Tag Archives: Masturbation
I was going to skip this week because I was busy chasing Monkey through Disneyland and how weird could this weeks news be? Well? Weird. And just because I’m busy having the time of my life does not mean you should miss out on some dude decided to go for a ride on his unicycle. Naked.
I know there is a unicorn joke in there somewhere, but I’m too tired to find it.
First off, I was very glad to learn that it is NOT illegal to masturbate in a bathroom stall at work. Which is especially good news for some of my clients because I do occasionally make them do just that. (And continue reading down that link for some Savage Love input on 50 Shades of Grey.)
For those who really enjoy masturbating in public, this years Masturbate-a-Thon will be May 27th, in San Francisco. Of course. I’m simply dying to know who will be performing on that stage this year.
Nickelodeon’s ParentsConnect is using the month of May to empower moms to be super self-confident and sexy and asked me to say a few words, offer a few tips and hints to help build confidence and feel sexy.
Flirt with the Barrista. Remember when we were young and single and child free and went to the bars with our girlfriends and flirted with the bartender? Remember how great you felt afterwards? It wasn’t just a cocktail or beer buzz, you felt good because you felt desirable. It felt great to see a strange man look at you with desire in their eyes as they said “Did you want that up or on the rocks?”
The only bars my mom friends hang out at these days are the monkey bars, but most of us are at a coffee shop a couple times a week. Try flirting with the Barrista. Of course this won’t work if you barrista is a 17 year old girl or reminds you of your Grandfather, but hopefully you live in an area where you have a choice of coffee shops and you can find one that does have suitable flirting material behind the counter.
This is a guest post from a very brave woman who thought she would share her experiences after I started a discussion on twitter about children exploring their sexuality. If you would like to be part of my The Other Women series and write about your sexual identity, contact me! Your story can be silly, sexy or sad. There is no normal and all points of view are invited to join.
I had turned 8 years old during a move across the country with my family. My military father was being transferred from the shipyards of eastern Virginia to the rolling hills of northern California. We were moving away from family and friends to start a new life on a military base outside of San Francisco. Boxes were unpacked and at my mother’s urging, my brother and I left the safety of our apartment to seek new friends. Mom had said that the family in the next building over had a girl around my age that I should seek out as a playmate.
“BRINK!” He exclaims loudly, pulling his hands back from his crotch where they had, moments before, been stroking furiously. Before the word has cleared the air, his hands are back at their job.
“BRINK!!” He says again, almost immediately after resuming his all important task.
The entire time, his eyes are closed and his face is pressed into the bottom of my stockinged foot. I could be reading a book for all he knows.
Sometimes, out of shear boredom, I do take a peek at my msgs on my iPhone.
The only other sound in the dungeon for nearly the entire time he is at my feet is the soft music playing in the background and the sound of my counting each and every one of his “BRINK’s!” During our two hours together, there will be more then a hundred.
Yes – as in, about one a minute. I’m continually amazed at his endurance.
Years ago while wandering around the Akihabara area of Tokyo, my Mr and I wandered into a 7 (seven!) story porn store. The first floor was mainly cosplay costumes and simple porn.
I say simple because, as we had already suspected, and as we were to have confirmed a few floors later, the Japanese have some very complicated porn.
I’ll just leave it at this: I left feeling very, very normal. A touch vanilla even.
I also left with a few videos. One of nothing but up-skirt shots taken with a camera mounted on a chihuahua’s collar.
That was one of the simple videos.
But todays post is not about underwater goth-lolita bestiality porn starring chicks in glasses, it’s about the cup room. An actual room full of, as we Americans call them, if we call them anything, masturbation sleeves.
When I was 13 and just spent the most amazing year of my life hiding in my bedroom masturbating, my mom, who was a labor and delivery nurse, was sent to a special class on how to deliver babies to women who had been …. circumcised.
As in female circumcision, Female Genital Mutilation or FGM for short. See. It’s got a cool nick name so we can distance ourselves from the horrible reality!
Uhg. My legs cross tightly as I write it. I got a bit nauseous getting the wikipedia link. Seriously. I may need to lay down before I can finish this post.
Female Genital Mutilation is practiced in many parts of Africa, the Middle East and parts of Africa. Even the African states in which it is illegal, it is still practiced underground. It was only outlawed in the United States in 1996. Yup. Our American history of falling well behind other developed nations in health care has a long and (dis)honorable past. UK? Outlawed in 1985. Sweden? 1982. New Zealand? 1995. You can read the history of other nations FGM laws and prevalence here.
Most of these links are to Babeland. They are a reputable and responsible seller of all things naughty. While I’m suggesting my favorites, there are lots of other toys to look at and if Babeland is offering them, they are high quality and someone with sexy know how thinks it does it’s job well. They also have lots of fun fancy pants sex toys – like like this 18k gold piece of art. Seriously. You could place that on your bookshelf and everyone would be all “Ohh, you have such fancy taste in art!”
But for those of use who prize function, over 18k gold covered form, may I present you: The List.
(This is part of a three part piece. First read I’ll be in my bunk.)
As easy as coming was for me when I was 12, when I was 22, it was near impossible, alone or with a friend. I needed everything to be just so. I needed to be the only one in the house. I needed to catch myself in just the right mood. I needed the moon to be shining just right. I needed … I not sure what I needed. I had a boyfriend. Well, several. And a couple of girlfriends. But achieving a real orgasm was always hard for me.
Men spend nearly all the time they are lucky enough to be in bed with a women trying NOT to cum. Women, on the other hand, are concentrating as hard as they can, to actually achieve orgasm. As per usual, men and women, approaching a common goal, from completely different directions.
I think I had just turned 12 when I discovered the joys of self abuse. 7th grade. Ridiculously young now that I think about it. I got a funny, funny feeling in my tummy when I read the inside cover of my mom’s bodice rippers. I think there was one I liked to read more then the others, but really, aren’t they all the same.
Woman, who had previously been minding her own business, sees strong mans broad chest, he wants her, she fights it, passion overwhelms, bosom heaving, in the end, she loves it, bodice, at some point, gets ripped. Turns out he’s a wealthy prince and takes her away from … all this.
Not that I ever read that far. I usually just needed that opening paragraph.
Even at that age, having no idea what I was doing, I felt the guilt. It’s like it was ingrained. Not that it stopped me! I’m pretty sure I was at it every night, most mornings, and any time I was left alone in the house like an energizer bunny.