Incompetent Cervix

The initial hint that you're dealing with a very different animal comes in that first sex-ed class. When they show that slide of the interior female, the shock lasts a long time, I can tell you.You know the one, that diagram - anterior view I think it's called - showing the lower lady thorax's contents in all its glory; uterus, tubes, ovaries and all. No disrespect intended, but when a ten year-old boy is faced with this for the first time, it looks positively alien. Like something a cheap sci-fi movie props man cobbled together, the vague likeness of a venus fly-trap.

Not only are there all those odd-looking parts, but they do odd things, too. Eggs shoot out, stuff builds up on uterine walls, hormones rain all over the shop and there's blood everywhere. (Although sex educators are at pains to point out the wonder, mystery and beauty of all this argle-bargle, stressing that periodic blood is different from circulatory blood.)

See, I paid attention.

The first reaction is "OMG, all that's inside you?" drawing inevitable comparisons to one's own alien parts. In our case, they're only mildly other-wordly, being, as they are, more out there. Besides, the penis is a simple hydraulic/plumbing fixture and more or less self-contained. Balls? Best to consider them biological punctuation.

Puberty and sexual maturity change everything, naturally. What at first seemed gooey and intimidating becomes, well, still gooey and intimidating, but in a way that makes a bloke devote his life to lady-parts exploration. Then there's the secret of actual child-bearing, where the complexity multiplies, together with the possible problems.

For instance, an incompetent cervix is a mere inconvenience to a woman; an incompetent penis would devastate a man. Therein the difference between the sexes.



Bottoms Up, Triffids.

Mama's Got a Squeezebox

Hope Solo pic credit.

My best information is that women are split between vaginal orgasmobabes and clitoral orgasmobabes. Unevenly split, as it turns out, for a pretty obvious reason: the vagina is not a pleasure centre, whereas the clitoris is.

A brief cruise around my trusted sources (my hairstylist, the supermarket checkout lady this morning) tells us that roughly two-thirds of women need some kind of clitoral love to orgasm. Vaginal orgasm alone is a less visited corner of the sex cave, which is not to say we can't light a candle and go find some. It seems that it's a bit of a squeeze and not so much upside to the journey.

There is, naturally enough, a wrinkle, and it is the G-spot. That's an upside wrinkle by the way. Given the right stimulation, the mighty Grafenburg is the key to vaginal Oh! But given its usual position, can be difficult-ish to engage. (With the penis, that is. Hand-jobs are a different tub of gelato.)

Vaginal elasticity being what it is, there are lots of fun ways to find lady-pleasure. I'm writing here more to blokes than the sheilas - one would hope that chicks already know how to get themselves off. Because I'm entirely representative of most men, I can tell you that we love the challenge of helping you find that beautiful butt-quivering, leg shaking, hip thrusting, pussy-pouting, full-throttle climax. They're awesome! Perhaps we like finding them inside you because ours are so relatively easy to come by.

In any case, guys, be aware that until you find otherwise, the little man in the boat is key to the nuclear reactor...but beyond that, mixing a little G-spot exploration with appropriate partner positioning (downward dog, anyone?) can make her day. And, as you and I know, ours, too.





Bottoms Up, G-Spotters.

A G-Post from long ago. Still good, unless female anatomy has changed.

20,000 Pubes Under the Tongue

My guess is that it's your experience too, that pubic hair isn't as well anchored to the pudendum as it ought. But what a jolly bonding thing it is to stop and amusingly highlight that you are removing a pube from between your teeth lest more than one collect and create a ball. Hilarious.

Which reminds me that this situation is called having sex, whereas one hair in your eggdrop soup calls for a lawsuit. What a funny olde world we live in. Thank you tort lawyers.

But back to the man in the boat. It's my phrase du jour, this happy nautical metaphor for the clitoris hiding in the decking. Sneaky individual that man in the boat, for sometimes he's under a sou'wester, and other times he's out on the poop deck just gagging for some company. And just why is he a man? Shirley an all girl crew is more appropriate?

Being criticised for lack of ability to find the clit is often man's lot. If Nintendo got their act together, they could do fantastically. Imagine this: A Wii game in which the object is to find and stimulate a digital clitoris until the boat is awash in wet'n'gooey. If Wii controllers accepted input from tongue, lips, fingers and teeth, we'd have ourselves a decent cunt simulator.



Bottoms Up, Gamers!



Pic from this excellent site [link]

Pull Yourself to Bits

How refreshing to see male masturbation out in the open. Not completely out in the open, you understand, but on the teev. And not for reals, more acted out than naturalistic. From the waist up. Actually, it was more a hint than anything else. Still, for an act so popular and so little discussed it was a decent start.

Saturday night Mr Nights and I were watching Californication, Season One. I don't watch television, indeed don't even own one, so it was a treat to see so many naked women, gorgeous breasts and rampant shagging on the box. Where has this show been hiding? It's like twenty-seven minutes of guy fantasy/Penthouse letters acted by beautiful and sometimes teenaged women.

Episode Two, I think it was, showed a secondary character (a man) discovering naughty photographs of his sexetary on the internet. He does what every bloke with a pulse would do, to wit: grab his schlong and manipulate it to erection and orgasm. We don't see any of this, of course. The shot (camera shot) is of him behind a desk, head and torso only. Masturbation is implied.


Sidebar: Odd, to my mind, that all kinds of m/f congress is shown in this show, but the penis is evidently not yet ready for prime-time. Double standard, no? End sidebar.


My quibble about this male jerk-off scene is that it looked too much like the Meg Ryan orgasm scene from When Harry met Sally. Frankly, I thought her rendition was a little actorly, but Evan Handler's rendition of the male O in Californication was quite over the top. For a start he was too vocal. Masturbating men will tell you that it's all about what's going on in your brain, and the link between the physical manipulation and one's imagination. It's a silent, internal thing. Also, he lasted only about fifteen seconds, which is totally not the point. The idea of wanking is to prolong those endorphin-fuelled feelings for as long as possible; orgasm is just the icing on the cake.

Maybe a grunt or two at the crowning glory stage is normal, but all that gasping for breathe and "Oh God" shit is pure chick. (Although when one is having sex with a woman, it's natural to up the verbal communication factor. Natural and automatic, I submit.)

Which gives me an idea. I wonder if it wouldn't be smart for couples, early on in the relationship, to watch each other get themselves off. In fact, I'd go further and say the earlier, the better. It would save a lot of time finding out what the other person likes. First date masturbating? That might be taking it too far, but at least it's creative.



Bottoms Up, Self-Pleasurers!



Happy Rachael Ray from here [link]

Friday Fluffer - Soy Jism

Local television news rocks. If it weren't for the FCC these shows would instantly turn porno. My fellow Aussie, Mr Murdoch, employed NYC hottie Rosanna Scotto with this in mind. Cocks and cum are on her mind. Good girl.

You will not regret reading and watching this Gothamist SFW [link].

Or watch here if you're inclined.





Bottoms Up, Vegans!




Pic of Rosanna covered in white from here [link]

Ejaculate: You'll Make Her Happy

Reading Snaf's and KayDee's blogs recently has been a little like being backstage watching the audience reaction to a new Broadway production. The show - a musical, methinks, called Let the Spunk Fly - is a physical show, full of nudity and grunts that has a climax with a twist: there is no climax.

All of us backstage are men, in on the plot twist. And those in the audience are all women, who have no idea what's about to happen.

The real trick of the show is that the women leave thinking that something's happened, when in fact nothing has.

Okay, okay, enough of the smart-arse metaphors.

It looks like lots of chicks are surprised that they're not the only ones providing artificial orgasms. My reaction is everyman's - Huh? You mean I fooled you the way you fooled me?

Frankly, I really don't care that much. Sometimes I won't want to express my reproductive fluids, but it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. There's always next time. And we got to spend naked or semi-naked fun time together, right?

My question of women is: What else don't you know about your men?


Bottoms Up, Fuckers!

Dungeon for Rent

The huge number of industrial buildings offered for lease got me thinking the other day. My small Floridian town is suffering from unemployment and idiotic government as much as any place, but there's enough money around for this idea: A Dungeon for Rent.

BDSM (bondage and discipline, submission and sadomasochism) verges on being mainstream thesedays. I presume it's the natural progression from the pornocization of society, but whatever I might think about that isn't going to stop me from making some jink from people's kink.

Big industrial buildings lend themselves to creatively designed dungeons. Mine would be decorated in black, mostly, of course, with blood-red highlights. Lighting would be cheap, as candles are the dungeonmaster's illumination of choice. There would be rooms with various kinds of whipping posts, crosses mostly, with simple shackles and chains for the primitive players. Special rooms with suspension devices are likely to be popular too. You can bring your own gags, crops and whips, or, for a fee, I'll provide you with rental punishment and restraint equipment.

As with the Japanese Love Hotels (some of which I understand now come with dungeons for rent) discretion would be the name of the game. Players in couples or groups would be kept apart by time or wall. And separate entrances and exits would keep them that way.

At Wombat's Dungeon World, no-one need know you like your love hog-tied and gagged in a dark, dripping den of depravity.





Delicious photo from here. The English are big into Dungeon Life, apparently. [link]

Friday Fluffer - Cooter Ice

BlueBabe's writing inspires me in many ways. Her post today [link] is about...well, let's just say that the guy she thought was a Pussy Aficionado turned out not to be.

I think her blog is restricted, but leave her a note here in comments, and she'll likely as not let you in the door of her amazing world.

In recognition of the fact that we can all learn more about some things, here's a link to the Cunnilingus Tutor's Top 50 ways to keep a lady happy.

CT's Top Fifty. [link]

As they say at the finest restaurants and the lowest diners: Enjoy!




Edit: BlueBabe requests you email her for access to her blog. It's totally worth it.

bluelovergirl1@aol.com

Happy pic from here [link]

Secret World of Women

DocAnnie alerted us to Dr Marta Meana's appearance on Oprah talking about her research. [link] Dr Meana's studies of women and desire led The Oprah to her and resulting fame. I have pulled a few quotes from the article. They need no help from me.

~

Being desired is the real orgasm...

~

...while moments of pleasure are great, it's the anticipation and buildup to those moments that really excite women.

~

...being desired means that a man doesn't just want to have sex. He wants to have sex with you.

~

One of the most common fantasies when it comes to women and sex is to be dominated by a desirable man...They throw caution to the wind, and they're going to take a chance that you're going to be okay with it...

~

Passion is dependent on novelty, discovery, desire...

~

One of the most complicated aspects of female desire, Dr. Meana says, is that women often want different things at different times...

~

There is an additional article here about the science of attraction. It confirms much of what many of us have come to understand, that smell is way more important than we have thought to date. [link]

Female Orgasm

A rabbi, a priest and an imam walk into a bar.

The bartender says "Do you guys know the one about the female orgasm?" to which the rabbi replies "Do you mean the oral orgasm, the vaginal intercourse orgasm, the digital orgasm or the anal penetrative orgasm?"


Apparently even religious men are aware that The Big O is something that women achieve in different ways. It's kinda disappointing when squares are hip to the squishy stuff: what can we shock them with next? Perhaps there is nothing, so it might be time to examine what we have in more detail.

For instance, more than 40% of women do not climax from vaginal intercourse. One imagines this is a source of trepidation for some men, specifically those for whom the clitoris is an unknown entity. Fear not, chums, talk to your friendly clitoris owner and ask what she likes. Then practice. You'll be suprised what happiness you can bring.

One problem with the female orgasm I have experienced is having women describe it to me. Observing is one thing, but communicating what's happening inside your head clearly isn't easy.

I thought of flippantly suggesting that women could tell her man the type of automobile that most closely represented her orgasm. This might work because cars are something we guys understand, with great nuance even.

But then I realized that telling a man he'd just given you an '87 Nissan Sentra might not be the best idea - even if you think a high-revving, clutch-slipping, noisy, jack-rabbitting, multi-geared, spring-popping, wave-riding, skidding to a stop orgasm/Nissan is the best thing EVER.





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