is not doing as well as he was in the posting I originally mentioned. He’s now made a will, has become incredibly depressed, has isolated himself, and his health is spiralling downwards, filling fear in us all, because we think he doesn’t want to fight. While life can be sustained longer than ever with the drug cocktails now prescribed for AIDS, the quality of life is often difficult.
As I wrote in that original posting, a little too presciently for my comfort, “The virus is not the same in everyone. It is a living, breathing thing, and like all evolutionary beings, it can – and will – adapt to new and different environments. Some people will be to HIV like a match is to a stick of dynamite. You really think you’re invulnerable? Go ahead. Roll that dice. But every risk you take, you subject another to, and, that, you have no right to do.”

Vaginas: Uptight, everything's all right? Not so much.

There’s a scene in The Tailor of Panama in which Pierce Brosnan, as Andy Osnard, a British spy reassigned to Panama, is shown his new office for the first time by his hot but too tense new colleague.
He wanders to a safe in the wall above his new desk and starts trying to crack the combination. The woman, unimpressed, mutters that she doesn’t think it’s even locked.
Sure enough, Osnard gets the safe ajar and glances at her as it creaks open, and says with a suggestive leer on his face. “You’re right… it was open. Just tight from lack of use.”
It’s a great line, funny as hell, and probably makes most women want to fuck Pierce Brosnan then and there. Nothing like a dirty cute Brit.
But it’s also a reality. The longer a woman goes without sex, and without ensuring she’s indulging in some kind of penetrative masturbation with vibrators or dildos, the more her vagina will “atrophy” and tighten. Funny, this doesn’t get spoken of much out there, but perhaps it should.
The beauty of a vagina is its elasticity. While it’s an organ, it’s also governed by many critical muscles. If a woman is not exercising it, it will lose some pliability. The longer she goes without the “exercise”, the more atrophying you’ll run into, and the more difficult sex will be when she gets around to it.
That’s not something we hear a lot about. There’s the old saying, “use it or lose it”, and it applies to both men and women when it comes to masturbation. Men need to be ejaculating regularly to maintain prostate health, but women need to be Kegeling and penetrative-masturbating on a relatively regular basis in order to maintain their vaginal functionality and integrity.
I mean, when you stop exercising and working out on a total-body scale and you start sitting on the couch for a few weeks, how long does it take for your toning to vanish? Not very, right? So, when it comes to sex, how long do ya figure you need to go without before you lose crucial toning down there? Why do we justify scheduling in working out for our total-body fitness, yet seldom worry about maintaining fitness of our sexual organs?
When we’re sexually inactive, full-on masturbation by women is more important than ever. If you’re someone like me who’s been in the position of being deprived of libido as a chemical side effect, it’s important to override the lack of interest felt by the body, and do what needs to be done to stay healthy.
The trouble is, most women get off on clitoral stimulation for orgasms, and I suspect I’m not the only one out there who, 85% of the time, thinks a vibrator is too much work when the clit can be massaged for 45 seconds to produce an orgasm that follows quickly. Easy, tidy, effective, no clean-up, and wholly portable. Not to mention that, when only 60% of women masturbate, you can bet that a good chunk of that total feels awkward about inserting anything into themselves.
It’s a real shame that it’s the sex who has more issues with masturbation that is biologically required to perform a more “invasive” and socially chuckled-about procedure in order to maintain the optimum health of their vaginas, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
After all, it seems there’s still a stigma out there about women using vibrators. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — it’s only the documented sluts and feminists we see in the media with vibrators. The good girls just use hands or maybe a massaging showerhead. Or nothing at all. But she sticks a Rabbit vibe inside her? She’s a man-eater.
Granted, the attitudes are changing, but it’s still a different segment of woman who supposedly uses sex toys, and maybe that stereotype is true to an extent, but wouldn’t it be great for both sexes if that stereotype shattered a little? After all, it’s not like vibrators aren’t actually IMPORTANT for women to use.
I’d be curious to see what percentage of women it is that feels uncomfortable about inserting a vibrator inside her as a result of this not-so-subtle stereotyping that exists everywhere in the media.
I doubt such studies are undertaken that often, about how the average woman masturbates versus the more sexually-liberated one. Because, after all, who really cares how women masturbate? Isn’t it the man’s job to get us off?
Hmm. Talk about your stereotypes.
But if you’re one of these liberated men or women and sex toys work for you… then you should use this 10%-off coupon and go buy yourself a treat at Vibe Review. The coupon is good for as many uses as you want, just save this link and buy often between now and the American election in November. By using this link, you’ll give me a commission of your purchases and help me buy some wine or sexy panties or something. I’ll never know WHO bought anything or WHAT they bought, so your privacy is GUARANTEED, but I’ll get a few bucks stuffed in my piggy bank and the warm-fuzzies will rain happily upon me. So, go for it, and save a few bucks while you’re at it. And feed your favourite scribe. 🙂
And if you’re not liberated, isn’t it time you started to be? C’mon. Invest in yourself.

Reader Says:He's Hated Giving Me Oral for 25 Years

Oh, dear, oh, dear. Ohh. Sigh.
So here’s a letter I received today–

We’ve been married 25 years, intercourse has always been great. Hubby has never learned to be good with his hands but orally he’s a dunce. I gave up many years ago. I have dropped 60 lbs and my libido went up, so has my old wish for good oral from him. I printed out “how to eat pussy” lessons I found on the net. He attacks the pussy like it’s diseased. Scrunches up his face and makes it look like he’s going to hate it. The lessons… well, he just couldn’t put it together.

He’s given me a list of “needs” to prepare for this.

1- must shave the area (fine with me, but he won’t assist.)
2- must wash 10 minutes before doing act
3- must be more than 5 days past period
4- must be more than 5 days from getting period
5- must be more than 3 days since last intercourse (we have sex 2 or 3 times a week, he ALWAYS cums inside)

He hates even looking at a vagina, and has had no clue in 26 years what a clit does. All the teaching I attempted in our early years was a waste as he just has no innate ability to figure out what to do, and won’t listen to my body. I am about ready to go man hunting for good oral.

SHOULD I GIVE UP ON HIM?

Shit. See, this is one of those “I’m not going to enjoy this” questions. It happens. Normally I’d remove more of the specifics, but it’s obvious he doesn’t read blogs like this. And even if he did, he deserves to recognize himself.
Reader, you need to say, “Look, I know YOU have a problem with this, but the majority of this country, men LOVE diving into snatch. YOU have a problem with it. YOU are the exception. YOU having a problem with it makes ME feel like YOU have a problem with MY snatch. This makes ME feel like a loser. This makes ME feel like maybe there’s someone out there, in the majority of the country, that feels differently about ME than YOU do. I’m tired of being rejected. It’s threatening our marriage. And the power is in your hands to change it. And if you don’t, I will.” Continue reading

My First Time (with a Home Pregnancy Test)

There I was, desperately locking and re-locking the bathroom door in the back of a Subway sandwich shop, panicking that I might be heard, or maybe the Catholic in me felt the location was just morally wrong for that sort of thing, but I didn’t give a shit. The time was nigh, now or never, or at least now-sooner-than-later, as fate might have it anyhow, so I was doin’ it. Continue reading

Thoughts on Clothes Shopping, and Sugasm 140.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just wake up apprehensive and slightly disturbed, and you’re not sure why, other than the restless sleep filled with unsettling dreams you can’t remember?
Yeah. I had one of those sleeps last night. Fraught with the unsettled, but completely in the dark as to remembering any of my dreams last night. Except for a snippet where I was having this hellish clothes-shopping experience where, every item I tried on, I’d look in the mirror and it’d suddenly distort and I’d have this hideous thing looking back at me. I woke up, smoked some pot, and tried to sleep again.
Hours later, I’ve woken up uncomfortable in my own skin, and I can’t really shake it off, but I’m about to give it a good shot.
I went to bed last night thinking all these outlandish thoughts about how exciting it was going to be to go shopping for new shorts at Old Navy today. Now I’m all apprehensive about it. I’m sitting here in the XXL shorts I bought two years ago that I now have to yank the ropes as tight as possible and roll down at the waist just to keep ’em from falling down over my hips. I’ve lost more than 40 pounds, but there are times I still feel like the girl of old.
It’s a little nerve-wracking facing the demons of Mass Produced Clothing in the post-weight-loss world. Boo, hiss, mass production. In a world without regulated sizing, it can be a pretty psychologically cruel journey for someone looking to find a sense of self in a new size. As if that’s where we’ll ever find ourselves anyhow. But once we do find our self, wherever it’s found, it can always be enhanced by a great pair of jeans, no?
Naturally, I can’t afford to buy much today. A little. Not much. The broke state of Steff will come to an end in Aug/Sept, but I can find a few pennies, and that’s okay. Anything is good, right? I’ve been wearing my three new shirts this week and my new jeans I bought, and I got an awesome email from a coworker yesterday morning, an afterthought kind of thing. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you’re looking amazing! Those jeans you’ve been wearing really, really show it off. Way to go!”
So, now I’m about to take off and have the first reckoning with what, exactly, is my new size after all? Sure, I’m nervous, but I’m also excited. Nothing like buying new clothes to reinvent our image. It’s the single most important decision we make daily on how we want our world to perceive us, isn’t it?
Living two years without the opportunity to reinvent my image thanks to such bad financial straights for so long, and having made so many changes in who I am, and knowing who I was 2 years ago versus this wicked chick I’ve become, well, this is the beginning of a radical re”branding” of the self of Steff.
For instance, I bought this terrific slightly butch shirt that I just think rocks. It’s sad that I want to have shrunk out of it by Thanksgiving, but I’ll love it in the meantime. It’s almost like a cute little tailored mechanic’s shirt with cap sleeves and darting at the waist, and it’s red and blue stripes on white, but the back has a massive 10″ embroidered flower patch offset to the left, and it’s just perfect. Feminine, yet not. Looks great with my tan. It strikes the perfect balance I want my whole wardrobe to have.
I’m no girlie girl, and I never will be. I’ve had an assortment of Doc Martens over the years and love some good boots, right? I long for a new leather jacket, I dig my short hair. But I don’t want to be butch. I’m so done with butch. I want femininity without selling out completely. I want balance. Cute but hot, tough but soft.
But who we see ourselves in our mind’s eye versus who we’re able to produce as a result of the clothing we buy, the images we craft, is wildly different. We can have an idea of where we want to go, but until we find the right things on the rack, who’s to say where we actually wind up?
So, here I go. Off to see if mass production really has a “self” I’m willing to project. And what self will it be, anyhow? Ahh, the wonders of materialism.
Here, eat some Sugasm. It’ll all be better in the morning.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.

This Week’s Picks
“Are you a sex blogger or a sexy blogger?” “It builds a community that I am so proud to be part of.”

The J Word “And while you’re with her, I’ll be with him.”
Transcending moment ”It’s that place between fear and arousal, and they are so very closely related.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself — Sugar Bank
Editor’s Choice– Chill Pleasure
BDSM & Fetish
Bathroom bang
Bros Not Hoes – F/m Spanking Video Clip
Cock training
Galerías de spanking: Spanking Server
Games Grown Ups Play
The Most Amazing Sex (and I didn’t come)
Mr. and Mrs. Kink Have Great Sex (Again)
My First Ever Fetish Photography Shoot & Other Wonderful Things
New spanking gallerie – Two girls spanked
Religion and BDSM
Rope
TES Fest 2008 was fabulous!
Your Slut

Sex Advice
Ask Miss Bliss-How Do I Know If A Girl Likes Me?
Fetish Safety – Branding
The Kivin Method: Guaranteed Orgasm for Women

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Advanced Exhibitionism
Autobiography of a Masturbator: Porn O’Graphicus, Part 2
Club Tantra: My Experience, Unabridged
Distraction
Fucking no foreplay
Getting to fuck the neighbor 9
Him
HNT – Peach
Insanity never felt so good
Interludes – part 1
Memoir Of A Married Woman
Popping His Cherry
Re: Dinner Last Night
“Red Bottoms” (Complete)
Sloppy Seconds, Then Thirds
That Time of the Month
Whiskey Kisses (unedited)

Sex Work
Sex Worker Solidarity: Catalina
Happy Thoughts on Being a Phonesex Op…
Stamp on my forehead saying “ask me about your fetish”

Sex & Politics
Natalia Antonova on Objectification and Desire
Teen Sex: The New After-School Special?
Women Enjoy Relative Sexual Freedom this 4th of July

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Bedroom Radio #18: Artemis Hunter and the Silver Bullet
Calstar Spanking – Severe deep stripe marks
Cheerleader is tired in gangbang video
Free video audition of Amsterdam sex performer
Half-Nekkid and Getting Shaved
HNT – A bit cheeky
HNT – Purple Lace
Making Love to the Camera
Mz Berlin Took This Picture Of Herself In Her New Wasp Creation Corset

Sex Humor
Top 6 Reasons for Not Shaving Your Beaver

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Catalina loves Lochai
Comstock Films
Drink Semen for Better Health
Interview about spanking erotica with Spanked contributor Teresa Noelle Roberts
January Seraph Is A Hot Femdom Dominating Jade Indica In Lesbian Latex Role Play
The Monday Buzz: The Bandito
Penny Flame Fucks A Handyman With A Strap-On and Feeds Him His Own Cum
Product Research: Blow Job Dildo
Yes! Yes! Yes! Personal Lubricant

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Be nice… until it is time to not be nice…
Finding out your good friends are swingers
Naughty Text Messages and Perverted Friends Makes Life Fun
Sex Advice Review: “Tips to Better Sex and Sleep”
Silence

On Female Masturbation, Faking Orgasms, & The Psychology of Sex

[Steff note: This posting began as an attempt for me to try and explain a little why women should act out loud when they’re masturbating in the privacy of home — thrusting, grabbing at their breasts and ass, grunting, whatever it takes… but it got a lot deeper and a lot bigger than just a posting on that — and has to do with women faking orgasms, being vocal during sex, and the psychology of sex. See? Something to chew on.]

Enjoying sex is all about learning to let go. It’s difficult for both sexes for different reasons.
Men, they have the pressure to perform and the demands of making their partner come before they do. It’s all about being hard, large, and getting it done in the right order. (No wonder so many opt for safe routines.)
Women, we have to get past all the bullshit that clutters the way between us and the fabled thing of glory, the orgasm. It’s a hard journey and it’s why some women–far too many, really–will always struggle with orgasms.
Guys want the one go-to it move that’ll get a chick off every single time. I thought I heard the Hallelujah chorus when I was young and heard a bunch of guys discussing the g-spot, like it was a sure-thing orgasm trick. But, in reality, most of them had probably never found it, and their girlfriends have likely all faked an orgasm just to get it over and done with.
Yes, guys, we’ve probably all done it. Yes, it’s happened to you. I don’t care if you’re Brad Pitt, a woman has faked an orgasm on you.
Because, sometimes, it’s just easier because we know our body isn’t going that way, and we don’t want you to think it’s you. And we don’t want you to keep trying, because then you (unwittingly?) make us feel like we’re the damaged goods. So, we fake it. And you know, deep down inside, you sometimes appreciate that we do.
So, I got to thinking: If pretty much every woman has faked an orgasm, why can’t more of them use theatrics during masturbation?
Here’s the thing. If sex is about letting go, and most women face problems of inhibitions, baggage, religious issues, and/or breaking free from society’s constraints for a few wild moments behind closed doors, then why not just force yourself to cut loose a little more during masturbation?
It worked for me. More on that later.
Allow me to digress here for a second. Quiet sex is all well and good, but if you can make a little noise, you should. By being vocal during sex — I’m not saying you have to shout — but by being vocal during sex, you tap into a more primal place psychologically. Don’t dismiss the headtrip of sex; getting into the mode and allowing yourself to get primal, however you define that, is essential to really getting something out of sex.
On that note, remaining quiet keeps you more internalized. Besides that, it limits the amount of sharing. You grunt, groan, gasp, shudder, whimper… All of those things contain very readable signs for a lover. They don’t need a megaphone, they don’t even need words. It all says so much. Plus, it’s amazing what some good rhythmic grunting can do to heighten the arousal… when it’s coming from you. And it typically excites men much, much more… and considering the challenge of owning a penis, that’s sometimes a pretty nice helping point.
Hell, I was one of those quiet-in-sex girls until I was about 30 or so, and I couldn’t believe how much more bang for my orgasm buck I was getting when I was getting vocal during sex. Much better result. I live in a wood-framed building, so I’m not some banshee or anything, but I’m no mute, either. Find the level that works for you, it’s not about volume. It’s about expression, expression of how you really feel, but without having to put words to it, all right? But words sure as hell don’t hurt. (Usually.)
So this exercise is all about that. Masturbating, for women who have no sex toys kicking around, doesn’t often involve a lot of inspired imagining when it comes to the idea of a guy inside her. That’s a very difficult sensation to imagine in the mind’s eye. Visualize it, yeah. Identify with its feeling, no. Clearly the girl in this underwear ad had no such struggle.
I think the trick is, you have to grunt or gasp or moan or whatever you like to do, in the cadence that you wish you were thrusting with someone. You know, “Oh… oh… oh! Oh…” It helps flick the switch in your mind and helps fool you ever so briefly that you’re transcending from fantasy to reality, and it gets a little bit hotter. Especially if you mimic the thrusting action at the same time. Grabbing your breast never hurts, either. No, really.
Until you’re able to get past your bullshit enough to grunt and moan aloud to yourself when no one’s going to see or know, you’re never, ever going to let down enough of your guard and reservations to really have some experiences with your lovers.
There are different places you can come from when you’re being sexual, and some of them are pretty unbelievable, and you don’t get there by being timid in bed or afraid to express yourself. There’s sex, and then there’s the mindblowing sex you always file away as a go-to image for masturbation down the line, and for that kind of sex, you need to lose your hang-ups.
Being a good (and confident) lover takes practice and the courage to try moves and techniques blind. It involves studying. It involves curiousity. And it really involves having a voice and knowing not only what you like… but how you like it.
That’s why we masturbate. We masturbate because, well, getting off feels fantastic and shouldn’t have to wait until we’re a party of two, but we also should be masturbating so we can sort of take notes on what blew our mind best. It’s how we’re able to tell a lover what part needs to be nibbled or toyed with, and where what should go.
Why we expect that lovers should just magically know how to make us orgasm I’ll never understand. You wouldn’t show up to a wardrobe stylist, tell them to dress you, but not give them any information about you, your life, your job, or your preferences, would you? So why won’t we tell our lovers what we want?
Masturbation’s the research process through which you can do that. Of course, they can and will bring their mix to the equation, but since it’s your body, you should at least give them an orientation now and then.
Practice, grasshopper. In fact, what are you doing? Go download some porn or something. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, they say. Don’t be idle.
For the women out there who are more expressive in their masturbation:
Were you always? When you became that way, did it change sex for you? How?

On Oral, A Reader Asks: Can I Really Tease Her For More Than An Hour?

some days are clean slates, just waiting for some input, a spark, a suggestion. some days are lazy days of slack, and on such a day, it’s nice to receive a great email from a snazzy reader, especially when it’s something worth spending a little time writing on. if you have something you think i could shed some light on, you just wanna say hi, or you just wanna wind me up and watch me go, here’s where to send it: smuttysteff(at)gmail(dot)com.
just a reminder, though: this isn’t a gig that pays my rent, so real life often (and rudely) interferes, and if i forget to respond to you or I fail to post a response I say I’ll post, please, please, write me back and remind me — like this reader did! yay, reader!

__________________________

A young lesbian reader has written after reading my three-part (evidently not so) Man’s Guide to Cunnilingus (click here to read: part one, part two, part three). I may have to change the name of that. How hetero of me. Shame!
Awwright, let’s start off with the 18-year-old girl’s question:

In your cunnilingus post, pt.3, you exhort to torturously delay her cumming in order to give her one “mind-boggling” orgasm. That is exactly my question, how do you do it? Because, in order to do so, if I start varying the rhythm of my tongue or even stop for a moment to lick other spots I’m afraid her orgasm might vanish.
In your post “Giving Great Head” you say that your “record” for delivering oral on a guy was over an hour and that his reaction was mind-blowing. Is it possible to do the same to a chick?

-Eager Beaver
Excellent question!
Let’s all just take a deep breath for a second here and think on the basics that everyone needs to know about sex:
First, orgasms don’t just up and vanish into thin air. It’s not like a Hogwart’s class on spellcasting or something here. Don’t be so scared of failing to bring an orgasm that you don’t explore the realms of human enjoyment, all right? It’s not about achieving orgasm in 18.67 minutes. There’s no time-limit involved. Taking the slow scenic route may mean you need to build back up to a cadence that’ll yield an orgasm, but so what?
The fact is, one of the best things a woman can do to increase her orgasm potential for later in the evening is to masturbate to the brink of orgasm, then stop, denied, before showering and/or getting ready for her plans/date. If she knows she’s getting laid later, she’ll typically have a better, more fulfilling orgasm because of “masturbatus-interruptus“. Same thing as if you get interrupted during sex, can’t finish, and then finish later, it’s a much hotter orgasm, isn’t it?
So, if worse come to worse and the arousal should dampen, which it often can and will, just take charge and take her right back to where you want her. Who cares if it takes a while? What’s your rush?
Spending an hour on oral means semi-constantly making sure you’re somehow stimulating her vaginal areas, whether it’s tracing a finger over her and just lightly toying with her, or during a more overt clitoral rub to heighten things, or working her as part of your oral arts. Always be aware and be conscious of her vagina. You can detour away for a few seconds here or there, but make a grand return by kissing your way down her torso or introducing a sex toy into the equation.
There are no rules, get creative. Think “If I were a vagina, how would I like to be toyed with” and get creative about finding items you can tease her with over the course of an hour or two. Spend an afternoon sometime when you’re by yourself just going through your place and finding unusual items (that need to be clean) for teasing a body with. A feather, a powderpuff, a silk tassel, sex toys… use props, put the “play” back into playing with each other.
If you’re talking about stimulating your lover for an hour, two hours, or more, mostly via oral, you have to remember that you can absolutely pull back and just lightly toy with them, using a finger or a small prop, for a few minutes to take a break. God, even just hovering over her vagina (or over a man’s cock), an inch away, and breathing hot and hard against her vagina will be arousing, and you have to do nothing but breathe, so that’s a good “breather” to take as well. Just try to keep them in a light state of arousal throughout, and when you’re recharged a bit, go back to your pleasure-giving duties.
Understand, everybody, you are NOT going to kill orgasms! Not usually You are going to ENHANCE them. Yes. Yes, you are. That’s what it’s about. The longer someone is aroused and the longer that pleasure is denied, the greater the orgasm will be. Do we understand now? Making them wait is a good thing. It’s the difference between an “ohh…” orgasm and an “ohh!” orgasm, all right?
You’re not the first person to not realize this, Eager Beaver, and, god help me, you ain’t going to be the last. But overcome the fear of “losing the orgasm” and adopt the confidence of giving the orgasm on yer own damned timetable, all right?
Besides, again it’s all becoming about the orgasm, when it really isn’t about that. Sex, oral and otherwise, is about so much more than just blowing our loads.
It’s about showing your lover they’re worth you spending an hour or more of your time literally just making them feel great. It’s about enjoying the mingling of human saltiness and sweetness on your tongue and the millions of crazy nerves firing off inside yer lucky lover, beneath your touch, as they squirm and groan softly as you playfully dart here and there, licking and kissing and nibbling and sucking.
The orgasm is just the briefest of moments, and, in the end, it’s never really the orgasm we remember anyways, is it? It’s the delightful tortured waiting in which we think this fury of feeling we’ve got is going to explode from within us if we don’t get to orgasm soon, isn’t it? That feeling’s so fucking hot. THAT is the feeling you want to work to create. That place between heaven and hell that we could all spend an eternity in, provided we get release every now and again.
You won’t lose the orgasm.
You will, however, find a whole new definition to what it means to please your lover. Trust me.

Kickin' Ass & Takin' Names: Back in Black!

I cycled to and from work for the first time in three weeks today. Three weeks today it felt like I’d blown it out a little. The next day, Thursday, I couldn’t even hold a fork. So, no cycling in three weeks, and today 24 clicks. A little kamikaze of me, yes, but that’s me being me. 😉
My hand feels pretty damned good, surprisingly. The wrist-flex weightlifting work I’ve been doing has been paying off. As have the stairs, which I’m still doing 25 floors/650 steps on. Cycling ascents are suddenly much easier. I’d think that cycling 100 clicks a week would dramatically improve my cardio, but the stairs just kick my fucking ass every time I climb them. Nothing else compares for sheer leave-it-on-the-floor capacity.
I guess that’s why god made mountains to cycle, huh? Even still, you gotta work to get down the stairs, not cycling down a mountain, that’s just free riding. Awesome, but not work. The stairs take four minutes to descend and are crazy calf-muscle sculptors. My calves finally look ripped when I flex ’em. Whoop!
You know, I had cellulite last winter, but not no more. Alllll gone. Smooth skin remains. My thighs don’t rub together anymore. Nothing jiggles anymore. Life’s tough, baby. I’m going to weigh myself in the next couple days for the first time in 3 weeks, but I suspect nothing much has changed, since I was pretty bad for a week or so there. Gotta be bad sometimes. (Chocolate-chip peanut butter muffins! Shudder.) I’ll be bitter if I haven’t held to 35 pounds lost though. And I’d be surprised. Maybe in the morning I’ll kill the curiosity. God knows I’m not weighing myself at night!
Next week’s a week of adventuring, exercise, breaking in some new scooter engine parts on stupid-long unnecessary sunny spring country rides, sleep-ins, and foodie-heaven but on the cheap and healthy.
May be broke on my ass, but I’ll enjoy myself just dandy. 🙂 And I can lose a couple pounds ‘cos I can’t afford the booze that I’d normally drink on holidays. Bah! Still, I’ll enjoy myself. I’ll be self-righteously sober. And broke. But probably tanned. Definitely relaxed. That’s got to be, what, 7.5 out of 10 for the week? Sure.
I just can’t get towed. 😉
(It’s the next day, I’ve finally weighed myself, and I’ve lost about 37 pounds now. Yay.)

Should Irwin Have Changed After Kids?

So, earlier I asked if you have the right to ask a risk-taker to tone down their lifestyle once you get hooked to them.
My opinion? No. You do not. And if they tell you you can go ahead and tell them how to change; don’t. You’d fucking with what oughtn’t be fucked.
In a nutshell.
My posting was inspired by the death of Steve Irwin. There are those who apprently think he should’ve “settled down” since he had kids. Yeah, as a kid, the first thing I wanna know is that my father gave up almost everything he loved so he could raise me — sit in a fucking armchair with a remote and tell me how he “used to be like that” once.
Terri Irwin got a precious gift that most of us might never, ever, ever receive: She fell in love with someone who kept all the qualities that made him so loveable as the person he was when they first met. Bloody sweet, that. And she had it for a while. And then it got snatched. Love happens, death happens, it all is what it is.
Life’s a truckload of hurts some days and there’s no getting around that.
The point is, it’s hard enough to be ourselves in the face of everyday life. It’s harder still to remember who we are when we get lost in the arms of someone else. To be able to hang on to your identity despite your love for someone else and your wish to be with them, why, that’s as downright admirable as it gets.
To hell with those who think otherwise.

_________________

In other Croc-Hunter news, let me go on record to say that, while Germaine Greer periodically says something intelligent, I:
a) think she can be a complete twat who has done as much to hinder feminism as she has to further it. She’s arrogant, dismissive of men, flighty, inconsistent, hypocritical, and far too militant for my tastes. (Despite my believing I’m a feminist, thank you very much. Ain’t no fucking eunuch here, baby.)
b) think she’s a far bigger bitch than I’d thought before now that I’ve read her comments on the death of Steve Irwin.
I do not believe that to be a strong woman I need to demoralize men. I believe that, as a strong, independent chick, I can exalt men in my life and cater to them as I wish, because I fucking well know who I am when I go to bed at night (most of the time; we all get a little too lost in our relationships some of the time). I take no backseat to any man. But I’ll hold the door open for ’em if they’ll let me, because I have nothing to prove. I’m empowered by the mere fact that I don’t need to seek power, all right?
I’d get into my whole beef about how feminism has been executed, but I’m too tired and it’d take too damned long. Suffice to say that while I fight for my equality, I don’t think it needs to come at the cost of emasculating men. There’s room enough for us both, and I don’t think chicks like Greer understand that concept, but then I don’t like her enough to read her work. I listen to others gripe about her and praise her, so I’m ignorant, but by choice.

Lousy Lover Syndrome

DirtyTalkingGirl (DTG) over at Pussy Talk recently posted this about her lover’s stubborness in wanting to get her off through oral:

I have to say that M gave me his best last night. He went down on me unasked, made all the right moves with tongue and lips, pulled my thighs over his shoulders, changed position and bent in over me from the side, tried every angle of oral approach and entry. He was textbook-perfect.
All to no avail. I couldn’t come.
At one point, I apologised. Told him it wasn’t him, I just wasn’t in the mood, time of month, blah blah. I added, I’d rather you fuck me. I wanted the penetration.
He said, “No, I want to make you come this way.”
As he laboured on, putting fingers here and thumb there and vice versa, I felt like a lawnmower that wouldn’t start.

This posting set me off, for some reason. I began thinking, “If someone as skilled in and open about sex as DTG felt this frustrated and this much like a failure when her lover plodded through what he thought was his money routine, then where would that leave a “lesser” lover?”
Feeling pretty fucking negative about sex, I suspect. And that’s not fair. In fact, it’s downright cruel.
Our bodies are enigmas. Some things work brilliantly sometimes, and sometimes they fail. That’s just the way it goes.
DTG went on to say that maybe a switch hadn’t flicked in her mind, that the mood hadn’t hit her, and as a result, she was left unswayed by his “best.” She asked to be fucked doggy style, and was again rebuffed. Her lover stuck with his seflish intent of having her reach orgasm his way instead of the one way she thought she’d be able to reach it, considering her somewhat uninspired state.
I’m here to tell you one thing and one thing only: I don’t give a shit if you’re the king or queen of the world with your skills. If your lover tells you it ain’t working, that they want to have you try X method, and you rebuff them because you’re somehow intent on bringing them to climax through your present approach, then it doesn’t matter what skills you have.
You’re a lousy fucking lover.
Listen. Listen. Listen. I’m always saying “listen for aural clues — a switch in breathing, a moan,” whatever it takes, right?
Well, when someone flat-out tells you what they want, and they tell you they’re having trouble “getting there,” and you disregard it, you’ve broken every damned rule in the book.
Me, I think that when the mental baggage started to come into the picture, DTG should have told him to stop. I think she should’ve made him realize that he was starting to make her feel bad.
But that’s just how it goes. It’s so overwhelming when we’re in the heat of that moment and all those inner bells and whistles start tooting: “You can’t come? What are you, frigid? You’re good at this. Hell, you don’t even need to do anything. The ride has come to you! Come on! Orgasm! Squirt, baby!”
We can logically dismiss it, but the hurt’s still going to find its way in, and we start thinking we’re being selfish AND a failure.
And the truth is, it’s not us being selfish, nor failures. It’s our lousy fucking lovers.
This applies to both sexes. Listen to your lovers, and don’t let your pride and inability to concede defeat leave them feeling like crap (and unsatisfied).
It’s wrong and it’s cruel. And it’s just plain bad sex. Wake the hell up.