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The Art of the Tease

It’s funny how sometimes the lack of something that you crave so much can be more powerful – or almost more powerful – than actually receiving that which you crave.

In other words, teasing can be one hell of a powerful turn-on.

The whisper of lips across yours… the brush of stubble across your neck… the warm air blown across your tender parts… all of these can be incredibly stimulating to the one biggest sex organ we all have; and as much as some guys may claim, it’s not their penis, nor is it a woman’s breasts, regardless of how ample they may be.

It’s our brains. Surprised? I hope not.

When your lover is carefully brushing his or her fingers lightly over your skin, or using his or her breath, lips or tongue to stimulate everywhere but those nerves endings you’re feeling awaken, it’s a bigtime stroke to our brains. Your mind starts to anticipate the moment when your lover will finally, finally, kiss your lips or lick your nipple or nibble your neck or lick your clit or lick your dick… and all of a sudden our involuntary reactions take over.

The body strains towards the anticipated touch, the head rises or turns to the side, the chest arches, the legs spread, the hands clench… if you happen to be bound, you may pull against your restraints. If you’re denied the touch, then often some sound or another of exasperation can be heard, possibly followed by grumbling or muttering or whimpering or begging. If you’re like me and steadfastly refuse to beg, then there might be some growling to be heard.

Sometimes, the control snaps. You grab your tormentor’s head, hands, ears, arms, legs… and force them to do what they’re denying you. Or you flip them onto their back and proceed to kiss, caress, stroke, fondle, or fuck the living daylights out of them. Or… you tie them up and start to torture them in return as revenge.

If you’re the one doing the tormenting, as in perhaps the first scenario – before the control breaks – then it can be an incredibly heady feeling to see someone soften or harder, get wet or sweaty, get frustrated and increasingly turned on and more and more desperate for you to just hurry up and give them what they and their bodies so desperately crave… and it can be incredibly arousing for you, too, to see just what your touch (or lack thereof) is doing to someone else.

One has to be in the right mood to ‘perform’ a proper tease, of course. If you simply don’t feel like torturing your lover within an inch of his wits, you’re not going to do a very good job of it. If you’re desperately horny and merely want your lover to be at the same point as you so that the games may begin – be they manual, oral, or intercoursal – then teasing someone properly is hardly going to be in the forefront of your mind.

Instead, it takes a time when you’re feeling aroused, but not too much so. When you’re feeling playful, and fun, lighthearted and mischievous… well, then your lover’s in trouble; or in for a serious treat, depending on your (and his or her) point of view.

Depending on your victim partner, where and when you begin may vary. I know of some people to whom kissing is the biggest turn on, so with someone like that, you’d begin by either completely denying him a kiss and merely kissing all around his chin and cheeks, maybe occasionally passing lightly over his lips or breathing on him, all to get him straining towards you. For others, the feel of lips or teeth on their neck or ears is a huge turn-on, so you might tease her by breathing warm air on these areas, or dragging your beard stubble lightly over the soft skin of her neck.

After you have your partner squirming, it’s up to you to decide whether you’re going to continue teasing in this vein, or give your partner a little something for his or her patience. Do you continue caressing her breasts with the tips of your fingers, dragging the tips of your fingers up towards her nipples, but never actually touching them? Do you blow warm air across his penis, maybe lightly lick the head or the sides, but never take it completely into your mouth? Personally, I like to

posted by Jen on 12:43 PM



When Aunt Flo Comes to Town… That Bitch

First of all, I apologize for using such a horrid euphemism for the title, but I was told that “when the relatives are visiting” was too obscure of a reference.

Secondly, I find other expressions, like “riding the rag” or “surfing the crimson wave” to be so much more distasteful that I figured the one I chose was the best bet.

Anyhow, now that those are out of the way, back on track. I wanted to address the subject of sex during a woman’s period (now that the euphemisms are out of the way, too). There are so many myths and misconceptions, outright mistaken beliefs and such that surround the concept that I thought I would expose my readers to a taste (ooh, bad pun) of reality.

Of course, I acknowledge that I’m probably preaching to the choir (or the perverted… I mean converted). I like to believe that my regular audience is pretty informed and open-minded to begin with, but everyone can learn something, I like to write, and I like to try to open people’s minds to new subjects and ideas anyway.

I think I’ve successfully eaten up a good chunk of my average word count here, so without further ado (or rambling), I will get on to my subject.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with having sex while on my period. Sometimes certain positions can be a bit more uncomfortable than others, but it’s something that can be easily compensated for during the act itself. After all, isn’t half the fun of fucking in the changing of positions?

I admit that it can be a little disconcerting to finish having sex with someone (or be in the middle of it) and see blood on your dick; if this is a concern for you, I say keep the lights off until you’ve disposed of the condom. Sex in the dark is fun, so long as you’re careful about where you place hands and knees.

In situations like that, I also think one of the best things is to use a condom. That way most of the mess is kept on the latex or lambskin, and you don’t have to see it on your precious appendage; clean up at the end is also much easier this way.

I suppose I should take a minute to stop and explain something here to the guys who are unaware or have chosen to remain unaware: when a woman is having her period, unless something is wrong, it’s not a constant flow. It’s usually a light trickle at various times during the day, so there’s a very good chance that when you go to get busy with your honey, she won’t leave any unpleasantness behind. If the blood is the part that really bothers you, don’t have sex with her on the first or second day; those are usually the ones that are heavier. If your ladyfriend is anything like me, she’s usually feeling her most blah on those days and isn’t feeling particularly sexual anyhow.

There, now that I’ve lost all the squeamish readers, I’ll continue. Probably about half of the guys I’ve known have been willing to have sex during a woman’s period to some extent or another. Some prefer not to finger her; some prefer not to go down on her; still others prefer not to go near her at all until she’s all done, perfumed and spit-shined again at the end (I could go on a rant here about someone I know, but I’ll save that for my personal site – if you really want to read it, email me). On the one hand, I always pout when I get told by a guy, “I’ll have sex during that time, but I won’t do …”, and yet at the same time, I understand. If I were a guy (or a lesbian), I’m not entirely sure I’d be terribly enthused about the idea myself.

However, it’s still a time when you’re being denied some form of sexual act, be it just one or all of them, and that’s worthy of a pout or a sulk, in my opinion. After all, it’s when we’re denied something that we wind up wanting it the most – if I get told, “I won’t have sex with you during your period,” I wind up being so damn horny, it’s craziness.

But that’s neither here nor there. One of the other final things I recommend if you’re going to embark on sexual escapades during the period is a towel close at hand, or under the butt of whomever happens to be on the bottom; this way your sheets are protected. If you use a dark towel, you don’t even have to see a stain, although if you use a white towel you can bleach it later – this is especially handy if your sexual fetishes don’t include immediately leaping up to do laundry after the act finishes.

In the end, if you really can’t stomach the idea of a bit of mess (and what after all is sex, but a bit of mess?), then the shower is a handy option. You can have all the fun you want, splashing around in the water and soaping one another up and down, and you can either take things to their natural conclusion there… or you can hasten to the bedroom, where large comfy mattresses await. As well, you have the reassurance of knowing that your sweetiepie is as clean as you want her to be – after all, you had a direct hand in the process, so to speak.

That said, my usual advice applies – sex is dirty, messy and fun when it’s done right. The cleanup afterwards is just part of the entertainment… at least, unless you’re scrambling to get dressed in a hurry before you get discovered – in which case, it’s a nuisance. But all of that is fodder for another column.

posted by Jen on 8:36 PM



You did what on my what?!?

There are certain rules of propriety that tend to fly out the window when one’s nether regions take over control of the blood flow in one’s body.

This is what leads couples to engage in risky acts in public; well, for some it’s the fear of getting caught, while for others it’s merely the “gotta do it now!” urge that takes over.

This is what leads couples to be loud and out of control, not caring if relatives or roommates or others passing by on the street outside happen to overhear your screams of passion and delight. When it happens to be relatives or roommates with a sense of humour, these sounds and comments can be used against you later for blackmail. Something that tends to be forgotten when one is in the midst of a horny phase.

Finally, this is what leads couples to engage in a practice that I like to refer to as “tagging” various household objects – be it beds, couches, floors, tables, large and small appliances, family pets and other family members.

It can be quite the adventure to try to tag everything in the household that can be used as a stable or unstable surface against which or on which to have sex. It’s always funny later to be looking at a piece of furniture and know, “I was naked on that.” It gives you a private chuckle.

On the other hand, if you share the household with other people, it can sometimes be a little disturbing to suspect or especially have proof that others have done the same. I happened to be privy to the following conversation quite recently regarding a disputed beanbag chair:

(The owner of the chair to he who was sitting in it): “Dude, you know I’ve been naked in that chair, eh?”
(He who was sitting in it): “Yeah, so? So’ve I.”
(Owner): “Yeah, but with someone else?”
(Seated): “Yeah, plenty of others.”
(Owner): “Dude, that’s my fucking chair!”

It was around this point that I lost it. Okay, truth be told I lost it about when the conversation began, but the whole notion that two different people had tagged the same piece of furniture – one with, reputedly, many others – led me to start eyeing the rest of the furniture somewhat apprehensively.

Of course, the question remains, what’s the big deal, really? I mean, so someone else’s naked hairy ass has been stuck to the same vinyl covering as yours, who cares, really?

Hrm. That didn’t come out quite right. Let me try again, with a different piece of furniture.
If you happen to live at home and be sexually active, chances are that you’ve tagged some of the furniture in your house, aside from your own bed. Let’s face it, if you’re downstairs in the darkened basement watching television with your paramour and it’s late at night, you’re not likely to sneak up to your bedroom where your folks are across the hall asleep, now are you? You’re just going to get down and dirty on the couch where you’re both snugly and comfortable.

If you have sexually active siblings, there’s a chance they’ve done the same thing. Assuming that they’re as considerate as you are when it comes to cleaning up any leftover bodily fluids when the process is all over, does it really matter if their (or their girlfriend or boyfriend’s) bare ass has been in the same place as yours (and your girlfriend or boyfriend’s)?

Mind you… if you live at home with your parents, who are or have been, presumably, sexually active at least once to produce you… multiplied by the number of siblings you have… chances are you could be tagging the same piece of furniture that your parents have. And that’s a whole other world of squick to my mind.

I have to admit, as open-minded and accepting as I am of everyone’s sexuality, I fall victim to the belief that I was hatched in a cabbage patch and my sister is the result of genetic experiments gone wrong involving gorillas. My parents don’t have sex – at least as far as I’m concerned – and I’m quite happy with that belief.


Moving on… I think there’s a certain amount of respect associated with the belongings of your relatives or roommates. It’s not kosher to go have sex on your roommates’ bed, unless he or she also happens to be involved – or having sex on your bed. The same goes especially, incredibly, double, triple and quadruple for any relatives – and if you’re having sex with your siblings or folks, then… well, I think tagging one another’s belongings is the least of your worries.

Now, at the same time… I had to laugh when the conversation surrounding the beanbag chair was going on. That could be due in large part to it not being my chair, but… what do I know? I just observe and write. But for the record… if I find out my sister’s tagged something of mine, things are going to come to blows, that’s for sure. Open-minded I may be, but… dude, c’mon! That’s my fucking chair!

posted by Jen on 11:15 PM



And that’s why… the lady is a tramp

For anyone who reads the comments on this site, you’ve seen that I’ve been accused of being a slut, or of venturing into the slutty in my writings.

In real life, I’ve been called a whore, a slut, a walking STD, sex-obsessed… what else am I forgetting? Oh yeah, cute, sexy, smart, funny, interesting, and great in bed.

Sorry, had to throw those in so my self-esteem wouldn’t totally plummet.

Anyhow, as with everything that happens in life (okay, not quite everything, but some things), I start wondering what defines a slut or a whore, and I’ve come to the conclusion, as I do with most issues sexual or personal in nature, that it’s different for every person.

I’ve had conversations with friends, asking them to define what is a whore or a slut in their opinion, and then I’ve watched them frantically backpeddle when I say that, according to their strict definition that includes me – and these are friends that don’t feel that I am a slut or a whore.

But, discounting how this column may seem, I don’t intend to write about whether or not I am a whore. I’ve chosen the name for this site – Whore’s Boudoir – and its URL – drunkenwhore – in an effort to reclaim the term and associate it with something positive. That something positive came about this weekend past at a party when a new acquaintance went around proclaiming me to be the biggest/most famous whore on the Internet, to the shock of many people around us.

Nonetheless, back on track. What makes someone a whore or a slut? Well, according to, a whore is “a prostitute” or “a person considered sexually promiscuous.” And for balance, a slut is “a woman considered sexually promiscuous” or “a woman prostitute.”

What does this mean? Well, it means that we can go on calling our male friends whores and not be using the term out of place, but we’ll have to preface the term slut with “male slut.” It’s no longer necessary to call someone a manwhore – just whore is appropriate, grammatically-speaking.

Now, since not enough of us are fortunate enough to work as professionals in the sex trade – most of us merely dabble as amateurs, taking on minor commissions and turning them into relationships – it leads me to believe that there are a lot of women being labelled as sexually promiscuous by friends and enemies.

Of course, if you speak to any straight male (or at least, any of the ones I know), they complain that they’re not getting nearly enough sex. Which makes me wonder, just who are these sexually promiscuous women screwing, if not anyone I know? I mean, most of my female friends have been called sluts at some time or another, so by definition, they should be sleeping with most of these other guys, right? Hrm.

Let’s apply this to me, even though I said I wouldn’t. If I’m a slut or a whore (both descriptors I’ve heard in the last few weeks), then I’m either a prostitute or sexually promiscuous (both seem to go together rather well – a nonsexually promiscuous prostitute had better have really high rates, else she’s not doing very well in her chosen career). Working from that, I would have to rule out the prostitution, as I don’t like to be out on the streets late at night, and I usually try to use those times for sleeping.

As for sexually promiscuous… well, what defines promiscuity? Resorting once more to the dictionary, “Having casual sexual relations frequently with different partners; indiscriminate in the choice of sexual partners”. Well, most people I know – myself muchly included – don’t fall under this description. I’m actually fairly choosy as to who I let near or into my body, and most of the people I know are quite the same.

If we look strictly at the number of partners someone has had, then trying to define a whore gets a bit stickier. Someone can have a somewhat high number of partners at a relatively young age, but it’s all circumstantial; if all the partners were in the context of a steady relationship, then is that person still a whore? If the expectation or reality was there for a long term relationship, but things didn’t work out for the various reasons that relationships don’t always work out, then what?

It’s entirely possible for someone to lose their virginity at 18 (to choose an arbitrary number), and have five or six partners by the time they’re 22 (another arbitrary number), and have had all of those partners in the context of relationships, each of which were several months in length. So… is this person a whore? I guess I leave it up to you to decide for yourself.

For the record, no, that’s not my personal history that I’m outlining there. I’m comfortable with the path that my sexual past has taken, even if there are a few detours I wish I perhaps hadn’t. But that’s neither here nor there; for the purposes of these columns and my dear readers, I am a whore and proud of it.

posted by Jen on 8:50 PM



Dressing for Sex-cess

I got to go playing in my second favourite store today – the lingerie store. I know my girlfriend will be mad at me, but I simply couldn’t resist, especially as it had been awhile since I last got to explore.

As I was poking through the piles of trashy underwear, I started thinking – and surprisingly enough, it’s probably not about what you’re thinking about.

Well, eventually it wasn’t.

Basically, I started thinking about how it is that putting on certain things can bring on feelings of arousal or nostalgia. Most people fetishize some objects to an extent or another, whether it happens to be trashy lingerie, leatherwear, opera gloves or small, furry rodents. I won’t be talking about the final option today; that’s for another article. Maybe.

Nonetheless, it’s interesting how one can prepare for sex, as it were. For women there’s the shaving, the perfuming, the grooming… and then the napping out of exhaustion after all the preparations are complete.

For men, there’s the showing up.

When you’re going out for an evening with your partner with sex on the brain for later in the evening, it’s easy enough to prepare – at least, as a woman, I find it easy to do so. I shave, I perfume, I bathe, all the things I mentioned before, but then I start digging through the lingerie drawer. It’s great fun choosing the underwear that you’re going to wear later that night, and imagining the look of delight that you will encounter later.

Or the look of horror if your partner isn’t into the underwear you’ve chosen – generally holey granny panties aren’t the biggest turn on.

Anyhow, what I’m trying to get at, in a very roundabout way, is that it’s great fun dressing up sexy. It’s a great way to keep your mind on sex all evening, if that might happen to be a problem for you, and it’s a fantastic way to feel really sexy within yourself.

I feel very sexy when I’ve just freshly showered and shaved and I’m picking out my underwear for the evening. I feel more attractive and more flirtatious when I’m wearing a sexy little thong, and I feel that others pick up on that – which is usually my goal when I’m dressing for sexiness. I think it’s safe to say that not too many girls go out to dance clubs in granny panties – most of the time thongs seem to be the undermentionables of choice for those out on the dance floor.

(An aside that my friends requested I include: I use the term undermentionable or underwear more often than not because I hate the word panty. I can’t explain it, I know it doesn’t necessarily make any sense, but the word itself just bugs me. It sounds lewd, I don’t like it, and that’s just the way it is. According to, women don’t like the word moist; I agree with that, and I include panty on my list.)

Admittedly, the world over doesn’t think that thongs are the ultimate in sexiness; I have male friends who love g-strings, or plain white cotton underwear. I know women who can feel incredibly sexy in regular old underwear – I just know what works for me.

But it’s not just thongs that add to the sexiness I feel when I go out for an evening on the town… or in the bedroom. It’s the pushup bra that matches the thong, or the lack of bra entirely; it depends entirely on the outfit. It’s the stockings and garter belt, or the fuck-me heels that go well with the short black skirt. Or, on very special occasions, the lacy teddy or the corset that complete the ensemble.

That’s not to say I need all of the paraphernalia in order to feel sexy. It can be simply going braless and wearing a flattering top – a boob top, in my friends’ vernacular – that can lead me to feeling sexy and flirty throughout the course of the evening. What it boils down to, in the end, is your attitude going out, and the way others treat you. If you express yourself in a friendly, flirtatious manner, then others will react to you accordingly. If you walk into the bedroom feeling like sex on wheels, then your partner will duly respond, more often than not.

Consequently, I highly recommend everyone take a trip into a lingerie store at some point or another and pick out something they find fun or sexy. It can be something funny like a pair of camouflage underwear, or something that looks like living, breathing sex – whether that be a pair of high heeled slippers with feathers, a white satin nightie, or a black lace bustier. It all depends on what you feel comfortable wearing or what your partner finds sexy, preferably both.

posted by Jen on 4:32 AM


Apparently a how-to guide for sex with me. In reality, me just talking about my thoughts and experiences in love, sex and relationships.

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