The Whore's Boudoir

Time to say goodbye

2009-01-15T18:51:00.002-05:00

...except not. I'm looking to try to integrate my content from this site (all 150+ pages of it) into my primary site, I Chase Boys, also known as the Litterbox. I don't know how to migrate the comments over, so if any code experts are reading and feel like sharing their services, please do.

In the coming while, the URLs for this site should redirect to the proper spot on my site and such.

2007-09-03T23:02:00.001-04:00

Loving me, loving you

In my dating career, I’ve been a girlfriend on a number of occasions – some more memorable than others.

Sometimes, this was a role I dearly desired; other times, it followed the, “So, are we…?” conversation and was a bit more reluctantly acquired. What can I say? I don’t always date well.

Interestingly enough, on that aside, my mom recently told me that she feels I usually date below me, as if I think I don’t deserve better. She had a few names that she mentioned in relation to this belief, and they’re all old history, but it was still interesting of her to say… especially since my mom isn’t always given to those types of compliments, roundabout though they may be.

Anyhow, back on track. Throughout my dating career, and especially more recently when I’ve been more able to recognize it as a need in a partner, I’ve long espoused the belief that to me, a true relationship is one in which no one leads, no one follows – both partners support one another. Put more simply, I don’t need a man in my life, and I don’t want to need someone; I want to want their company, and I want them to want mine… but I can exist quite well on my own, and have done so on many occasions.

I believe that a good relationship is a partnership. Your partner is there for you in times of need, and supports you when you need it; in return, you provide the same function when it’s needed. Sometimes this may mean making sacrifices, whether it’s rescheduling plans, traveling, or even putting off a book you may want to read to listen to, travel with, or sleep with your partner, but in the grand scheme, it benefits you both.

As much as I was fond of stating all of this, I never really had a relationship in which I could see it work. The UBFM and the Smooshy were emotional drains, the French Boy wanted to rearrange and plan my life for me, the Arrogant Bastard and I never quite found the right balance, the Newf lost interest in me once relationship status was attained… and so on. Really, I could extend this list for quite some time, but those are the most recent and therefore more prominent highlights. Maybe it’s because, as a couple, I never really went through anything major with them, or maybe it’s because they didn’t know how to give or receive support, and maybe I didn’t in return.

I don’t know if it’s a product of ageing, or a product of finally meeting someone who suits me, but I’m learning now what it means to be that support for someone. We haven’t been dating that long overall, but we’ve been through a few highs and lows together – not fights, as we’re both too laid back to go through that, but life highs and lows – and I’ve been there for him for them. I’ve learned that my latent nurturing streak, which came to the fore on occasions, works well. My tendency to run on at the mouth and crack jokes during awkward emotional moments knows when to stop. I’ve learned what it means to be proud of someone, and to be proud to be with someone, things I never entirely understood or accepted when they were previously stated to me. It’s all been a very curious process, and one that I’m not sure I would’ve been ready to accept in the past.

I used to worry I’d never meet someone who could tolerate me for an extended period of time – or that I could tolerate in return. I would either semi-cling to relationships that really had no value except that they represented someone who liked me enough to date me for at least a brief period of time, or I would end relationships that I could see had no future, or involved guys I wanted to beat with my shoe rather than see. I would grow impatient with personality traits and quirks, or I would want increasing amounts of time to myself. I would meet new and more interesting guys, I would hide my relationship status, or I would date multiple people at once, never committing to one over another.

But that was then, and this is now.

2007-05-18T13:57:00.001-04:00

Where does the past end and the now begin?

In my quest to find myself my Forever Person, I’ve spent a decent amount of time dating. Consequently, I also have a few exes in my past.

Now, because I don’t consider all of my exes to be horrible, awful, no-good people/mistakes that must be forgotten and removed from the face of the earth, I have a few exes in my present, too. And therein can lie the problem, or so it would seem.

See, I don’t mind having exes in my present; in the past, I had a horrible time keeping exes as friends, because I was often the one getting dumped and having a hard time dealing with the inevitable hurt feelings that resulted. Even in situations where the breakup was at my initiation (or through my fault), I couldn’t seem to let go of the hurt feelings or ‘what ifs’ and so friendships were difficult at best and nigh impossible at worst.

In more recent years, however, I’ve wizened (or at least aged), and I’m able now more frequently able to end things on good terms. Not only that, but my taste in guys has improved greatly over the years, and I’m less interested in cutting all ties completely – as a rule, I date good people and I like to still hang out with them, even if I no longer want to provide them with access to my no-no parts.

However, not everyone can appreciate this method of thinking, and I can imagine it might be a little … daunting … to a potential suitor to meet friends of mine who all get to claim the title of “ex-“; so as a result, I tend to default to referring to everyone as a friend, rather than any other moniker. After all, it’s accurate, and doesn’t lend itself to the inevitable, “And why did you two break up?” line of questions – that even if perfectly natural and valid, could possibly lead someone to becoming nervous about the potential long-term suitability of the current relationship. That is, if the reason I give for the breakup was x and the current boy is quite prone to doing x, I don’t want him to think that’s going to lead to me breaking up with him because of x as well. There can be much that this loquacious one keeps to herself, believe it or not.

Some friendships are more difficult to form than others. When the reasons for the breakup are less clear, or because of difficult circumstances, sometimes it’s more challenging to draw the new boundaries distinctly; is hugging still acceptable? What about cuddling? Touching legs, arms, stomachs? Where does one decide what the current is allowed to touch but the ex- isn’t?

Or, how much information to reveal? I’m notorious for trying to protect peoples’ feelings, believe it or not, and as a result I don’t always tell an ex-, especially one who might still have feelings for me, that I’ve started seeing someone new – especially if I don’t think the current relationship is going to last for a long time, but might’ve had certain advantages that the past one didn’t. Some friends I’ve asked suggest that when a boy becomes an ex-, they no longer have a right to any information from your life; that is, it’s none of their business if you’re dating someone new or not. Obviously this is different of the reason for the breakup was “I’ve met someone new,” but when a new person isn’t the reason for a breakup – maybe they were a catalyst, maybe not – at what point are you obligated to tell your ex(es) that you’re seeing someone new?

I’ve figured out this formula in some form with one long-ago ex-. Of course, it took us some time to get there, including a few friends with benefits situations that kept getting feelings-murky, but we’re now able to hang out as just friends and even discuss people we’re seeing without difficulty. I have other exes where we didn’t have to do the benefits route; we were able to transition seamlessly to friends; and I have one ex- I can think of who tried a booty call one evening, and then I haven’t heard from him since. I’ll admit, it stings a little that he doesn’t have much interest in maintaining some kind of friendship with me, but honestly, do I feel like I’m missing out? Not overly.

Some people will say there’s no point to staying friends with an ex-, that when the relationship ends, that’s it, they’re done. I can respect that, but my perspective is that some of my exes are genuinely nice people – flaws and all – and why should I give up on that friendship or support? Hell, one ex- of mine talked to me until about 3:30 a.m. on Christmas Eve from three provinces away when I was stressing over a boy I was involved with – that’s friendship, and that’s fantastic. Sure, I don’t date boys expecting or hoping to wind up with just friends afterwards, but what kind of jerk would I be if I dismissed a potentially awesome friend just because I already had enough friends? Different people become support nets for different issues, and someone who’s dated you knows you in ways that regular friends don’t – for better or worse for them, and possibly you.

Do you need to go around pointing out your exes to your current? No, I don’t think so, especially if the relationship was long ago or amicably resolved. Maybe if it would help explain a weird dynamic between you, like if you don’t speak to one another in group situations or something, but otherwise, it’s the past, and there it remains. Do I want to know everyone my current has slept with? Not usually, but I find in the beginning of a relationship is usually when I want to learn more about the boy’s past, and what it involved. Granted, there’s nothing worse than an entire evening of, “My ex-girlfriend X this” or “My ex-girlfriend Y that,” but a tale now and again isn’t the worst thing in the world to me, especially before I get heavily emotionally invested and start getting less interested in knowing who else’s no-no parts he may have enjoyed.

Ultimately, I always say that my exes have helped, either positively or negatively, make up who I am today. Sometimes that’s something to be admired – and sometimes it’s just baggage that needs to be explained.

2007-02-26T00:16:00.001-05:00

Against my will

I want to start by saying that there is no instance where rape is acceptable. I firmly believe that rape is about power, not sex.

However, I’m not here to write about serious issues – at least, not in that regard. Rather, I want to write about rape fantasies.

Lots of men and women have rape fantasies, yet few people are actually comfortable admitting to this. As you know, I’m very shy and retiring, so this will be challenging for me, but I’ll do my best.

I find the idea of being denigrated verbally, ‘forced’ to engage in a variety of sexual acts, and humiliated in certain ways to be extremely arousing – when it’s carried out by someone I trust implicitly, when I’m in the proper frame of mind, and when it’s done with my consent.

It sounds like something that has to happen when all of the stars and the moon align properly, doesn’t it? Actually, elements of it probably creep into my usual kinks on a daily basis: bondage, domination, submission, and so on are all part of sex that I regularly enjoy, and that play major roles in rape fantasies.

Why do I enjoy rape fantasies? It’s being able to abdicate control to someone else. It’s almost impossible for me to give up control fully, even when I’ve played with BDSM in the past. I have a bit of a brat personality (as I’ve been told), and I tend to top from the bottom a bit – sometimes I taunt my handler, or I make stupid jokes, which is my way of diffusing tension. But to have control taken away from me, to have someone else make the decisions, lead the action, not let me dictate what happens when? That’s really hot.

I also love to be physically thrown about. I’m short, but I’m no lightweight, and to have someone toss me around like I weigh nothing, or next to nothing? That’s a big turn on.

Finally, confidence is incredibly sexy, and when you have someone confident enough to take complete and utter control in the bedroom, well… yum.

But that still isn’t addressing the rape side of things, is it? I’ve asked a few of my male friends about this issue this afternoon, and I’ve gotten conflicting answers, which I might’ve suspected. I had one friend say that the idea of someone who’s into sex is much more arousing than someone who’s fighting it, or doesn’t want it. Another friend said he could be aggressive, but not with someone who’s yelling no and fighting it. On the other hand, I have at least three friends I can think of off the top of my head for whom holding a girl down and doing what he wanted with her body would be an excellent way to spend an evening, so there you are.

There’s no right or wrong to rape fantasies. I certainly have a very short list of guys with whom I’d want to carry them out, and they’re guys that first, I trust implicitly to respect my boundaries and listen when or if I said stop (or whatever safeword that had been chosen in advance), second, who would themselves feel comfortable participating in something of the sort, and wouldn’t wind up horribly emotionally traumatized afterwards, and last, who could see it out. Participating in any kind of ‘non-vanilla’ sex isn’t nearly as fun or arousing if you can sense your partner is only half-heartedly committing to it.

There’s a certain mindset that it helps for a guy to have. In short, a guy who can see a woman as a fucktoy who’s only there to receive his cock and, if she’s lucky, his come – but who doesn’t genuinely feel that way about women; who respects them and adores them and thinks the world of them. As far as the woman’s mindset is concerned, she has to have the self-confidence to recognize that even if he’s calling her a dirty little whore who’s desperate for cock, he doesn’t really mean it – even if she actually is at that point in time.

I suspect I’m not explaining myself well, but it’s a challenging thing to try to articulate. Ask a person why they prefer a certain colour hairstyle, or why feet turn them on, or why they prefer group sex porn, and the answer is likely going to be the same: Because it turns me on. I fully recognize that the idea of being held ‘against one’s will’ or being ‘forced’ to do something or forcing someone to do something is terrifying or repugnant to some. The idea of giving up or taking complete control is terrifying to others. Those people would not and probably cannot relate to my near-slavering desire to being fucked against my will and called a dirty cocktease who’s been asking for it – but I can’t claim to understand coprophiliacs, for example, so I think perhaps we’re even.

Sex in general can be a cathartic release, and bdsm-sex doubly so. Rape fantasies allow people to strip all down to their baser elements and focus only on the immediate demand: the take, rather than the share. For the one who is doing the giving, the trust involved is a gift in and of itself, that should only be given to someone can respect it as such. Basically what I’m trying to get at is: don’t engage in a rape scenario if you don’t trust the other person completely and without doubt. The fact that the scenario involves stripping oneself down emotionally can be scary enough; take away trust and respect, and you’re just begging for trouble. Which isn’t really how it should be – ideally, you should be begging for whatever he’s trying to withhold from you… but only after the proper level of enticement, of course.

2007-01-07T01:51:00.000-05:00

The Tenth Circle

At this point in time, I'm 26 years old. I had my first real boyfriend at 14 years, which means I've been dating in some form or another for 12 years.

Of that time, say about eight years has been spent in stable, long-ish term relationships; the remainder has either been spent on hiatus from dating, bemoaning the lack of candidates in my life, or going out on dates.

It's hard sometimes to say which is the worst experience. Being in a relationship has a lovely security to it; it's comforting and wonderful to know twhere's someone there who adores you and wants to spend time with you, listen to your dumb stories, frustrations and triumphs, and maybe wants to share naked smoochies with you now and again. That's when it's good. When it's bad, well -- we've all been there. Which leads to the getting-over stage. If you got dumped by someone you really cared for, that's a pretty unpleasant time.

If you follow the advice I heard once upon a time, the easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Sometimes, that's easier said than done, even for a girl. At least, I've never found these claims that all a girl need do is announce she's horny to get laid, because it's never seemed to work that way for me. Except perhaps on the rare occasions my exes are feeling horny and/or giving, I guess. But that's another series of stories.

Anyhow, being on the lookout for a potential mate is a frustrating task. If your social circles are closed or you're shy, it can be almost impossible to meet boneable types. For that, I admit I do find the internet to be quite useful, especially if, like me, the majority of your appeal lies in your personality over your looks.

Of course, physical attraction is still very important, so even if your personality and whatever best photos you've shared have won someone partway, only an in-person meeting can really complete or scupper the deal.

So you strive to look nice and smell good, and you go out. Conversation might have awkward pauses, you might not be able to think of anything to say, or you might be busy shoving your foot so far down your throat you despair of ever seeing it again. You might not even realize what you're up to, which is arguably worse, especially if you want to keep the other person around for at least one more date and perhaps even a kiss.

Now, depending on the person and the circumstances, you may or may not hear from them again. Sometimes you'll get the 'I had fun/you're great, but I'm not in a relationship place right now.' Sometimes you'll get nothing. I'm sure I've been guilty of this myself, but sometimes I feel I'm not as quick to judge these matters as are the boys. That said, are there any I miss, regret or even remember? Not especially.

Sometimes you'll get further dates. Score, right? Usually at the 2nd or 3rd date mark the two of you -- or maybe just one of you -- have a decent idea of whether or not you'd like to keep seeing each other, and you can move into that nebulous grey area known as 'dating' or 'seeing each other' that typically precedes exclusivity and the boyfriend/girlfriend label.

This region is fraught with peril and landmines for the unwary, emotionally involved or insecure -- clubs to which I not only belong, but chair and write the newsletters.

There are many 'rules' to this realm, and I suspect everyone has their own verison that they apply as or when they see fit. A few I follow, in no particular order, are:

Until exclusivity is declared and agreed to by both partners, it is fair game for either to date other people.

Corollary the first: If you two have gotten fairly physical, it's usually a good idea to bring up the subject of whether or not you're going to remain non-exclusive, or if you're going to narrow the playing field to just the two of you.

Corollary the second: If you have been dating fairly regularly for a decent length of time, it's probably a good idea to start narrowing the playing field, unless non-exclusivity has already discussed.

I don't call the guy my boyfriend (much as I may want to) until we've either had the conversation about exclusivity or he's called me his girlfriend.

Caveat: This rule often gets trumped by friends of either of us referring to us as boyfriend and girlfriend. Not saying I agree with it, simply that it seems to be how things have played out.

Corollary: Experience has taught me not to initiate the "are you my boyfriend?" conversation because either I seem to do it wrong, or it automatically triggers fight-or-flight instincts in all boys, regardless of their inclinations. This has also been somewhat supported by male friends.

Much as I might like to, I don't automatically assume that the boy's weekends are for seeing him, and the same goes in return.

It shouldn't be up to me to suggest plans or make phone calls every time. I'm easily discouraged; if I feel the effort is all one-sided, I'm going to assume the boy isn't interested and possibly move on.

Depending on the number of dates or the level of physicality achieved (which sounds geeky, but I think you follow), break-up conversations should take place. Simply no longer contacting someone or ignoring their attempts to contact you is not only not cool, but seriously immature. If you can fuck someone, you should be able to tell them you don't want to fuck them anymore.

You don't have to talk or see each other every day, unless you're trying to indicate to the other person that you really do like them and want to see more of them -- 'cause that's the message it definitely puts across. Obviously you're allowed to change your mind later, but see above for uncool ways to go about indicating that you've changed perspective.

I know I have other rules, but as is always my way, I can't seem to think of them right now. What I'm mainly trying to show is that these rules are arbitrary and individual. Some people may have no interest whatsoever in dating more than one person at a time, so they naturally don't.

I've dated multiple people at the same time, and it has its advantage that you're not spending all of your time obsessing over one person, why they haven't called, whether or not they like you, etc., etc. Because I can be like that. I'm insecure, I'm needy, I'm obsessive, I overanalyze everything, I get discouraged easily... it's a wonder anyone actually manages to talk to me or date me for any length of time.

When I meet someone I really like and they seem to really like me in return (rare as that can be), I want to formalize things and make sure the rules are clearly understood. At the same time, I don't want to scare someone away or seem like I'm insane -- I try not to be. Combined with my preference for honesty and spelling things out to be sure everyone understands (when I'm not busy playing word games or avoiding direct questions -- another bad habit of mine at times), I think sometimes I may either rush things, or terminate them prematurely, either because the guy's freaked out by me, or he thinks I'm no longer interested and ends things.

There have been early-stage dating situations in which I felt completely comfortable, or guys I was seeing with whom I felt completely secure. I raised this issue with a friend once, as an example of why I get so worked up over the less-secure situations, and she asked if I didn't perhaps have more power in the first. I definitely felt as though I had more in those situations, and for whatever messed-up reason, I actually prefer not to be the one in complete control or with a majority of the control. I wind up feeling irritated or frustrated. Apparently I simply can't allow myself to win.

Fortunately, I'm learning about myself and others, and I'm trying to work on my issues.

I'm keeping my moments of insanity isolated as much as I can to venting sessions with friends, and I think it's working in my favour. Insecurity isn't sexy and it's one of my undeclared New Year's resolutions: be more confident. Just because the boy isn't making a move doesn't mean I can't. Apparently aggressive women are sexy, and I know first-hand that confidence is sexy, so if I combine these with the power of my personality (such as it is), I can bring anyone to his knees... provided that's where I want him. After all, I get to call some of those shots, too.

Now if only I was having sex right now...

2006-12-21T15:45:00.001-05:00

Only one piece of carry-on allowed

Unless we arrive straight from the stork at the ripe old age of whatever, we all have baggage of some sort or another. It doesn't matter how much or how little you've dated, if you have family, friends or are alive and functioning in the world, there's baggage there.

Let's psychoanalyze me, shall we? After all, it's my site, and I regularly put my neuroses on display, so I don't mind.

To begin, my biggest problem -- I get very upset at having it implied or stated that I'm promiscuous or a whore.

Whiskey tango foxtrot, you say? What about my charming moniker, URL and site name? Oh, well -- I liked the names, and it's a fun persona to adopt to confuse the masses. To know me online is to not know me very well in person.

I also have weird issues about being overtly sexual. Again -- confused? Ditto. I can talk about basically every sexual experience I've ever had, I'm experimental, open-minded, and so on -- but sticking a boob in someone's face, putting their hand on my lady parts, sticking my butt up in the air to ask to be fucked -- hell, wearing the peekaboo Victoria's Secret bra I bought -- can all cause me moments of self-doubt and insecurity.

And don't get me started on interactions with members of the opposite sex. There's a fun back-and-forth, depending on the guy. The short version of that tale is simply that the strong-and-silent types are not my style; while I don't need to know every thought that runs through someone's head, it's love to hear 'I like you/I love you,' 'you're funny/smart/cute/interesting/sexy/etc.' once in awhile.

Now, all of this self-doubting baffles friends who know me in real life. People don't always seem to see past my self-confident exterior, or they don't understand from whence my assorted baggage originates.

While it's tempting to point fingers at my mom, I actually get along fairly well with her, so I don't really want to blame her. At the same time, growing up hearing, 'Don't say/do that, or else you're going to get a reputation!' doesn't seem to set a lady off on the best track. Well, long before I'd ever been beyond more than kissing a guy, I was being called a slut (we're talking elementary school, here), because I was curious about sex, read and retained information about it, and could talk about it maturely. Never mind that it was all very theoretical at that point.

It took some time and a lot of trial-and-error, but I got to where I am now -- and I like who I am, for the most part. I've packed up the majority of my baggage and put a lot of it behind me. Unfortunately, I can't always say the same for everyone else I know.

I think one of the most important lessons we can learn in life is simply that Every Person Is Different. This was the mantra from a now-defunct alt.-group and mailing list I was on, and it applies to so much. What works for one person will not work for the next. If you can't learn this, well... don't know what to tell you, except maybe please don't come onto me.

That said, same thing applies when it comes to baggage and behaviours; just because something Person X does reminds you of something Person Y used to do, it doesn't mean X = Y.

Of course, as with everything I say, I acknowledge that this is only applicable so far. Sometimes the same behaviour pattern will continue, and then you're well-within your rights to decide how you want to go from there. This is where dating comes in handy -- you learn what you wil and won't tolerate, how you react to things, and what you want or require from another person.

One of those is that you are not responsible for the crap behaviour of past partners. Just because someone kissed you on the nose before they said something hurtful doesn't mean that my kissing you on the nose will automatically lead to an insult or slur.

Passive-aggressive behaviour is not cool. If you have a problem with me, tell me. Do not assume I will know that my off-hand remark was triggering something in your psyche. I don't read minds.

I don't read minds, and I don't expect you to, either.

I don't automotically assume all baggage is bad or that we should get over all of our crap immediately. It can take weeks, months, years to even recognize our baggage for what it is, let along move past it -- and sometimes we just won't. I may always be cursed with my defensiveness about my extensive dating past or any 'slut/whore/easy' comments, and that's just how it is. Others may always have issues with hearing people joke about suicide, or small penises, or their weight, or whatever. But I think it's important to recognize our baggage for what it is -- ours, and our own responsibility -- and be able to deal with it accordingly, not expect someone else to carry it for us.

Or, more briefly, a line for some from my past: I am not your exes. Move on.

2006-12-10T14:26:00.000-05:00

It's not me, it's you

I’m not always the nicest person.

Hide your shock.

I’ll be the first to admit it; I get impatient, I can be demanding, or difficult, and if I’m hungry or tired, well everything is simply magnified. I’m really somewhat like a baby in that manner.

Now, in addition to that, I’ve dated a lot. I promise, these two things are eventually going to link up.

This year has been a bit of an ‘interesting’ one; I broke up with the guy I’d been seeing since my last birthday, who was known as the Smooshy. I then started dating a friend of a friend, because it was drama-free and casual and easy. I broke up with him when I was becoming interested in other people I’d met. From the runner, I moved on to a bartender, who I dated for a few months. I broke up with him because we weren’t really connecting (or having sex), and because I was interested in a friend – a guy I’d known back pre-Smooshy, actually. That guy and I dated for a few months before I ended things again.

See the pattern? Now, I have to say that the break-ups with the bartender and the runner were mutual; both of us were feeling the end of things, and so they were very easy conversations that had no drama involved. In fact, I’m 99% certain that the runner was trying to booty-call me after things ended, which amused me.

The other two relationships, on the other hand, were a bit different. In short, in both cases, I was being made to feel as though I wasn’t enough for the guy – which is a perfectly fair assessment. But the Smooshy would spend time telling me what I was lacking, or that I should change, yet never offering to change. Or actually tell me how it was I should change in order to improve things. Great for the esteem, as I’m sure you can guess.

Despite the ridiculous chemistry (which quickly abated) between the other guy and I, I found there were a number of personality conflicts that never quite resolved. So I felt the prudent thing to do would be to end things – before I reached the point where I hated him and wanted him dead. That’s never quite the best place to be in a relationship, especially with someone you’re supposed to care about.

Even though two of the endings were mutual (and really, the one with the Smooshy kind of was, except for where he turned into a complete and utter whiny victim, cast me as the villain, and just completely acted a twit), the fact that I had to initiate all four conversations was simply draining, and I’ve decided I’ve had enough. That’s not saying that I want to be dumped – that’s never fun, either.

I’ve wondered sometimes if I’ve dated too much, especially since I seem to keep meeting people who have relationships that last for years on end, or they simply don’t date much at all. Is there something wrong with me in that I can’t meet someone whose interest I hold – or vice versa – for any length of time?

No, I don’t think so. I’ve had people say that they’re picky about who they date, which seems to carry with it an implied, “… and you’re not” element directed my way, but as I’ve said before, I’m learning with every boy I date. I’m learning about myself, I’m learning what I will and won’t tolerate, and I’m learning how to recognize behaviour patterns in people that I don’t deserve and to which I won’t subject myself.

That said, I’ve had conversations with a coworker of mine about marriage and personalities. It’s made me wonder if I was too quick to give up on people in my past; however, the fact that I don’t regret any of the breakups probably means I’ve done the right thing every time. Even the guys who dumped me, I don’t regret.

I know that no one is perfect, myself included. But I also know that no one should put up with regular passive-aggressive behaviour, personal criticisms or anything else that would be demoralizing to them. If someone isn’t making you happy, why are you bothering to stay with them?

So I keep looking and trying to improve myself, in the hopes that maybe someday I’ll meet someone that can tolerate me for longer than a few months, or who that I can tolerate in return. Better than tolerate – I deserve happiness, and I’m always looking for it. I believe I deserve good things, and you know what? I’m going after them.

2006-07-21T15:16:00.000-04:00

All of me
or,
It’s About Damn Time

The following piece was written in response to some questions put to me by friends trying to figure out my interests in pain and sex. It evolved from there.

I had a very entertaining night the other night – very entertaining and also very awkward.

At the end of the night, my friends were trying to pin down my thoughts/feelings/attitudes to pain. I was having a tough time articulating them, because they’re all tied up with my thoughts and feelings and attitudes to sex, too. Let’s see if I can lay this out.

Mentally, the idea of spanking, whipping, caning, exposing myself, wearing binding outfits, being restrained, being denied orgasm (maybe), being made to or brought to orgasm, simply being out of control – all of these things are arousing and very much part of the spank bank, as it were. I have no problem owning up to and embracing what turns me on when it’s me alone with my body; it’s when another person enters the picture that things get difficult.

Despite my fantasies, I’m not an exhibitionist by nature. I get self-conscious when I’m under scrutiny, even if it’s just from my partner. I wonder if I’m making the right faces, the right noises, moving enough… unless I’m really aroused and therefore distracted enough not to care – but it isn’t always easy to get me to that point, either because I’m challenging, or because my brain gets in the way.

My experience combining pain with pleasure has been unusual, to say the least – or at least maybe not as common. Pain, in the right circumstances, is a sexual experience for me. As previously stated, whips, spanking and so on, arouse me. I have played with pain, but had very little sexual contact with my tormentor. This was agreed to ahead of time, and wasn’t an issue, for the most part.

However, because my tormentor wasn’t a “sex” partner, that and the whole ‘awkward in new circumstances’ side of my personality combined to ensure that I was never 100% relaxed and comfortable. So I act the smartass (hooray for defence mechanisms).

I did experiment a little with my ex-, too, but there a different set of problems arose. Although he paid lip service to an interest in the harder side of things, it was almost always up to me to initiate, which seemed to translate into a lack of real interest, to my mind. So combine a perceived lack of commitment to the cause with my dead sex drive and submissive inability to start up anything, and what you get is two instances of spanking, one of me tying him up, and some three-quarter-hearted whacks on the butt during sex (which always screws up a guy’s rhythm). Then throw in some whining on his part about how boring our sexy life is, but a resistance to me going off the pill and an inability on his part to step up and actually effect any changes on his own, without me leading, and you have a snapshot of several months of my life.

Abdicating control turns me on. Being shoved up against a wall, being manhandled. Being pinned by the wrists and unable to move. Letting someone else lead – as long as they know what they’re doing. But these are all moves that require confidence to carry out. I can sense fear (okay, maybe not). But if I’m able to pick up on uncertainty or a lack of follow-through, I can’t really get on board. If you’re going to fuck me, fuck me – don’t start out fucking and then switch to loving caresses or gentle thrusts. Commit!

Okay, so some of this hyperbole, and it’s up to you to figure out what, but I think (hope), I’m getting some of this across. I’ve said for years that confidence is sexy, and that goes hand-in-hand with having the ability to make me believe you’re enjoying whatever it is you’re doing to me – you aren’t just watching as a bemused spectator, secretly marvelling that anyone would enjoy the action, but going along with it because there’s nothing good on tv, and hey, at least you’re getting some.

I complain sometimes about not meeting guys who treat me the way I treat them – willing at times to just get the other off, with no further expectations – but I know that I sometimes paint them into that box. Because I’m uncomfortable being the focus of attention, and I’m difficult and don’t want anyone to get frustrated, I’ll often dissuade someone from spending too much time on me – a problem of my own making, full-circle.

I know that the grown-up, rational thing to do is be patient and explain to the boys in my bed how I like things, but I’ve never really figured out the best method for doing so. The first time together is too soon, in my opinion, and sometimes it just seems as though the lessons never stick – there are only so many times I can ask the same thing of someone before I just give up in frustration – and stay frustrated.

I’d thought that I would have some of this figured out by now, although I don’t think I’m doing too poorly. I’ve certainly improved from where I once was.

Going off the pill has helped immeasurably, too; for the first time in almost a year, I have a highly active sex drive that’s once again had the fantasies returning with an impressive frequency. It may also help that it seems as though everyone around me happens to be kinky, which naturally lends itself to interesting and at times exciting conversations.

I’ve been told by some that I have a high tolerance for pain. I’m not sure if it’s that or I’m just stoic, but in any case, it can take a lot to get me to say ow. I’ve also been known to laugh my way through some sexual-pain experiences – but I put that down to a combination of enjoyment and nerves. In at least one scenario, while I did want to continue pushing to see how or if things would escalate, I also theoretically knew better.

Which is another aspect of my personality – I’m bad at first moves (or rather, I pretty much don’t ever make them), so I tend to push others into making them. It’s like I’m not confident enough early on in a relationship to feel as though my advances would be welcomed. Either that or I just prefer being chased, and find someone else making first moves to be much sexier. Probably both. Maybe I should work on this; kiss a boy first. On it goes to the list of things to do.
I’ve had a bit of a non-discussion recently with a male friend about sex, big surprise. Mainly we’ve just raised the question, ‘why do guys always want to rush into sex?’ (my question), and his answering, ‘why do girls always want to wait?’, although that seems somewhat contradicted now by his statement yesterday that once he has a girl half-naked, he usually gets laid. Apparently Seinfeld did have the right track when the characters said that ‘sex begins when the nipples come out.’

I tend to waiver back and forth from relationship to relationship as to how quickly I do or want to sleep with someone. There are a lot of different factors for this, but the two main ones are fundamentally selfish: one, I’m difficult to get off or sometimes even turn on, so I want to have a decent idea that the guy and I are compatible (i.e., he has some clue of what’s going on with a woman’s body) before we get to knocking boots, and two, I’d rather not regret things. I have had a fair bit of bad sex, but only a few occasions I can point to and go, ‘now that was a mistake.’ It’s how I like to live my life – few regrets. Sure, the experience might not be something I regret in the end, but if I don’t care that it happened one way or the other, isn’t that almost the same thing?

Beyond that, I enjoy anticipation and arousal. It’s fun to learn different ways of making each other gasp and moan, and it’s something we don’t always take the time to do when sex enters the picture. After all, once we’ve crossed the final hurdle, there’s often an implied need to get there each time after that.

Notice I said implied need. Of course I don’t believe that penetrative sex is the be-all and end-all of sexual encounters. There is, after all, a reason we’ve been given hands, lips, tongues and a brain. But does it not seem as though, at least for a little while after having sex for the first time, every subsequent encounter ends with sex? What happened to the time spent kissing, licking, biting and sucking all the other fun body parts? Why do ears, necks, shoulders, chests, feet, hands and so on seem to miss out on the fun once the dirty parts enter the playing field?

Maybe I’m just too creative for me own good – or too much of the playful/tease sort. I have a few friends whose turn-ons include fairly tame, public-safe acts: hair pulling, being clawed by nails, biting, etc. (okay, so it depends on your ‘public’, it’s true). I may have never kissed or otherwise touched these friends in a sexual manner, but it’s unlikely anyone would say they haven’t enjoyed themselves – but wouldn’t things change if we had had sex?

Maybe for the better, it’s true. A friend has observed that people touch differently after they’ve slept together. I’ve never consciously noticed, but I’m sure it’s true. I’m sure shenanigans would continue to be amusing post-sex, but I’m having a blast in the meantime (and I can fantasize all I want about how awesome the sex would be without reality intruding!).

I’m sure many would say I seem somewhat defensive right now, and I’ll admit they may have a point. But when it comes to sex, especially sex with someone new, I really want to want them before I jump them, and that often takes time with me. My last new partner, I really wanted. There was semi-serious consideration being given to us having sex on a Greyhound bus, and if it wouldn’t have been our first time, then it would’ve been done. My partner before that? I sort of wish I’d waited a bit longer; story of my life, really.

Engage my mind, respect my body – respect me – and your odds improve. Pressure me, whine, beg or treat me poorly, and for some reason your odds drop.

Throw me up against a wall, kiss me properly, bite and lick my neck right, and don’t try to tear off my nipple or rough up my insides, and your odds may improve dramatically.

So, do I make sense yet, damnit?

2006-01-12T15:23:00.001-05:00

Nice guys don’t finish last

A friend of mine recently updated his site with a discussion of how nice guys finish last – that classic chestnut.

His post detailed how he’s a nice guy, yet he can’t seem to catch a break as far as relationships are concerned – that standard refrain.

Now, I should say – I feel for him. I do. He is a nice guy, and he deserves to find someone suited to him. But when he trots out the standard, “I should just be an asshole – girls only ever seem to want to date assholes,” I’m getting ready to smack him.

Most girls – ideally the ones that you would want to date – do not want assholes. I’ve dated assholes; I’m not with them now for that very reason. Huh – I’ve dated a lot of assholes.

Fortunately, I’ve also dated a fair handful of nice guys – genuinely nice guys. I remember each of them very warmly and fondly, and parts of me regret that the relationships had to end.

Here’s the thing – some people are very lucky and find their Perfect Someone easily on in life. I have several friends like this, and I hate them. No, I’m happy for them. But I’ve been the single one in a crowd of couples many times, so I understand feeling lonely or alone, or like you’ll never seem to find someone for you.

But here’s the thing – acting like or being an asshole is not the way to win the ladies. Granted, it does seem to work for some people, but we fully expect her to wake up one day and realize who or what she moved in with. But, her problem – not mine.

The mistake most “nice guys” (and even some assholes) seem to make is that they idolize their ladyfriend. Most women are not looking for this. We need men who can love us and recognize that we burp, fart, pee, poop, bleed, hurt, cry, get angry, have good days, have bad days – in short, are people as well as hot, sexy women. We don’t need to be protected from the world, and we aren’t comfortable with you pretending that aspects of us – physical and emotional realities – don’t exist, because it doesn’t fit in with your perception of us as precious things that are always pretty, smooth, smell nice and are perfectly coiffed and attired. Don’t buy into the societal bullshit that says women are delicate little flowers – we aren’t. At least, most of us aren’t (for more on this subject, you can see a rant of mine on the subject of independence and friendship at my other site. If you really want to read more.).

We also don’t need guys to be delicate flowers or pushovers. We might get frustrated or angry or upset if you disagree with us or even state your opinion, but that doesn’t mean we’ll stop caring about you. Mind you, this might apply to me more than some – I can have a bit of a steamroller personality.

I think most people want to date a person, not a ‘type of’ person. We may appreciate certain personality characteristics, but we recognize that just because someone has, for example, geeky tendencies, doesn’t mean they can’t also be jocks or cooks or whatever. I think this means assholes can show up in many forms – as can nice guys.

If I had any advice for the nice guys that keep getting dumped on, it would come in a few parts. One, take stock of yourself. The two biggest assholes I’ve dated routinely claimed they were ‘nice guys’ – usually with the wounded tone that seemed to imply all was my fault, and how dare I be upset at them!? Sometimes nice guys aren’t. In my experience, the truly nice ones don’t have to keep telling you they are.

Two. Examine your actions. Do you voice your opinion, or just kowtow to hers? Do you make plans outside of her life, or are you always waiting for a hint from her as to what to do next? Do you allow her to be human and have bad moods, or do you act like a kicked puppy when she gets upset in your vicinity? Nice doesn’t equal pushover, wimp, or weak.

Three. Keep trying. Getting dumped sucks – I know, I’ve been there. But you’ll find someone, I promise. And if you’re lucky, you won’t have to tell her you’re nice – she’ll see that side of you with no problem.

2005-08-31T16:58:00.000-04:00

Confidence? Who says I have confidence?

I recently turned my attention to a bit of self-realization: the more I like someone, the more neurotic I get (to which I was told by a friend, "Duh, you're a girl"). You'd think age and experience would lead more to self-assurance and confidence, but alas -- still that brain part quivers and twitches, semi-desperate to be loved, but still playing it oh-so-casually -- or at least as calmly to the other person as possible. Dear lord, I hate dating.

I don't remember relationships being so hard when I was younger -- in fact, I know they weren't. It went proximity + crush = relationship, problem solved for x.

Now, not so much. Sure, we all form our first impressions of someone in the first 7-30 seconds of meeting them, and sure, first dates are the worst situations known to man (on par with job interviews), but is it just me, or do people just not want to make the effort anymore?

Maybe I really am desperate to be loved, though I don't actually think that's the case, but it seems as though 99% of the time, the boy has given up earlier than I might've been inclined.

Now, two things here to address -- I'm referring primarily to those dating situations from the last few years, and not so much the relationships. While even those might've ended before I was ready, I've dealt with it and moved on, with perhaps a minor exception or two. Everyone's allowed their Waterloo.

Secondly, I've never pretended to understand guys, but the one thing I can conclude from all this dating and rejection is the common denominator in it all -- yours truly. No, this is not the bid for pity that it may seem. Quite the opposite, actually -- I recognize that I am a unique and special sort who requires not just anyone to complement me, and cope with my neuroses. I will look, instead, to my so-called failures from this positive perspective: rather than being repulsed by my hair/body/face/voice/perseonality/perfume/sense of humour/whaever -- these guys recognized that they did not have the special traits I require (a kinky side!), and therefore couldn't live up to my needs, and so they elected to move on, rather than, as would be inevitable, disappointing me.

How's that for vanity? Hah! Sure, I've been rejected or brushed off many times in the past, but I've gotten fairly blasé about dealing with it. While male attention is nice and all, I recognize that not every guy I meet is automatically going to think I'm awesome, and that's fine -- it spares me the burden of having to be equally interested in them, especially if I'm not.

* * *

It's time to break that fourth wall a little more than usual, not that it ever really happens to stay firmly in place for long around here. See, sometimes I get an idea and start an article, but don't immediately finish it in one sitting. There it languishes, reminding me of my obligations and its needs, until I return to it and either finish and (eventually) post it, or decide it's crap and try for something new.

When I first started that article, I was in the process of dating a few people, and I was feeling somewhat girly-stupid about one of them. Things were going well, and I was allowing myself to get a little neurotic, but more or less keeping it in check. Fortunately, I don't seem to stay too neurotic too long anymore.

The funny part, and what demonstratesthat my life is vaguely reflected in this site, is that since I started this article, my perspective has changed somewhat.

See, I've met someone, and I feel... secure. My self-doubting voice is silent, and I feel confident that he genuinely likes and cares for me, too. Usually; I am still me, after all.

Anyhow, I'm not feeling -- at least overall -- my semi-usual neuroses, and I consider that a good sign. I've found someone with whom I'm a good fit -- he's smart, funny, interesting, considerate, cute, sexy, and wonder of wonders, has been fooled into thinking I'm these things -- and I'm happy. Funny how things work out, eh?

Life is good.

2005-08-14T09:13:00.000-04:00

In exchange for a real update...

A meme stolen from Sweetness Follows.

-Copy this entire list into your blog/journal
-Bold everything that is true about you.
-Leave alone anything that is false about you.
-Place an asterisk by anything that you would like to be true about you.

I have had sex while wearing a blindfold.
I have blindfolded someone during sex.
I have had sex while watching porn.
I have had sex while surfing porn on the internet.
I sleep better after sex.
There are some nights when I can’t sleep without sex or masturbating.
The bed is Not my favourite place to have sex.
I get turned on knowing someone is watching me masturbate.
I have masturbated for someone over a webcam.
I have had sex over a webcam.
I will have sex with someone I just met if he/she turns me on.
I have been tied up during sex.
I have had sex with someone who was tied up.
I have dripped hot wax on a lover’s body.
I have had a lover drip hot wax on my body.*
I have a foot fetish.
I have a leather fetish.
I have a tickle fetish.
I like being choked during sex.
I have had sex in a burning building.
I have erotic art on display somewhere in my residence.*
I enjoy nudie magazines.
Erotic toys are a regular part of my budget.
I think PlayBoy is tame, maybe even boring.
I have clicked on porn links in my email.
I know the difference between girl/girl and lesbian sex in porn.
I have watched more than one gay/lesbian porn film.
Much of what I know about sex comes from porn.
Interracial sex turns me on.
I think we should do more to understand the cultures of sex.
I would participate in sex research if given the opportunity.
My current lover does not meet my sexual needs.
I currently have a crush on someone of the same sex.
I have had sex at my place of employment.
I am often disappointed in my sexual relationships.
Some people might describe me as a nymphomaniac.
I am difficult to live with if I’m not having sex on a regular basis.
I sleep better with someone curled up next to me.
I have had sex underwater.
I have had sex in the snow.
I am in a polyamorous relationship.
I have to have music playing during sex.
I have had more than 10 orgasms in one night.
I have flashed strangers.
I have given sex as a gift.
I have set-up a three-way for my lover.
I stopped during this list to have sex.*

2005-07-29T15:44:00.000-04:00

Thank you, g’bye now!

Last night I had the increasingly-rare opportunity to spend time one-on-one with one of my close friends.

The conversation jumped around from subject to subject (as happens when I’m involved), then eventually turned to sex (as some people claim happens when I’m involved). He’s gettin’ some regular lovin’; I’m not.

But as is my way, I’m okay with that for now, because my hormones are currently in hibernation again – at least until this or that person crosses my path (but that’s a vaguely emo whine that’s neither here nor there).

However, just because I’m not actively seeking sex or humping the leg of every and any available attractive man who crosses my path, doesn’t mean I’m not going completely without. Exes can be a valuable resource to tap for – well, tapping that.

Many friends roll their eyes in frustration when I let them in on secrets of my (sort of) private life, so lately I haven’t always been yelling from the rooftops any time I’mma get me some. The friends who would be privy to the knowledge are the same ones who’ve nursed me through varying degrees of heartbreak, so they’re certainly justified in their concern – or frustration – about me visiting a well-worn path.

In one case, the concern is more for the other person, and I share that, as well as a desire to do no more damage than I already have, so even if my hormones are standing up and begging for attention, I ignore ‘em. Mostly.

But in other instances, when the opportunity is there and there is no desire on my part to start anything anew, and strings are notably absent, I feel that my friends’ concerns are unwarranted. What we’re talking about is strings-free, emotionally-absent, no-frills sex, and it has its place.

Again, I may seem as though I’m coming off awfully hypocritical, claiming to want strings-included (heh, and rope-, blindfold-, and even in some cases, whips- and paddles-included) sex, while having very infrequent no-strings sex.

I can justify this to myself – let’s see if you agree. I’m not interested in no-strings sex with someone who’s a relative stranger to me. There is no draw to me in a situation such as that. In these circumstances, however, there used to be a relationship, and there used to be feelings, and there’s always been good sex, so the drive for me to please and be pleased exists. Admittedly, it’s greatly tempered by the rest of the circumstances (and those damn hibernating hormones), but it’s there.

The curious part (to me), however, is just how removed I feel from the situation. In part because of my new, grown-up schedule and need for an earlier bedtime, and my knowledge that this is what it is, and a romantic situation is what it is not – I don’t feel the same need for all the solicitous attention or whatnot that is an accepted, and in my opinion, required, part of relationships and sex.

By that I mean, there’s no hand-holding, no flirting, no sleepovers, no cuddling unless it’s a lead-up to sex, and the post-sex cuddling is equally limited. In fact, post-coitally, some nights I’m ready to clean up and go to bed almost immediately after – it’s not that I want him to leave, exactly… but his part is done, we’re both satisfied – why are you still here?

Actually, that line of conversation led to me saying one of the funnier and more insensitive things I’ve said recently, which sent both of us off laughing once more. On the subject of leaving afterwards, and how I’m ready for sleeping, alone: “…but he just won’t get the hint, he keeps trying to cuddle afterwards!”

Maybe you had to be there. I’m not trying to be insensitive to anyone in these circumstances – I’m not about to slap him on the ass and send him on his way when it’s over, just as I’d be angry if he did that to me – but I guess I just have no interest in pretending that this is more than it is. I like to keep the sweet-and-tender moments for the guys I have sweet-and-tender feelings for; not the ones from whom I just want a (not too) quick toss.

I’d certainly give up the toss in favour of the sweet-and-tender in a minute, if I could find the guy who fits my criteria (and likes me equally in return). But in the meantime, why spare myself (and him) the occasional moment or two of unattached pleasure?

2005-07-22T14:00:00.000-04:00

Things I obsess about, vol. 12167

Once you reach a certain age, I sex that big of a deal anymore?

Does the thrill of a new partner die off past that magic age?

Does it matter how many times that land has been claimed before you claim it?

Are these concerns, these questions – are they all a gender thing?

Or, more realistically, is this just my overanalytical nature once again coming to the fore?

I was thinking the other day about the demeanour of my last conquest, as it concerned bedroom expectations, and even then it struck me as somewhat... apathetic, almost. Maybe that’s unfair – apathetic isn’t entirely accurate, but maybe unconcerned would be apt.

Call me overly cautious or a romantic or whatever adjective you’d like, but for me sex is still better when I know someone and feel something for them. It doesn’t have to be love, but I like for it to be more than just boredom, or for lack of anything better to do for the next twenty or thirty minutes.

That may sound hypocritical given my use of the term conquest earlier, but for those of you who haven’t figured it out by now, the Drunken Whore is about 50% persona, 50% me. I can’t – or won’t – use names or specifics in my writings, so what you read here could all pertain to only one or two guys... it’s just written in such a way as to sound like more. Ah, language – how you is my abused and manipulated bitch. Moving on.

I’ve tried sex for sex’s sake, and I’ve learned it isn’t for me. That was a big part of my Lavalife turn-offs; too many guys there state that what they want is to sleep with a woman for awhile, then decide if there’s enough there for a relationship. My aunt said this same sentiment is expressed by guys her age – good to know this won’t change.

Now, call me selfish, but if I’m not that into someone, I don’t particularly care whether or not they’re having a good time, unless I’m trying to prove something to myself (or maybe them). Otherwise, if I care that someone leaves my bedroom happy, they do. I’m like Hallmark – I care enough to send (do?) my very best.

Cheesy.

But, if I were to have a one-night stand with some random guy (definitely not speaking from personal experience, if you were wondering), I’m not too worried about whether he leaves amazed at the teasing and depth of my foreplay abilities – I’m more concerned if we got our rocks off, and if not, if the experience was otherwise worth it and/or repeating.

But, that’s me – I do know of people who play the bed-hopping game and have a good time. Power to ‘em, I guess.

But there seems to be a trend that, for lack of any other indicators, I’ll tie to age, of sex becoming less and less “special” (I know, I know, sorry), the older and/or more experienced we get.

Maybe I’m choosing the wrong partners, but it seems as though sex has become no big deal, just a way to kill off an afternoon or an evening, and as a result, there’s an expectation of sorts on the part of the guy that being naked equals having sex. And that this will happen fairly early on in the “relationship.”

No, I’m not a cocktease. As I said, anyone in my bed that I want to leave satisfied, generally does. But I don’t feel that the first time I’m naked with a boy, I have to have penetrative sex with him. There’s lots of fun things to do with boy parts and girl parts that doesn’t have to involve putting them together.

It’s good to be able to recognize that you may not feel ready to sleep with someone yet, and be able to stand your ground and say so. As much as I try to live my romantic life with few regrets, I do sometimes wish I’d waited longer in some cases, or hadn’t let them “persuade” (I don’t want to say “push,” yet I sort of do) me into sleeping with them when I did. If the relationship is worth it, waiting for the sex isn’t – and shouldn’t – be a problem. If what you’re after is a fling or a one-night stand, that’s obviously a different story.

Maybe I’m just a romantic, but I still want to feel some kind of excitement at the prospect of bouncing someone around a bed for the first, second, third or third-dozenth time. As a huge advocate of teasing and extended foreplay, I say with all sincerity, there’s something (many things!) to be said – many positive – about anticipation. Not to mention, a few sessions of bed-bouncing can give me a good idea of what to expect and a chance to decide if I do, in fact, want to go that final step.

I’m sure some of you are questioning my various reasons for being reticent about Going All The Way – after all, I’m old, wise, mature, etc., etc., what’s the big deal? – and in some cases the reluctance is situational, but overall, I am always aware and self-conscious of My Number.

It’s not huge, but when you’re surrounded by people who’ve been with only one or two people, because they met and married their high school sweetheart or some such, there are times I efel as though I’m being regarded as the village bicycle.

Also, as I wrote in an epic post on my other site, because I can talk, write, and joke about sex (also mime, if I’m feeling especially goofy), it seems to be presumed by some that I’m having sex all the time. Hell, even my own mother seems to assume that if I spend any length of time with a guy that I’m dating and/or sleeping with him.

Of course, I could just be overly sensitive, but that’s a whole ‘nother story or twelve.

Anyhow, when it comes to our pasts and our numbers, many people tend to engage in some editing. American Pie 2 brought forth the “Rule of 3,” and I’m sure there are people who use it, or something similar. Personally, I’ve always been totally honest about my numbers, to myself and others, but that hasn’t stopped me from wishing I could do a little creative editing.

So, I started wondering what rules I would put in place to bring my number down a little without seeming like I was trying to lie. So far, I’ve come up with a few (all optional, depending on who you want to remove from your past and what it takes, within reason, to eliminate them):

1. Cross off anyone you slept with on two or fewer occasions, and/or for 2 or fewer occurrences.

2. Cross off anyone that the majority of your friends don’t know bout, unless it was for longer than a few weeks.

3. Cross off anyone where all aspects of the sex were consistently really bad (hopefully ties in #1, but some people are eternal optimists).

That’s as far as I’ve gotten, really, and that helps to eliminate a few names I don’t mind seeing gone.

Anyone have others? I think my only real restriction is that you can’t eliminate anyone you had a full relationship with, or that you slept with over an extended period of time – as much as I’d like to remove two guys from my past roster, it’s tough to make an 8-month or 3-year relationship just disappear.

So, everyone join in the fun – what rules would you put in place to decrease your number? It’s the game the whole family can play!

2005-07-03T23:50:00.000-04:00

The (Not-So)Secret Lusts of The Drunken Whore

So, anyone who wants to help send me here, for my birthday, you're welcome to donate to the fund.

I promise lots of happy pictures and so on for those that help to contribute. Or something else exclusive that I can offer people for incentive!

*sobs* I know, I'm pathetic. But I started watching season 6 of Buffy again and my lust for James Marsters has been re-awakened. *cries* I'm sorry...

But I'm getting old this year! I need pity! And so on!

Okay, I just want to lick James Marsters. That's not really a big secret. You can help make my dream come true!

2005-06-19T22:15:00.000-04:00

Lights... camera... action!

My sexual philosophy is fairly basic: sex is goofy, awkward, messy, uncomfortable, fun and funny -- or some combination of similar adjectives.

I regularly laugh my way through sexual encounters, something that I think some guys might find somewhat... disconcerting. Fortunately, or I like to think, I'm spending just as much time laughing at myself as I am at the situation (or the boy).

I think I'm explaining this backwards, if at all. See, I'm fond of saying, when things get clumsy or weird, "just like in the movies" -- for the movies would have us believe that every sexual encounter between two people in love -- or in lust, often interchangeable in MovieLand -- is perfect from the very first.

Sex in movies never has lost erections, the need for lube, the application of condoms, someone lying on someone else's hair, difficulties lining things up, legs or arms falling asleep, cramps, running out of energy/momentum... and everyone always comes within moments of starting (and simultaneously). Sure, it can happen that way, but it isn't usually the rule. And for a guy, it's not a good rule. Seriously, it's not.

Generally, these are all things that are only there to be played for laughs -- which is great, but then you're laughing at the people and the situations, which is fun, but... I tend to think of it as different, because you're laughing at, instead of with. A minor distinction, but one I tend to think of as important, if it involves naked people and their vulnerable bits.

But often, there is a lot of awkwardness to sex. We fuck with our socks on, we haev to spend several weird seconds kicking the underwear off our ankles, we trip on our underwear getting it off, we lose our balance, we fall off the bed... it's ridiculous!

Personally, as I've said, I cope with most of it by laughing through it. I'm more or less comfortable in my own skin, body issues notwithstanding, and generally I'm not baring all for someone with whom I'm not comfortable -- which means that, theoretically, we've already shared some laughs with our clothes on... which makes it easier to laugh with our clothes off.

As I've gotten older I've goten somewhat more confident (and apparenrly more intimidating as a result), and even more comfortable with myself. I've lost some of the frustration and inexplicable shame that goes along with being a euphemistically-termed "challenge," and I've used that to my advantage -- laughing at myself and just not taking things super-seriously and therefore, to heart.

Along with all of this comfort has come more of a willingness to talk nonsense during sexual encounters, for multiple reasons: partly to solicit guidance or other advice (which I am terrible at giving, when it's requested in return); partly in an attempt to relax my partner and bring him into my goofy style of hot sexing; and partly just because it's fun and helps to remove the serious race toward orgasm that sex often seems to be portrayed as.

Plus, if you're comfortable talking dorky nonsense with your partner, I theorize that talking about more serious subjects tied to sex becomes just that much easier. Remember, this is theory.

But if you can joke about your partner's brother and his sexual proclivities, or each of your geek tendencies, or who's conquered who -- as you're busy gettin' it on (tm), how much more challenging is it to suggest something new or different? If you're comfortable calling someone a conquered peoples because of their willingness to subject themselves to your "tender mercies" (or other patented moves), then how much more difficult is it to ask for harder, softer, gentler, faster, or a little to the left?

Of course, the movies don't cover this kind of thing, so it's up to us to forge our own paths, either by asking our friends for advice, doing some Internet research, or sucking up our fears and concerns and forging ahead and doing it.

I think I prefer my way of sex for laughs, rather than our society's way of abusing sexual situations for laughs. I guess it's just another example of how screwed up North America is in regards to sex -- but that's another rant of mine.

Sex. It's just like in the movies. Right.

2005-05-10T10:41:00.000-04:00

Once a cheater...

Once a cheater, always a cheater -- or so the old saying goes. It's certainly a line I've had quoted to me in the past, by friends who believe it's true.

Speaking as one who has cheated in the past, I'm inclined to disagree.Now, before I carry on, I want to clarify -- I'm certainly not proud of or attempting to defendmy actions. In my past, I've made mistakes, and I have my reasons for having made them -- I don't claim they justify my actions, merely explain them.

That all said and done... I've always firmly believed that I would live out my days in monogamonial bills. I want the comfort of a single person in my bed and, in a sense, in my life. I want to konw that there's someone who, above all else, wants to be with me -- naked and otherwise -- and wants me to only want him or her.

I know that as humans, we still lust after other people (and I will forever lust after James Marsters, I'm sure), but it'd be nice to be with someone who wouldn't act on those lusts.

I've heard other people say -- and I've been in the situation myself -- that there are things they've done or maybe said that they don't want to tell their significant other. I don't like being in that situation, and I don't want to be in it -- and I don't want my next significant other(s) to have secrets from me.

Now, allow me to elaborate. I firmly believe that honesty is not always the best policy. There are certainly situations where not all needs to be revealed. But, there are other situations... well, I'll give an example.

In conversation one night with one of the coworker friends of my (now) ex-, I learned that this guy was living with someone. I later learned that this guy had allowed his niece and a bunch of her friends to borrow his cottage (or something; details aren't first and foremost in my mind right now). One of the friends of the niece, in order to thank this guy for his generosity in allowing them to use this cottage, took him into his car and gave him a blowjob.

Obviously, this is not something he's told his girlfriend. At this same party, he said he was ready to break up with her for other reasons, but... gah. It makes me really sad and sick to think that there are situations like this going on -- all the time -- and to think that there's a chance that, somewhere in my past (and I can probably identify who), that this has happened to me. Or, yes, that I've done something similar to someone else. I'm not perfect, and I only occasionally claim to be.

There are times when total honesty isn't necessarily best. There are ways to be honest without being hurtful. But sometimes, your significant other doesn't need to hear that last time you had sex, you were busily thinking of (random actor/actress) tieing you up and fucking your brains out. Your enjoyment might have been plenty sufficient for them.

Maybe it's idyllic of me to think -- or hope -- that I could find someone crazy about me, someone whose carnal interests lie mainly in my form, who would rather sex me up above all else... though of course, he lusts after that hot songstress or actress. We're all only human, after all. There are a lot of secrets that take place in relationships, and no one will ever know all of them -- probably. Maybe your relationship is different, and I applaud you for that. Maybe you've embraced polyamory, because you firmly believe that monogamy is unnature. I applaud you for that, too.

But in my perfect world... well... once a cheater, not always a cheater. As a former cheater, I can attest to that.

2005-05-03T13:25:00.000-04:00

...and Baby makes you stupid

I'd like to rant for a little bit about a trend I seem to see taking place lately. A worrying, disturbing trend with no real end in sight -- people making babies. Correction: young, immature, irresponsible, and possibly even stupid people making babies.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I like babies, as far as I know. I haven't had much to do with them, but I haven't anything against them. I'm certainly in no big rush to start making miniature copies of myself, that's for sure. Hell, I have days I don't have the energy for my cats, and they leave me alone for hours at a time to beat each other up, sleep, and lick their butts -- I'm not sure babies can do the same.. but then again, I have yet to read the manual on them.

I realize that I am not at a place where I feel that a baby has a place in my life. Financially, I could support one, but emotionally and mentally, I don't feel I'm ready -- and I'm not especially young, especially compared to these others (although realistically, I'm not that old, either, I know).

But the trend I've noticed lately is to babies having babies -- and deliberately. I can accept that accidents happen, and sometimes people (okay, girls/women) get pregnant, and hat you choose to do from there is entirely up to you, but -- it's another matter entirely, in my oh-so-unopinionated opinion, to go out and deliberately get yourself knocked up when you are not in a position to look after your progeny to the best ability -- yours or anyone else's, within reason.

See, babies are expensive. And time-consuming. And expensive. And require lots of attention. And expensive. And unlike other hobbies that may occupy your attention for a period of time, then move aside for a new one -- babies are permanent.

You will not be able to stay up until 3 a.m. playing PS2 or computer games when you have an infant that wakes up at 6 a.m., and stays up until at least mid-afternoon. You will not be able to travel to 6 exciting cross-country destinations with a newborn. Late-night dinners at tiny restaurants with your sweetie and/or friends will no longer be a regular event. Hell, leaving the laundry for a few weeks won't be a luxury you'll have anymore.

If money is currently tight, it's going to get worse. If you're relying on friends on your LJ-list to supply you with everything you need, you're not ready. A bit more controversially -- if you don't have a career you've begun, or if you haven't invested a great deal of time in one, you're going to have a very difficult time 6 months, a year, 10 years or 20 years from now when you decide to enter or re-enter the workforce.

Life happens. Relationships end, people get in accidents or die and can't work -- thereby depriving you of an income, and nowadays people frown on sending the wee ones out to work at least before the age of 6 -- and people leave one another for other people. Life becomes a bit less scary and/or stressful when you're self-sufficient and independent, able to look after yourself with the minimum of aid.

Babies do not solve relationship issues -- they often amplify them. If you thought he was a lazy, immature ass before you got knocked up, the odds aren't necessarily in your favour to this helping him grow. If she refused to touch babies for fear of mussing her nails, hair, clothes, shoes or cigarette -- knocking her up isn't likely to change that.

But these are only my opinions and biases. In my perfect world, I'd have a number of years invested in a career -- thereby ensuring something to which I could return, if I so chose -- and a number of years invested in a mature, stable relationship with someone important to me, someone who was also ready to spawn and who would be a good father. Having or raising a baby with someone means you're irrevocably tied to that person, for better or worse. There have been many relationships whose dirty I was ecstatic to shake from my feet -- an option that would not have been available to me if I'd creaed offspring with them, no matter how eager they may have been.

But again, my biases. I've always been drawn to strong, independent personalities -- men and women, boyfriends and friends. Guys, girls -- don't be afraid to say no, you're not ready. If someone genuinely loves you and really, honestly, truly wants your babies -- they'll still want them in a year or two, when you're both older, and theoretically, wiser. That gives you both more time to do things like save up money, baby-proof your lives, party, argue about what religion you'll raise your little darling, and where it'll go to school -- for starters.

In the meantime, remember -- just say no to reproducing. Especially if you're barely 22 fucking years old (and younger in terms of maturity), haven't completed post-secondary education, don't or haven't worked (goes double if it's both of you), couldn't practice basic hygiene with an instruction manual and team of experts, and or/simply have your head(s) up your ass(es).

Just say no. Please.

2005-04-13T15:48:00.000-04:00

Girl + Boy + Interest = boyfriend!

That's right, it's time to break so many hearts and announce - at the risk of jeopardizing it - that the Drunken Whore is once again off the market (and no, not preggers). Those of you I've managed to drag over here from my regular site have known this for a little while.

Sorry, just have to whore myself now and again. It's an old habit, and it amuses me.

Anyhow, it's been a very interesting time, dating and not dating, then finally meeting someone with whom there was mutual interest and attraction and connection -- and taking that through the early, sometimes rough, times, to a place where it was decided that yeah, we are boyfriend and girlfriend now. It's been a fun trip - which is a pretty big change from all the previous time spent not having fun dating.

My life, previous to the last little while, was usually spent in one relationship or another -- sometimes very close together, or even more than one at a time (mitigating circumstances, I swear!), but I didn't tell you that -- and it's only been the last year and a half or so that I've actually been single, with everything that entails.

So, having that much time to myself has meant that I've forgotten many things about what it means to be unavailable, and I've learned a great deal about myself in the meantime. I've had time to get set in my ways -- wearing sloppy clothes around my apartment, letting the cats share my bed at night (as if I could stop them), not worrying about the state of any dishes or clean underwear lying around... hell, I haven't had to worry too much about hair maintenance. It's been a very lazy time -- but that also comes with winter.

Anyhow, what I've come to realize, now that I'm back in relationship-land, is that I've lost some of the maps to this place. There are some growing pains involved, and I think much of it is due simply to both of us being a bit older, a bit more mature (hah!), and a lot more aware of what we do and don't like -- in and out of the bedroom (gotta give the public what they want -- salacious details!).

I hadn't realized how much time had passed, in some ways -- I only recently remembered, for example, that it has been about a year and a half since I last slept with someone new. I'm a picky Whore, what can I say?

It's taking some getting used to, calling someone a boyfriend -- it's a title I resisted giving some others. Hell, there were some I barely even acknowledged I was dating -- and those were not ones whose bones I jumped, believe me.

I've also never gone from dating to boyfriend -- in the past, those relationships have always just happened. But now we have a bit of an established pattern of going out and doing things, so that's a nice precedent. As great as it can be to sit around my place or his and just watch movies or play video games, it's also nice to go out and do things, too.

And of course, as we all do, sometimes I have that habit of comparing the now to the past -- as in, "he did this, so you're going to-" or "I was always treated this way by him, and you share this trait of his, so..." ... but you know what? This time is different. I'm different, he's different, and together, we're different -- or so I say now. Ask me again in six months, I guess.

It's funny how set in our ways we can get -- it's good to have someone in your life, be it friend or closer, to shake you up a little -- even if it's just a matter of changing your routines or habits to incorporate someone else's routines or habits. Change can be good, really!

For my sake, at least, it's just a matter of forcing myself to slow down and take things as they come. Good things come with time and patience -- this and some of the other relationships in my past have proven just that.

Now it's time to find Special Someones for my friends... 'cause that's worked so well in the past. Hah!

2005-04-01T08:12:00.000-05:00

A new type of sex

Well, soon the Drunken Whore will be writing about a new type of sex...

I just got a phone call from my doctor's office, confirming what I suspected when I went in for my check-up on Monday; I'm pregnant!

I haven't broken things to my boyfriend yet -- he was on overnights last night, and he would've just gotten to bed around this time. I'll call him later in the day and break the news, but I know he's going to be pretty excited. We'd talked about the possibility, but hadn't thought it could happen so quickly!

Oh yeah - I'd better stop taking the pill, too. I wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to my new little bundle of joy.

I don't know if it's coming through in tone or anything, but... I'm both stunned and totally excited about this. Wow. More later, when I'm not running late for work!

Hrm... I wonder how maternity leave is going to work with this stupid non-permanency thing I have going on... ah well, I'll talk to the HR people and get it all sorted out.

So much to remember!

2005-03-31T00:53:00.000-05:00

I like mine (mostly) foreign-object free

Last night was my weekly Pho and Bubble Tea night with a few friends. It was a small group; three of us for dinner, then joined by another friend and his girlfriend dessert/bubble tea portion of the night. While at bubble tea, we got to talking -- about giant penises, and other anatomical matters. Those of you with a weak stomach might want to skip the next few lines -- the rest should be safer.

My friend, known for his open-mindedness and generally high raunch level, told about a video he has that involves a women 'giving birth' to an octopus. Apparently she's bent over in a bathtub, ejects this thing, then the camera guy kindly arranges it on her back for the world to see.

The rest of you can rejoin now.

Now, I didn't watch the video, so I only have his telling of it to draw on, but quite frankly, I find it really disturbing and gross.

It really bothers me that there are so many images and so on in the media that treat women's bodies -- and especially women's genitals -- as no more than ... fishy-smelling purses or something. I've seen pictures with women holding pint glasses full of beer in their vaginas, women inserting food items, glass bottles, stuffed animals, candies...

Sure, many times these are women doing this to themselves, but there appears to be a pervasive view in the non-mainstream media by men that we women amuse ourselves or get ourselves off by jamming anything and everything in there. Sure, there are women who masturbate themselves with food stuffs, and there are women who enjoy fisting, and I'm not trying to knock these practices at all. All the more power to you, and I do mean it.

But for other women – and here I was going to start off by saying the average woman, then decided that some of you might object to me applying that label to myself – the idea of cramming construction pilons into our cunts has never been something that gets the juices flowing, if you get my meaning.

I do not get wet between the legs at the idea of a glass pop bottle being used to get me off. I do not want to feel what it’s like to stick a lightbulb in my twat. I have no interest in trying to accommodate grapefruits or other food items. Personally, I prefer the feeling of a finger, the penetration of a penis, the distinction of a dildo, or the cleaving of my insides with an inflated condom (yeah, you can’t alliterate everything and still have it make sense).

All of that isn’t to say that I wouldn’t be open to some other alternatives, but I’d have to be pretty comfortable with them ahead of time – or at least aware. With enough time, I can accept almost anything, and who knows – maybe somewhere down the line I’ll be interested in exploring fisting. I understand it can be a very powerful, very intense act, and I believe it. It’s just not something that I feel the need to incorporate into my sex life at this time.

For now, I’m quite content with how fingers, dildos, and penises feel. I don’t consider my girl parts to be some sort of cheap party trick, suitable for keeping my keys safe and my coins hidden. Nope, if I’m going to be tucking away twenties, they’re getting stored in my bra, thank you very much.

Okay, that’s funnier if you know me – though I’m sure many of you are laughing at the idea of my secreting away large bills, stripper-like, into my undermentionables. I only do that when I’m stealing money from friends, for the record.

But getting back to the topic at hand, as it were… animals, alive or dead, are not going anywhere near or in my lady parts. Especially not seafood. But then again, I’ve ranted about that one before, so I’ll spare you all from it. For now.

But… am I totally off-base, or do the women that fill their parts with octopi and pint glasses and other unusual inanimate objects seem to be disrespecting their bodies in some way? Can you even be disrespecting your body if it’s your own? Or is this just my personal biases screaming through?

Mind you, I’ve pierced myself in places that make many people go, “Oh my fucking God!” Maybe I’m really not one to talk about disrespecting bodies – there are plenty of people who would point to me and say I’ve done just that.

2005-02-22T11:25:00.000-05:00

You can't do that on television!

The other day I downloaded some porn.

This doesn't sound like a particularly momentous thing, I know. I'm sure there are plenty of you who suspect that I have vast reservoirs of porn, just gigs and gigs of it filling up my harddrive, or a secret cache of tapes buried under my bed.

Nope, not a thing.

I do have a few dirty books in my bedroom, but they’re not especially hidden – they’re just not out on display in the living room with the rest of the library. I’m not especially ashamed of them, I just know that they’re less likely to be noticed if I keep them away from obvious eyes.

Anyhow, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen porn in any shape or form, and it’s been awhile since I’ve read any dirty stories, either. Apparently a dry spell for me gradually becomes all-encompassing. No matter.

I’m not entirely sure what prompted me to start downloading stuff, but it doesn’t really matter. I typed some basic terms into LimeWire, and off I went, downloading whatever looked possibly interesting (LimeWire also has a genre option of “adult,” so just searching with that turns up a bunch of material, too).

I was reminded of a few things about searching for porn, as I did this:
1. That people will put anything and everything in the description or keywords, just to get you to download it, even if it’s not relevant. At all.
2. That there exists a metric fuckton of porn dedicated to Lolita-videos, incest, and women with animals.
3. That porn I like is hard to find.

Maybe I’m old, maybe I’m jaded, maybe I’m too set in my whoring ways, but the ol’ in-out, bad oral sex, guy eventually pulls out and comes on the girl’s face while she looks up at him adoringly just doesn’t do it for me anymore. At least, not very often. Even then, the appeal wears off pretty damn quickly.

So it is that porn is so prevalent in our advertising, our society, our thoughts and so on that has led to someone such as me, who is bored by looking at vanilla sex depictions. Although, in the interests of open and honest self-disclosure, that isn’t always the case -- sometimes, a scene that manages to evoke the right images in my mind or nether parts is just what the doctor ordered.

For example; the movie Stage Beauty has in it a scene where the two main characters, played by Billy Crudup and Claire Danes, are moving around together in various positions, trying to decide who would be the girl or the guy in various scenarios (it makes sense if you see the movie). I found that scene a bigger turn on than a lot of the typical porn films that used to get me going.
I’m not sure if there’s an easily-explained reason as to why that worked, whereas totally naked depictions of sex might not, or not as much, but I think it’s because I have an easier time putting myself in the more playful scenario, and I know it can be sexy and evocative, whereas the porn scenarios are sometimes so contrived or unappealing that I get taken out of it.

When it comes to porn, I appear to be on a slippery slope. It used to be that the more vanilla stuff would work for me -- it was new, it was exciting, it was hot. Now, not so much. Now, I prefer the kinkier scenes, the ones that involve bondage and some pain and several people, or women together, or men together... the stuff that’s more removed from my life, that’s more the stuff of fantasy ... or is it!? I reveal nothing. Beyond everything that I’ve already revealed on this site.

I think perhaps it’s partly a case of my tastes having changed as I’ve gotten older. As I’ve aged and grown to accept and enjoy the fact that I have a kinky side, and that hey, other people do, too, I’ve become more comfortable with admitting that I have other interests, and that it’s the “other” stuff that gets me going more.

But either I don’t search often enough for porn (I think I’m currently at once in the last three-plus years?), or I’m a moron when it comes to searching (despite my Google Queen status), or, like I said before, people will put anything in their files to get people to download them. A simple search on “bondage” or “spanking” will turn up everything but, it seems.

So, for now, I’ll stick with the occasional decent written porn, or my own imagination... or reminiscing on my past. Not that I have anything fantasy-worthy in my past... nono, I’m innocent of all of that.

Heheh.

2005-01-04T16:20:00.000-05:00

Even Better Than The Real Thing

I have a fabulous imagination. It keeps me entertained with dirty thoughts any time I want -- which is amazingly useful in meetings, through with a high potential embarrassment factor -- and every now and then it helps me come up with ideas for writing.

But overall, it helps me out in the bedroom. Sometimes, if you need that extra push to make it to orgasm, fantasizing can be the way to do it. Heck, plenty of times just mentally augmenting whatever is actually taking place by playing it up in your head can help out, too.

But then there are the times that, either in retrospect of when presented with the reality of the situation, that my imagination is, in my opinion, more of my enemy than my friend.

Situations where it's the idea of what's taking place, more than the reality, for example. Kisses and teeth on the neck, nails down the back, fingers and mouths on or in naughty partsr, the first slow slide or hard thrust of naughty parts connecting (how sad that I'm kinda turning myself on writing this super-vague description) -- all of these actions can be better in anticipation or recollection than they were or are in reality.

Whenn I think back on a sexual encounter, my brain sifts through what it remembers and enjoyed and throws it to the forefront -- making me think more fondly of an experience, and it makes my body attune to that person... at least until reality overrules hormones and gets to point out the facts over the fantasy.

Every now and then, however, nothing can rescue a bad experience. That's when all you can remember is the fact that he pinched holy hell out of your nipples without even finding out if you like pain; that he stirred instead of fucked, or that he started out like the Energizer bunny and just sped up from there; or that he uttered some awfully strange phrases while it was going on; or that you just kinda lay there, feeling bored and kinda uncomfortable, while he or she laboured above you... dear Gawd, my sex life sounds pathetic.

Granted, these are usually few and far-between occurances -- even for me -- but I think that we've all had those crappy nights -- or partners -- we'd love to forget. Or, make them into a really horribly experience with which to regale our friends. Hey, you have to get something out of the evening, no?

Of course, anticipation is fantastic foreplay, and can help make an average experience into a much better one. Finally getting to see/taste/touch the naughty bits of the person you've been lusting after for however long can make every touc, lick, kiss or other action word that much more intense, and the experience of that touch becomes more heightened and appreciated.

At least, that's how it works for me, in ideal situations -- I'm hot for him, he's hot for me, we've both been working towards this, and I ijust want to feel that ... right... there... almost... perfect!

But maybe it's different for you.

2004-10-12T09:24:00.000-04:00

The three-date rule?

I have to confess, I'm terrible at dating. Just terrible. I don't really know the rules, or how it's supposed to take place, or how quickly it's supposed to progress... it's confusing.

When I was younger ('cause I'm such an old fart now), I just fell into relationships. I'd like someone, he'd like me in return, and somehow we'd go from that to cuddling, to kissing, to being boyfriend and girlfriend. There was really no transition time, no "dating" or "seeing each other" or whatever... it just went from "just friends" to "hanging out a lot" to "boyfriend and girlfriend." That's the world I understood. It was familiar, and not foreign and scary -- like when I cross one province over to go to work.

After the final round of breakups with my First Love, I felt that I wanted to just try dating for awhile, and not just have 'relationships.' Well, several half-hearted relationships later, I finally reached a point where I was actually dating. And it was weird.

Don't get me wrong, I can handle the dating part just fine -- going out, having coffee or going to a movie with someone, going to events and getting to know one another -- but it's the rest of it that confuses me.

Like, if you never talk about seeing one another exclusively, are you obligated to do so? Even if you're sleeping together? Is it necessary to talk about seeing other people, or do you just do it until someone happens to raise the question and want to have The Talk? How long do you have to be seeing someone, either exclusively or not, before they become a boyfriend or girlfriend (which tends to require another talk)?

Fortunately, it's never really been an issue with anyone I've dated. The last few years have given me a great deal of practice in the dating scene. Lavalife helped that one -- it was a fairly easy matter to talk to someone online for awhile, decide they were worth meeting, and arrange to meet someplace close by for a coffee. Rarely did those evenings progress beyond that first coffee, but it was good practice for dating and for getting used to being blown off.

But it's been going from that initial meeting -- be it with someone I've met online, or someone that I've met in my regular days -- where the confusion lies. I never really considered the initial meetings dates, but I've since learned that some people do, so apparently I spent a few months dating an awful lot. So I'm practiced at it now, right? Not so much.

My radar got totally thrown out of wake by those dates. I stopped being able to tell when someone was actually interested in me in return, and I got tired of having pursuing people who were only moderately interested in me -- or who had no interest in dating, and were only looking to have sex. That's a whole other "Things I don't understand" article right there, lemme tell you.

And that's where the three-date rule comes in. Now granted, maybe this is an old throwback to when dating was just like in television and the movies (hah!), but I've heard this phrase tossed around before; that on the third date is when a couple will usually have sex for the first time.

Now, with someone you've known for awhile as a friend or something, I can see where that wouldn't cause a problem. And sure, I've had sex with people I didn't know almost everything about, but yet, I rarely feel as if I'm close enough to someone after only three dates to drop trou with 'em. Maybe that's just me, but I prefer to have some kind of connection with someone before I try to have great sex with them.

Basically, it has been my experience that casual sex and I don't really get along well. I can be a great time in bed, for sure, but I don't tend to want to be that great time with someone who just happens to be another warm body. I want to actually like the person I'm naked with, to feel something for them beyond "Well, I don't hate you," before I feel comfortable enough loosening up and showing them all of my moves.

Or at least, some of them. Can't shock the poor souls too early on, y'see.

I have problems sometimes revealing the extent of my kinks to someone I care about. You'd think that's when it's easier, but it's then that their opinions matter more and I'd hate to run the risk of scaring them off. That's where flirting comes in handy, for sure. However, it's only with someone that I care about that I'm interested in actually acting on my kinks, 'cause then I'm more likely to wind up enjoying the whole experience. I swear my head's against me all too often.

So, does anyone know of any hard-and-fast rules at which point someone becomes a boyfriend, or a girlfriend? Anyone have any experience with culling the herd to focus on one particular person? I mean, it must be fun to have that conversation with other people you might be seeing, when you decide to concentrate on that really special guy or girl. How serious do things have to get with one person before you decide to inform him or her of other people you're seeing? Is it acceptable, if you haven't had the "it's just going to be us two/three/four/etc." talk to still be seeing/sleeping with two, three, four, etc., other people?

This is why, with a few more years and a few more experiences under my belt, I prefer the relationship scene. So much less complicated.

2004-10-05T09:01:00.000-04:00

The Drunken Whore... Live

This Friday, I will be taking part in a durtygurls reading. I'm only one of the open mic-ers, but nonetheless... this is gonna be cool.

If you're interested in seeing the show, email me at whoresboudoir@yahoo.ca, and I'll give you some information on it. Basically, the show starts at 8 p.m., cover is $7, and it's going to be fun. As you might be able to tell, I don't have the information with me at the moment. Stupid work and its barring of access to outside email.

Anyhow... in the meantime, I could use your input as to what columns you think I should bring with me. I'm thinking I'll bring 4 -- I don't know how much time I'll have at this point, but I'd rather have too many than not enough. Personally, I was leaning towards something like, "You did what on my what?" and "And that's why... the lady is a tramp," but I want to know what you guys have to say. After all, you're the reason this site's around.

So, please, leave your thoughts in the comments section, and let me know what you think would be good to hear.

2004-08-30T23:01:00.000-04:00

The Drunken Whore Spouts Random Nonsense

... and no, I'm not drunk at the moment, either. I've just had a few thoughts floating about that I keep meaning to coalesce into actual posts, but they never seem to work out that way, so here we go.

I would love to be fucked hard and violently right now. Sink your teeth into the sides and back of my neck, dig your nails into my ass, shove me up against a wall and kiss me hard, press your hardon against me and make me feel that you're as on the edge as I am. Throw me down, take me from behind, hard and fast and deep, smack my ass, bite me more, rake your nails down my back.

From there...

It's interesting and weird sometimes to have sex with an ex-, especially when one or both of you have been with other people in the meantime. It's interesting to see how their or your technique may have changed, and how you respond differently to each other now, given how you've been 'trained' to someone else's touch and responses. It's weird to be with an ex- when they have new moves, and you think, 'I never taught you this.'

...onto...

Being with someone new after not having been with anyone new for awhile is also interesting, especially when their technique is better. All of a sudden, you're reminded, 'hey, the world doesn't work in quickies,' or 'hey, two hours can be spent on a single session of sex, not three of them,' or 'hey, I've finally found someone who understands when I say 'ow' or 'go slow' that I mean 'ow' or 'go slow'.' Hell, they may not even need to be told, 'go slow' -- it's just their style. Sure, they may not know how to cup your balls the way the ex- used to, or how hard they can get away with smacking your ass, but those are things that can be learned in time; technique or style, while it can be changed, is usually more ingrained in a person, I think.

...next...

Is it weird that I bought a box of condoms today based solely on the packaging? I like Durex, and they have this brand of "Love" condoms -- apparently less latex-y, thinner, with the wider shape at the head -- and I was curious, and I bought them. I considered also buying the box I usually like to get, the Intense Sensations ones, but I figured that this new box, added to my current stash, would probably keep me going for a little while.

I said it back at the beginning of these postings; I enjoy buying condoms, and picking out the new box. It's fun, so I guess it's funny that I can laugh at myself and the way I get suckered into buying things. Hell, I've bought condoms 'cause they were on sale, or 'cause I just felt like it. Buying condoms = getting laid. Getting laid = fun. I plan on having a lot of fun in the near future, and this year in general. But safe fun -- hence the condoms.

...finally...

It would be really nice to find someone who was kinky in the same regards as I am. Ideally someone who was my opposite, too; it's no fun dating someone more passive or more submissive than you in bed. Take charge, throw someone around, don't be afraid to be aggressive. Aggression and confidence and command is *hot* -- so long as you're cautious not to be an asshole or a bitch along with it. Make sure your attention is wanted and so on.

It'd be great to find someone to play with, especially when I have some nice birthday presents and other toys to enjoy. Ah well, soon, soon soon...

The sad thing is, this is the way my mind works more often than those coherent, single-topic posts I usually manage to achieve. Sort of. I guess this is what cold medication does to a person, eh?

2004-07-13T12:09:00.000-04:00

Once More, With Feeling

In my life, I've had a few serious relationships. Many have been bad; some have been varying degrees of good.

Now, as anyone who has known me -- or, especially, dated me -- can tell you, I have problems. One of those problems is that, though it can be a battle for me to truly love someone, once I care about them, it's often hard for me to let that go. Combine this with the fact that I'm still in touch, to some degree or another, with many of the better exes, and, well, you fill in the blanks.

Each boy I still care for represents different things to me, which also comes einto play on why I might still be long for this one or that one. Respect, long-term possibilities, great sex, common interests, comfortability, great conversation, new interests... sometimes these characteristics are found in combinations in one boy, but if I had to boil each relationship down to one or two key word(s), then there's the list.

Sometimes the longing for one trait or one person getes really strong, and I find myself missing that boy. I remember how things were between us, focusing of course, on the good times -- unless I want to dissuade myself from pining, in which case I focus on the bad. But sometimes I start wondering if we can even try again, and make it work this time.

We all know couples who've broken up and gotten back together. Hell, many of us have been that couple. Personally, when a couple I've known to have major problems does this, I start The Clock. On average, the couple has between about one to six months before they break up again, this time for good. In one of my two worst relationships, we spent around a year and a half breaking up every two to four months. So much entertainment for the masses.

However, sometimes, when enough time passes between the two "relationships," then sometimes it can work out for the couple in question. My First Love and I dated for a little over a year, broke up, then three years later, dated again for another two years, long distance, even.

With enough time apart, people grow, change, mature, develop -- ideally, that is. I could point to some people I know to whom time has not helped them. Hell, there are some boys I've dated that wouldn't mature if you paid 'em, but that's just a part of why I'm not still with them.

Sometimes, second chances are worth it, and people can make it work. Both of you have to wait it to work, of course, or at least be willing to give it a good effort, but it can happen.

One of the hardest things to do is ask someone if they want to try again. I'm not sure if it's harder if you were the dumper or the dumpee; either way, you're putting an awful lot of trust and pride on the line. The times I've done it, I've shielded myself; either written a letter, or held the conversation on the computer... not to mention rehearsed it so many times beforehand, or psyched myself up majorly in order to be able to get up the courage. What can I say? I only have so much courage -- and pride.

If i can impart any wisdom in this even, it's that it's not a good idea to get back with someone solely out of loneliness, especially if you first dumped them. Those break-ups/repeats are the ones that usually earn The Clock. It's the ones where the couple, previously fairly solid, broke up due to some sort of external forces or temporary insanity that manage to make Attempt Le Deux work.

2004-06-19T00:45:00.000-04:00

The Ties That Bind

Some people think that once you've slept with someone else, that changes things. That you can never be the same around them before.

Personally, I've found that really bad sex makes it a little easier to be "normal" around someone else -- if I've had really bad sex with someone (and the odds are so far working in that direction), it's easier for me to treat them the same as I always have... although I might occasionally snicker to myself. I'm petty that way.

Of course, I'm not 100% convinced that guys always notice it's bad, and not because I fake it, either. I don't believe in faking it. I think a friend of mine had a point when he said: If someone's having bad sex, they shouldn't fake it. Instead, they should pick up the phone and call someone -- a mother or father, for example -- and, during the act, hold a conversation with that person. The conversation would go something like: "Hey Mom, what are you doing? Me? I'm doing nothing." Apparently something like that would tend to get the point across, at least in his opinion.

But in my experience, if the sex has been that bad, I'm not terribly interested in going back for it -- unless I'm really into the person and willing to work on it. After all, first times together are rarely perfect.

But what about months or years later, when the two of you have (theoretically) more experience under your belts? Don't you sometimes wish that you could go back and show that person what it is that you've learned since? Maybe redeem yourself, if you suspected that it wasn't very good? Or if nothing else, show off a little?

I've had one experience of revisited sex, at least where much time had elapsed. In that case, about a year had passed, and while neither of us were really displaying new tricks, the overall event was pretty decent. It makes me smile to myself to see him now, knowing that no one else knows what transpired between us, but other than that, I am as normal around him as I ever was.

There are other people in my past that I still see every now and then, and I guess because the experience wasn't one that touched me emotionally, it doesn't have any hold over me. I can see those people and I'm not missing the naked "fun" that transpired, and I'm not wanting a repeat. It's when there was that emotional tie in there that I do wind up longing, or missing something.

Sometimes it's the sex that I miss; admittedly, if it was good sex, I will miss it. I'm not so proud that I can't admit that. But usually it's the closeness that we shared: the smiles, the laughs, the in-jokes, the stupid moments that were only funny then and may never really be funny again. Sometimes I even miss the bad times, 'cause they were all a part of that whole.

Maybe I'm just feeling emotionally unfulfilled lately, but I find it's that closeness that I had that I mourn and miss. Sex just doesn't have the same power over me, and that's a part of why I've had a hard time updating this site lately, I think. I've been exposed to too many people for whom sex is currently a primary focus and obsession, and that, more than anything, has kinda turned me off discussing the subject in great depth. For neglecting my readers, I apologize; it's simply been a strange time for me lately. I promise to devote my brain to matters of sex more often and see if I can't entertain you in the near future.

2004-05-14T11:47:00.000-04:00

And so, it came to pass...

...that it was time for this site to finally move to its own, independent URL. There will likely be a site tweaking in the nearish future for The Whore's Boudoir; there are some changes I would like to make, and I'm overdue to do things like update the archives and so on. I may even change systems, but I'm undecided on that part.

Anyhow, I know I'm severely overdue to update this site, but various life circumstances are sucking my will to live/update, so to my fans/passers-by, I apologize for leaving you hanging. Rest assured, the Drunken Whore you know and love is alive and well, just without sharing it here just yet. Or something.

For now, the new URL just redirects you to this site, but it's a little more compact, a little more fun, and it makes a little more sense:

http://www.whoresboudoir.com

As always, I thank you guys for being here and for staying with me through infrequent updates. This site's for you, and I'm glad you see fit to stay around and share it. I really appreciate it, believe me.

2004-03-18T12:15:00.000-05:00

The Drunken Whore Goes Online Dating

An Adventure in Disbelief and Hope

Since I’m old and bitter and never seem to meet anyone new, I decided a long time ago to test out some online dating sites.

I started out with one site, spoke to some nice enough people, and even met a few of them in person, but no sparks. One ongoing semi-friendship, however, so that’s been a bonus.

After some pushing and prodding from my trainer, as well as a great deal of apathy and curiousity on my part, I signed up for profiles on Lavalife.

I say profiles because there exist three categories on Lava – dating, relationship, and intimate encounters.

Since this was a semi-serious endeavour on my part, I started out with profiles just in the dating and relationship sections. But, alas, my curiousity and boredom got the better of me and I made an intimate encounters profile.

This is where the fun – in its most sarcastic, ironic and ridiculous sense of the word – begin.

Now, let me preface any of my negative (and positive) comments by saying that: 1) I went into the IE section with both eyes open; 2) if you go into a section designed specifically for hook-ups, expect propositions and the like; and 3) not all of the guys are awful, those are just the funniest stories to share, as with anything. I’m not trying to tash Lavalife or any other online dating service, just recount my own personal experiences – which may or may not reflect yours.

Okay, I think I’ve sufficiently covered my ass now.

Incidentally, the reason this column is so late (I actually started writing it February 15th, believe it or not) is because I had to amass enough material to write a proper column. Yeah, that’s it.

Anyohw, most of my time on Lavalife is innocuous enough. Sure, some people are dull or only looking to get laid, but you’ll find that anywhere. Of course, typically you’re not fortunate enough to see someone’s peener moments after saying hello to them for the first time (especially when it happens at 6 in the morning, just after waking up), but this is technology and progress, people!

Yeah, there’s nothing quite like the following conversation that took place between myself an a rather dull, unattractive penpal on MSN one afternoon:

Him: Want to see more pictures of me?
Me: (expecting head and shoulders images) (apathetically): Sure
Him: Do you want hardcore?
Me: Uh, stick to the tame stuff (expecting this will keep him to the head and shoulders images)
Him: (sends an image of his hardon)
Me: (flails wildly, makes a thoroughly disgusted face and some squeaking expression of disgust before immediately hitting “decline”) (all of which really happened, I shit you not)
Him: Oh, you’re not interested. That’s okay.

Let’s examine this conversational bit of wonder for a moment, shall we? First of all, if 1) I don’t know you, 2) I’ve never slept with you, or 3) I don’t ask, chances are very good that I don’t want to see your cock, whether it’s erect, flaccid or tattooed with a portrait of the prime minister in drag.

Second, what the fuck is with the guys in Lava having pictures of their cocks in either their backstage (i.e., invite-only) pics, or even just sending them around after two minutes of rather desultory conversation? It’s the same as the guys whose idea of chatting consists of “Hi... how are you... wanna watch me on cam/can I see you on cam/wanna get together and have a bath/sex/a threesome/join my wife/girlfriend and I...” ad nauseaum. Almost literally on that one, too.

Granted, I have a profile in the IE section. I can understand the requests, and yet... if anyone does more than merely glance at my profile, they can save themselves a lot of time, effort, credits asnd potential rude responses (or lack of any response). To whit, my profile states I don’t do hookups, and I’m not interested in guys old enough to be my dad. Basically, the more you’re on the wrong side of 30, the less likely I am to find you attractive (unless you are one of a very few select television/movie stars).

I do not list what encounters I am open to, but there is a population of guys on Lava that seems to assume that gives them carte blanche to suggest anything, and that “girl online” means “wants to see be seen naked/see them naked/engage in (insert choice here) form of cam/cyber activities.”

I think that unless it’s specifically stated, one should at least interact for a day or two before assuming the other wants to act out various scenes from porn films for you, but what do I know?

I also have to say that, were I of a different nature (which no one seems to understand, as being open-minded and able to discuss sex openly seems to mean I’ll do it with all and sundry who say hi to me), I could very easily have paid off all of my personal financial debts by now.

How, you ask?

Well, in my brief period of time on Lavalife, I have been offered $3000-$5000 to sleep with a guy’s brother for his 21st birthday (and official cherry-popping), sight-unseen (that is, I never saw a picture of either guy); I have been offered $3000 so someone could give me a massage; and finally, I was offered $3000 to strip on-cam one morning.

I figure all of these approaches are somewhat akin to approaching people in bars with pick-up line like, “Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” – eventually, someone will say yes. But in the meantime, mean do you ever seem like a loser to all of the others with whom you speak.

That goes double for guys who ask about whether or not I’ve “ever been with a REAL man,” or ask if you know about the g-spot; these are their opening lines, I’d like to point out. Even better, the first guy (the REAL man), argued at length with me about how I hadn’t been with a REAL man, because the majority of guys I’d slept with were around my age (I forget what he said when I told him the oldest guy I’d slept with, at nine years my senior, was also the lousiest lay, and still ranks amongst the worst... I think he said something like, “Then he wasn’t a REAL man...”)... and then two days later was again asking if I’d been with a REAL man yet.

Y’know what my definition of a REAL man is? One who isn’t a jackass, certainly, but also one who’s interested in making sure his partner has as good a time as he – or better – who gets to know her as a person so he can be sure she’s happy with their sex life, and who doesn’t insist – without knowing a thing about her – that she’s never had good sex. There’s more, but I’m saving my ranting for other things, and that makes a better column for later. Let’s just say that it has been my experience that guys around my age are often better lovers because they aren’t set in their ways, can be taught, want to be taught, want to see their partners happen, and I reiterate, are open-minded. This isn’t hard and fast rule by any stretch, since some of the guys my age are also some of the really crappy lovers, but... that’s yet another column (I haven’t posted in awhile, I’m saving up topics).

Since I’ve been on Lava, I’ve gone out with a few people I’ve found interesting – coffee meet-and-greets, dinner, movie, and so on. It takes some time to weed through to find the quality guys, but they’re there.

For anyone who is doing online dating or thinking about giving it a try, I present to you:

The Drunken Whore’s Advice for Online Dating

Carefully amassed and researched from my own personal experiences... as is everything that appears on this site, to be honest.

1. Don’t misrepresent yourself. If all you want is no-strings monkey sex, say so. If you want to date, say that. This prevents problems later on, although you are always allowed to change your mind – just don’t be surprised if the person you’re trying to get isn’t into the change of plans, too. Just because your mind has changed doesn’t mean his or hers has to, too.

2. Don’t lie just to keep someone’s interest. If you smoke, have a significant other, or a fear of aliens bearing giant dildos, say so, especially when someone asks you directly – even if it means you two don’t connect and you really wish you would. If I meet someone who smokes and he’s told me he doesn’t, I’m going t be annoyed at the lie and maybe disappointed or upset in general. If my heart was set on dressing up as an alien and butt-fucking someone with a strap-on, well, I’m going to miss out.
Worse, if someone’s told me they’re single and I find out otherwise, I’m going to be pretty pissed – I have no interest in getting involved with someone who’s taken, especially if he’s fooling around behind someone’s back. With their knowledge and consent is another matter, but since the people I’m talking to are strangers to me, I can never be certain that, “Yeah, ewe have an open relationship and it’s all good” is really true.

Finally, since what I want is someone to date and possibly more, I’d prefer someone who’s single – I don’t necessarily see myself in a long-term polyamorous relationship, but then again, you never know.

3. Read someone’s profile before you start chatting with them. This way you can see beyond the pretty face or chiselled abs and determine ahead of time if your odds are good or not.

For example... my profile says I don’t want someone old enough to have fathered me. So if you’re over 40, or especially if you’re fifty (my dad’s next birthday), do some math and realize that chances are, this includes you.

Regardless of how in shape, nice or handsome you think you are or even might be, you are still nearly or certainly twice my age, and this is repellant to me – so stop messaging me. Unless you are James Marsters, Hugh Jackman or a select few others, you will not be able to convince me otherwise.

Or, look at it this way – would you be okay with your friends chatting up your daughter? Talking about running his 50-year old hands over her young, nubile flesh? Sinking his wrinkly, mostly-hard cock into her tight, young pussy?

No. You wouldn’t, I’m sure. I feel the same way. You’re old. Stop messaging me.

(And I’ll admit, for some people this is fine. I’m not one of them, and my profile expressly says so. Just ‘cause your fantasy is to bang some chick half your age doesn’t mean mine is to fuck someone twice my age).

4. Don’t talk dirty, ask for cam sex, ask me to watch you beat off on-cam or send me pictures of your cock unless I say I’m interested. This goes a billion times over to calling me up and asking if it I phone sex.

Here are examples of conversation that doesn’t mean the above:

Hi.
Or, How are you?
Or, What are your weekend plans?
Or, No, I don’t have a cam/it’s broken/I’m not into that.

Here, for clarity’s sake, are ways in which I might show my interest:

I am really horny, and you are hot. Want to have cam sex?
Or, You have a really sexy body. How about I call you and tell you what I’d like to do to it?
Or, Could you send me pictures of your hot man-rod?

5. If someone says they’re not interested, take it in stride. There are thousands of people on Lava; I’m sure you can find someone who wants to see the puppet show of your penis baking flan that you recorded. Don’t push it; I’m not going to look at your email and go, “Well, he is 47... but he’s nice and in shape? I’m in!”

Conversely, if you’re not interested, feel free to say so, even after we’ve met in person. I’m a big girl; I can take it.

6. Don’t ask me for advice on how to get your girlfriend to agree to a threesome, or some other sex act. Just because she seems to want to doesn’t necessarily mean she does (fantasy vs. reality); I don’t know either o fyou, so I can’t honestly evaluate the situation or give advice; and finally, I really don’t care if it happens for you or not, to be honest. I don’t know you from Adam (or Eve), so I don’t hae a lot personally invested in your sex life. Really.

7. If I don’t reply to your message/email right away, relax. My computer screws up, my kitten demands attention, the phone rings, I’m in another section of Lava, I get busy, I try to do things other than just chat on Lava when I’m on my computer... calm down. It’s not rare for me to have more than one conversation going on at once, same as you. It happens, calm down and be patient.

8. Put a little effort into your profile, and especially your communication with me. Brains and humour interest me a lot mor than bodies, so I can’t bring myself to meet or sleep with someone who can’t communicate. If I want to fuck something dumber than a bag of hair, I have dildos and vibrators at my disposal – and even then, since I’m fucking myself, I know the conversation afterwards isn’t going to be awkward or stilted.

That made sense in my head.

Anyhow, let’s just say that these examples don’t exactly soak my undies:

u r relly cute
u r a total hottie!!!
MEOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!
what r u up too 2nite?

And other poorly-written communiques that I don’t have at my disposal. I don’t need someone who only writes with the Queen’s English, but someone who can at least recognize that short-handing words isn’t going to get in my pants any faster... and it’s certainly going to make me question their intelligence until they can prove otherwise to me.

9. Finally, if you’re interested in someone, especially after an in-person meeting, don’t be afraid to let them know somehow. Flirt a little, give them your number, ask them out for a change of pace, flat-out say it... remember, on-line communication is a lot different than in-person (I’ve never had a stranger on the street offer to beat off while I watched, or ask me to talk dirty to him, but such experiences are not uncommon on Lava), and tone/message/intent isn’t always as easy to read.

10. Don’t try to push someone into meeting somewhere or somehow they feel don’t want. If I’m suggesting coffee downtown, that doesn’t mean a movie and bath at your place... and if I say I’m not comfortable meeting at your place, that doesn’t mean I want your stranger ass at mine. Coffee, public place – it’s not painful, and it gives me a chance to talk to you and see how badly (and consequently, how soon) I want to jump you... or at least how soon I want to see you again. See? Works in your favour – at least, potentially.

Here endeth the lesson.

The run down on my dates? So far, fairly positive experiences. I bided (bid?) my time, waited to find a few I actually wanted to meet (or wasn’t 100% sold on, but not against meeting), and the experiences were good. The guys I met were perfectly respectful, no one made me feel uncomfortable (only one has kissed me to date, for example), and I took basic safety precautions – meeting in public locations at reasonable hours and so on. So far, I’m still alive and kicking.

I didn’t get on Lava expecting to find much of anything, at least as far as relationships and so on go. At best, I thought I might make a friend or two – at worst, meet no one. It’s been great dating experience, and it’s pretty decent for the ego – well, kinda. I picked a really flattering photo, and I don’t kid myself that those calling me sexy aren’t doing the same to a dozen other girls, but it’s still nice to be told I’m purdy. I don’t tend to get picked up (one bar pick-up to date), so it’s nice to know it’s not ‘cause I’m butt-ugly.

Anyhow, check it out for yourselves – don’t go just on what I say. It’s been said there are some regulars who chat up every new person; I haven’t tested this theory, but I don’t doubt it. If you meet your Mr. or Mrs. Right, I want to hear about it – and maybe get invited to the wedding? We’ll see.

In the meantime, here’s hoping things work out with the boy I’m eyeing, right? Right.

2004-02-14T08:53:00.000-05:00

Everything's worth a shot once, right?

SWF, open-minded, fun-loving, intelligent, seeks same for dating and fun times with the possibility of a relationship. You are in your 20s or early 30s, educated, employed or in school, mature and able to make me laugh and carry on a conversation. I am mature, educated, working, and looking for someone with whom to spend time. I like reading, writing, movies and hanging out and talking with/insulting friends. If interested, send picture and kind email to the proprietor of the site, who'll see it gets sent on its way.

Happy Valentine's Day, folks. Remember, lube is your friend.

2004-02-09T11:48:00.000-05:00

When I think about you, I touch myself

I was talking the other night with someone and they mentioned "the female equivalent of blue balls," and it got me wondering -- what exactly is the female equivalent of blue balls? I know I can get right up to just before an orgasm and stop with no negative repercussions except for a very grumpy/frustrated me. I don't have any physical pain from it (which I've heard can be one fun component of blue balls), and just being aroused from making out or fooling around may get me hot and horny, but not into any major discomfort zone.

My flippant response to the comment was that I usually found two fingers and a few minutes could take care of any problems I might have, but even that isn't entirely truthful. I don't always bother to get off when I'm horny, partly out of laziness and partly out of just enjoying the sensations, sometimes. Granted, other times I'll get off two or three times during the course of a day. *shrug* What can I say? I'm a bundle of contradictions.

Then I start wondering if most guys, when they get turned on from make-out/grinding sessions, go home or to their rooms or wherever and jerk off. I'm sure many do, but maybe not all. Maybe the time between the making out and the getting the opportunity kinda dulls the ardour, so to speak.

From there, I wander into territory whereby there are some friends, ex-boyfriends or people I know that I just don't imagine jerking off much. Maybe occasionally to relieve tension or something, but there are some people I know that just don't seem to have exceptionally high sex drives (or any at all), or who just don't seem the type to get down and nasty with their bad selves and dirty parts.

Yes, these are the kinds of thoughts that occupy my mind. I apologize to humanity.

There are some people I know who, while they may not wear their sexuality on their sleeve (so to speak), don't seem the type who are afraid to touch their bodies or who enjoy a good shag. But then there are others I know who seem to have their sexuality locked up rather snugly, and who don't seem particularly concerned with the sins/pleasures of the flesh. I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with it, it just strikes me as... I dunno. I guess every once in awhile I get into, "Wow, I can't believe people are different from me!" territory and get stuck there awhile.

Of course, on the other hand are the friends, ex-boyfriends or people I know who I wonder how it is they ever make it out of the privacy of their own bedrooms long enough to face the world for five minutes a day. There are some people I know who just can’t seem to keep their hands off themselves, or at least they give off that impression (or even state it outright). I think that this is an equally positive approach, but at the same time, some things are best enjoyed in moderation. Can we say chafing? Or even constantly having one’s underwear glued to oneself from lube or lotions?

Anyone who knows me would probably be amazed at the infrequency of how often I masturbate. I’m frequently lazy, too busy, or just don’t have the inclination to actually get down with my horny bits. Mind you, this has changed a fair bit since I’ve found my own little Whore’s Boudoir, but some nights, I’d just rather not bother. Sometimes one orgasm just isn’t enough, and then you’re up all night trying to finish, and people start wondering why you’re at work all the time with dark circles under your eyes… Naw, sometimes it’s just more fun to have the horny feelings and think dirty thoughts; then people wonder why you’re smiling all the time, and you can be creative with your answers... if you want to share.

I guess that, from years of it not really happening, I’ve developed a more laissez-faire attitude towards actually getting off myself. I know that I can do it when I want to do it, so I don’t feel the constant urge to make it happen. Either that or I’m really that much lazier than I thought, which borders on sad, I think. Of course, now and then it’s fun to make up for lost time with a day-long masturbation session, and it gives you such a rosy, peaceful glow to the cheeks.

Not those cheeks, that’s another column.

2004-01-22T14:56:00.000-05:00

Sitting in trees with girls

I have a secret – not all of my experiences in life have been with boys.

I’ll wait for the gasps and the horror – and drooling, for some of you – to stop.

From the time I started being more aware of and comfortable with my sexuality, an ever-evolving process, I’ve known I was somewhat curious about being involved with women. Once upon a time, I ... well, that’s not the point of today’s column. Yes, I hear the complaints.

Anyhow, since that time, I’ve never really done much to pursue any kind of female relationships/experiences, for a number of reasons: shyness, lack of really strong attraction to anyone I’ve met, and if nothing else, I likes the cock – I’ll admit it. Again.

However, every now and then life presents us with an opportunity for exploration or fun, and keeping in line with one of my New Year’s resolutions (the first year I’ve made ‘em, so I gotta keep ‘em) – this one to be more aggressive in pursuing opportunities – I recently had the chance to kiss a girl.

Admittedly I kissed a number of people that night, but kissing the girl was fun times. The only real issue I had with it was a height difference thing – she had a good head on me. I’m wee. Mind you, from the boys I date I’m used to that, but there isn’t usually a significant chest in my way.

Girls are fun in that way – when I hug other girls, I’m usually very aware of their chests in relation to mine. Most of my friends are male, so I’m much more accustomed to feeling a distinct lack of boobies when I hug someone – feeling boobies against me is a pleasant change of pace.

Girls are soft and snuggly. I really enjoy cuddling boys, but sometimes their shoulders or chests are kinda high and it’s awkward on the neck. With girls, guys never seem to have that problem – everything I’ve heard is that boobs make great pillows. Goodness knows that guys certainly love to use them as such.

I find a lot of celebrities nowadays seem to be foregoing the look of breasts, and that’s a real shame. I’m not into huge breasts – my own are pretty moderate-sized, and I think they’re quite nice – but I find that a flat chest isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing, either. At the same time, I’d rather see a woman with a flat chest than fake boobs any time.

I just find it rather sad that the current fashion trend for celebrities is disgustingly thin: Paris Hilton is a perfect example of this. The women on Friends have suffered the same fate; watch early seasons and tell me that Courtney Cox and Jennifer Aniston didn’t look so much better when they looked as if you couldn’t grate cheese on their sternums. That’s right, I said sternum, not abs.

I think what looks best on a woman is someone who looks healthy. Many actresses nowadays may be healthy, but they just work out way too much for me to really find them attractive. I don’t want to be able to identify every bone in someone’s upper body, but I also don’t really want to be able to lose a hand in their flesh, either. It’s all about what is best suited to your body, and if that means that your curves are more voluptuous than the ‘accepted norm’ – think of someone like Queen Latifah, or Missy Elliott, two beautiful full-bodied women – then all the more power to you.

I think that a sexy woman is someone who is toned, but still has some soft to her. I work out now, but I don’t want any part of me to be rock-hard. Even a guy with a rock-hard chest or abs, while he may be wonderful to look at, isn’t necessarily the most comfortable guy with whom to snuggle up. Although I gotta admit, there’s something mighty sexy about seeing tightly contracted abs or a muscled chest with a sheen of sweat working above you to make sure you’re having an equally good time...

But a guy doesn’t have to be super-buff to have that going on. Hell, just a guy working to make you feel good is pretty damn sexy in and of itself.

Anyhow, I think that a sexy lady is one with a bit of softness to her, and a guy can be sexy with some softness to him, too. I love a guy with nice, full soft lips – something I can nibble at or alternatively lick gently, depending on how the mood strikes. I have the same requirements in girl lips, too.

And, using the worst segue ever, but I’m running out of time to write this and it’s something that plagues my mind: what is it that guys find so sexy about two women kissing? In particular, seeing two women’s tongues playing together? I mean, I know why I like to see it – I can certainly imagine how it feels and appreciate it from a participant’s point-of-view, but what do men find so appealing about it?

Isn’t it fun when someone asks you to explain what turns you on? “I don’t know – just ‘cause.” Well, try and do me one better, if you please.

2004-01-07T11:33:00.000-05:00

The Whore’s Winter Woes

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I hate being cold. So it makes a great deal of sense for me to live in Canada, especially right in one of the colder cities around.

As a result/protest against the winter weather, I’ve turned my little apartment – my own personal Whore’s Boudoir, if you will – into something resembling a sauna, at least according to some. Granted, the heat isn’t always under my control, but...

Anyhow, what it means is that I’m perfectly comfortable wandering around my apartment bare-assed nakers, if I so desire. As I’ve gotten older (and heavier), I’ve become more comfortable with my nudity, ironically enough. Not that I’ve ever been really paranoid about appearing naked in front of significant others, but as I age, I’ve gotten better at accepting that I have what I have, and if someone doesn’t like it, well... not too much I can do.

However, my naked arse aside, in the past the majority of the boys I’ve dated have either had much higher body temperatures than me and/or didn’t mind the cold, or they lived at home and couldn’t really (or wouldn’t, really) do much about the heat.

One boy in particular used to drive me nuts by untucking my shirt (tucked in to keep me warm, dammit), sometimes using me to warm his cold hands, and he’d routinely try to have sex with me in the basement, beside the big glass sliding doors, in the dead of winter, with the heat completely shut off.

Now, sure, in the fall or spring, 15 degrees may not be terribly cold, especially when you’re coming out of a stretch of negative or single-digit degree weather, but when you’re already chilled and fully dressed, it’s not something you necessarily want to start stripping down in. Especially when the sex is not that satisfying for you.

Or maybe that’s just me.

We’re all different, and some people prefer cold weather, snow and the like – I’ve heard this from both men and women. But do these same people want to be nekkid and/or having sex in the cold? I haven’t heard.

See, I know of the turtle effect – peenies hiding away like scared little ... well, turtles – embarrassing their owners and making them declare, “I was swimming!” I’m also aware of growers vs. showers. Growers are men who appear small or average when flaccid, but who greatly increase when getting hard (or, as I prefer to call them, “pleasant surprises”). This contrasts with showers, men who don’t really change when they get hard (or, as I prefer to call them, “pleasant” – what can I say? I likes the cock). To me, seeing a teeny flaccid peenie isn’t that big of a deal (or disappointment).

But really, I don’t find myself wanting to be naked in the cold. If I’m lying there, shivering, chances are I’m not terribly focused on whatever fun stuff is going on.

Mind you, I think part of me isn’t terribly averse to knocking boots in the snow, on one of those nice, -5 or -10 degree days – if for no other reason than to say I’ve done it. Anyone with me? We could have a whole snowbanko rgy – it would sure take my mind off being cold and winter-grumpy.

2003-12-29T08:21:00.000-05:00

I'm not proud, I'll shill

I was going to put something in the title about whoring myself, but it just seemed to have the wrong connotations, used as you all are to the sexual content that appears here on occasion -- like when I'm getting any, and want to incorporate it into my site (like the info I learned this weekend that ties into You did what on my what?!?", but that's another article).

Anyhow, I recently received an email from a lady associated with the development of a new television show called Family Business. She asked if I was interested in receiving an advance copy of the pilot episode on DVD. I'll confess, I was intrigued and kinda tickled to have been asked, so I ponied up my address and kinda forgot about it.

Early last week I received it in the mail and popped iton. The show centers around Adam Glasser, more famously known as Seymore Butts, and his family ties to the adult film industry: his mom, Lila, who handles the bookkeeping, his cousin Stevie, who runs the distribution side of the business, and his son, who lives with him.

The pilot episode focused mainly on introducing and establishing the characters, and introducing the idea of Adam's quest for a girlfriend -- we get to see him go on two blind dates, and see how they react to his job.

The industry isn't ignored in the pilot, but it's not the real focus, either, aside from a few scenes of his editor working on a film and panicking about how bad it is (which, upon reflection, could have been completely gratuitous and/or staged, but I'm not convinced they're that great of actors), and some scenes of him and his older (much older) cousin auditioning some men and women -- which consists of a few questions and some pictures.

The entertaining part of that scene was seeing some poor schmo try to get a hard-on whilst Cousin Stevie roamed about and whistled. Somehow I doubt that was the glamorous view of porn that the guy had had in mind.

Adam's son was a part of the pilot, but he wasn't featured, nor was he exploited, in my opinion. He actually seemed kinda camera-shy, but no one was chasing him around, either. I know a lot of people would be horrified at the idea of someone in the adult film industry having a child and still staying in the industry, but it's certainly not my place to pass judgement. When Adam did the interviews, he asked his mom to come mind his son, so what more could you ask for?

As for the show itself, well... I'm not sure. It ends with his mom saying she has a nice girl for him to meet, so it gives you a head's up on what'll happen next episode. If the show revolves around his quest for a girlfriend, I'm not sure I'd want to keep watching. At some point, something like that just gets wearisome.

If, however, it ventures more into the industry and how he got in it, how people interact within it, how it affects their daily lives, whatever, that would be more interesting to me -- but that's me. Plenty of others would just want the boobies and sex shots, I'm sure.

Overall, I'd say that I'll likely watch another episode, if I were to find it on tv or receive another teaser copy. I'm mildly curious to see where things will go. I'm not about to go out of my way to pay to see this, though -- at least, not yet.

So the show is Family Business, and it starts airing January 6th, on Showtime. If you're a fan of Seymore Butts, I'd say for sure, check it out. If you're just a fan of the industry, well, try it out -- you may surprise yourself.

2003-12-11T22:55:00.000-05:00

May - December romances? No, thank you!

I read an interview recently with Jack Nicholson that had him discussing how he's similar to his character in that new movie, Something's Gotta Give.

In it, he states how he's a rogue, or used to be, but has slowed down somewhat due to health reasons.

Now, I look at Jack Nicholson and I see an unattractive, flabby, wrinkly, saggy-skinned, vaguely creepy old man.

Yet this man is a rogue, and gets women half his age on a regular basis.

Something's Gotta Give just totally plans on that, and that drives me nuts. I'm so tired of seeing movies with dirty old men knocking boots with women half their age -- and those are the "old" ones -- and having some bigwig movie exec somewhere thinking that I'm supposed to buy this shit.

Men are allowed to totally go to pot and still get laid on a regular basis, but women, oh, Heaven forbid a woman get a little big around the middle or let some wrinkles appear. Then they're put out to pasture, 'cause we all know that only in movies where they're trying to make a point are women actually allowed to age. In real life, women don't turn a day past 23. Nothing sags, no stretch marks, children are found under clover leaves so that we can avoid the problems associated with water retention, swollen ankles and little things like hemorrhoids or farting. Oh wait, sorry, I forgot -- pregnancy is a beautiful thing and doesn't involve anything "icky."

Anyhow, that's not my point. My point is, what the fuck is up with men getting away with the natural ageing process and women being hidden in caves the minute they dare age towards 30? Why can't women date men their own ages, or even younger? Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher totally aside.

When a woman dates a younger man -- if memory serves, Cher was a good one for this -- she's a cradle robber, she's sad, she's pathetic, she's trying to recapture her youth... but when a man dates a younger woman -- has Jack Nicholson ever dated anyone his age? -- he's a stud, he's a rogue, he's just doing what men do.

Bull shit. Men do what they choose to do because they've been socially programmed to do it, be it monogamy, polygamy, or whathaveyou. The same applies for women. Admittedly, we're all getting some backbones and realizing that hey, life doesn't have to mean 2.3 children, a picket fence and a heterosexual significant other. Life can be whatever you make of it, right up to 2.3 partners, no children, and the only pickets are in the bedroom to chain up your heterosexual/homosexual/bicurious significant other. I think that this is fabulous.

But at the same time, I can't ever see myself attracted to a saggy, wrinkled, lecherous old man like Jack Nicholson. When I see someone like that, I do not think about tearing off his clothes and licking him all over -- no way, no how. Hopefully when I reach that age, I'll look at my husband -- who will be around my age, thank you very much -- and have those thoughts, but for now, I save 'em for the sweet young things, who are nicely built, have great stamina, and lots of enthusiasm and the willingness to learn. I'd rather not saddle myself with a stubborn old coot who can't be taught new tricks.

Ooh, how ageist can I get? Well, I'm just keeping up with society, here. Lots of people are going to point to couples like Nicholson and whatever sweet young thing he happens to be -- *shudder* -- dating at the time and say that power attracts women. Personally, I scoff. Sure, power may attract some women -- hence Clinton's affairs, hence the casting couch, I know -- but I'd like to go on record as saying that ain't the case for at least one woman.

What attracts me is a guy who can make me laugh, and who can carry on a conversation -- looks come somewhere after that. Now, I've seen a few Jack Nicholson movies, and quite frankly, I wasn't doing a lot of laughing during As Good As It Gets -- mainly, I was creeped out by the supposed "romance" going on between Nicholson and Helen Hunt. But at least she was a *little* bit closer to his age than Amanda Peet, one of his costars in his current film. Can we say granddaughter material? Sure, she may be over the age of consent, but scale both their ages down 25 years, and aren't we into the same age-frame that everyone's busy persecuting Michael Jackson for?

Okay, that one's a stretch, but I still have the hibbly jibblies from the idea of Jack Nicholson naked, let alone the idea of that naked flesh touching someone who's less than ten years older than me, especially when he's triple my age. I'm off to gaze longingly at some nice young actors in order to get my libido somewhere close to back.

2003-11-23T20:22:00.000-05:00

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Everyone lies. Everyone: "Sure boss, I'd love to do the filing tonight!" "No, honey, it doesn't bother me when you and your girlfriends get all hoochied up to go out clubbing!" "No, sweetie, you're the only guy who's ever made me come that hard. No, no one but you has ever made me scream."

And yes, as much as honesty is touted as the best policy -- and I do follow it... sometimes -- is anyone honestly (there's that word again), truly truthful 100% of the time to everyone?

No.

Oh, I can hear the protests starting already, but come on! When was the last time you told a boyfriend or girlfriend, "I'm dumping you because you're an asshole/bitch, you make me feel like shit about myself, and you're a boring fuck"? How about, "You look great, except for that collection of moles on your chin that spell out "Hate me"? Or even, "No, I love hearing about how great your ex- was in bed"?

Okay, so that last one is a pretty extreme example, and not too many people would be too thrilled to hear a great deal about that one. But most of us are pretty quick to set aside the little things in order to make the river of true love flow more smoothly.

And honestly, I don't think there's much wrong with that. I will tell white lies to friends, family, and other loved ones in order to ensure that hurt feelings are kept to a minimum.

I call it harnessing The Bitch. This is the vicious person who lives inside of me that thinks, "Why are you propositioning me? Don't you realize that I wouldn't even consider sleeping with you if you were the last man on Earth? That's what dildos are for!" (or for a better quote, from 10 things I hate about you: "Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?"). This is the honest person that lives in my head that thinks, "I'm no size queen, but what you've got doesn't look like it would satisfy a hamster." This is me, wishing I could unleash The Bitch enough to say, "If you fuck the way you kiss, I'm going to end an evening with you feeling sticky, confused and very let down."

Don't act so shocked. You all have this person in your heads, you just temper him or her, same as I. I do acknowledge her, though. Why do we temper this person? So that people's feelings won't be hurt. You don't tell someone that you're dumping them because they bore you/you're not turned on by them anymore/you've lost interest in them. Instead, you tell them you've found someone else (although this could be true)/that you need to get your shit together and you have to be single to do it/you've found religion and it doesn't allow room for a relationship.

The risk in doing something like that is that it often leaves the other person hoping. Hoping that once you get your shit together/move back to town/get your wild oats sown/have time to sort out your head, etc... that you'll want to get back together.

So every once in awhile, when it comes down to it, you have to be honest. Brutally, painfully honest. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but sometimes honesty ise the best policy. Tell your (now less) significant other that you don't see any kind of future with him or her. Tell them that as much as you may find them special and amazing (okay, there may be some room for lying), that you've grown apart/moved on/moved out of town, and things between the two of you are over.

Another side of this coin is when a friend propositions you/expresses interest in you that isn't reciprocated -- that's when you have to come up with a whole other string of lies/half-truths/full truths that are designed to keep from crushing his or her spirit, yet still get your message across.

Have fun with that one, and let me know what works -- 'cause I've never had any luck with it.

2003-11-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

“We’re gonna need another Timmy!”

In the many years that I’ve been (and don’t tell anyone this, it’s a secret), sexually active, I’ve had some good sex. I’ve had some bad sex. And then, I’ve had some fantastic sex. Awesome sex.

Not just the tearing down the draperies, chandelier in a pile on the floor, how did I get this bruise on my arm/how did we wind up upstairs from the basement? sex, but some really close, sweet, honest and loving sex, too.

Granted, the warm and tender sex is great, but that’s not the kind that you want to sit down and ~~brag~~ talk about with your buddies/girlfriends over beers/coffee. At least, not for very long:

“So, my boyfriend and I had a really nice, sweet session of lovemaking last night. He was so tender and gentle, and it was so great.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”

[sfx: crickets chirping]

On the other hand, who hasn’t called up someone with the, “Oh my Gawd do I have stories for you, we have to get together soon so that I can tell you about this. You want a hint? Check out my upper arm. Another hint? Bean bag chairs.”

Or maybe that’s just me. Not those experiences, I mean [sfx: coughing], but the ~~bragging~~ talking part. I like to share experiences, what can I say?

Anyhow, I will admit that yes, the sweet and tender lovemaking is great. But honestly, that’s the kind of sex you can have with any boyfriend/girlfriend. That’s the kind of sex when the two of you are feeling loving and romantic and want to spend a nice evening/weekend just sharing your love.

Now, since your favourite Drunken Whore isn’t exactly in a boyfriend kind of place right now (as in, not exactly having one at the moment), we’re going to instead focus on the down-and-dirty side of sex. And face it, I know that’s what you guys come here for anyhow.

So, what the hell does my title have to do with raunchy sex-having? Chemistry! (For a further explanation, see the end of this article. I love reaching for my titles). Great, dirty, clothes torn/hanging from every piece of furniture around, we may have set off car/security alarms for a three-block radius sex doesn’t happen all that often. It especially doesn’t happen if you’re banging someone with whom you don’t have great sexual chemistry.

Great sexual chemistry doesn’t happen very often, and it’s a damn shame. Although at the same time, it makes you really value it when you have it. Great sexual chemistry is when you find yourself looking at your partner and going from 0 to horny in less than three seconds because all of a sudden you want nothing more than his cock/her pussy inside/wrapped around you (man, being gender all-encompassing makes for weird sentences). Great sexual chemistry is when you finish fucking, you’re lying there together sweaty, sticky and panting, and you look at one another and do it all over again. And again.

Great sexual chemistry... is when your interests are similar enough or overlap enough that you have a vast array of sexual experiences to have together, and it’s not a huge stretch to explore the others’ fantasies. In less vague language, I’m talking about a couple where one has perhaps an interest in BDSM, the other is into latex/vinyl, and the couple is both open-minded enough and willing enough to encompass both interests in the bedroom. It’s not as much of a stretch as it sounds.

Great sexual chemistry can happen straight off the bat; you see each other from across a crowded room and ten minutes later you’re fucking in the parking lot. I’ve been told it happens. Sexual chemistry is something that can be instantaneous, and for a lot of people is. I find that for me the initial honeymoon period/horniness period of a new partner is initially hard to distinguish from the sexual chemistry part. That first little while, when the two of you are spending all of your time fucking and it’s more the idea of the sex than the sex itself that’s a turn-on, that’s the honeymoon period.

But great sexual chemistry outlasts that, and means that you still want to fuck each other rotten after several months of dating, after the initial thrill is gone, but you still get wet/hard from kissing/being close. It’s when you still fantasize about your partner when you beat off, and can’t wait to have anything from plain ol’ vanilla to whips/chains/ropes/costume sex with them. Again and again and again.

Just like love, great sexual chemistry doesn’t come around an awful lot, but (still like love) when it’s there and it’s great, boy, is it great. You can still have great sex without it, but (and the corny side of me is going to say still like love), it certainly elevates the experience.

---

And to explain the title reference, bear with me here: over ten years ago there was a television show on called Dinosaurs. One of the television shows that the characters would watch was something called, “Mr. Wizard’s World.” Mr. Wizard would conduct highly dangerous science experiments, and he always had a little buddy/assistant called Timmy – who would promptly get killed off during each experiment because he wasn’t using any safety precautions (Mr. Wizard wouldn’t give him any). Examples of this would include things like staring directly into a rocket booster when it was being ignited, and so on. After Timmy died, Mr. Wizard would come out from where he was safe, see the dead kid, and holler, “We’re gonna need another Timmy!” That all said and done, science experiments are related to chemistry, and there you have my title. Shut up, it’s my column.

2003-11-05T12:54:00.000-05:00

I wanna feel you from the inside...

He pushed me up against the wall and pulled my shirt off over my head. Pressing his body against mine, I could feel his hard cock pushing against me, and it made me even wetter. All I could think about was how desperately I wanted to feel him fuck me, feel his skin against mine, his mouth biting my shoulder, my neck, his tongue deep inside my mouth, his hands on my tits... I dropped my hands to his waist and undid his pants as fast as I could, still desperately kiss him all the while. My main thought was to get his clothes off and get him on the bed, but he had me pinned against the wall, and he wouldn’t let me move. I slid his pants and boxers down as far as I could reach, then used my foot to shove them off the rest of the way. Hungrily, I reached for his cock, but he intercepted my hands and held them above my head, then used his foot to nudge my legs further apart. He held my wrists in one hand, and used his other to guide the head of his cock back and forth across my wet lips, teasing me and making me want him even more...

Sorry, I think I switched up websites there for a bit. I was going to title this post, “I want to fuck you like an animal,” but then I thought that wouldn’t make it very work-safe, so instead I took the second line of the song. Make it a little friendlier, dontchaknow.

There’s been a lot of discussion in various weblogs lately about how it is that women always seem to go for assholes, leaving all the nice guys behind and spanking their meat to pornography (another discussion for another column). As always, when it comes to sex- and relationship-related issues, I have something to (finally) say about that.

I’ve heard it time and time again: women want assholes. I’ve seen many of my male friends take this really to heart and play it out, finding some measure of success with it and having it even become a part of their personality, something that I find rather sad. Personally, seeing this put into play just makes me want to go and start hitting ~~people~~ things.

I’m going to do something I rarely do, and that’s make a blanket statement: women do not want assholes. Who would want someone that treats them like shit? Few women I know (i.e., none) have ever said, “I wish my boyfriend/husband would ignore me/my desires/my wishes/my interests/my needs/my feelings.” Okay, I’ve never heard any women say as much, but I don’t think it’s a common statement.

At the same time, women do not want men who put them up on a pedestal. Ha-ha, you thought I was going to make this easy for you, didn’t you? No way. Yes, we want to be treated well and respected and all that other stuff, but we also want guys to realize that we are human and fallible and we do things like shit and piss and bleed and cry and feel miserable and feel happy, and make sense and not make sense and feel horny and feel not horny and all those other things that you, too, feel.

Men do not get an exclusive on the gross bodily functions, nor do they get an exclusive on bad days. And for the record, just ‘cause a woman’s having a bad day doesn’t mean it’s in any way related to her period. Some of us are very unaffected by our periods, I’ll have you know.

But anyhow. We want someone who’ll listen to us and not try to immediately solve things. We want someone who can commiserate and relate and say, “Boy, your boss really does sound like a jerk,” or, “yeah, she really was being a bitch to you.” Some guys don’t do this, and that’s what we have girlfriends for – they’re the boyfriends we don’t sleep with... unless there’s a sleepover and baby doll nighties involved, and the pillow fights and the oil come out... well, that’s another column.

Okay, you’re tired of all of this – you want to know where the asshole factor comes in, right? Well, he can come into the bedroom, within reason. He’s the guy who’s not afraid to take charge, who’s not afraid to push us up against a wall and really initiate sex. The cuddling, sweet, massage approach is all well and good, but sometimes – and here’s another surprise about women – we just really want to get fucked, and fucked hard, and fucked right. If you’ve been with us long enough, you know how to do this by now, right?

This is where the lack of pedestal is important. Recognize that as your girlfriend, we do get special privilege, but that doesn’t mean that we lose our sexual desires and needs that existed before the girlfriend label. Your girlfriend is still the same chick that you plowed standing up outside a bar one drunken night, or that you took from behind in the car on the side of the road, where you’d pulled over because you were too damn horny to wait until you got to someone’s apartment. Just because we become your girlfriend doesn’t mean we don’t still want the hot, sweaty, monkey sex.

Of course... (oh, how many times can I go back and forth on this and confuse you totally?)... we also love the cuddling. That’s why we have a boyfriend, and not just random hookups in a bar; we want the cuddling and the love as well as the hot, sweaty, monkey sex. But the important thing is that we don’t want cuddling to always have to lead to sex. That’s kinda frustrating, and not necessarily why we want the cuddling in the first place. Show us physical affection, but don’t always turn physical affection into getting physical, if you know what I mean.

The appeal of the asshole? The mystery. The uncertainty. The excitement of not knowing where things stand. The length of time the attraction for the asshole exists? Eh, about three weeks. Maybe a bit longer if the sex is really great. Sure, be a little elusive and whatnot all you want at the start, but if a girl can’t rely on you, she’s going to find someone else to start bedding soon enough.

At least, that’s how I’ve always done it. I’ve given up on the uncertainty – so not worth my time. If someone can’t recognize that I’m worth their time and attention, why should I invite ‘em into my boudoir?

2003-10-24T13:47:00.000-04:00

Where do we go from here?

I’ll be breaking a bit from my established format for this week; I want to write a bit differently for a change.

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of the Whore’s Boudoir (I’m so unaccustomed to writing that without hyper-linking it). At least, it marks a year since I originally ‘launched’ the site. The first real content appeared a few days later.

The last year of writing here has been fun, enlightening and therapeutic... all kinds of things, really. I started writing because I had an idea for a column that didn’t really fit the established style of my personal blog.

The response to this site has been fantastic. Readership took off much faster than it had (or has yet to have) for the Litterbox (helped in no small part I’m sure to google and yahoo searches for “whore” or “boudoir”), and the sex blogging community of which I’ve found myself a part is just wonderful. Those of you who have watched or used my blogroll on here may have seen the list grow; every time I turn up someone else who has done me the favour of linking to my site, I do the same for theirs. A few of those sites (Word Oyster, Eros Blog, Daze Reader, No-Undies.net) have been wonderful for the growth and exposure of the Whore’s Boudoir, and I hold the people behind them in great regard and appreciation. Not to mention a few of the webmasters and webmistresses (ooh, I love writing that) have become great supporters of myself and my site, and even in a sense, friends.

I remember how surprised and amazed I was the first few times that strangers posted on my site. It took some getting used to to let go of the self-conscious “oh my God my friends are reading this” feeling, but having those strangers post has helped a great deal. I’m usually able to set aside my self-consciousness about my audience and simply work from whatever my muse or my mental needs have demanded. That’s not to say that I’m not aware of my audience; there are in fact several columns that need to not be written for awhile so that I can hide their real-life connections from some of my friends. *grin*

Anyhow, this blog has seen me through several break-ups,celibacy, and hours of thought, effort and conversation. I’ve spent great deals of money in my pursuit of research, and I’ve done it all for you, my readers. Such is the price I pay for being a dedicated sex blogger.

I’ve never pretended to be an advice columnist, although my site has been called such. I’ve never pretended to have all the answers; rather, I just think about things, write about them, then let you discuss them and debate them all you’d like. I’ve found a few references to things I’ve written on other peoples’ sites – either someone mentioning one of my articles in their blog update, or someone commenting, saying, “Go read this article – she talks about it.” I love that.

Some of my columns have written themselves, and these ones often seem to be my favourite. I seem to think that if it writes itself, then it’s a good column. Others have been a real struggle to churn out, and sometimes I’ve just had to step back and take a break – but still you, my readers, return, and I’m so very grateful.

You’ve been tremendously supportive, whether my writings have echoed or contradicted what you’ve personally felt, and two of the best compliments I’ve received had one person telling me I’d made her cry, and the other had someone telling me that sometimes she forgot I was writing from my perspective, that it wasn’t her thoughts here on the screen.

This site has undergone some changes since its inception. I’ve changed the layout, changed the style of archiving, added pictures, added links, added tracking sources, and so on. What does the future hold? Well, I’m hoping still to incorporate audio blogging – so that those of you who are too rushed to read, or want to hear how it sounds in my crazy head, can do so. I’m hoping to incorporate different types of columns; have a section where I review things, have regular articles, whatever. You know – basically rip off every other sex blogger out there, right?

I’m also planning to move this site to a dedicated domain name, and possibly integrate all of my various sites under one heading. Before I do that, though, I’m going to need to learn some more about HTML, Blosxom, Moveable Type, or something; Blogger’s been wonderful, but some things I want to do with it aren’t entirely compatible.

Anyhow, this has been long enough for now. The next little while should see my Archives by Title section finally updated, as well as some minor template repairs. Once again, thank you for having been there for the past year (or smaller amounts of it), and I look forward to continuing to write for you.

Your favourite drunken whore,
Jen X

2003-10-13T23:50:00.000-04:00

"So... umm... er... uh... yeah? Okay?"

Every week I write this column, I highlight something or another that I say is really hot or really sexy. I'm guilty of saying that many different things are "the sexiest" or "the hottest."

Well, this week is no different -- I'm going to do the same thing. However, I will state for ever and for always that the sexiest thing, hands down, bar none, no arguments, is confidence.

Sure, plenty of things turn me on, but guaranteed to get me wet is someone I'm attracted to putting the moves on me with confidence. I've said before, the sexiest kiss I've had involved someone sliding his hand into my front jeans pocket, tugging me towards him, then kissing me. Fucking hot.

Sure, insecurity, uncertainty and all that other stuff enters into everyone's minds. But if the guy or girl you're eyeing appears to welcome or want your advances, it's pretty safe to assume they won't punch you in the stomach if you kiss them. I make no guarantees about further moves, though -- although my experience shows that few guys will reject further advances, particularly blowjobs. Although maybe that's just due to my mad skillz.

I'm sure you've all heard the old saw about the biggest sex organ in the body being the brain. It's very true. How many of us have had a boyfriend or girlfriend try moves that we just weren't feeling ilke welcoming? In situations like that, if you don't want to, you just won't get into the situation, even if the moves feel good. Hell, even if you have the sex and such, and maybe enjoy it physically, you might not feel it was all that great if your head wasn't into it.

But, as always, I digress. Confidence, people! Find something sexually that you do well -- be it kiss, give head, get wet fast, come easily, last a long time, hold an erection after an orgasm, fuck like a piston, roll your hips, clench your PC muscle, scream, leave claw marks, give directions, follow directions, welcome new ideas, whatever, and draw it to you. Tell yourself, "I do (fill in the blank) well," and draw your confidence from that.

Gradually, that self-assurance will spread as you realize that that paritcular mad skill translates to other moves -- your great kissing skillz lend themselves to kissing necks, or your willingness to listen to directions and try new things means your odds of picking up some new ideas or techniques are pretty good.

Now, the flip side to confidence is that it can often be intimidating to people. Guys are often frightened or intimidated or uncertain around a confident woman. The one guy I just polled explained, in a nutshell, that it's slightly emasculating -- guys like to feel in control, responsible, and suchforth, and encountering a confident woman -- and by this I mean sexually confident -- can be somewhat rattling to their own confidence. They start sometimes questioning their own prowess; silly men.

Personal confidence is related, but different. Having self-confidence and being self-assured or independent is a very positive thing. I like dating people with self-confidence, and a sense of independence. I find it ties in well to trust, respect and all that other good relationship stuff.

I also like dating people with sexual confidence. Having someone say they're good at (insert act here), with the confidence to make me believe it? Fantastic. Well, so long as I'm interested to begin with, but that's another tangent.

Of course, the final note? It's a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Be confident that your advances might be welcome, but be a little careful, too. Read the other person, and if in doubt, ask. You can ask outright, or you can introduce it in a flirtatious manner and see how the other person responds -- if they don't respond positively, then you can at least brush it off as just joking, as long as you weren't being overly obnoxious:

"Tickle your ass with a feather?"
[outraged] "Excuse me?"
"Particularly nasty weather!"

Now, I don't mind someone who's a little awkward or uncomfortable -- I get stupidly uncomfortable and full of jokes when I'm feeling weird. But there's really something to be said for someone that pushes you up against a wall and just plants one on you -- so long as they keep it going long enough for me to kiss back. Otherwise, it's just a hot tease... but as always (especially as this article's already quite long enough), that's another column.

As for me, I'm off to intimidate me some boys and men.

2003-10-09T22:00:00.000-04:00

One and One and One Makes Fun

"...there were three in the bed and the little one said..."

How disturbing is that? I've just tied a Sharon, Lois and Bram song from my childhood (ooh, I've just hinted at my age) to threesomes. 'Cause yes, that's the subject to which the title this time refers.

Being in a threesome is like having that slimming pair of pants for work -- you're able to mix and match them with almost any top...

Wait, that makes no sense. I'm so not a fashion person -- unless it's black, covers next to nothing, and made from silk, satin or lace.

Where was I? Oh yeah, threesomes. If sex is great with one person focusing on your wants, needs, desires and body parts, how could it be anything but better with two people doing the same, right?

Threesomes are like anything else with sex; sometimes they're hot and wet and hard and sexy... and other times they're awkward and weird and you're left with a sticky, uncomfortable feeling -- and possibly one or two people you can't quite look in the eye.

Threesomes (or moresomes) can be difficult for some people to handle, so to speak. When naked with our partners, we're at our most vulnerable -- especially when turned on -- and insecurities can set in. All of a sudden, you may find yourself feeling more aware of the things you dislike about your body, or you may be hyper-aware of someone else's -- especially if they're of the same gender as you.

And, if they're the same gender as you, then there's the chance that you may start to worry that they're better than you and that your partner might like them better, and and and...

But at the same time, you may be totally secure in your relationship and not worry that someone else would be able to screw it up -- in fact, they could only enhance it. It really depends on how you feel going in. Using a threesome in an attempt to solidify or strengthen an ailing relationship is, in my opinion, not the best idea. It may work, but it may enhance all of the problems that already exist.

Now, that's not to say that threesomes are all doom and gloom. On the contrary, they can be great fun. After all, there are two hands looking to please you, two mouths on your favourite spots, the potential of two pussies, two cocks, or a combination of the two for your fun... sounds good, right?

A lot of people have differing advice for what's the best way to go about having a threesome. Whether there should be lots of conversation with the particulars ahead of time, whether it should come about as a result of flirtation and booze, whether it should be a "guest star" invited into an already existing relationship... but really, there's no best way for everyone.

I'd have to say the most important part is just to make sure that everyone involved feels comfortable saying "I'm out" at any point in the proceedings. What can sour the experience more than anything is feeling like crap at some point and not saying so. If you feel like things aren't working out for you as well as they ought to -- especially emotionally or mentally. If you're going to do something that's new to yourself sexually, it's worth it to make sure that it's as positive an experience for you as possible.

2003-09-11T01:04:00.000-04:00

Breaking up is hard to do

Hands down, break-ups are the absolute worst part of relationships. It's one thing if you and your ex- live in different cities or different parts of the same city, because then perhaps your paths won't cross, making it a bit easier to handle.

But when you work together, see each other at the gym or in the same social circles or what-have-you, it's awful.

There you've been, feeling like ass, flat hair, puffy eyes, crappy clothes, sad demeanour, and there they are, looking like their life hasn't changed in the least -- or that it's only gotten better (or maybe this is just my luck). Always better, never the worst for losing out on the wonderful, amazing, fantastic, intelligent, fun, gorgeous, hot and sexy mad-skillzed person that is you.

Yet, somehow, they don't want you anymore: "It's not you, it's me. I've changed. I want different things in life. We've grown apart. Etc., etc." Here is this person who used to lavish love and affectino on you, told you you were a million times sexier than Jennifer Lopez (barf) or Brad Pitt (also barf) could ever hope to be, told you they never wanted to hurt you, that they loved you... now this same person doesn't want to be your one and only? What the fuck?!

Getting dumped is the biggest kick in the self-esteem I know -- it ranks even above being the "fat girl" in a group of near-anorexic girls out for a night of drinking; and I know, 'cause I've been the "fat girl" and I've been dumped.

I start off trying to convince myself that he's the one missing out, that he'll miss me, that he'll realize how happy I made him... and then it turns into a pity party, invitation for one: If I'm so awesome, great, fun, smart, etc... why doesn't he want to be with me?

Sometimes other things bring people apart, and that's pretty ass, too. Maybe it wasn't the relationship, but other circumstances -- we've grown apart, I'm moving away, I have too much baggage. I think in some ways these are the worst, because the irrational, selfish little voice in my head pops up at moments like these to squeak, "Yeah, but if he loved you enough, he'd try." I hate that little voice with the fiery passion of ten thousand burning suns -- it represents both all of my hopes and all of my insecurities wrapped into one package of awful.

Anyhow, back on track. Well-meaning friends can be awful at times like these, too: "Oh, you'll find someone better" -- I've heard that phrase from the guy himself, too. My reaction? "I think he's great, perfect for me, exactly who could I find that would be this better of which you speak?" ('Cause I talk like that normally, too). When you're desperately pining for someone, hearing, "You'll do better next time" doesn't help.

It's when you've on to trashing him for his stupidity and short-sightedness in leaving you that those phrases are more appropriate. And fun.

Normallly I try to have some sort of tying-things-together point when I write these articles, and maybe even a proper conclusion or moral. Well, not so much moral, since a lot of what I like to write about could be considered immoral, but I like to have something for people to "learn." Not that most of this tends to be that new to anyone, either, but... anyhow. I really don't have much to say that's positive or upbeat about break-ups except that they suck ass monkeys, and whenever I'm dealing with the aftermath of a really painful one, it really makes me wonder if the relationships themselves are worth it.

But every new relationship gives me that little bit of hope, and there are the memories and the things I've learned from each relationship... so it's really a toss-up. I'm finding though that as I get older and get more and more attached to each person I date, as my feelings deepen and get harder and harder to let go of, that each time I wonder if the effort is really worth it. I love the excitement and promise of a new relationship, I love learning new things about the people in my lives, and I love that initial sexual tension that comes from a new relationship -- or the improved sex that comes from a longer one -- but then when the break-up happens... I'm back to feeling like ass, like I'll never be able to move on, and the walls come right back up again.

Trusting again after a break-up is really hard; you've been hurt, so it's natural that you want to protect yourself from being hurt again. Maybe you won't reveal as many secrets as you did, or maybe you won't open up as quickly, or maybe you'll just close yourself off from that person that you did open up to; each person deals with things differently. All of a sudden every word that your ex- utters is suffused with meaning, and the smallest act of kindness from him or her means the world to you. Or maybe this is just me, but I've seen it in a few friends.

The irony of it all is that sometimes, the best way to get over an ex- is to fall for a new guy or girl. I look forward to the day that I can stop the insanity and either be wed or be emotionally dead. Yeah, that's a good plan. Either that or lesbianism.

2003-09-04T01:55:00.000-04:00

Slippery When Wet

I think artificial lubricants are, hands down, my most necessary and favourite sexual aide and/or toy. Although a good vibrator ... but that's another column.

I can't think of any situation that isn't possibly enhanced with lube -- penetration, anal sex, manual sex, oral sex, massage, watching television, going to work...

I love lube, and I do my best to always have a bottle on hand. There are a number of sexual encounters that I would've missed out on had it not been for lube.

Let's face it, as much as condoms can be fun or useful, they tend to absorb natural lubrication like a thirsty person drinks water, especially if the penis at hand is really thick, withdrawing completely a lot (like in position changes or teasing), rubbing against dry skin, or stopping for awhile to engage in some other form of play. Hell, even a hard fucking -- as good as if feels -- can lead to some dryness and unhappiness.

I love to use lube for handjobs, and I know several guys who love to use it when they jerk off. I don't know too many women who've said the same, but I can't do without it. Love it.

Anyhow, while many guys I know will readily say they aren't huge fans of handjobs -- "I can do it better myself/head or sex feels better" -- I know that many of them also find that lube does help make it better. Lube allows for a tighter grip, an easier slide of your hand, and no need to worry about precum interfering with the easy slide of skin on skin.

The trick with using lube during oral sex is to find one with a pleasant, or at least tolerable, flavour. A lot of adult stores allow you to buy little samples of lube so you can test them out without the investment and potential disappointment of a full-sized bottle. It was from lube samplers that I discovered I really didn't care for Probe, for example. It's usually possible to get the flavoured lubes in this form, too.

I do find that some of the warming lubes -- Joy Jelly and Motion Lotion, for example -- tend not to be the best of lubes and they can feel weird in the mouth. They may not taste ideal, either -- sometimes they're overly sweet in order to overcompensate for the "ickiness" of the parts to which you might be applying it.

But lube can be used to enhave oral sex, as I keep saying and never actually discussing. Lube up your hand and use it at the base of his penis or on his balls, or rub your fingers gently on her labia or inside her. Whatever your partner prefers.

Saliva is an excellent lube to a point. It dries up pretty easily, and it's easy to run out -- especially after a long period of kissing or drinking. K-Y Jelly is also a popular lube, but it's one of the worst, in my opinion -- it was designed for the insertion of medical instruments, and so is meant to break down quickly in the body. It's not meant for the really long, sex-filled evenings we're all enjoying.

So after all this advocating lube and trashing other kinds, I suppose it's only fair to divulge my lube of choice. I won't claim to have tried many -- Probe, Motion Lotion, Joy Jelly, K-Y Jelly and a few lesser knowns whose names haven't stuck with me -- but the one I really like is Wet. I've tried to regular and the light formulas and like them both. I find it stays slippery a decent length of time, feels natural and isn't terribly unpleasant to taste. I wouldn't want to drink it, but I don't want to shave off my tastebuds when they come into contact with it, either.

The other advantage to Wet is that it's a water-based lube, meaning it rinses off easily and is condom-safe. Oil- or silicone-based lubes don't wash away as easily and aren't latex-friendly, but can be used with polyurethane condoms. Finally, silicone-based lubes shouldn't be used with silicone toys -- the chemicals interact and your toys wind up warped and ruined.

But there's no need to take my word for any of this. Go out and pick out a lube and have some slippery fun, whether it's solo or partnered. If you pick one I haven't mentioned, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

2003-08-20T02:45:00.000-04:00

Everyone says I love you

“I love you” is a highly overused phrase. Romance novels and romantic comedies bill it as the phrase that women are simply dying to hear. Frankly, I’m here to say that that simply isn’t so.

Maybe I’m finally learning how to have sex like a man. Use ‘em and lose ‘em, right? Naw, that’s not fair. But sex doesn’t have to be all about birds and wedding bells for it to be fun or special.

I’m willing to grant that sex between two people who are “in love” carries different and possibly deeper meanings than sex between two people who aren’t. But sometimes couples develop blinders towards their significant others and don’t see them as the sexual beings that they were before the “in love” developed, and see them instead as someone special or precious or important whose opinion they don’t want to change.

As an example: I dated someone we’ll call Guybrush for about two years. We broke up, and he started dating someone we’ll call Virgin. Guybrush dated Virgin for a few months, not intending to change her status, and during this time would come back and visit his hometown and yours truly and attempt to have sex with yours truly. After Guybrush and Virgin consummated their love, Guybrush continued to attempt to have cybersex with yours truly, because “there were things he could say to me that he couldn’t say to her.” At this point, Guybrush and (ex-)Virgin had been dating for nearly a year.

Advice columnists and relationship advisers often have letters and requests from people who are trying to figure out how it is to bring up the idea of something new to their significant other. “How do I tell him I like to be spanked?” or “How do I get her to talk dirty to me?” are some of the tamer requests that I’ve seen fielded by professionals.

Yet, if these people were simply sharing a one-night stand, he’d be smacking her ass like it was a …something you want to whip with your hand, and she’d be dirty-talking up a storm. Why is it that once “I love you” gets said, people put one another up on a pedestal?

Men and women alike are human beings with faults. We fart, piss, shit, belch, vomit, get diarrhoea, stink, sweat, bitch, whine, moan, get sick and piss one another off on a regular basis. And this goes for women as well as men – sorry to break it to you, but women aren’t these pristine little creatures that never have a bodily function except the innocuous blue liquids that they feature in ads for mysterious “feminine hygiene products” with wings and scented doodads.

Men and women are also human beings with desires and likes. These change over time; once upon a time I thought that piercings and tattoos were scary and that pain was something I never wanted to willingly experience. As I got to know people who were into pain and I read up on it and began to understand why it is that people enjoy it in a sexual context, my perspective changed. Exposure to something makes us more amenable to trying it, or at least increases our tolerance of it in others, as a general rule. Being willing to listen to someone explain their kink or simply keeping an open mind is an important factor in life and particularly in relationships, in my opinion.

So why is it that the one person that we say we love more than anything is often the one person to whom we can’t open up completely and say, “It makes me wetter than blazes when I feel your cock rub against my thighs and stomach” or “It makes me hotter than redwood to think of you on your knees sucking my cock while your finger is up my ass, playing with my prostate”?

This is the person who’s supposed to love us regardless of our most depraved fantasies or desires. There are plenty of ways to approach telling them what turns you on, and while the examples I gave aren’t necessarily the best way of broaching the topic, they’re ideas. You never know; your fantasy or desire may be the exact same thing as what your partner is thinking of when he or she gets off, either alone or with you.

I’d originally started writing this with the intention of discussing how difficult it can be to say “I love you,” but as sometimes happens, my fingers have taken control of this article away from me. Maybe saying “I love you” is difficult for some of the reasons I’ve listed above; when you’re “in love” with someone, society dictates that everything is supposed to be rosy and perfect between you. All of a sudden, your significant other is supposed to be completely devoted to making you happy and should only ever look at, desire, and love you.

That’s a load of crap. As wonderful as it would be if my boyfriend only ever beat off to the thought of me, got turned on by me and loved me, it’s also unrealistic. I, too, notice other men, desire other men and care about other men. Crushes are a part of life, as is finding other people attractive. It’s simply a matter of how you deal with it; if you accept your crush and move on past it, or only indulge your lust in your head, who the hell cares?

Sure, you don’t necessarily want to go telling your One True Love that you thought about James Marsters last night while you got off (and cut that out, he’s mine), or that you sometimes picture tying up your cute neighbour and running your mouth all over her body until she’s begging you to get her off, but you never know; if your One True Love can accept that these thoughts are just that – thoughts and fantasies – and that regardless of who you might think of, you still want to and continue to jump his bone(s), it may go a long way to strengthening your sex life, relationship, and love.

The “I love you” definitely changes relationships. Sometimes it happens too early, or from someone that you don’t want to feel that way about you. Sometimes it doesn’t change circumstances, and you’ll break up anyways. Sometimes it means that you’re afraid to show someone your dark and dirty side. But if you’re lucky and you have the trust that goes hand-in-hand with a strong, loving relationship, saying “I love you” also means that you can say “I want you to call me your little come whore while you fuck me in the ass with this dildo and bite my nipples."

2003-08-04T09:55:00.000-04:00

The Scent of a Woman

Last week I touched on a subject that comprises one of my favourite angry rants -- the smell of a woman's genitals.

Jokes -- unfortunately -- abound about how unpleasant women smell, and it leads to fear and discomfort on the part of women, young and old alike... as well as trepidation and uncertainty on the part of men -- young and old alike.

Many people will argue that the jokes are harmless and that women shoul dbe able to simply shrug them off. If there was only one joke directed at a single woman, I might be inclined to agree. However (and here my degree shines through), that's not how it goes. There exist many jokes and commercials and products designed to keep women hyper-aware of the fact that their parts are naturally moist (I hate that word, but it's appropriate) and with that moistness comes an odour. As I touched on last week, men's parts also carry an odour, also due to natural moistness.

One of my "favourite" print ads featured a couple sitting on a couch before a roaring fire, about to kiss. The caption? "Because feminine odour is everyone's problem." Can you honestly tell me that if there existed a series of ads with captions like, "Because penile odour (or hah, size!) is everyone's problem," or commercials with guys talking about how they just "don't feel fresh down there" you mightn't feel a little paranoid about how your parts smell? How about if women were regularly joking about your stinky cheeseness smell?

Okay, I'm off my soapbox now. I say it constantly, but I'll repeat it now -- a healthy woman smells musky, at worse. Someone who bathes regularly and/or performs some form of hair maintenance has very little odour. Granted, at the end of a day, a woman is likely to smell stronger than she might've halfway through the day, but this also holds true for guys. All it takes is a quick shower to change that, if you're so concerned.

I said at the beginning that the ads and jokes lead to fear and trepidation for women and men. That may seem a bit of an exaggeration, but it can hold true; many women, even now, are terrified to let their boyfriends go down on them because they feel they're "unclean" or not pleasant "down there." Many men, growing up listening to and maybe even making these jokes, feel uncertain about going down on their girlfriends because of the smell or taste. I dated one guy who rarely went down on me because he didn't "know what he was doing" and apparently somehow thought that he could learn without trying. If our culture valued female sexuality more -- and I completely disagree that using women's bodies to sell everything from cars to ketchup counts as "valuing" it -- then would this type of situation be less common?

Everyone's bodies have different smells and tastes and textures. This is one of the joys of being human -- experiencing these differences. Many things take getting used to, and the smell or taste of a woman can be one of those things; you might not like the flavour straight off the bat, and you may never want to put it on your ice cream (a frequent joke around my friends when discussing the flavour of men's come), but it can be a taste that you get used to, and dare I say it, enjoy?

Some guys enjoy having the scent of a woman's parts on their fingers or even on their face. I've heard it said that if they catch a whiff of the odour during the course of their day, they find it arousing -- they remember the circumstances that led to it being on their fingers or face and get turned on; or they simply find the scent of an aroused woman ... well, arousing. These guys are kinda fun; not to say that someone who doesn't get off on a woman's odour isn't.

If you're really uncomfortable with the way a woman happens to smell or taste, try going down on her in the shower, or just after a shower. Here her flavours will be at a minimum, and perhaps with time you'll find yourself getting accustomed to it. Remember, sex is a shared event; I think it's only fair to try pleasing your lady orally, especially if she's willing to do the same for you. But that's another column.

2003-07-27T00:56:00.000-04:00

Someone smells fantastic!

I have been uninterested in dating people before because they didn’t smell right to me; I’ll stop for a minute after that so that you can stop laughing.

It sounds funny whenever I say it, but when I start to explain it, people understand a bit better.

We’re all to some extent or another ruled by our pheromones; this explains why you may have friends that are fantastic, sexy, funny, interesting, intelligent, hot – whatever it is that you look for in a boyfriend or girlfriend – but you have no interest in sleeping with them whatsoever.

In some cases, I say vaguely that I’m just not attracted to that person or I don’t see them as anything more than a friend, and in other cases, I can definitely state that they just don’t smell right.

Now, it’s rare that I’m lusting for someone straight of the bat, based on smell alone. Everyone’s smell is different, even if they all use the same soap, because our bodies react differently to the chemicals in things like perfumes, deodorants, and other scented products; each person ‘customizes’ a product to their body.

So naturally it can take a bit of time sometimes to really grow attracted to someone else’s smell. If nothing else, it can take a bit of time to come to associate certain actions, thoughts, or memories to that particular smell.

It’s been said that scent memory is our strongest memory; while a picture or a sound might not immediately recall an event, smell can. So once certain events get tied to any given smell – say, the smell of your lover’s sweaty body above you when he or she is grinding or thrusting away – it’s natural that you can start getting turned on when you smell them, or feel happy or comfortable or whatnot.

And boy, can one get turned on sometimes… I know I’ve jumped at least one boyfriend straight out of the shower ‘cause he smelled so damn good. And that’s just soap/fresh skin smell.

In a sense, I suppose I mildly fetishize smells (on one particular occasion I sat in a movie theatre trying to figure out who it was wearing my ex-boyfriend's cologne, 'cause I was joking I'd jump him based on that alone). I know that there are times during sex that I’ll simply spend time sniffing someone’s chest or neck if they happen to smell good. And that’s not to say that those are the only parts of a person’s body that can smell good; it’s just that certain other areas can be more affected by sweat than those two examples.

As an example… everyone is familiar with ball sweat, right? Not entirely pleasant. In fact, it can be downright off-putting, even if the rest of the groinal region is fine. The same goes for women, and here I’m about to go off on a little rant.

A clean, healthy woman smells a little musky, and that’s about it. The same goes for a clean, healthy man. If your woman or yourself smells bad, it’s time for a shower. Let’s be honest here, people; no one smells good at the end of a long day. Even if your job involves just sitting at a desk, having skin against skin like that can cause sweat and some odour, and that’s just fine… so long as you realize that your lover might find your natural sweatiness a little bit much when it comes time for him or her to stick nose and mouth in such close proximity and so therefore isn’t completely chomping at the bit (sorry, couldn’t resist) to go down on you.

When in doubt, shower. If you feel grody and unclean, then why would you expect your sweetheart to stick their mouth in the region you’re most likely to be grody?

That all said and done, if you or your sweetie still smells bad after a shower, then maybe you should get theeself to a doctor and get checked out; low-level infections or a preponderance of bacteria can cause smelliness and should be investigated.

Finally, be nice when it comes time to saying that someone stinks, be it in the armpits or the crotch. Think of how you’d feel if you started getting amorous with your sweetie and they told you that you were too smelly to love at the moment. Talk about how sexy and fun a shared shower or bath could be, or tell them you have a fantasy about bathing them.

If awful cologne or perfume is the issue, then find a scent you do like and talk about how sexy it would be on them, or how turned on you get when you smell a particular one. Just remember that scents react with everyone’s body chemistries, so what smells good on one person will smell fantastic on another.

If they happen to smell really nice on a given day, make a big deal about it, so long as you’re being honest; don’t fake it (more advice for another column). Hell, go so far as to jump them if that’s what it takes to get your point across.

So let’s all do one another a big favour and cut out the comments about women smelling like fish, okay? If y’all wonder why we’re shy about dropping trou for a bit of oral loving, think about how many negative comments we hear. Then think about how lovely your sweaty man balls must smell and shut up. In the meantime, I have some body sniffing to do.

2003-07-15T12:56:00.000-04:00

I touch myself

Like many of you out there, I like to touch myself. Orgasms are great.

But somtimes it's fun to just poke and prod at what I have, without it being sexually motivated or oriented.

I also know for a fact that I'm not the only one who does this; it's just generally considered more acceptable for guys to do -- after all, men are expected to, or at least seen to, scratch, adjust, cup, grip, stroke, and show off their parts. Who among us hasn't seen a guy who rub his nipples or adjust his balls or penis? Nevermind been a guy who's done the same.

However, how often does a woman get to juggle or jiggle her breasts, pinch her nipples or scratch herself without someone looking at her askance? Guys without class may grip their dicks and juggle 'em to express interest in or disdain for a passing woman, but it's pretty rare that women will squeeze their boobs together or rub their crotches to return the sentiment (unless I haven't properly figured out the mating behaviours of the common human, but...).

But I digress. A lot. My body is my temple and it's mine to poke, prod, pierce, tattoo or display as I please, and I greatly enjoy taking advantage of this fact. Admittedly, I won't do as such in public, but I do enjoy doing so in situations that others might not necessarily suspect.

To whit, I will tug at my bits or play with my nipples while on the computer, on the phone, watching television, lying in bed... more or less whenever I feel the boredom and desire -- which are different from urges, since it's not exactly sexual in nature.

It livens up a phone interview for a job when you know the other person has no clue you're sitting in your pyjamas, tugging your labia. It makes me wonder if guys get the same surreptitious pleasure out of manipulating their scrotal sacs or mushing about their penises when checking their email.

Admittedly, bits aren't always available for our amusements. However, even through various layers of clothing, nipples are always accessible and tons of fun. It's a game to stroke them gently and try to keep them from retracting into points. (Maybe I'm the only one who plays it, but it's a game nonetheless).

If one loses, then there's a pointed nipple or two begging for attention. It's not time to stroke, punch, pull, roll or squeeze the little buggers, and all in a non-sexual sense. Granted, this could and sometimes does get sexual, but for the most part it's merely touching that which is there.

There are other erogenous zones to explore, and many of them can be done in a completely innocent manner in public -- no one seems to object to seeing someone stroke their arms or nexk, and it certainly feels nice. But when you're on the phone with a casual friend or a potential future employer, would you rather be stroking your neck, or tugging your privates?

2003-07-08T00:20:00.000-04:00

You did what where?

In my younger, more adventurous days, I explored many a venue in the public realm. Okay, in simple language; I had a lot of sex in creative places. I must've known I was going to be writing a column like this one.

Anyhow, it gave me a bit of insight into the risky and/or outdoor sex world, as well as a bit of experience upon which to draw. And share, of course. After all, what's the point of doing something cool if you can't brag about it?

Not that I would ever dream of bragging, of course. I just like to pass on my wisdom and experiences to you, my dear readers, so that you may perhaps learn from them, and use them as you please. Or something like that.

That all said and done, there's a big amount of appeal to outdoor sex in that it's a great way of getting caught. At least, that's the appeal for some people; the one time that I had someone peek into the car I was half-naked in, I was more frightened/brought out of my horny than I was aroused.

However, it's pretty fun to tag one's city. Some places require a bit more creativity than others, especially if one of you is significantly taller than the other... and when one partner is 5'2", as I am, more often than not the other partner is significantly taller.

In situations like that, outdoor sex can provide you with certain advantages that beds and bedrooms might not. Some parks have rock formations, hills, knolls or bleachers that can be used to accomodate longer legs or different angles. As comfortable as beds are, and I highly recommend them for everyday sex, sometimes having a rock or some dirt embedded in your knee is worth it.

There's also something rather earthy about being naked or semi-naked outdoors. Getting to sit and feel the breeze on body parts that it doesn't often touch can be a great feeling, as is lying naked in a field of grass. Getting to break societal taboos is yet another appeal, I have to say; we're brought up from children to not expose our naughty bits in public, so having them out on display in the great outdoors can bring a certain rush to those same bits.

Some people, braver than I, bring outdoor sex into contests. They arrange contests with their friends to see who can have the riskiest sex, or in the oddest location. It sounds like fun, but it also sounds like a lot of stress; having to plan where and when to do it to win the prize... it's a bit more fun to just be spontaneous and nakers when the urge strikes, I find.

And finally, for some people the risk of being caught or being overheard or seen is the biggest turn-on to the outdoor sex. A quickie with the bedroom door wide open while a party goes on downstairs, or head with friends around the corner, or even a handjob out in the middle of a public pathway can all be extra-hot because both partners know that any minute they could be discovered.

Frankly, I think it'd be hotter getting to finish, but hey -- what do I know?

2003-06-26T15:07:00.000-04:00

Self-love, in a pas de deux

One of the sexier things to see in the bedroom is one's partner having a good time. Check that: a good time.

I know I'm not alone in saying that seeing one's partner giving him- or herself that good time can be incredibly hot. Maybe I really am cock-obsessed, but there's just something sexy and beautiful about seeing a guy stroke himself. The part that always confused me is that, if he starts doing that in the middle of the act of sex, am I left out of the picture, or should I cheer him on?

Anyhow, everyone reacts differently to being touched -- some like a firm stroke, others like light movements; some people prefer pressure, and others love friction. Discovering what each new partner enjoys best and capitalizing on it is really a fantastic part of sex. Capitalizing on it, ignoring it to tease -- it's all the same, right?

Much can be learned from watching one's partner please him- or herself. Magazines state over and over again that women fear being too rough with their guys' penises, and it can be true; watch any guy beat off or even just fiddle with his stuff and you'll see just how rough some of 'em like i.

The same is true for watching women fiddle with themselves. Watch her hands; see if she tends to use circular movements more or if she just presses down hard on her clit and comes that way. Does she like to be fingered at the same time? (Yum). Don't be afraid to ask if you're not sure.

People should never be afraid to help out, if it's not against the wishes of your partner. Some people prefer to concentrate on the task at hand (so to speak); others find the assistance really helps.

What constitutes assistance? Anything from dirty talk, tender stroking or kissign to fingering, fondling, ball handling or whatever. Some women love to be fingered while they play with their clits; some guys love to have their balls played with while they stroke themselves. Some people enjoy a finger in their ass, others love to have their nipples played with. Experiment, see what you can do to enhance the experience -- or speed it up, if you're getting bored or tired.

Some people want to hear how sexy they are and how much you love them; others want to hear how dirty they are and how hot listening to them moan makes you. Find out what your partner likes and run with it.

Masturbatino can be, and often is, a private thing. It's one of the most selfish, harmless and rewarding acts any person can do, and it can be horrendously difficult for some people to feel comfortable enough to touch themselves in front of another. There can be shame, awkwardness, or embarrassment associated with the act, and those aren't easy emotions to overcome.

The things to bear in mind are simple, but difficult: for one, your partner (theoretically, unless you're dating a few of my exes) cares for you and wants to see you enjoy yourself, too; two, it's a sexy act and shows a great deal of trust in your partner; and three, it's an orgasm -- does it really matter where it comes from? Especially if it can be enhanced by the presence and assistance of your partner. Yum... orgasms.

2003-06-18T04:27:00.000-04:00

You say your… hormones… made you do it?

Some people might say that once you’ve had say, someone’s tongue in your mouth, than you know them fairly well. I say I just made these people up for the sake of an interesting opening sentence.

Other people might say that once you’ve had someone’s dick in your mouth or other orifice of your choice, that you then know them fairly well. Once again, I say that I just invented these people for the sake of an interesting second paragraph, or continuation of the first theme.

What a lot of people will say, and these people are usually of the teacher/educator/nurse/doctor/parent variety, is that before you wind up gettin’ all nakers with someone, you should know them. I say, life doesn’t always work out that way.

As a species, we’re all imbued with these vast amounts of hormones that make us do stupid things, like get or give head on the roof of a mall in the middle of the day. Or have sex on the couch in the basement when parents are roaming upstairs. Or fuck like monkeys minutes before friends are due to arrive. Or have sex in a park swing… but I digress. Lucky for me that I have friends who get overcome by their hormones and don’t mind me talking about it, eh?

Hormones make us do strange and … well, strange things. They make us pick up strangers in bars and cry at movies. They make us crave chocolate and have sex at movies. Some people listen to their hormones more than others; for some people, announcing “I’m horny” translates to “I could really go for an orgasm right now.” For others, announcing “I’m horny” translates to “I’m going to go get fucked right now, come hell or high water.”

Many people feel that the best sex is to be had within the confines of a loving, supportive relationship with someone who cares for you and your pleasure and wants to ensure that you feel adored and treasured afterwards. Many other people feel that the best sex gives you no concept of how your clothes got from your body and on the ceiling fan like that and leaves you feeling wrung out, sweaty and quite grateful to that guy or girl you met in the bar, you think his or her name might be Chris or Steve or Jill… but you’re sure it had an ‘r’ in it, somewhere.

Every person is different.

Some people need to know that they are loved. Others need to know that they are needed. Some are content with being wanted, at least for now. These aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive needs; they can coexist, but for some people, they needn’t.

I’ve always felt that, while I adore sex had within the confines of a loving, supportive relationship with someone who loves me and is interested in ensuring that I am fucked well and thoroughly, knowing that I am cared for… sometimes it’s necessary to take the sweaty ceiling fan sex with someone that happens to like me for who I am and what I can do with my mad skillz.

Okay, not quite true. I’ve had sex with people that didn’t care for me as me, and it left me feeling somewhat disappointed. I feel that when I get to know someone, I can have a better time with them in the bedroom; I can trust them and tell them what I want or need, whereas with someone I don’t know that well, it doesn’t work so well.

So, how can people have sex with someone they don’t know too well, but apparently know well enough to get nakers with? It ties back to hormones. Hormones make us do stupid, sweaty, naked things... although alcohol certainly helps.

Some people like to do things just to say they’ve done them (see swing example above). I know of people who’ve had one night stands partly to be able to say they’ve had them. Other people honestly just feel horny, find someone suitable, and have sex, and leave feeling satisfied; they got what they wanted out of the whole event, and what more could someone want or need?

Sometimes you get caught up in a moment and although at the beginning of the evening you wouldn’t have thought you’d be having sex, here you are and you’re hot and turned on and so is the person you’re with, so why not go for it? Or, regrettably, sometimes you may feel you owe someone for getting them hot and bothered, and while you’re not against the idea of having sex right now, you wouldn’t have chosen to do so but you can’t figure out quite the best way to back out of it… it’s unfortunate, but it does happen.

I had a point when I started this article, and then it just got away from me.

Overall… not just men are ruled by their hormones. I’ve heard it time and time again: “my penis made me do it”; “I was horny, it was stupid”; “The blood wasn’t flowing in that head at the time” and so on and so forth. Well, I’m going to spoil a secret and share: women’s parts make their desires insistently known, too. If you don’t believe me, I’ll start posting pictures and relationship details of one or two of my ex-boyfriends on here, and you can judge for yourselves.

2003-06-10T16:11:00.000-04:00

1... 2... 3... 4... skin

I'll admit, most of my penile experiences have been with dicks that didn't have their own external packaging.

This has meant that on the occasions that I do encounter a gentleman whose toy needs unwrapping, I fall to pieces.

Okay, maybe not. But because it's not as common in my (turtle)neck of the woods, it can throw a monkey wrench into my confidence.

I find that with head or sex, foreskins pose no problems. In fact, depending on how much foreskin there is and how loose it happens to be, it can be quite fun to suck and tug at with tongue and lips. If you're feeling especially brave or controlled, teeth can -- very carefully -- also get involved, in the nibbling sense.

On the other hand, when it comes to manual play, which I generally enjoy, I start to feel awkward. I have the moves down for an unfettered phallus -- the grip, the stroke, the speed and so forth -- but foreskinned ones are another matter.

Does he like to have the skin moved back and forth across the glans and corona, or a bare hand? Does the feel of a bare hand on slightly moist skin feel chafey, after awhile? Would it hurt if it was pulled too hard?

I realize all of these are questions best left to the individual, or owner of the prepackaged parts. But sometimes -- like maybe the first time you encounter it -- it can be awkward or uncomfortable to ask these question, so you just do what you can and hope for the best.

All of that said and done, I don't mind foreskin. I find it changes the appearance of the penis; because the head is hidden and it's usually moist when it emerges, it almost looks to me to be more ... raw. Not sore raw, but untamed. Animalistic. Dirty, in a good way.

What can help to overcome discomfort -- if you're comfortable enough with your partner -- is to poke and prod outside of the sexual confines. Explore his member, play with his foreskin, and ask what he likes. Make exploration and education the focus, as opposed to orgasm. This helps alleviate the pressure on both of you, and can lead to some entertaining moments.

Be stupid and have fun with it, and encourage him to get involved. Play around with different grips in an atempt to best accomodate his preferences and your physical abilities -- minor things like the way your wrist doesn't bend backwards at a 125-degree angle.

It can be encouraging to see a formerly playful session turn to something hot and moany. Seeing him grow hard and incoherent from your fiddling can be a real boost to your self-confidence, to say nothing of your mad skillz.

2003-05-30T22:53:00.000-04:00

Wax on... wax off

This is a new feature; it's called the DrunkenWhore Reviews. This week, I review the infamous Brazilian wax. This article is going to appear in pieces, mainly because that's how it got written.

Before:
After years of battling with red bumps and imperfect shaves, sensitive skin and dull razors, I have finally decide to take the plunge. It was time to go for the Brazilian wax job.

In the sense of what I will be left with after it's all over, there's not much difference between a Brazilian and a me wielding a razor and can of shaving cream; both will be leaving me quite bald.

However, shaving isn't always perfect, even for an anal-retentive shaver such as myself. On the other hand, shaving is a fairly painless process.

If I seem nervous and indecisive, it's because I am. I'm writing this while waiting for time to pass before my appointment, for which I arrived stupidly early -- but such is the nature of the bus system.

Anyhow... it's not so much fear of the pain, but fear of the unknown. I was tense and nervous before my tattoo and two of my piercings (my first, after the earlobes, and the major one without anaesthetic). I know this will hurt, but hopefully it won't be a lingering hurt, and hopefully I won't be so soured on the experience that I refuse to return.

So that's where things stand pre-wax; nervous, hopeful that there's enough growth, and more nervous. Everyone walk away from your computers for an hour or so (twenty minutes until the appointment and an hour for the procedure -- or so I've been told), and return with me when it's all over.

[Author's note: Wow, was I ever freaked out here... check out all the rambling!]

During:
Ow.

My skin looks awfully red.

Ow.

She says I have a high pain tolerance, which is awesome; I always thought I was pretty wimpy.

Are we done yet?

Wow, that was only about twenty minutes.

After:
Okay, so it's done. I sit here, about two hours later, feeling different.

It wasn't a perfect wax, which is a bit of a shame. Had I waited a bit longer (I waited about two weeks after the last time I shaved) before I'd gone in, I'd have been better off. My skin was pretty irritated for awhile afterwards, but nothing I couldn't handle; it felt like I had a bunch of razor burn, but it didn't sting or anything.

As for pain factor... well, it's not that bad. It hurts, yes. I won't lie, and there's no way that anyone can be made to believe otherwise -- you're having someone rip out your pubic hair by the roots with hot wax. Well, warm wax. How is that not going to hurt?

I was fortunate because I don't shave every day or every other day, and I don't have a lot of hair; it only took me about twenty-five minutes or so, including clean up. I'm also pretty comfortable with my body, so it didn't bother me at all to be sprawled out half-naked in front of a stranger and help her out by holding my parts. The taughter you can hold your skin, the better off you are.

The mons (the fleshy pad of skin on your pubic bone) is the worst part. From there, it gets better, and everyone says the first time is the hardest; the lady who waxed me said that by about the fourth time, the hair just falls out when you put the wax on, 'cause the roots are weaker. They just give up.

So, all in all, my review is fairly positive. If you happen to shave and you're tired of it, go and get a Brazilian. It's up to you what you want left behind, and it's a longer-term version of what you already do. Make sure you exfoliate beforehand, and don't shave for a few weeks before you get it done -- obviously.

As for me, I can't wait to see how the next one turns out. I'll just have to wait awhile to do so.

2003-05-23T16:15:00.000-04:00

You were saying?

Once upon a time, a reader wrote in to me to ask how to talk dirty to her boyfriend. I don’t have access to my email from where I am, so I can’t quote her, nor can I reference her email more directly than that.

So, I was going to title this post Ask the DrunkenWhore, and I still am; I just don’t really have any clever acronyms or anything else to use. So… bear with me, if you will.

Talking dirty. It’s an art, it’s fun, it’s entertaining, it’s difficult, it’s awkward, and it’s different for everyone. One person will find “Ride me like a stallion!” to be the hottest thing he’s ever heard; the next one will burst out laughing. For some people, hearing the word “fuck” in any context is dirty and wrong, for others, it’s not just a command; it’s what’s for breakfast.

No really, that does make sense. Think about it.

And finally, some people have squick words. I, for example, am not really huge on the word “panties” or “moist.” I’d rather not have someone tell me that they want to get into my panties, and boy do I feel moist. Yuck. That’s not to say that I’m about to toss a partner out of bed for saying something along those lines, but there’s that little voice inside my head that’ll either ridicule the term or cringe, and neither one is especially conducive to a hot bounce around the bed.

So, what do you do? Well, the simple and most direct way to find out what it is that your sweetie wants to hear you say is ask. However, that’s difficult and embarrassing. Or just plain disappointing, at times; if you really have to hand your lover a script, why not just read porn?

So instead, find out what kinds of things make him or her hot. Try to find a porn tape without too much corniness to it and see if there’s a particular part of what’s being said that makes your sweetie hard or wet. Try whispering particular combinations of words and see what makes them groan.

Describe what’s being done to you by your partner, or what you’re doing (so long as your mouth isn’t full or otherwise occupied – if your mouth is at work around her clit, chances are she doesn’t want you to stop to tell her that’s what you’re up to) or feeling. “Oh, that makes me so wet!” is a good one, as is the male response: “You’re making me so hard!”

Some of my particular favourites: “You’re so tight and that’s making me so crazy,” “I love how you smell/taste/feel,” “I can’t wait to be inside you,” “I want to fuck you so bad,” “I love how wet you are,” and so on and so forth.

Excuse me for a few minutes. Whew.

Now, sometimes what you’re going to say in the bedroom is really somewhat corny. I try to avoid the standard, “You’re so big!”, ‘cause let’s face it, it’s one of the oldest lines in the book and I have a hard time believing that anyone is going to believe it. It’s one that I’ve resorted to only in the most extreme of situations, as it were.

And what situations they were…

*cough*

Sorry, moving on…

That’s not to say that there’s nothing you can say to your boytoy, though. “You’re making me so wet,” is of course, a good one, as is “You feel so good/hard/big/strong,” if that’s what you think he might like to hear. Many of the ones that guys can say work just as well in reverse: “I want to fuck you so bad,” “I want you inside of me,” “You smell fantastic,” “I want to ride you like the wild lovemonkey I am,” that sort of thing.

And then there’s just the simple things: “I really like that,” “that feels good,” “don’t stop,” “OhGoddon’tstopfortheloveofChristkeepdoingjustthatohmyGodI’mgoingtocome;” whatever happens to come to mind. As much as you’re in your mind in that sort of situation, really.

It’s a matter of overcoming shyness and managing to convey what’s going on in your head through your mouth, in a manner that your partner can understand and appreciate. Start small; use the descriptions and requests, then move onto the bigger things, like playacting and roleplaying, if you’re interested.

Sometimes all it takes is the addition of your partner’s name in front of whatever it is you’re saying. Just make sure you say the right name – otherwise, regardless of how dirty your talk is, chances are he or she aren’t going to want to hear it anymore. If you’re worried you won’t remember his or her name in the heat of the moment, use the standards: “Oh God,” and “oh fuck.”

Which reminds me of an old joke to end on:
Q: What are the four kinds of orgasms?

A:
The positive: “Oh yes! Oh yes!”
The negative: “Oh no! Oh no!”
The religious: “Oh God! Oh God!”
And the fake: “Oh (insert name here)! Oh (insert name here)!”

It works best if you have a friend you’re trying to burn.

Anyhow, that’s the first edition of Ask the DrunkenWhore.

2003-05-15T07:56:00.000-04:00

My, Grandma, what big teeth you have…

As we grow and develop and learn about ourselves – in the bedroom, or Biblical sense, I mean – most of us tend to develop our own signature moves or mad skillz. For some, that’s a particular affinity for oral sex, or for others the ability to sustain a make-out session for ages without boring either partner.

Now, while I regularly lay claim to many diverse mad skillz – all true, of course – I, too, have a few moves I consider signature. I can’t, of course, detail them all here; for one, most of you would think I was bragging (silly, unknowing fools); for two, I simply don’t have the time; for three, I like to maintain an air of mystery and enigma.. erm, enigmatism; and for four, I want to focus on one for this particular article.

For those of you who’ve been a tad slower on the uptake, I’ll spell it out for you: I like to use my teeth. I wasn’t aware of it until one partner a few years ago pointed it out to me; I tend to nip and nibble, scrape my teeth in sensitive areas and snap them together when I want to express frustration – like when I’m being teased.

Mind you, that’s not to say that using teeth is my “thing,” it’s just something that’s part of my repertoire at this point.

Anyhow, for those men in the reading audience that are currently cringing and crossing their legs together, I’d like to say: yes, it’s entirely possible to use teeth effectively. I’ve made converts of a few people who’ve seen evidence of it, and someone recently backed me up saying that it’s all about control, which is exactly the case.

There are a few rules to using teeth properly. They’re minor things, but they certainly help.

For one, don’t use teeth on dry skin unless that’s the effect you’re going for. If you want to use teeth on your gentleman’s parts, make sure they’re nicely lubed, first. This will go a long way towards producing a feeling that’s very slightly risky – after all, you are using teeth on his best friend – without being painful. It allows your teeth to slide without scraping heavily, and that’s the key thing. If you sense that your teeth are starting to drag or you seem not to be able to move your mouth as smoothly, add some lube, be it saliva or the artificial kind. Trust me; this is not something you want to neglect.

Secondly, even more important, is control. Anytime you’re using teeth on someone’s member, you want to make sure that you can hold your mouth open as wide as it requires. If you’re using teeth while giving head, you don’t want to have your mouth as closed as it would be if you were just sucking away. Hold onto him with your hand to keep his member in place; this will go a long way towards helping, as well.

And finally, this isn’t a move that you want to repeat over and over again. Like many moves during sex, it can be annoying and boring if you don’t mix it up. After all, part of the thrill of using teeth on someone is that it’s a little dangerous and a little exciting as a result – the thrill tends to wear off if you keep it up.

If you’re leery about starting out with this new move on your man, practice on something that will show you if you’re using too much pressure, like a Popsicle or a banana. Be careful not to be shoving anything further down your throat that you can handle, and I’d actually recommend only practicing on the first two to three inches. Teeth are most effective on the head of the dick, and it’s a bit easier for some to maintain control over a smaller region like the head.

Of course, if on the other hand, your problem is that you employ teeth too much during head, there is also another easy solution to this. Whenever you’re giving head, open your jaw a little bit wider, but keep your lips the same distance apart. You can practice it initially by placing your lips over your teeth; you can even do this during head, but it might get somewhat painful after awhile, especially if you’re digging your teeth into your lips or your guy lasts a long time.

Again, control is important. If you have a hard time with your guy thrusting his hips up at your face or something when you’re giving, have him sit up on a couch or chair instead of lying down on a bed. This puts you more in a position of control and restricts his movements a bit more, and it means less strain on your jaw for long sessions of head-giving.

Anyhow, I can’t give away all of my secrets, so I’ll leave you with those thoughts for now. For those of you men who continue to wince and whine, well… find someone you trust to try out some new moves, and perhaps you, too, will be made a convert.

2003-05-05T01:38:00.000-04:00

Toucha, Toucha, Touch me

Sometimes the most soothing thing in the world is to have someone play with your hair or stroke your skin.

This can be soothing, comforting, relaxing or even arousing. There's a reason that backrubs are great seduction tools -- your target is relaxed, guards are down, they're feeling pliant and perhaps may even feel they owe you after all that niceness...

Erm... never mind that last part. Don't know what I was thinking, there.

But it is true that touch is often the first step down the line towards seduction. It's not a sure thing, but if someone appears relaxed around you or when you touch them -- innocently, at least in location -- then chances are they feel comfortable with you.

Now, being comfortable with someone doesn't translate to wanting to bone you like crazy. But someone who's tense and could be used as a bridge when you touch them is either restraining themselves from jumping your bones and ravishing you, or... it's a sign they want your hands off.

Personally, I like to be touched, but not by everyone -- only those with whom I'm comfortable... or interested in boning. I have a sensitive neck, and I love to have my back or shoulders massaged, or my arms stroked. Same with my legs, at least if I've shaved them that day. It's a great feeling, having someone else's hands on you, and it doesn't even have to be a lover or a significant other -- friends with whom you feel comfortable enough to touch, stroke, massage or cuddle are a great comfort and/or fallback option.

I like someone with warm, dry, clean hands, who doesn't repeatedly stroke the same spot over and over again. When that happens, I wind up feeling chafed and my skin feels irritable, particularly just beneath the skin, and it's very not comforting.

I like to feel the different textures of someone else's body, too. The feel of hair or soft skin, muscle or bone or fat can be really fun to experience and explore -- or even a big turn off, which is good for learning in and of itself. If I get turned off by touching my potential sweetie, it saves me the potential boning later... although it's not the easiest thing to explain.

But it's nice to know that I could be bringing comfort or arousal to someone just by my two little hands without putting 'em down someone else's pants -- a very powerful and humbling feeling.

I think I need a massage and a hug; I feel like being pampered (especially after being on my feet for long stretches, several days in a row) -- and after all, that can be a big part of what touch is all about: pampering me.

2003-04-28T01:24:00.000-04:00

I love you, now it's over

The First Love. For some people, that's equal to the Only Love. to others, it's just a small number that happened to come first of many.

Not everyone winds up with their First Love, but few people forget them, regardless how the relationships itself ended.

The First Love isn't always the first boyfriend or girlfriend, the first person you kissed, or even the first person you slept with.

The First Love can be a sweet, tender, childlike event -- when you were six years old and the little red-haired girl sat with you at recess and gave you half of her sandwich for soe of your pudding cup -- or it can be a thoroughly grown-up, heart-wrenching affair.

Sometimes it's the person who first touches your heart and shows you what a real relationship can be like, and sometimes it's just the first person to hold you close and lavish you with affection and attention.

It's a heady experience, the first time you share a relationship with someone special; the first person to pay particular attention to you, to kiss you and hold you and comfort you and care about you... The first person to whom you want to tell your good news and bad news, and the first person you want to kiss, caress, and ride hard and put away wet. If you're into that sort of thing.

So, when things start to cool off between you and your First Love, it's understandable if things go really sour. You may start to grow apart, especially if you're together during transitory times in your lives. High school, university, beginning a "grown-up" life, a new job -- they're all major changes and they can all be difficult to maintain a relationship through.

However... this doesn't mean that these are easy things with which to cope or adjust. It's hard to accept the loss of someone near and dear to you, especially if it's the first major or loving relationship you've experienced. It can be hard to believe that another wonderful person can or will be around; that particular mix of traits that you love so much might be apparent in someone else. Heck, the next person you find may have those good traits and few of the current love's annoying ones.

As well, going from being in a loving, committed (or open if you choose) relationship to being... just awkward friends or strangers can be quite painful. It's weird to see someone that you used to snuggle up to or bare your body and know that that will never happen... or that it's highly unlikely (unless you date some of the same guys I do... but that's a whole other story). Knowing that someone else will get to have all of those perks and tender moments with your First Love and you won't is hard and it hurts and it sucks.

My First Love relationship ended a few times, and painfully. I don't consider this to be a very unique story; I have every belief that many of you could say the same. It took me awhile to move on; I pretty much had to fall for someone else before I felt I was completely over the First. That part more or less sucked.

Now, however, I can look back on the relationship and smile, rather than feel hurt. But, he certainly left his mark on me, and while at times that mark felt more like a scar, I certainly don't regret our relationship.

I think sometimes you have to get hurt to really appreciate the love. It's when you've known the love that it can be really hard to let go, and especially to trust again. But, that's another column.

2003-04-23T11:51:00.000-04:00

Body Talk

Being naked in front of someone else is a vulnerable time. Depending on the lighting, you’re no longer able to hide those bulges, stretch marks, weird patches of hair, or other body “flaws” that you dislike.

All of a sudden, you’re on display for someone else and now they’re going to judge you, whether they admit to it or not. Let’s all face it; I’m sure there’s been at least one time in your life that you saw someone you’d been lusting after naked and thought, “Oh… my. Hrm.”

These are the things movies and romance novels don’t tell us, people.

I think many of us have done the stomach suck-in or had the dislike for certain positions because of how they would be unflattering to our bodies. Maybe you didn’t want her to see that you have moles on your back or you didn’t want him to know that you had hairy toes, but let’s face it; when you’re naked, it’s hard to hide these things.

Sometimes I think it’s easier to play the fully-clothed flirtation game. It’s great to have someone flirting with me and attracted to me based on how I looked when I’m completely dressed (whether those clothes are “revealing” or not), but the idea that they might look at me naked and go, “Oh, damn. I left the iron on and I have to wash my hair and my family’s coming to town so I’ll be busy for the next few… weeks, yeah, weeks!” is pretty scary.

But when you’re blind-sided by lust for someone, you’re not categorizing their faults as carefully. It’s perhaps when you’re not in the mood and they’re dancing in front of you, wiggling the bait-and-tackle or jiggling the mammaries that you might be more inclined to mental ridicule. Or maybe that’s just me. But trust me, if you’d seen some of the guys I’ve known… well, let’s just leave it there and carry on.

Of course, since none of us are perfect, we usually don’t expect our partners to be. Speaking as someone who’s never been fully satisfied with her body, when I see or get involved with someone who has a really fantastic figure, it tends to make me somewhat more self-conscious about my own, pockets of flab and all.

But at the same time, I’ve had first encounters when all I thought was, “Wow!” Later conversations may have revealed that that partner had issues with some aspect of his body, but at the time I wasn’t thinking of that. So why am I so paranoid that the first thing a guy thinks when he sees my body naked is, “Geez, can’t she get rid of that flab?”

I think in the end, it’s all about attitude. If you show that you love your body and all its imperfections, then chances are higher that others are going to feel the same way. Of course, you’ll never be able to please everyone; some people are just always going to wish you were better hung or more chesty, but that’s personal preference and nothing against you, personally. We all have what makes us hot, but many of us aren't that cut-and-dried; it's rarely a case of, "If you don't measure this much or have hair this colour, I'm not gonna do ya."

For the most part, if you want to draw people to you, love what you've got and the rest'll come from there. On the other hand, if you're with someone and you don't immediately love what they've got, wait a bit; sometimes they'll grow on you. If not, then hey: the sea is full of fish. You guys take the fish, and in the meantime, I'll take the guys.

2003-04-13T03:01:00.000-04:00

"So then I said ... eh what ossifer?"

Okay, so I'm too tipsy and too tired to come up with a good drunken title. That's supposed to be someone talking while drunk. Imagine it, if you will. If you won't... then... take off, eh?

Yay for alcohol, that's today's theme. Y'know what's fun? Posting while semi-drunk. Y'know what's more fun? Getting laid while drunk!

Why's that, you say? Well, if you can manage to pour your sloshed sweetheart (say that one three times fast while drunk) into a bed long enough, you two can have an awful lot of fun. Only if the two of you are consenting adults, of course. I, the DrunkenWhore (was there ever a more fitting moniker?), do not approve of taking advantage of someone who happens to be inebriated. It's only fair to fuck while fucked if you'd both consent while sober. Okay? Okay.

Now we can move on.

So, when one happens to be in a less inhibited state, one happens to be... well, less inhibited, as it were. Personally, I have enjoyed some drunken sex on occasion, and it's pretty fun, I think. Clothes go flying everywhere (or just kinda get lobbed off to the side, 'cause let's face it, if you're drunk, your co-ordination happens to somewhat suck, as all the typos I'm having to correct at the moment can certainly attest), the two of you are throwing one another about the room, and words are flying that you'd never soberly imagine yourself saying.

I remember the first time I participated in some drunken sex, I think I kept up a running commentary the entire time. For all I know, I was narrating the annual migration of the Monarch butterfly, but my partner didn't seem to mind -- I was talking the whole time, and it would appear that's something I needed to get some liquor into my system to do.

Other people, when intoxicated, will be more readily prompted to do things like a strip tease, or some on-top action, or even some threesome or moresome action. Again, if it's something that might potentially put your health or mental well-being at risk, I advise not using alcohol to loosen your inhibitions; while it's all well and good to be vaguely embarrassed at something you might've done the night before, it's all bad and bad to be severely regretful.

The other thing to keep in mind if you’re engaging in some drunken activities is whether your tolerance level can handle your level of intoxication. I.e., are you going to be providing the embarrassing stories for the evening as the one who threw up during the monkey sex? Or even worse, the one who passed out before it was over?

There’s little else more embarrassing in the world than to have to go up to one of your activities partners the next day and say, “Okay, umm… I’m really sorry, but I can’t quite remember – did I pass out before we finished, or what?” It could make for a funny story down the line, but… do you really want to go through it?

Of course, what could be worse is having someone else come up to you and say, “I’m really sorry, but…” and you not even recognize the person’s face – or it’s someone you wouldn’t sleep with in a million years.

And we come to the next thing to worry about when practicing drunken sex – are you going to wind up sleeping with a horror story? Someone who’s coyote ugly? Someone you’d not sleep with if offered a million and one dollars? And so on and so forth; you know the types of person I’m talking about.

Or worse, you sleep with someone and forget to protect yourself. Worse than sleeping with your worst enemy, worse than waking up the next morning and asking the, “Excuse me, but…”, worse is realizing you didn’t use anything. You could get someone pregnant, get pregnant, or even get diseased – and not even know it for months.

So, after extolling the virtues of drunken sex and then turning around and trashing them, you’re confused as to what this DrunkenWhore is advocating, right? Right. This DrunkenWhore is advocating either drinking just with your sweetie(s) and having the monkey sex you know you’d enjoy whether drunk as a skunk or sober as a judge (why do skunks get all the fun?), or simply having some spotters about to make sure you don’t hook up with someone you’ll regret later.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bed to climb into before I sober up. See, I’ve had these thoughts a-floatin’ around my mind that I would just love to try out, if only I weren’t so inhibited…

2003-04-08T16:48:00.000-04:00

Lights go on... lights go off...

I'm one of the millions of people who feels her body isn't all that fantastic. It's pudgy in the wrong places, and in the act of gettin' it on, there are many positions into which I contort that are not exactly what you might call flattering.

Add to that some truly goony faces I may (if so enticed) or may not be (if bored) making, and I'm usually not especially eager to be having sex under a spotlight.

Since there's usually a shortage of spotlights in people's bedrooms -- at least those with whom I engage in intimate relations -- most people make do with overhead lighting. This, too, makes me uncomfortable. I find the ability of my partner to see my every flacial contortion and expression a little unnerving, off-putting, intimidating... the list goes on.

Now, depending on my mood, pitch black can be pretty sexy and fun. Who doesn't find a potential injury a turn-on? Okay, so after awhile your eyes adjust and the possibility of losing your nose to someone's forehead lessens, but the majority of your sight is removed and I find that pretty fun.

But between the two extremes lies a nice compromise; candlelight, firelight, Christmas lights... each of these are a less direct source of light that won't blind you if you wind up in a position whereby you're staring directly into it.

No one looks bad in candlelight. Actually, I could offer up an ex-boyfriend or two who do, but I doubt any of my readers are sleeping with them. Ew.

Anyhow, candlelight is pretty flattering to everyone -- it softtens the lines of the face and body, its flickering helps to eliminate long exposures of unflattering what-have-yous to your partner's eye. That's not to say your partner would be horrified by the fact that your skin isn't as tight or smooth as an android's bottom. The real fact of the matter is that if you feel inhibited or uncomfortable, you won't enjoy rumpling the sheets as much with your sweetie.

If you don't have a lot of candles, try putting them in front of a mirror to spread the light.

Now that I'm done channeling Martha, carrying on:

Firelight is a pretty sexy alternative, should you have a fireplace, quiet spot at a bonfire, or a burning house.

Again you have the flickering flames to help hide body flaws and create a nice, sensual atmosphere. As well, if it's a cold evening, the fireplace can add some heat to that which the two of you are creating together.

A bonfire has the added sensuality of being outdoors, with the possibility of perhaps being seen, overheard, or caught outright. If outdoor sex is your thing, then by all means, bang away; just make sure anyone else who might be around won't be offended if they wind up being privy to it. Otherwise, you might have some fences to mend once you and your honey stop knockin' boots.

Now, if you're gettin' it on in front of a housefire, I hope you at least called 911 first. Those are your (or someone else's) earthly possessions disappearing in smoke, and it's a real shame to lose all of that just for the sake of some sex, physical enjoyment, and orgasms. Mmmm... orgasms.

Finally, Christmas (or other decorative) lights can make a nice background light by which to get freaky, and you get to choose the colour most flattering to you. Blue or green lights are ones I'd suggest avoiding -- it's tough to be sexy when one looks sickly. A mix of colours could work well, and with all the moving around, you likely won't be in any unflattering lighting for long.

In all, I think a good compromise can be struck between those who prefer to hide in the dark and those who like to display it all under full light. The most important thing is that everyone is having a good time -- if not, then it's time to figure something out to make it so. If you can't talk to your partner about it, or don't really want to, then just set it up as an entire seduction scene, and enjoy.

2003-04-02T15:16:00.000-05:00

How to Seduce a Woman

Okay, I have to admit that my experience with the above is somewhat limited, but I do know what gets my juices flowing, so I will speak authoritatively on that very subject.

First and foremost, asking her to sleep with you secretly is, I have to admit, the ultimate way to get a woman into your bed. After all, women adore being thought of merely as sex toys, and we want even less to do with you in person than you want to do with us.

Secondly, by all means, disavow any knowledge of us in public after we’ve slept together. Don’t let on to anyone else by even looking at us that we have known one another in the carnal sense. Looking at a woman while you talk to her is a dead giveaway that they two of you have done the nasty, and before long it’ll be all over your group of friends/workplace/school and your days of being a single man are over.

Thirdly, call her a bitch, a frigid bitch, a dyke, a lesbian or any other term you can think of that you might feel is insulting if she doesn’t sleep with you. After all, if she doesn’t want to ride your manly meat, then she must be frigid or only interested in the ladies, right? I mean, hell! Any other women would rip off her underwear in a display of abject devotion and desire to become your wanton sex slave if you so much as glanced her way, so what’s wrong with this stuck-up cunt, right? Right.

Fourthly, write her love notes. No, I don’t mean things with hearts and flowers or other mushy displays like that. No, no, that’s for when you’re actually interested in her beyond her tits and what’s between her legs. I’m talking something absolutely stellar, something that’s guaranteed to have her naked, prostate before your buff, handsome, sexy penetrating missile of love, just begging for your attention.

Luckily, I was fortunate enough to receive a message that fits as a perfect example, so I’m going to use it here to share with you. I have, of course, removed the name of my suitor, but it’s a shame that no further information was given by this person, ‘cause boy oh boy am I just panting to get with him. Or her. It’s hard to tell on the Internet.

Anyhow, without further delay, I present to you, the Ultimate Gettin’ Me Some Love Note:

“i wanna suck u til u squirm!
i wanna lick u til ur dry then im gonna finger u hard til u cry.

i want ur pussy in my mouth!”

Let me tell you, the idea of being licked until I’m dry or fingered hard until I cry – well, just sign me up right now, ‘cause I can’t wait.

Now, on a totally separate note because I tire of this premise and won’t be able to stretch it out for another 300 words or so (yeah, I’m that lazy), I’m going to take on another thing I don’t understand here.

I do not do not do not understand people – guys and girls – who start out their romantic actions with pain. I mean, sure, I can understand and appreciate pain as it pertains to the dirty act of love makin’, but that’s a different thing entirely.

That to which I refer is those guys who get your shirt off, get you all excited and eagerly anticipating the touch of their callused fingers on your tender nipples (sorry, slipped into a bit of romance novel there), and then they squeeze the shit out of your nipples!!!

What the fuck is up with that?!?

I mean, yeah, there are lots of people who love to have their nipples squeezed, and it can be great fun to be inflicting that type of torture and seeing someone gasping and groaning beneath your hands, but to me it makes more sense to start out gently and work your way up to painful.

Find out of your girl (or boy, I’m an equal opportunity nipple abuser) is into painful manipulation of her mammary tips before you dredge out the pliers and go to town.

But that’s just me; I try to treat people in bed the way I want to be treated, and I think semi-logically about things. Not to say that I’m whipping out the pencil and paper to play psychiatrist over everyone’s fetishes and fantasies, but I do think “gentle first, then pain” makes a lot more sense. After all, too much pain = angry nerve endings and boobies that don’t want to be handled anymore, thereby cutting off a tremendous source of pleasure; at least for me.

Anyhow, I have a rule of thumb I’ve shared with many; whatever happens to my nipples, I get to do to your testicles. Think about that when you bring out the clamps, would you?

2003-03-26T12:11:00.000-05:00

More things I don’t understand

Just because I’m in a contemplative or non-understanding mood lately, I have a few more things to cover under that same heading.

More things I don’t understand… guys who claim to love giving head and don’t wind up doing it. Do you think that “loving it” means you only do it once every two weeks when she’s fresh out of the shower? Nuh uh. Loving it means that it’s a part of sex that you like to incorporate on a regular basis; of course, if having sex every two weeks when you’re both fresh out of the shower is your regular routine, then by all means, don’t listen to me.

There seems to be a real trend in guys in my age range of sorts (30 and under, in particular), who state that oral sex is their favourite part of the equation. Now, I’m all a-tingle to hear this, but at the same time, I gotta figure that some of these guys are just selling a pretty story. Why is there such a proliferation of fish jokes if so many guys actually do prefer to give head than get it? I just don’t understand.

I realize that smell and cleanliness and flavours and the phase of the moon can all be factors that influence whether or not the experience is a positive one for both parties involved. If any of the above are real factors for you, then take your lady friend into the shower, give her a sexy wash, and either while in there or after you leave the shower, go to town.

If she doesn’t continue to get the hint, then it’s time to sit her down and have a good chat with her – but a positive one, not one that’ll send her off crying to a locked room, ‘cause then my friend, I doubt you’d be getting any from that point onwards.

Now, on the flip side (equal opportunity not-understandings, here), I don’t understand girls who claim to love giving head, then never do. I’m honest; I’ll admit that plenty of things influence whether or not I want to give head on a given occasion, and guess what guys? One of those big ones is… (*drum roll*) the smell factor! Yeah, that’s right – you guys don’t always smell like a bed of roses yourselves.

Face it, it’s an area of your body that generally gets somewhat sweaty, it’s bound up in underwear – especially if you have a predilection for tighty whities – and while it’s certainly natural for any area of your body to have some ‘flavour’ to it (“Garçon, I would like the steak with the sauce of penis sweat”), that doesn’t mean that anyone has to like it or that it’s a party in our mouths and you’re invited.

So, out of deference to our poor tastebuds and sense of decorum, if you’ve just been jogging around and working out, or even just running around all day in jeans that weren’t fresh out of the wash – how about having a shower before you start giving our heads the push? Then perhaps you will find that the lady who claimed to love giving head might be just a bit more enthused about the process.

That’s not to say that we can’t always bear the smell, or that the only way for either gender to have Fantastic Sex™ is for both parties to be fresh out of the shower, but sometimes it can be… overwhelming. The same as I imagine sometimes our parts can be overwhelming fresh out of the undermentionables. Turn about is fair play.

Now, if you’re fresh out of the shower, you’ve given your privates the sniff test and they passed, and your lady still only goes down on you when you beg and cajole and offer untold hours of oral pleasure in return… chances are you have yourself someone who wasn’t being fully honest when she claimed to be able to suck start a Harley and love every minute of it.

In this case, it’s more about communication if you really want to know what’s going on, and possibly get more head out of it. Ask her why she doesn’t like it, and be prepared for some honesty – maybe: “My jaw gets sore; my neck gets sore; you want me to talk and suck at the same time and I can’t do that; I don’t like the smell; it’s uncomfortable; I don’t want to deal with the mess at the end; I don’t want to swallow; I just don’t feel like it; you want head all the time; you’re too big…” there could be any number of reasons why, and hopefully your lady is able to tell you truthfully why she isn’t doing it as much as you want. Then you can work on things together from there.

But in the end, what it all boils down to for both sides of the gender divide is to avoid laying claim to skills or preferences when you just don’t have ‘em. That leaves room for those of us who do have the mad skillz to brag and be believed.

2003-03-23T03:42:00.000-05:00

Things I don’t understand

Okay, so today’s column is both late and it’s a mish-mash of things I just don’t get about people – men and women equally – when it comes to sex.

First of all, I’d like to begin by saying that I do not understand why it is that men lie about the size of their dicks when it seems inevitable that we’re (by this I mean their potential partners) going to see them. Do they think that dicks, like cats, all look the same in the dark?

I mean, seriously now. If you take me you have a big, thick cock, chances are I’m going to look forward to feeling or seeing that sucker. But if I reach down during a heavy make-out session and think, “What, does he want me to take a memo at a time like this?” then chances are I’m not fucking fooled, and you’ve lied.

There’s an old joke that I like to tell, and it goes like this:
Q: Why are women so bad at math?
A: Because all their lives they’re told that this (hold up fingers four inches apart) is eight inches.

I gotta say guys, no one is fooled by you adding four inches onto your overall length. Sure, you can probably exaggerate by an inch and no one’s the wiser -- after all, few of us are about to whip out a measuring tape in the heat of passion to check your claim -- but when you’re practically doubling your actual length, I’m gonna find out one way or the other. I mean, it really doesn’t take much to figure out that if I can wrap one hand around you and be done with it – and lemme tell you, I do not have especially large hands – then I’m not fooled. Period.

So be honest with your future partners – if you’ve got yourself a tiny tadger, don’t say you’re packing a monster prick. The only person you’re fooling is yourself, and chances are that unlike me or any other potential partner, you’re not going to be disappointed with your delusions of grandeur. After all, they say that it’s the motion of the ocean and not the size of the boat, and partly that’s true (and another column), but it’s also the mad skillz that you can employ with your hands and mouth that factor into things.

Secondly, I’ll attack my gender for some balance. Why the hell do women fake orgasms? Is there something wrong with not coming every single time you have sex (and that’s another column)? If your guy is never gonna make it happen, then change the position and fuck him stupid until he comes. Then, when you’re both of clearer heads and interested in a new mode of attack, go at it. Teach him how to get you off. But don’t be faking your pleasure – you’re only cheating yourself.

It doesn’t have to be a blatant statement like, “Darlin’, you suck at giving me head and I’m falling asleep up here. Get up here and fuck me,” although that would certainly be effective, I’m sure. Probably at killing your guy (or gal)’s ardour, but it’s not up to me to tell you what is the right or wrong way for you to communicate with your partner.

Oh, wait. This is my column. Sure it is!

If your partner’s enthusiasm just ain’t making it happen for you, then move on to something else. Get him or her to start playing with you by hand, and be sure to offer lots of praise and encouragement – be it something as obvious as, “Oooh yeah, right there, that’s working, don’t stop that” or lots of moaning and heavy breathing. Don’t do anything you find awkward or uncomfortable, but at the same time, don’t lie there like a cold fish, especially if it’s working.

Don’t be afraid to reach down there and show him or her how you like it; if you’re comfortable enough with your partner touching you, what’s the big deal with you touching yourself in front of him or her? After all, it’s your body, you’re free to abuse it as you see fit. A lot of men feel that an incredibly sexy sight is seeing their lady enjoy herself, and often they’re not too discriminatory as to whether it’s him or she doing the work.

In the end, even if you’re the one getting yourself off, at least you’re getting some satisfaction out of the deal, no? And wouldn’t you have screwed yourself anyhow if you had faked an orgasm? Think about it, there’s some philosophical twisty thinking for you in the midst of the chicanery that is this article.

On that note, I sum up: guys, don’t lie about the size of your dicks, ‘cause guess what – it’s not a secret you can keep for long (especially if you like the one you’re with). Girls, don’t fake orgasms – you’re cheating yourself most of all, but how the hell is your partner supposed to learn how to get you off if you’re training him to do the exact wrong thing?

2003-03-20T00:24:00.000-05:00

I’m so close… And, we’re done.

”...bite my lip and close my eyes/take me away to paradise...”

Aren’t orgasms a wonderful thing?

I should just end this column there, shouldn’t I? Just twiddle my thumbs (so to speak) as everyone gets lost in a reverie, imagining how great it feels to come, whether alone, with a partner, a crowd, in the midst of sex, or even in the midst of a really great dream.

But that would be cheating all of you, and since this column has arrived late anyhow, I’m going to go off onto a little tangent about the joys of coming and the flip side of it – not coming.

To begin. Orgasms are a wonderful thing.

There, now the flip side.

What, you wanted more? Okay, imaging lying there on the bed, writhing back and forth as someone does their best to tease, torture and tantalize you with their hands and mouth across your delicate nether regions (be they of the ‘innie’ or ‘outie’ variety), listening to you gasp and moan and privately delighting in every little twitch you make. Meanwhile, you’re alternately praising and cursing this person who is bringing you closer and closer to that ultimate release and yet drawing it out so that you both suffer and enjoy your final moment(s) all the more…

Need I go on?

Imagine the blessed release, that moment of absolute and total lack of control over your body as it spasms and pulses, your back arches or your hands clench, your toes curl and you either express or suppress the sounds of ecstasy you’re making in the back of your throat when you finally do get to come…

(I think I need a cold shower.)

Now, imagine you can’t do that. Imagine you get close and your partner finishes before you, and has no interest whatsoever in seeing that you achieve that same, blissful state of Nirvana.

In that case, your partner is a bum and should be kicked out of your bed, unless they have some sort of redeeming skill that you can make use of on other occasions – like giving great head (that term works for both genders), or rewiring your bedroom, or what have you. It’s up to you.

But what if you’re of the group of people – typically women – who simply doesn’t orgasm from sex, or even orgasm at all? Then guess what, you’re in the majority, at least according to studies I’ve read.

There’s a lot of ‘em out there; they either can’t come period, or just not from sex. It’s somewhat frustrating, but there you have it.

So, what do you do? Well, either acquaint your hands and mouth with their tender parts, or figure out how to best stimulate them, if they're willing to participate (and if not, I certainly am).

The thing is, for some women, coming is a very private matter, and there are women who don’t feel comfortable doing so in front of someone else.

For others, it’s something that’s really difficult to achieve, so they simply don’t request it of their partners. I’ve been in the situation where nothing that was being done was going to work, so it was just easier to give up and move on to something else than to worry about me.

Hell, I’ve had some partners who didn’t really care if I got mine after they got theirs. Because it’s not always an easy task to achieve, I’ve developed the attitude of not being overly concerned about it. People always say that if you get all worked up about it, it’s going to be harder to come, right? So, I try to stay relaxed.

But sometimes a sense of complacency works against you; if you don’t throw a screaming hissy fit (different than having a screaming orgasm) every time you don’t come, some guys just develop an equally (or more so) laissez-faire attitude to whether or not you get off.

Who’s to blame? Me for not tearing down my partner’s bedroom skillz if he can’t get me off or him for deciding not to feel like less of a lover who's inclined to try harder ‘cause he didn’t get me off?

It’s somewhat equally shared, I think. Communication is really important in and out of the bedroom – don’t be afraid to tell your activities partner what works or doesn’t work for you, and be sure to tell them how important you find an orgasm to be. If it’s a situation like I described, and he’s still leaving you hanging, start turning the tables. Stop before he gets off, and see how he feels about it.

I think it’s only fair.

Okay, so it’s not. The best solution, I think, is if after being told: “Hey, I like to come, too,” your partner still hasn’t caught on – toss ‘em. Everyone deserves a great time in bed, and that includes someone who can make you lose your mind.

And since I hate cold showers... I'm off for awhile.

2003-03-12T00:02:00.000-05:00

Now I lay me down to sleep

All kinds of exciting things happen to us when we sleep. Mouths are open, drooling or snoring or breathing or sighing; eyes are closed or, as in my case, open; we twitch, we shudder, we grumble, we moan... all of which is often tied into our dreams, whether we remember them or not.

I don't think I'm alone when I say I've had some really raunchy dreams, and those have led to my waking up with quite the smile on my face. But as a girl, that's realy the only "problem" I've had with any dirty dreams I've had; unless it was waking up too early to be "satisfied."

Now, when I was avidly devouring the "What's Happening to my Body?: Book for Girls" and assorted other literature available to curious eyes, I learned of the ability for men to have "exciting" dreams. THese were dreams that could have an... umm... embarrassing physical effect. To white: making young guys do their own laundry. Furtively. What could be more humiliating to a young lad than to have to wash his own sheets?

Okay, the reason behind it might be more so; because, sometime in the middle of the night, they had released a wet, white testament to the erotic nature of their dream. Maybe they couldn't remember the dream, maybe it wasn't erotic, but the evidence ws there the next day, as if it were Lewinsky's dress covering them -- there was something there to be cleaned up.

Now, the books made it seem as if every guy experienced wet dreams, as if they all woke up in the morning, sheets or pyjamas glued to their bodies. Naturally, this phenemenon fascinated me, even while I felt bad for those who had to do an early-morning load of laundry.

But conversations with my friends at an adult age showed that few of my guy friends actually ever had wet dreams as a kid, or if they did, they certainly didn't remember them.

Some of them put their lack of nocturnal spoogeing down to the fact that they began masturbating at a young age; yet I have friends who are celibate and don't jack off, or who have chosen not to beat off as a test of sorts, and these same friends haven't awoken to cold come on a warm stomach.

So then, why do some people get to have sexy dreams with a nighttime release, and others just wake up horny? (No, not just with morning wood, that's different; actually horny).

Hell if I know. The best thing I can figure is every person is different, and run with that. My childhood reading sure led me to beileve that the experience was one all guys had, but obviously not (it reminds me of a story a friend of mine told me just last night; apparently his sex education teacher told the class that all penises are the same size when erect. What a disappointment that must've been to some kids when they found otherwise... and bragging time for others, I'm sure).

I suppose that not everyone shares this experience isn't a bad thing; after all, who has the time to do a load of laundry before they go to school in the morning -- at least, when you're nine or ten?

I think I'm glad that when I wake up in the morning, I just have to do my regular routine. I don't have to wait until the morning wood goes away, or check to ensure I don't have any telling stains on my clothes. That's not to say that I don't enjoy dicks on their own; I just wouldn't want to own one.

2003-02-28T02:29:00.000-05:00

What I like about you

Being in a relationship can be a great boost to your ego… or it can be hell on it, especially if you’ve dated some of the guys I have (what do you mean, change the way I walk so it’ll be sexier?).

The neat thing about being naked around someone new is finding out what it is they like about your body or your personality, because after all, it’s different for everyone.

What they like about it, not your body or personality, that is.

Being regarded as such by different people forces you to look at your body and yourself in a different light. This guy likes my butt, that guy thinks I’m cute, this one loves the fact that I wear glasses, that one loves my freckles, the other thinks I’m smart… all of this adds up to a pretty favourable picture of yourself, don’t you think?

The trick is to date either one guy or girl who sees you in an incredibly flattering light, such that they make you feel terrific about yourself and love every single aspect of you… or date a whole bunch of people that love little individual things about you so you get a good, all around image of yourself.

I find that my favourites about guys have changed over the years. It used to be that I went for what I called “the high school boy” body type; tall, scrawny, bare on the chest. Then I matured a little, and so did my tastes. Instead of the chest being my favourite part of the guy’s body, I got into stomachs (with a little help from someone that had a nice one, if I remember correctly). At the same time, I grew to like guys that were filled out more, and a little on the fuzzy side; guys that had the arms to hold me and the expanse of chest against which I could comfortably lay my head.

Now, I’m even older (and no less wiser, some would say), and what I like in a guy is a bit of furriness, and I’m all about the stomachs. It’s weird, but I really like a furry stomach. I used to love the treasure trail, and it certainly retains its charms for me, but I find the furry stomach fun to rub and pat; it’s usually quite soft, and not too many guys object to having their stomachs rubbed.

It’s this type of behaviour that I like to think might help out someone’s self-confidence. I mean, if I were a guy, I might be a little self-conscious about the fact that I had a hairy stomach, or a stomach that wasn’t perfectly flat (let’s face it, as a girl I’m already super-insecure about the second. I don’t mind my hairy stomach so much), so having someone who obviously loved it might make me feel better about it, and maybe even take a little pride in it. “Hey, look at me!” I’d say, strutting about in a little belly tee or crop top, “I have a hairy stomach! Love the hairy stomach! Pat it! Rub it!” And the girls would flock to me. Either that, or throw things at me. Hrm.

Now, being as rounded as I am (yes, I roll places, rather than walk. It’s really rather disgusting), I am constantly amazed when I get told I’m sexy or whatnot. I figure that these people are all crazy, but it takes all kinds and there’s no accounting for taste. Or whatever. Yet, hearing that I’m sexy – or even getting to see or feel proof that someone finds me sexy – does help boost my confidence and my ego. I feel better about my body, even if I haven’t perfectly perfumed, shaved and exercised it in the last ten minutes before it’s being regarded and appreciated.

And it doesn’t take having a steady boyfriend, girlfriend, or even sex partner to feel good about yourself in this manner. Sometimes all it takes is a smile or a wink from someone on the street or the bus to make you say, “Hey, I’m good-looking!” I know, it’s not very politically correct or feministally good of me to say that, but… I’m only human. I like to be found attractive once in awhile, too.

So, until the next time I get winked at on the street, I’m off to go rub some furry bellies to make some people feel better about themselves.

2003-02-26T02:30:00.000-05:00

The Three Rs: Reeling, Writhing and Revealing

Life is a series of experiences from which we learn, and relationships are doubly so.

In my short little life, I have learned a few things; don’t date someone with baggage, don’t date your coworker, and don’t sniff when you’re chewing carrots, or else you get little bits of carrot in your sinuses and it feels really weird until you swallow a few times and they disappear.

Anyhow, foodstuffs aren’t my topic of choice today, so just tuck that one away as a helpful bit of information and I’ll carry on.

There are a number of things that we learn about ourselves and others in the course of a relationship. Some of us learn we don’t like to be hit, degraded to, forced or coerced into having sex, or that we don’t like to be cuddled when there’s a full moon about. Sometimes we learn that we like to be held when we’ve had a bad day at work, or that just telling about what a jerk our coworker has been can make us feel better, or that having someone rub your feet when you’ve had a rough day is fantastic.

I know, a lot of this sounds really obvious, doesn’t it? But those are things that you don’t always fully appreciate until you’ve been in a relationship with someone that does them; or when you’re in a relationship with someone that doesn’t – after you’ve gotten used to having it happen. Going from a girlfriend that tells you how good looking and sexy you are when you’re feeling rough and down on yourself to a girlfriend that doesn’t pick up on your woe-filled comments and give you the ego boost that you crave can be difficult. It’s time to learn that not everyone is the same and sometimes if you need a boost like that, you’ll have to explain it to him or her… some other time, when you’re feeling a bit less vulnerable.

But sometimes it’s the little things that you don’t realize you’ve learned or absorbed until long after the fact; someone else’s appreciation for the genius that is Charlie Chaplin; the wonder that is making love to the strains of U2; or the hilarity that can be had from the pages of a Terry Pratchett novel.

If it weren’t for my ex-boyfriends, I wouldn’t know of or appreciate U2; Cake (my favourite band); Rufus Wainwright; comics; dressing up for sex; MUDding (okay, it was an ex-boyfriend that helped me break the habit through his continuing presence); Gabriel Garcia Marquez; betta fish; coming from sex alone; Luigi’s Mansion (less of an ex-boyfriend thing); shaving; and any other number of things that aren’t coming to mind at the moment.

It’s amazing how much we learn about and appreciate from one another, sometimes consciously, and sometimes not. After I broke up with one boyfriend, I couldn’t bear to hear anything from the U2 canon for quite some time; that, anime and comic books all reminded me of him (and no, I wasn’t twelve when we broke up, either). Another boyfriend got me into the music of Sublime; I still think of it as stoner music, but I still enjoy it.

It’s things like that that make me say that I’ve learned from all of my relationships. I find that the good ones leave me with something tangible – like an appreciation for Thai food or the fun of being tied up – and the bad ones just leave me with another entry on my “what I don’t want in a relationship” list.

I wonder sometimes how much others learn from me. I dated one guy who claimed that he adopted a more liberal attitude towards sex because of me, but based on the way he completely didn’t change while we dated, I have my doubts (he was much more interested in impressing his attitudes and behaviours on me than on being open-minded enough to learn anything from me). I can’t think of much influence I’ve had on anyone, so perhaps I’m more of a sponge than the guys I’ve dated.

Maybe a really good relationship is one where the learning goes both ways; where both members of the couple learn about new things from the other.

2003-02-18T17:53:00.000-05:00

Clean up in Aisle Four…

I’ll admit it, weird things fascinate me. Non verbal communication, shiny objects, stationery… and people’s sexual peccadilloes and oddities.

This ranges includes everything from position preferences to turn ons to methods of masturbation and clean up.

For some reason, I find it absolutely fascinating to learn the different ways that guys take care of the “after” product of their self-abuse. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a penis of my own to play with and figure out, but much that has to do with these dingly bits intrigues and entertains me.

A girlfriend and I used to have a “schloop” noise that we’d make in conjunction with an upward cupping/clutching motion; this was meant to represent the effect that a hand had on our gentlemens’ scrota, and we thought it was absolutely hilarious. Sometimes provoking those poor innocent testicles into migrating away from my tender (or something mildly chilled) touch would entertain me for longer than was likely fair.

The process of watching one go from hard to soft or vice versa amuses me, too. Well, amuse has the wrong connotation – so many people feel that laughter has no place in sex because of the delicate egos involved on both sides – but how else could I phrase it? It goes up, it goes down, it changes size, it disappears in cold situations, it provides pleasure – this is nothing short of entertaining and amusing, whether the situation is sexual or asexual.

Most anyone who’s had sex with a guy or is a guy has had to deal with the aftereffects. Many of my guy friends have the same story of beginning to masturbate at an age prior to the production of semen, and getting quite the shock the first time it happened to them; not all of them were aware that their bodies would produce such a thing, and it was a scare, at least at first. Hopefully, the first time that these same guys came in front of someone else, that second (or third and fourth) person was prepared to deal with the result.

It seems that many of my guy friends develop methods to ‘clean up’ after they’re done: I’ve heard tales of towels kept for that sole purpose and laundered once a week; piles of Kleenex disappearing into the wastebasket; dirty underwear; condoms being put to yet another use; time spent in the shower (with a quote I just have to share: “I only masturbate in the shower when I have time… or when I’m in a hurry.”), or even one guy who, if I interpreted correctly, tended to let it dry on himself overnight and then just wash it off in his morning shower.

Having been on the receiving end of the mess before, I know what a pain it is to clean off, and I wonder if some guys avoid getting it on them. I’ve heard one tale of someone leaning forward a bit too much and getting it in the eye – this is something that he would likely recommend avoiding. It seems it stings quite a bit.
When it dries on the skin, it has a strange kind of cold feeling that it draws – something almost akin to pouring rubbing alcohol on your hand and feeling it evaporate. It’s sticky in the hair and difficult to brush out, and if it’s left on your skin, either fresh or dried, it turns to glue in hot water. Isn’t this a wonderful thing that guys’ bodies produce?

It certainly reminds me at times that I’m glad to be a girl – like when I’m looking at someone trying to finger-comb it out of his pubic hair or frantically check the sheets or couch to see if there’s been any damage done, either in the form of a wet spot or a stain. For the most part, there’s much less mess involved from me, and I kind of like it that way.

Overall, I guess what fascinates me is the fact that everyone has a different method of dealing with it, and aside from Kleenexes, I’ve rarely heard the same thing said twice. Humans are creative people, and apparently that creativity extends right down to the methods we use to clean up come. Aren't we great?

2003-02-14T16:36:00.000-05:00

Those Magic Moments

Once upon a time, I started writing a column that attempted to deal with those quiet moments that a couple shares after sex.

That column got away from me, and turned into something that made fun of the wet spot and orgasm faces, among other goonie things that are a fact of sex – but never get mentioned in novels or movies.

Anyhow, what with today being Valentine’s Day and all, the day of romance, love, cuddles, depression and suicide, I thought that I’d try to touch on the subject once more and actually treat it properly this time, and from a different angle.

Most couples that have been together for any length of time, or who are comfortable with one another share a certain amount of connection and intimacy. This isn’t particular to couples, though; a connection of sorts can exist between friends and relatives, as well.

However, when one is part of a couple, there’s something more there. It’s difficult to explain if one hasn’t experienced it, because on the surface it sounds as if it’s the same as a pair of friends who simply happen to see one another naked and do things about it.

You can define the connection as the sharing of inside jokes, caring about seeing one another happy, listening to one another’s stresses, helping each other to relax and feel better after a bad day… and yet, when you look at it that way, those are the same roles that a friend can provide.

However, it seems to have something extra when it’s a boyfriend or girlfriend, doesn’t it? Knowing that you can feel comforted with a big hug from that special someone, or knowing how they’ll react to what you have to say, maybe give you a special comment or squeeze. It’s incredibly comforting and I think sometimes it’s what I miss the most when a good relationship ends.

So today, whether you’re single or in a relationship, find someone that you can be close with, and enjoy your time. If you’re single, get together some friends, watch mushy movies and drink wine and eat cheesecake and trash ‘em… hrrrm, sounds like a good plan, actually. Enjoy the company of your friends – even if you’re not sleeping with them, there is an intimacy to be found in your relationships together and it’s a great one; remember, boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, but your friends will always trash ‘em with you.

If you’re in a relationship, don’t stress too much about making the day special. Today is in reality, just another day, so if you don’t have super extra-special plans, who cares? Sometimes a pizza and a movie can be a hundred times more romantic, fun and special than getting all dressed up and going out to a fancy restaurant with linen tablecloths and people with better manners than I could ever hope to have.

Take the time every once in awhile to make one another feel special, be it with a small gift, a backrub, or just a “hey, I was thinking of you” phone call. It’s touches like that that make a couple’s relationship special and intimate, more than hours of monkey sex and fancy dinners ever could.

2003-02-11T01:06:00.000-05:00

Not tonight dear… I have a headache.

There are two base stereotypes that exist in the world of sex that pop up over and over, in advertising, movies, and daily conversations: men are horny all the time, and women rarely want sex.

I’ve heard some statistics that say the average man thinks about sex every seven seconds, but I’ve never heard any to say how often women do. A fair number of my male friends say seven seconds is a very conservative estimate, but sometimes I have a hard time believing that. Sure, I think about sex a lot, but it’s in bursts, and I’ll admit I distract easily. A sampling:

…oooh, I’d like to have my nipples played with while someone’s going down on me, maybe have my hands tied above my head, pulling at the bonds tying me, oh look a shiny quarter!, what in my room would work best for tying someone to? I could go for some chocolate right now, rub myself back and forth across someone all covered in baby oil, geez, my ear’s really itchy, have him sitting on a couch while I go down on him and torture him, I need to remember to call to book the cat’s vet appointment…

And that might occupy me for a half hour or so, depending on how thoroughly I flush out those concepts. I mean, calling to book the vet appointment is a pretty involved process, and I need to think it through rather carefully. But I digress (ooh, shiny object!).

Sure, it can be pretty concentrated sex thoughts for some time, but then it’s off to grab the bus to work or chat with friends or sleep through class, and my mind tunes elsewhere.

While I think (and talk and write) about sex an awful lot, I’m not in the mood for it as often as most would think, or as often as many of my friends are – guys and girls alike. I’ve always figured I must have a somewhat low sex drive; I’d likely be perfectly happy getting some two or three times a week, on average.

At the same time, while I’m not always necessarily in the mood, I can usually either be convinced into it, or I can think myself into it; the imagination is a wonderful thing, as is someone who knows what I like and knows what they’re doing.

But that’s neither here nor there, and it’s the king of rambling that comes from writing late at night (and being easily distracted, not that I am… oooh, Clodhoppers). What I wanted to vaguely address this week was the factors that go into determining what makes one “not in the mood,” and reactions to them, good and bad.

It was said be one ex-boyfriend of mine that nothing short of losing a limb would cause him to not want sex, and even then he could likely be persuaded. I don’t make the claim to speak for anyone by myself, but I can be put off sex much more easily than that.

Ironically, a headache isn’t usually one of the culprits. It’s usually more the ailments that leave me feeling ill-at-ease overall and uninterested in bouncing around all over someone; stomach upsets, backaches, death… those are more the kinds of things that will have me saying somewhat cautiously, “Umm… could we just cuddle tonight?”

I should rephrase; saying it “cautiously” makes it seem as if I fear retaliation in some form of another from my current paramour, and that’s not the case. It’s more a matter of conditioning after the first boyfriend I slept with (the one responsible for the terrible, awful, no-good first time), for he was prone to whining at great lengths and until I gave in when I ventured, “How about another time?”

This is a course of action I do not recommend when your partner, be they male or female, asks if you can just cuddle tonight; it’s far from an endearing trait, believe me.

Nonetheless, what do you do if you’re raring to go and your partner would rather just sleep, or vice versa? Personally, I have a few courses of action, and it all depends on your comfort level with your partner, and how he or she would react to your chosen actions.

1. Take care of your own business: If your partner would be okay just holding and kissing you while you get yourself off, then by all means enjoy. I’ve asked boyfriends in the past to get themselves off while I cheered from the sidelines, and generally somewhere through the procedure I wind up turned on enough to jump in and turn it into an entire event. Whether this happens to you or not, your partner is getting an orgasm, you’re getting a break, and it’s a win-win situation all around.

2. Give it up and just go to sleep: A course of action I’ve employed in the past, and occasionally wished that partners would do as well. It’s not as if the two of you will never have sex again, right? What’s going one night without?

3. Whine until your partner gives in: Oh, wait. We covered this one. Bad idea, leads to resentment on your partner’s part, and likely bad sex on yours. Moving on.

4. Storm out in a huff, go down to the bar and start drinking, then bitch and moan to all who’ll listen (or happen to be within unfortunate earshot) about what a selfish, unloving partner you have. Be sure to sulk the next time you see them, too.

Well, it’s difficult for me to sit down and tell you what the causes are for being out of the mood; they’re circumstantial, they’re arbitrary, they’re the parents coming home at the really wrong moment. Once again, my writing appears to have gotten away from me – really what I wanted to talk about was the different things that men and women think about when they think about sex, but no one wanted to give me a straight answer. No matter.

As for me, I’m off to bed. Believe it or not, I really do have a headache… so tonight, is it okay if we just cuddle?

2003-02-04T02:43:00.000-05:00

Ready… or not?

There comes a time in all (most?) of our lives when we decide it’s time to have sex. For those of us who are fortunate, after the first time, this time comes more often. And so do we.

*cough*

Sorry, had to take that bad, bad opening right there. As I was saying, most people are fortunate enough to have sex a few times in their lives; either for the first time as a virgin, or after that, with (a) new partner(s). Sometimes this is an easy decision – I mean, c’mon? Hugh Jackman offering himself to me? In a minute! – other times, it’s not so easy.

I wrote awhile back about making the decision to be someone’s “first” – it’s a pretty big responsibility, and one that I think requires a decent amount of thought on both people’s parts (hehehe – I said parts). But what isn’t always talked about is the decision to sleep with a new partner.

There are all kinds of factors that can go into the decision to sleep with someone; “I’m horny and I want sex and this person is offering/interested/unconscious”; “It’s been two years and I think I’ve forgotten how”; “I’m trying to get a better position (hehehe) at work”; “I’m trying to increase my overall number.” Sometimes it’s something, “I really like this person, I’m really attracted to him/her, I’d really like to share that experience with him/her,” but really, how often does that happen?

Okay, so I’m being facetious. I’m also being rather immature this article, if you hadn’t already noticed. *grin*

Moving on… it’s an interesting that physically one can be ready for sex, yet mentally completely unprepared. I’ve been in situations whereby I was attracted to someone, but unwilling to have sex because I knew I wasn’t “ready” – as ambiguous a term as that can be. I’ve also been in situations where I felt that I did want to sleep with someone, but I wanted to wait until we were both ready – being comfortable together, enjoying all the preliminary activities and practicing them, the moon and the stars were in proper alignment – before actually getting naked and having fun together.

I was having this discussion with a friend of mine the other day; he stated that he was ready for sex at 9, even if he didn’t actually have it until later in life. It’s one thing to say we’re ready for sex at such-and-such an age, but how many of us, given the opportunity, would have actually had it that young?

I was offered the opportunity to have sex for the first time at 13, if memory serves; I knew that I certainly wasn’t ready at that point. When I actually had sex for the first time, did I feel I was more ready then? Looking back, I’d have to say probably not, but what’s done is done, so I can’t regret it… at least, not too much.

If you’re a regular reader or you’ve read the archives, you’ll note that I talked before about my first time and how crappy it was. I suppose it could have been worse; I didn’t lose any limbs or have anything break off, but overall, it was pretty sad. Would it have been better if I’d been ready? I think so. I think I might’ve taken a more active role in the proceedings and probably had a lot more fun in the whole event.

That whole incident helped to prompt the article I wrote about losing one’s virginity, or being asked to be someone’s first. My whole life is a mine for these articles, and an event too many years ago, or one that was only two years ago, can turn into the 700-900 words that you get to read. A good friend of mine got inducted into the world of sex fairly recently, and all I can hope is that this friend’s first time was better than mine, and that (s)he happened to feel ready, mentally as well as physically.

Anyhow… sometimes when I think that sex is a possibility with a new partner, there’s a bunch of mental weighing that I do. Am I attracted? Am I interested in a relationship? Do I think we’d show one another a good time? Sadly, one of the other questions that runs through my head is, “Do I want to increase my number?” That one is usually more when I’m really uncertain about the possibility; it’s a bit of an indicator to me that maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to get involved with this person as much as I think I do… which means that I’m just not ready.

I think it’s important to try to avoid doing something you’ll regret. Sure, it’s not something that you can predict; after all, how was I to know that I’d regret having slept with that particular guy? But it’s certainly something to keep in mind, as much as your hormones might be trying to overrule your head (and no, it’s not just men that are ruled by their nether parts). Just ‘cause your tender parts might be ready doesn’t mean that you are… and we were all created with two hands for a reason. Don’t be afraid to make use of ‘em; I can’t think of a time I woke up saying to myself, “Dammit, I wish I hadn’t gotten myself off last night.”

2003-01-22T12:43:00.000-05:00

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

2003-01-17T20:36:00.000-05:00

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.

2003-01-10T23:15:00.000-05:00

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.

*shudder*

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!

2003-01-07T20:50:00.000-05:00

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 Dictionary.com, 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.

2003-01-03T04:32:00.000-05:00

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 theSpark.com, 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.

2002-12-30T00:22:00.000-05:00

The Sounds of (Not) Silence.

Sex is rarely a completely quiet affair. There’s grunting, groaning, panting, moaning, gasping, yelping, talking, and on some occasions, screaming.

Screaming is fun, although sometimes it’s best to warn the roommates, neighbours, and local law enforcement, depending on how loud you or your partner may get.

Personally, I love a noisy partner. Whether it’s carrying on a conversation about what’s going on in or out of the bedroom, or even just moaning and gasping in response to what’s happening, it’s all pretty fantastic.

It also leads to some fabulous jokes and comments for later, particularly if you happen to have roommates or visiting relatives with whom you’re comfortable (or friends). I’ve been in a relationship whereby the household was quite relaxed and casual about sexual matters, so it wasn’t unusual to overhear another couple having some fun. The courteous thing was to simply wander to a higher floor so as not to overhear nearly as much; other times you just laughed about it and ignored it as best you could.

I find the best thing to do, when roommates or relatives are a factor, is be as quiet as possible out of respect for the other members of the household. Someone who seems quite comfortable and relaxed about their own sexuality still may not appreciate overhearing you enjoying yours, so why make it an issue?

That all said and done, the best sex is the sex where it doesn’t matter how quiet or loud you are, so long as your partner can hear you and enjoy the noises you are or aren’t making. I try to pay attention to all of it; the grunting, the groaning, the sped-up breathing, the whimpers … it’s all part of hearing someone else enjoy themselves, and it’s incredibly sexy.

My male friends share that same opinion; out of anyone with whom I’ve had the discussion, hearing their partner enjoy herself ranks right up there as generally the highest turn on for guys. I find this very encouraging – at least as long as the guys don’t think that this is an independent state for us. Just as you like attention to keep your interests on the subject at hand, so do us women. That’s not to say that it isn’t a turn on hearing you enjoy yourself – I say, the more vocal the better – but we like a bit of attention in order to make those sexy noises you love to hear so much as well.

Of course, sometimes the noises one makes in fits of passion aren’t always the most… flattering, shall we say. Face it, your mind is on other things in the heat of the moment, so you’re not exactly paying close attention to the little fits and starts of your breathing, or the choking or yelping or yodelling noises you might happen to be making on your way to the big finish. Times like these, when it’s one partner getting the other off, and being more of less in full use of their faculties, one garners a great deal of ammunition to use later.

This isn’t always a good thing, at least when the tables are being turned against you.

But when you wield the power, look out.

Hehehe.

It does however take a secure relationship for your boyfriend or girlfriend to realize that you’re merely teasing him or her when you start imitating those little noises they make, and not actually making fun, which is a bit different. It also takes you not being self-conscious or upset if they do the same. It can actually make for a lot of fun if you do it in group situations, but in such a manner that your boyfriend or girlfriend is the only one who knows what you’re really talking about.

But then again, I’ve been told I’m mean and cruel and evil. I think inside jokes can be funny, and it’s all part of teasing. Admittedly a different kind of teasing than you might do when it’s just you and your significant other, but still a fun kind.

Every good day includes at least one person making fun of your orgasm noises, or even your orgasm face, no? At the very least, you can take comfort in the knowledge that you were having a good time. And then... it's your turn to make fun.

2002-12-14T13:58:00.000-05:00

Caught next to a hard place

I like men.

This should come as no surprise to those who read these columns, or those who know me.

I like men. I like the contrasts between their bodies and mine; I like the hairy chests, the muscles, the warmth, the solidness of a man’s body. I like the weight of a guy on me or against me; I like the feel of arm or chest hair against my skin.

I love the treasure trail, or the patch of belly fur. That will amuse me a lot longer than it probably should, but what can I say? I’m easily amused. That’s why I’m straight.

You’ll get that one in a second.

Anyhow, one of the major differences between a guy’s body and mine is… you guessed it, a lack of breasts. In most cases.

But the other difference? Hardons!

I have to confess; I love the cock. It entertains me flaccid or erect. Actually, when it’s erect, it usually tempts me… or sometimes annoys me, but either way, it’s fun to play with.

Just like the wall of dildos at the porn store I wrote about before, a hardon is fun to reach out and tweak, make it bob up and down a bit. It doesn’t quite have the same “twoing!” effect that a rubber cock can have, but I’m willing to try.

I like the way a hardon feels in my hands; the smoothness of the flesh contrasted with the solidity and thickness (in some cases) and the pulsing and the warmth. I like the feel of a hardon pressing up against me, so long as it’s from someone I want pressing a hardon up against me. When I’m receptive and interested and he presses up against me with that solid evidence that he wants me? Ooh, delicious feeling.

At the same time as I enjoy them, there’s something sublimely ridiculous about a hardon, and guys are frequently offended when you laugh at them. I’m not laughing at the guy; I’m laughing at the dick. There’s a difference, and it’s probably not much better when I say it that way, is it?

But c’mon now! When the two of you are snuggling, watching a movie (that isn’t a soft core film), and a hardon starts pressing into your back or ribs? That’s funny! Or endearing, sometimes.

I know that hardons aren’t always a result of physical desire, just the same way that nipple hardons on women don’t always mean “drop trou baby, I wanna fuck!” Yes, sometimes they just happen of their own accord. That’s why it’s funny! C’mon! Who else has this kind of problem? You’re walking down the street, thinking of the errands that you have to do for the day, and wha-bam! You pop a boner. You have two choices; either you get all embarrassed about it and berate yourself for ages over it, or you cope with it and laugh. Personally, as you may have noticed, I choose to laugh. Then again, I’ve never popped a boner in my life.

There’s so much about sex and sexuality that’s funny, and worth laughing over, so long as you understand that it’s not the person that’s being laughed at, but the situation. Laughing at the person can be hurtful; laughing at the situation can give you an inside joke for later.

Nonetheless, hardons are entertaining. They stick straight out and demand attention – there’s really no negotiating around them sometimes. Mind you, that’s also partly the guy’s fault sometimes – if he’s making it bob around or holding it in your face, that’s a bit of a different story.

Guys can be so horrified or embarrassed when they have a hardon, which always makes me laugh. Is it really that bad being teased over having had a natural biological function over which you have no control (usually)? Admittedly, if you’re sitting in class thinking dirty thoughts, then it’s your own fault if you have a hardon; but otherwise, who cares, really? Honestly, it’s usually not as obvious as you may think, especially if you’re wearing jeans that aren’t super-tight or super-baggy.

I have to admit, unless a guy is pressed up against me or naked beside me, I basically never notice if he has a hardon or not. Call me stupid, call me oblivious, but … stop worrying about ‘em, and let those of us that love the cock have fun with ‘em… once you’re done playing with them yourselves.

In the meantime, I’m off to find myself a cock to “twoing”.

Sidenote to my readers... thank you for your patience with my missed deadlines over the last few weeks. It's been a crazy time for writing and exams, but that's for all intents and puposes passed now. I should be better at getting things posted from now onwards, so enjoy. Again, thanks.

2002-12-03T22:51:00.000-05:00

Show me the money…shot

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about sex.

Yes, this may come as a shock to some, but I think about sex a lot. Guys are supposedly thinking about it every what, seven seconds? Well hey, maybe I’m just a guy with an extra leg of chromosome to give me all the fun parts.

I think about sex a lot, and every now and then someone hits me with a comment or a question that makes me stop and pause and realize, “That’s right, not everyone is like me.”

Now, my rule of thumb is Every Person Is Different. It’s something I’ve picked up off a mailing list I belong to, and it’s something that I’ve long held dear, even before then. So yes, on a conscious level I’m aware that we’re not all the same. But sometimes it takes some reminding, and my latest quest for pornography has made that supremely clear.

I realize no one will believe it, but I rarely read or look at porn online. I mean, sure, every now and then I’ll drop into alt.sex.stories and check to see if there’s anything good, but really, I don’t get off on still images, and there’s a lot of video that just isn’t long enough or worth it, so I usually rely on my own imagination, which is fertile enough to keep me going.

But that’s me, and you’re not me.

Video porn is has a lot of good and bad to say for it, and one of the those things that can be both is the money shot. For anyone that doesn’t know, the money shot is that scene in pornography where the man comes on the woman’s face. Sometimes the money shot will also refer to him coming on another other body part she makes available, but today we’ll refer to the face money shot.

I’ve discussed this one recently with two different friends of mine, both of the male persuasion, and they had different views on the subject. One has stated that he finds it sexy, and the other stated that he finds it somewhat disrespectful and distasteful. This opinion isn’t reflected in any of their other sexual interests, either; neither of them is particularly prudish, especially not the second. So, it makes me stop and think.

What is the point or the appeal of the money shot?

Now, if I wanted to go on a feminist rant, I could get into one aspect of the appeal: the whole dehumanization of the woman, showing her being degraded, ultimate power of the man over the woman, blah blah blah… and for some videos I’ve seen or people I’ve known, sure, that is the appeal. But I don’t think that’s the entire point to porn or the entire appeal, so I’m not going to bother extending that argument. Besides, I’m pro-porn, so I’m going to move right along.
I’m annoying my online friends by polling as many of them as I can, and I’ve gotten some good quotes from them:

“Why does it piss me off? Well, mainly because it's just not fun. I mean, the guy gets off, sure, but he does so in an offensive, demonstrative fashion.”

“Porn's tailored to guys' fantasies, so it fits in porn - especially since a lot of guys like the whole dominance aspect of it. In real life, though, unless she asks for it, I wouldn't do it. It seems a touch degrading in real life. And I don't see her asking for it.”

“I am indifferent towards it. I personally don't find it degrading to women, though I hear many women feel that way.”

“I always thought that make it sound almost painful.....like they are passing kidney stones or something.....way too much grunting.”

“As long as he asks first? I wouldn't want someone to come on my face without asking. Frankly, it looks kinda gross.”

“Well... quite frankly I don't see why some people think it's so great. I couldn't do it...seems insulting”

But what makes it sexy? Well, it’s seeing someone have an orgasm, which is pretty sexy and lends an end point to the entire scene as it were.

One friend I just polled offered up: “It's the most personal thing to do, to orgasm. When you do it ON someone, it's great, because they accept the most personal part of you.”

As I replied, I don’t have the same equipment, so I generally don’t have much choice but to orgasm on someone.

But that’s me and you’re not me. Although if you’re a girl, chances are that you’re more like me in not having a penis than not.

Anyhow… the money shot. I guess my main thought on the money shot is that it just seems so anticlimactic, as odd as that may seem. The actress has to alternately keep her eyes open to look sexy for the camera, meet the actor’s gaze, keep her mouth open and lick her lips to look appealing, encourage the actor… and then make sure she times it properly so that her eyes are closed when he’s shooting. I mean, here’s all this effort and grunting and groaning… to do what? To spew a few teaspoons of some sticky fluid across some actress’ face. Like I said, seems anticlimactic.

Then there’s getting it out of your hair, eyebrows, ears, nose, eyes, mouth… all this effort, just for those few seconds.

Mind you, I guess the same could be said about sex itself, although the lead up to those few seconds is awfully fantastic.

I know it may not seem that way from the last two articles I’ve written, but I really do enjoy sex. I promise. I’m just not a huge proponent of the money shot. It’s more the mocking shot, I think.

Weigh in with your thoughts on the money shot...

2002-11-30T04:14:00.000-05:00

Look Who’s Talking Now…

I find one of my favourite things about sex is the calm after the storm.

The moment when the two (or three, or four, or fourteen) of you are just lying around, feeling relaxed and giddy and yes, dare we say it, even stupid.

Maybe you’re feeling giggly, maybe you’re feeling exhausted and sweaty, maybe even energized, but it’s a great moment.

It’s the moment in which memories are shared, in-jokes are born, and the play-by-play is enacted, at least sometimes.

If you’ve been together for awhile, it’s the time when the teasing begins. That’s when you start making fun of one another’s orgasm faces, or noises made, or the things one or the other of you said during sex: “You wanted me to ride you like a wild… what was it? Rutabaga? What the hell was that about?”

It’s a moment of shared closeness, of real intimacy, and it’s really a great time.

The trick is, especially if you don’t live at home, not to fall asleep during this time. Nothing spoils a nice cooldown like waking up to find the folks coming up the stairs and the two of you, naked as the day you were born.

Admittedly, the folks have likely seen at least one of you in the nude before, but there’s generally been a bit of time between then and now… and they’re usually not too thrilled about finding you sharing that beautifully naked body with someone else.

Fathers in particular aren’t too thrilled about finding some hideous perverted beast despoiling their precious baby girls, regardless of how old, tame, or well-liked you are, that tends to be the father-daughter thought process.

But that’s a separate tangent. There’s something incredibly special about laughing with someone while the two of you are naked together after having shared some hot, sweaty, monkey lovin’ or some love making. I think a couple that can laugh about the lovin’ they just shared has a pretty special bond.

After all, it’s a pretty goony process, really. I’m not saying it doesn’t feel good or that I don’t enjoy it… but think of all the noises and faces and stupidities that go on during sex. I mean, really… the goofy things we yell out, or even the way we sound when we’re having sex? Can you imagine taking all of that seriously outside of the bedroom?

“Hi Frank, it’s Bill here. Yeah, I have that proposal you asked for on my desk right now, and I just wanted to say, “Ride me like a cowboy, big momma!””

…or even…
“Your total for today ma’am is … oh God! Oh, yes! Yes, right there! Fuck, yeah, that’s right! Five dollars and sixteen cents! Yes!”

On second thought, I think I need to hear more people working cash registers like that. Grocery shopping would be an awful lot more entertaining.

I’m trying to talk about the shared closeness that you can experience after a sexual encounter and how special that is, but I keep finding myself drifting off and making fun of various aspects of it instead. So, since I can’t stay on track, here are a few more ridiculous moments during the act of lovin’:

The orgasm face. I mean, as sexy as it is to see someone else enjoying themselves, especially if it’s because of something you’re doing, it’s still a pretty ridiculous expression on one’s face. I live in fear of anyone taking a picture of me when I come, ‘cause goodness knows it’s going to be one of the worst pictures imaginable.

The pussy fart. Argh. One of the worst moments in sex, aside from someone’s limb falling off, if I can say that and not have it be exaggeration (though it is, I know). The awful thing is that, as a woman, you can often feel it building up, but by the time you do, there’s no avoiding it. It’s not like you can do anything about it at that point, you just have to get through it, and really, there’s no dignified way of doing it. Oh yeah, and if you didn’t use condoms? Mess central.

And speaking of mess…

The wet spot. Battles have been waged and lost over who has to sleep in the wet spot. Women will argue that it’s usually because of the men’s … contribution to sex that the wet spot exists, so he should sleep in it. Men will argue that the women helped to create it, so she should have to sleep in it. Sometimes the wet spot is entirely the woman’s contribution, in which case I say, “Rock on, lady!” In either case, it’s just one of those things that movies and books don’t prepare you for, dammit.

As I’ve been saying, sex is beautiful and there are a lot of shared intimacies involved. The tender moments afterwards, while you’re snuggling, picking loose hairs off of one another and making fun of the various phrases and noises each of you made during the event are just some of them. Fighting over who slept in the wet spot last time or who screamed the loudest are a few others. But the important thing is that you both connected and became closer as a couple.

Or something like that.

I think.

I'd better try this one again later.

2002-11-22T03:36:00.000-05:00

Sitting in Trees With Boys

I love kissing. I think it’s safe to say that it’s pretty much my favourite kind of sexual activity. The closeness of two bodies, two people nervous and anticipating, the quick or slow brush of someone else’s lips against yours, two breaths mingling… yum. How can that be anything but marvellous?

Yet it can be. Call me a whore – hell, call me a drunken whore – but I’ve kissed a fair number of people, and I’ve developed a list of likes and dislikes when it comes to my favourite act. For fun, I’ll start with the dislikes:

1. Bad breath and smoker’s breath.

Now, I can handle bad breath once in awhile. I mean, not everyone plans out when they’re going to kiss or get kissed, so sometimes you’re left with Coke breath (my problem), or pizza breath and there’s not much you can do about it, and gum doesn’t always help.

But the occasional “oops, I ate an onion seasoned with garlic and washed it down with warm Coke” breath is worlds apart from the “rotting carcass of an animal whose last meal was an onion seasoned with pickled garlic somehow crawled in my mouth and finished decomposing here” breath I encountered with one ex-boyfriend of mine. Ouaf! It was terrible. If brushing your teeth and gargling with mouthwash doesn’t improve your breath, go straight to your doctor or dentist, do not pass Go!, do not collect any more kisses.

When it comes to smoker’s breath… well, where to begin? I’m a non-smoker. I don’t like the taste of cigarettes on someone else. When people tell you it’s just like licking an ash tray? Well, I haven’t done that, but I’ve smelled one after it’s been washed. Neither is a pleasant thing to do, in my opinion. But, for someone else who’s a smoker, it mightn’t be so bad.

2. Guys who do not use their tongue.

This covers guys who keep it in their mouths and don’t bring it out to play, guys who stick it in your mouth and leave it there, or guys who just stick it straight out and never take it back.

When it comes to using your tongue, be creative! Tease your partner’s lips, run it lightly across their teeth, use it to hunt out their tongue and engage it in battle, but gentle; we’re not playing with swords or trying to choke each other.

If you can’t keep your tongue moving when your hands are busy doing something else, get it the hell out of my mouth. I’m not aroused by the presence of this flaccid bit of your body lying limply in my mouth; I’m aroused by it playing with mine.

On that note, full extensions, people! I’m not saying I need for you to tell me I don’t have any tonsils, but don’t be afraid to give more than the tip of your tongue. If there’s too much tongue in my mouth, I can back off; if there’s not enough… well, you’re just teasing, and that has its place, but not the whole time.

Finally, a tongue is not a dick; you can do a lot more than just stick it out and expect me to work around it, or keep it hidden and never let me see it. I’m not going to be too interested by just bobbing up and down on your tongue, or having to dodge it; every once in awhile it’s nice to change things up by mixing the tongue kissing with little pecks or nibbles. Don’t be afraid to try different things… just don’t be slobbering all over my chin.

3. Roaming hands and rushing fingers.

The worst kiss I ever had involves Mr. Man immediately sticking his tongue down my throat and grabbing my breast. Sure, if we’d been going out for awhile, I mightn’t have minded, but that was his ideas of a good first kiss. Oh, and he was a smoker. I was not impressed.

I think for first kisses in particular, unless your date (male or female) is humping your leg, hands should likely stay in safe places; shoulders, waist, hips, arms, sides of the face, back of the head. Those are all sexy places to be touched when sharing a kiss; having someone palming your crotch or feeling up your breast has its place, and unless the first kiss lasts three hours, I don’t think that’s the best time for it.

Now that I’ve ensured that no guy who reads this will ever kiss me again, for fear of a negative evaluation, I’m going to move on to some likes. Not every kiss in my life has sucked… just the ones that did really stood out.

Likes:

1. Guys who know how to mix up the tongue kissing and the soft pecks, nibbles, and kisses elsewhere. I love to have someone kiss my neck, and I love to nibble someone’s ears. You can get a lot of teasing in without ever stripping off clothing.

2. Confidence. This is so important. The sexiest first kiss I ever got was also super-brief. The guy pulled me forward slightly, leaned down and kissed me twice, then said goodnight. Shivers for days, let me tell you.

3. The feel of a tongue filling my mouth, playing with mine. This isn’t something that’s great for really long periods of time, but for a minute or so, especially when someone’s playing with mine? Damn, that’s good.

4. Teasing. Teasing is always good. Facing someone and bringing your open mouth close enough to brush theirs, they lean close, you back off, they whimper… very sexy.

5. Just plain making out, no roaming hands or rushing fingers or anything else. Especially if the person you’re making out with is new to you, or you’ve already slept with him or her; there’s so much anticipation and sexual tension and good frustration that it’s a hell of a lot of fun to do once in a while.

Kissing is a big deal to me. It’s how I judge whether or not I want to go any further with the person at hand. I always figure, if a guy’s a poor kisser, how’s he going to be at doing anything else in the bedroom?

So I’m off then; time to try out the next batch of applicants to the Boudoir.

2002-11-19T00:15:00.000-05:00

For the first time… yes!

My first time sucked.

Absolutely, no questions asked, no doubt about it, sucked.

I’m fairly certain I’m not the only person who can say this about their first time, either.

Many guys I’ve spoken to were incapable of lasting for any length of time once the penetration started, and hey, that’s pretty normal – it’s a new, totally different sensation from anything else (so I’ve been told), and it’s overwhelming – in a good way.

My first time, on the other side of the scale, I felt nothing. Sure, I could tell there was something different inside of me – I felt a little stretched or filled, which was a new sensation, different from fingers or a tampon – but otherwise, there were no nerve endings jumping up to yell hi.

Needless to say, I didn’t come that day – or for several months afterwards, even when the sex itself felt good. Hell, I’ll say it; I’ve had better than just good – even when the sex felt great, fantastic, and incredible, I didn’t come… back then.

But that’s a frustrating thing to remember (in glorious, sweaty, naked, panting Technicolour detail), particularly when one is engaged in a Master of Your Domain bet, so back on track.

There’s always a lot of debate (at least in my head) back and forth on the best circumstances in which to lose your virginity. I think we can all agree that under the watchful eyes of your parents is probably one of the worst. But a lot of people are inclined to say that your first time should be with someone special, and even though I can’t say that was necessarily my case, I’m inclined to agree. I think.

I’ve been someone’s first before, and while the circumstances themselves may not have been particularly special, the relationship itself was, so I’m fairly certain he was okay with how it all happened. Even though my first time wasn’t necessarily very special, I don’t regret it, either. But I know of people who do regret their first times: in cases where the decision was taken out of his hands; where it was a bet on the girl’s part that she could seduce the guy; or where it just wasn’t the right time or person – where lust, alcohol, drugs, or pleading took over and said “okay,” or “mphrgm,” which isn’t the clearest or most decisive “no.”

But what of the people who decide, “Enough is enough, I’ve been a virgin too damn long and I’m tired of it”? Many of them find a willing partner, someone they may care for, but not love, or someone who simply is acceptable (i.e., not coyote ugly), and they go to town… or car, couch, floor, bed, wherever seems best. Is this a wrong way to go about it?

What about situations where the virgin in question (VIQ) cares strongly for the non-VIQ, but the other merely cares for the VIQ, or sees the situation as purely sexual? Is it wrong for the non-VIQ to go ahead with the procedure (as it were), in those circumstances?

I’m at a total loss to come up with an answer to either of those questions beyond: it’s up to the VIQ to decide for him- or herself. Are they genuinely tired of being a virgin and have found someone they feel will teach them well? Do they want their first time to be special, or are they content with what they have? No one can really decide for them… unless the non-VIQ says no, which is a decision of sorts being made for them, I guess.

I was asked once, a few years ago, to initiate a VIQ into the world of sex. I turned him down, for several reasons, but chief among them because, at that time, I wasn’t particularly interested in playing teacher, and I really wasn’t looking to have sex with anyone at that point in my life. Some time later he told me he’d found someone to introduce him to the pleasures of the flesh, and I was happy for him; hopefully he found someone that he cared for to sleep with. I don’t regret having turned him down, and hopefully he understands why I did.

So, for a VIQ who’s looking for some pleasures of the flesh, I just have a few words of advice, whether it’s worth anything to you or not: find someone you trust and respect, and hopefully care for on some level. I think even if a first time isn’t the flowers and violins that romance novels and movies show, it should still be fun and maybe a bit special. Some random person off the street isn’t as likely to make you laugh and feel comfortable in the bedroom as a friend or partner would.

Otherwise, make sure you’re ready and not just horny. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference – and believe me; I know what I’m saying on that one, if nothing else.

Damn hormones.

2002-11-16T04:11:00.000-05:00

Mastering My Domain

Sometime before or during puberty, most of us figure out that touching our bits and pieces feels good.

According to what I’ve read and the anecdotal evidence I’ve gathered through various conversations with friends, most guys figure this out… sometime in the womb.

They then discover orgasms sometime before they become teenagers, then have a heart attack the first time they produce ejaculate – sperm, come, jizz, spooge, whatever you want to call it.

For women, which I most assuredly am, it is somewhat different. Okay, remarkably different.

I can only speak about my own experience, because it’s only my history I know authoritatively, but I was much older than the majority of my male friends when I first began masturbating – at least, successfully. Now that I am, how do you say, practiced? skilled? at it, I have willingly given it up. And all for a stupid bet.

Yes, a few friends of mine and I have gone Seinfeld -- we are mastering our domains by denying ourselves orgasms. Why are we being so stupid (a question I’ve heard asked over and over the last few days)? For bragging rights at this point, since although we’ve all begun, none of us have really put forth our agreed on terms. At least, not yet.

But I’ve learned something from practicing restraint – at least, physical restraint – these last few days. This may not come as much of a shock to people, but the times I bring myself to orgasm aren’t always solely due to horniness. It seems to be a habit of sorts that I’ve fallen into: I’m horny, I’ll get myself off; I’m bored, I’ll get myself off; I have the house to myself now, I won’t later, I’ll get myself off; I don’t want to work on this paper, I’ll get myself off.

I can’t believe that I’m the only person that sometimes treats masturbating this same way. There are a number of people that regularly get off before they go to bed, and I highly recommend it as a sleep aid, but how much of that is due to habit, and how much of it is due to actual levels of horniness?

I fantasize constantly; I find it’s a great way to pass the time on the bus, while standing in line at the bank, while in the middle of a dentist appointment… it’s a fantastic way to fill time and come up with great ideas for the next time you’re naked and boogying with someone. But generally my fantasizing doesn’t lead to masturbating; usually it’s the other way around, unless I’ve been reading a particularly good romance novel… in which case we’re back to the fantasizing again.

How is all of this tying together? Well, if you take the physical release away from your body, especially if you’re used to getting that release, you find yourself fantasizing about everyone attractive you see… or at least, I do. School has become a lot more interesting lately, what with getting to guy watch on my way from one class to another, or from school to work. It’s made the walking from school to work a lot more fun, regardless of the dropping temperature.

Of course, fantasizing about everyone you see isn’t always a good thing. It’s certainly causing minor amounts of havoc with my brain and hormones and everything in between, but so far, it’s under control. See, I have this determination to win this bet, so I’m keeping myself together. Mind, I’m saying that after five days; talk to me again in two or three weeks, and you may get a different story entirely.

In the meantime, I’m working on developing new habits. I’m not giving up the fantasizing; I plan to have a few wild times once this whole bet is over and I’ve won. For now, I’m … umm… writing papers for school, going to work, and chatting with my friends. Except for those times we talk about sex, it’s helping to get my mind off the bet. The problem is, since I’m mostly talking to my friends who are in on the bet… there’s a lot of talk of sex. It’s a tough cycle.

So, if you’re wandering around downtown and you see a couple of handsome guys hanging out with a short blonde girl, and the whole lot of them are looking mighty twitchy, go easy on them. One of them just might be about to snap… but it’s not going to be me.

2002-11-12T23:49:00.000-05:00

Ex Relations

Relationships are funny. You meet a new person, you hit it off, and you get to know him or her, he or she becomes incredibly important to you… then, sometimes, the bloom falls off the rose.

So then you’re stuck. Maybe you let it last a little while, trying to see if things will improve, if this is just a rough patch. But sometimes it doesn’t, and all of a sudden someone who meant everything to you … becomes someone you want to smother in the middle of the night with a pillow. Their voice makes you want to drive ice picks into your brain, and the idea of them touching you simply causes your skin to crawl. Or maybe that’s just me dating the wrong people.

So you break up. You say the usual things: “It’s not you, it’s me”; “I’ve met someone else”; “I just need to focus on myself/my job/washing my hair right now”; “I think we should see other people”; “I can’t be in a relationship right now”… and my personal favourite, “I think we should just be friends.”

The “Let’s be friends”? It’s bullshit. Complete, total, utter, absolute bull-shit. Mind you, for some people, it works. I know of one couple that stayed friends after they broke up; however, they were still sleeping together, and she was still in love with him, and now that’s he moved on to another girlfriend, they’re no longer friends. But for some people, staying friends after breaking up works. These people are aliens.

Once someone begins the break up talk, it’s basically impossible to derail. I mean, what do you say to: “I think we should see other people”? “No”? I guess, “I already am” would be a bit of a surprise, but maybe a welcome one – after all, if you’re dumping someone, do you care if they’re already seeing someone? Actually, that’s a dumb question… unless it’s the reason you’re breaking up with them in the first place.

Anyhow, what I’m trying to say is that once someone initiates The Talk, it can’t be stopped; at least, not in my experience. Unless, of course, you’re the one beginning the talk; then it seems as if there’s nothing you can say to stop this snivelling, whining, desperate person clinging to your hands, begging you to change your mind… or maybe that’s just me, dating the wrong guys.

In a break up, there is basically one person left feeling more than the other, unless it’s a mutual event: something like, “You ran over my cat, we both know this should end.” But generally, one person is left with a bruised heart, while the other either still cares but has to pretend not to, or is busy leaving death threats on your answering machine to convince you they want you no longer. It’s a rough situation in which to be, regardless of which end of the stick you have.

So what do you do? Well, there’s the stereotypical approach for either gender: as a man, if you’ve been dumped, you go out to the bar with your friends, drink a few beers, malign the “bitch’s” character, drink a few more beers, then leave a drunken message on her answering machine begging her to take you back, then when she doesn’t respond in two seconds, calling her a trampy slutwhore and hanging up. The stereotypical female approach to being dumped is to gather together all of your girlfriends, watch sappy chick flicks on the VCR whilst consuming everything chocolate, salty, and/or vaguely edible in the house and crying your eyes out, then declaring that you’re an incredibly beautiful, sexy, intelligent woman and he never appreciated you anyway.

After some time passes, unless one of you has left the city or died, you’ll invariably run into one another in person. When Fate and Luck are really pissing on you, this is when you will look your worst, and they will look absolutely fahbulous, and accompanied by their new boyfriend or girlfriend. If Fate and Luck are on your side, these roles will be reversed, and you can walk away feeling great.

But if you do run into an ex-, and there is no avoiding him or her, rest assured that regardless of what happened, you are better for not being with him or her. Look back on your time with your ex- as time spent learning about yourself and being better for it; even if all you learned was, “I’ll never date another asshole like him or bitch like her again.”

The Whore's Boudoir

Time to say goodbye

Loving me, loving you

Where does the past end and the now begin?

Against my will

The Tenth Circle

Only one piece of carry-on allowed

It's not me, it's you

All of me or,It’s About Damn Time

Nice guys don’t finish last

Confidence? Who says I have confidence?

In exchange for a real update...

Thank you, g’bye now!

Things I obsess about, vol. 12167

The (Not-So)Secret Lusts of The Drunken Whore

Lights... camera... action!

Once a cheater...

...and Baby makes you stupid

Girl + Boy + Interest = boyfriend!

A new type of sex

I like mine (mostly) foreign-object free

You can't do that on television!

Even Better Than The Real Thing

The three-date rule?

The Drunken Whore... Live

The Drunken Whore Spouts Random Nonsense

Once More, With Feeling

The Ties That Bind

And so, it came to pass...

http://www.whoresboudoir.com

The Drunken Whore Goes Online Dating

An Adventure in Disbelief and Hope

The Drunken Whore’s Advice for Online Dating

Everything's worth a shot once, right?

When I think about you, I touch myself

Sitting in trees with girls

The Whore’s Winter Woes

I'm not proud, I'll shill

May - December romances? No, thank you!

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

“We’re gonna need another Timmy!”

I wanna feel you from the inside...

Where do we go from here?

"So... umm... er... uh... yeah? Okay?"

One and One and One Makes Fun

Breaking up is hard to do

Slippery When Wet

Everyone says I love you

The Scent of a Woman

Someone smells fantastic!

I touch myself

You did what where?

Self-love, in a pas de deux

You say your… hormones… made you do it?

1... 2... 3... 4... skin

Wax on... wax off

You were saying?

My, Grandma, what big teeth you have…

Toucha, Toucha, Touch me

I love you, now it's over

Body Talk

"So then I said ... eh what ossifer?"

Lights go on... lights go off...

How to Seduce a Woman

More things I don’t understand

Things I don’t understand

I’m so close… And, we’re done.

Now I lay me down to sleep

What I like about you

The Three Rs: Reeling, Writhing and Revealing

Clean up in Aisle Four…

Those Magic Moments

Not tonight dear… I have a headache.

Ready… or not?

The Art of the Tease

When Aunt Flo Comes to Town… That Bitch

You did what on my what?!?

And that’s why… the lady is a tramp

Dressing for Sex-cess

The Sounds of (Not) Silence.

All of me
or,
It’s About Damn Time