Expectant Sex

Stuck in a painful silence on a first date? Introduce the topic of sex whilst pregnant and see what happens.

Okay, so a first date is too early, but by the fifth date I'd be using this as a critical question - obviously, especially if you're the woman. It seems that many men have an incomplete knowledge of the female reproductive tract. Surprise, eh?

In a way it's touching. Some guys apparently avoid vaginal sex for fear of somehow molesting, harming, defiling, aborting or otherwise embarrassing the in-utero sprog. The thought of their penis pistoning up and down inside the mother gives the dude less of a piston and more of a python. A soft python.

Coupla points here, men. Firstly, there is a pre-designed barrier between the baby and you. It's called the cervix. It has muscles strong enough to break your arm should you somehow end up in that position. Plus it is a VERY sensitive piece of your lady, as you would know when you're making sweet love and accidentally go too far. She'll let you know ALL about it.

Secondly, your lady also comes pre-designed with a place for you to have sex, known as the vaginal canal. It's otherwise known as the birth canal when used in the reverse direction, but don't dwell on that. Think of the sweet, warm, gooey love trench as a vestibule, where your junk is kept nicely separate from your pristine unborn child.

As an almost too obvious Thirdly: pregnant ladies are full of hormones that make them hornier than an Arizona cactus. Capitalize, men. For her sake.




Bottoms Up, Hot Mammas.

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.

Toss a Virgin into a Volcano

Volcanic woman pic credit.

As a sexo-religious gig, tossing a virgin into a volcano didn't last. I think I know why: Because corrupt Virgin Suppliers began swapping out real virgins for not-so-virgins and the Gods weren't impressed. Hence the death of civilizations based on intact Hymens.

The value of the virgin to Gods escapes me. Are Gods abominated by women the way they are created? Do Gods really believe that female value changes after the first tedious sticky fumbling? Is a womanly use-by date based on busting the seal?

Look, it's pretty clear we've come a long way from dragging unsullied babes to mountain tops for the greater good. Maybe the logic of it - okay, the harvest failed this year...I know! It's because of those damnable virgins! - came to light. Perhaps the correlation factor became obvious. Perhaps the Gods were playing us for fools. Whatever happened, the value of the virgin as an object of summary boiling in molten rock shifted.

Today, I am happy to see that our thinking has changed. The rise of the woman as a sexual being outside of reproduction eclipses the value of the virgin. Any thinking man completely gets the relative value of the orgasmic, enthusiastic and experienced female. Thank the Gods for Cougars and Pumas and all the other Big Pussies of the wild. Let's face it, the taking of virginity is all about domination and subjugation - poor competition for a willing non-virgin.

Willing non-virgins of all ages, I heart you.




Bottoms Up, Lovers.

Friday Fluffer - The Vascularized Vagina

Ridiculous political correctness aside, it seems that scientific evidence falls heavily on the side of the male ejaculate being particularly good for women. Listen to your vascularized vagina, ladies, kitty knows what she wants.

As far as humans are concerned, you may think you know all about sexual signals, but you’d be surprised by new findings. It’s been known since the 1990s that heterosexual women living together synchronize their menstrual cycles because of pheromones, but when a study of lesbians showed that they do not synchronize, the researchers suspected that semen played a role. In fact, they found ingredients in semen that include mood enhancers like estrone, cortisol, prolactin, oxytocin, and serotonin; a sleep enhancer, melatonin; and of course, sperm, which makes up only 1%-5%. Delivering these compounds into the richly vascularized vagina also turns out to have major salutary effects for the recipient. Female college students having unprotected sex were significantly less depressed than were those whose partners used condoms (Arch. Sex. Behav. 2002;31:289-93). Their better moods were not just a feature of promiscuity, because women using condoms were just as depressed as those practicing total abstinence. The benefits of semen contact also were seen in fewer suicide attempts and better performance on cognition tests.



Bottoms Up, Hot Bitches.

The Pussy Never Lies

Photo Credit.

Few feelings compare to the one engendered when a hand slid - up or down - to the pussy is rewarded with The Big Wet. Discovering a warm gooey pussy is a lottery win, validation, and a promise of wonders to come all rolled in to one. It's a sweet-salty treasure, especially the first time. (Although the feeling rarely declines much over time.)

I don't know if this is true, but women generally aren't given to state:

God, I'm wet for you as much as they should.

When a dude's interested, it's pretty obvious, and for sure he need not announce:

You know you've given me wood?

We guys communicate these things well enough without resort to direct anatomical revelations. It's pretty much a one-way street - assume the man's ardor, evidence is required of the woman's.

Hence the need for confirmation with a sly hand slide.

The cooking world provides the best analogy. When you think the dish is ready to eat, one gently slides a thermometer inside to check for done-ness.

That's pretty much all I need say.



Bottoms Up, Wet Ones!

Friday Fluffer - Ink Your Pink

Jezebel, always a source of solid guidance for the modern woman, explored the world of pubic decoration recently.

They call it 'Vatooing' (as in Vaginal Tatooing) but as the article points out it's really upper pubic area decoration. UPAD isn't quite as catchy. A spirited argument exists as to whether whether the correct term is 'Vatoo' or 'Twatoo', as per here. [link] I have no skin in this game. So to speak.

Here's the original article. [link]<-----click to see. (Beware Jezebel's horribly slow servers.)



Bottoms Up, Cuntstunters!


Hat tip to the ever-on-the-leading-edge Snaf [link]

Friday Fluffer - Gaga is Gaga

In a recent interview with Vanity Fair magazine, Lady Gaga said she tries to abstain from sex because she is afraid to lose her creative energy.

"I have this weird thing that if I sleep with someone they’re going to take my creativity from me through my vagina." {Emphasis mine.}

The singer admits she doesn’t trust anyone and don’t know if she will ever have.

"I’m always alone."



Can't think why.



Bottoms Up, Vaginal Expellers!




Pic from here [link]

Dames I Adore - Kate Gosselin

Kate's uterus is, I am reliably informed, now in the Uterus Hall of Fame. We men are intellectually aware of how one woman can have a litter of kids...and yet she remains the material of significantly awful nightmares. I have this vision of a never-ending expulsion of babies from between her legs.

However: Childbirth is but a tiny fraction of womanly skills, so let's not dwell. Even if I occasionally wake to the vision of Kate's vagina issuing new-borns like a barn-cat, that will not prevent me from seeing her for the woman she is and not a life-support system for that over-stretched cervix. Begone, obsession!

Kate is unfortunately defined by all the stuff we see surrounding her. Her ex-husband, for one, shouldn't be held against her. Neither should the decision to adopt a television network as her ninth child. And neither should the three plastic surgeons, the six agents, the fifteen hair stylists nor the fashion consultant on retainer influence us in our opinion.

Kate's a regular suburban girl who got lucky with fertility drugs. It's the same story the world over, as Angelina Jolie will tell you. Err, actually, that's not true, because Angelina's a nutburger and adopted....how many of those kids?

Anyway, Kate's attraction to me is all about her accessibility. She's the girl-next-door with whom we played pong-knuckle in tenth grade; she's got that sturdy fetlock look that regular guys recognize as valuable when pushing the mower; and darling Kate loves her false titties as much as any frottage aficionado.

Kate might be a bossy ball-buster, but there's so much more to adore. If you're reading this Kate, how about a make-out session and a little game of stink finger? You know you want it.



Bottoms Up, Octomoms!



Kate at her best from England's second-best newspaper [link]

Friday Fluffer - Guess Her Muff

This is what blokes do all the time. Not dream of lesbians, but use our imaginations.

When we see a woman, we try to guess her muff.

NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE

This Site has disappeared.

Guess Her Muff. <-----Link

But here's another celebrating women.

Link.

Warning: Nudity and NSFW.

Further Friday Fluffers here [link]



Bottoms Up, Muffins!

Friday Fluffer - Stick it in Already

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Salt, Sweet, Sour, Bitter and Umami.

There used to be only four basic taste descriptors, (salt, sweet, sour and bitter) but they (the smarties who study these things) discovered an extra one in 2002. I have called it umami, its Japanese name, but it's also known as savouriness.

It's quite something to think that everything we eat and drink can be completely described via a combination of these five categories. Smell plays a big part in the way food feels and tastes, as well as the texture. There's a lot going on there.

What's true of food is true of eating pussy too. Lots of weak jokes surround the taste of ladies' vaginas, but I don't swim with that school. Yes, there can be a fishy undertone to some lady juice, but by no means all holes taste the same. (By "all holes" I don't mean all holes in the one lady; I'm talking about the poon-hole in different ladies. Just wanted to make that clear, although other lady holes are fun too, and some even have teeth.)

The perfect pussy "...tastes like hot-sweet-sticky-kinda-salty candy." Who wouldn't like a second helping of that? I'd like it for all seven courses, thank-you waiter. The quote comes from this Salon.com article, an excellent read. I don't need to rehash it here. One truth I hadn't connected before is that hairy love trench is a fundamentally different experience than deforested trim. That's mostly because of the residual smells hiding in the pubes.

See, tasting and smelling are closely related in sex too.

All the evidence points to everything you ingest, inject or stick up your vagina changing its taste. Pretty obvious, that, and the same phenomenon as the sperm/semen combination tasting different depending upon what the owner eats. The big difference is in the contraception arts, which can make your va-jay-jay taste like hand sanitizer if you're not careful.

Frankly, I have yet to meet a muff I haven't liked. Some research in this area would be a fine thing, because of pet theory of mine: I believe that snatch tastes different depending on the position of the female, and wonder if there's any science to the postulation.

Bottoms up.





Tongue pic from here [link]

Edited out of respect for English.

For the female perspective on dining at the Y (girl on girl) try this [link]

Intrauterine Device

The hour and a half spent thigh-to-thigh with Karen Goodier spun off a number of later problems. [link]

Quick précis: My first sex-education experience occurred in the company of my mother and a girl class-mate by the name of Karen Goodier and her mother. It wasn't so much Sex-Ed as Repro-Ed. It left me with scars for life, to wit:

Red-faced and self-conscious, I forgot to take notice of the content of this Repro-Ed presentation. My awareness was of the proximity of Goodier, the fact that her mother, an adult stranger, was sitting next to her. Normally one of those kids who gulped down information, this particular area - vaginas, penises, "love", tadpoles, eggs, canals and uteruses - failed to excite any interest. Too embarrassed.

Plus I could smell Karen, a most distracting thought.

In subsequent Repro-Ed classes, focus quickly shifted to not reproducing. With clinical coolness that only a dedicated professional can muster, the visiting educator showed us the panoply of counter-preggo tools. Condoms, obviously. The pill, of course. And then there was something called the "Copper 7" an intrauterine device. As she talked, she passed this evil-looking device back and forth from hand to hand, explaining how it worked, percentage success rates and something about retrieval.

This is where my not paying attention earlier came to haunt me. With a flawed understanding of female internals, I couldn't figure out how both my penis and this metal device would fit comfortably inside a girl. Protective of my sensitive-skinned dick, the thought of inserting it into a thusly-equipped female and having the poor little thing (my penis) scraping the IUD horrified me.

Was sex all about finding room up there for that thing and my appendage?

Yeah, forget that. I headed off to kick a footy.



My post about my introduction to sex ed. [link]

Her Pussy Smells

I met my boss's girlfriend over the weekend. Ex-girlfriend, more accurately, although they're still friendly.

Do you know why I dropped her? he whispered conspiratorially.

No, I replied, thinking: because you're married?

Because she smelled bad.

What. BO?

No, he said, moving his index finger under his nose, eyebrows raised.

She had a smelly pussy?

Yep. I couldn't handle it.

Did you tell her? She might have an infection and doesn't know.

No. I can't deal with that shit.

But they all smell a little bit. It's part of their charm.

Yeah. But it was easier just not to see her anymore.





I'm figuring a way to ask him for her number.





Image from here [link]

Funky Cold Medina

She was in bartending school, so it was only fair that I helped with cocktail memorization. Rifling through the index cards, I'd find the most obscure drink recipe and quiz her:

Okay, give me a caipirinha, I'd ask.

2 tsp granulated sugar
8 lime wedges
2 1/2 oz Sagatiba Pura (cachaca)

Muddle the sugar into the lime wedges in an old-fashioned glass. Fill the glass with ice cubes. Pour the cachaca into the glass. Stir well.

Alright, how about a Long Island Iced Tea?

1 part vodka
1 part 1800® Tequila
1 part rum
1 part gin
1 part triple sec
1 1/2 parts sweet and sour mix
1 splash Coca-Cola®
1 oz Absolut® vodka
1 oz Southern Comfort® peach liqueur
1 oz Blue Curacao liqueur
top with cranberry juice
ice

Pour over ice and top off with cranberry juice.

Mix ingredients together over ice in a glass. Pour into a shaker and give one brisk shake. Pour back into the glass and make sure there is a touch of fizz at the top. Garnish with lemon.

Hmmm. Good. How about a Funky Cold Medina? I asked, with one arched eyebrow.

There's no such drink! She said, implying I was being underhanded.

Sure there is. Her cue-cards didn't contain the recipe for a Funky Cold Medina, which is how we ended up using the internet to research cocktail recipes. That naturally led to us discovering the Pink Squirrel.

Not the drink.

Prize goes to Miss T-Shirt for guessing correctly.

Pink Squirrel (definition one.) [Link]

Consider the Penis

Consider the penis. Poor thing suffers from negative headlines and poor approval ratings. Nobody likes him, at least not publically, and those who are supportive choose to shmooze in private. His life is - as the old chestnut goes - like a married man's; he's always in the shit, it's only the depth that varies.

He needs a new PR firm. The current one has either lost the client file or is concentrating on more lucrative accounts, like breasts or the vagina. I believe that the penis's lousy popularity is all about the way he's spun, media-wise, and not something intrinsically bad about him. How not to like what is basically a telescopic injection system?

At the moment Mr P has about the same cachet as Gary Busey, or, worse, David Hasselhoff. You know these guys have talent, and they've done good work in the past. But you'd be less surprised to see them featured on TMZ or the Smoking Gun than at the Oscars or the Emmys. Ditto the penis. His resume is filled with solid if dull work: he's a journeyman, and that's fine, but things are slipping in that 'I heard he's doing pills/saw him drunk at noon' kind of way. He's better than that.

A big part of the problem is the arm's length relationship men have with their penis. To most of us he's that distant friend we're not sure how we met, always there, mostly good company, generally well behaved. Unabashed mateship is possible, but we're aware that he harbours the ability to go rogue. Horrid cliche that it is, the penis has a mind of his own, and he can be willful in a way that leaves the rest of us looking bad. So we remain less close than you might imagine.

Vaginas have their Monologue, breasts have Hooters. What does the penis have? Yes, there is that puppet show, but does that really help to uplift the image? I think not. With an eye to engaging a marketing firm, the penis's abstract would go something like this:

External variable-length dual-function mammalian appendage needs re-imaging. Delightful pleasure-centre with whimsical side sometimes appeals to adult women. Mysterious qualities worth highlighting. Relationship with owners usually good, but lacks spark without female interaction. Penis name is stale, although the right campaign might rescue it. Key issues: bad reportage, low public awareness, downside only highlighted in mainstream media. Recommend completely new media strategy.

A day in the life of a pussy

A very serious message. Probably NSFW, although I'm not sure exactly why.

Food Plus Sex

I accidentally slipped a strawberry into Carol's pussy. That was my first time, some years ago now - my berry-busting if you will. Accidentally is not the right word because, just between you and me, it was not truly a slip-up. More of a pre-planned spur of the moment event.

There was chocolate sauce present too, in one of those squeezable bottles that make it easy to overindulge. Portion control is hit and miss with those things. We'd been fooling around with the chocolate, engaging in what we considered sexually sophisticated foreplay. I would spurt chocolate over her breasts, then lick it off, taking great pleasure in teasing about with her nipples. Carol was quite tasty enough without the sticky sweet stuff, but she seemed to enjoy it.

The downside of food in sex is the mess. Egyptian cotton sheets absorb really well. If you're enthusiastic with your congress and edibles are in the mix, the wet spot can be the whole bed. Makes for a squelchy kind of icky afterglow.

Perhaps your experiences are better.

Edit: Because TFABS can read my mind, here's the defining moment.

Foreplay by Numbers

Golf embraces the concept of foreplay too, and in the same way as sex.

Shouting FORE! = Lookout, incoming!

Golf too has rules regarding that which is allowable and that which is not, just like real foreplay. A mate of mine relates the tale of being in Greece as a youth on a drunken teenage vacation. (He's English.) Standing at a bus stop with a Scottish girl he met earlier in the evening, they got frisky. When he reached up her skirt, she put a temporary end to proceedings by declaiming "Tits first, then box" in her delightful broad brogue.

The road to paradise is strewn with dead ends and blind turns. Until you have a working knowledge of the road, it's best to stick with a few basic rules that you both understand.

1. Some form of lubricant is a good idea. Social lubricant, that is. Alcohol is the standard way of reducing inhibitions.

2. Circle your object of desire in the same way that lions stalk prey. Purr, tread softly, use your tongue, be patient.

3. Encountering resistance is normal, and shouldn't dissuade you from continuing. Divert your attention elsewhere for a while, return to the scene of disappointment. Watch the gate open.

4. Feigning and misdirection are normal elements of foreplay.

5. Remember, it's only sex. It's not like negotiating strategic arms limitation treaties. Humour helps a lot. There's a reason it's called fooling around and not seriousing around.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 3.

Kiss the Vagina, but is it foreplay?

Let's set up this foreplay business.

First up, it is mostly about the woman.

Secondly, it is a customary precursor to penetration.

Thirdly, it is not an essential precursor to penetration.

No point in me attempting to describe foreplay better than here. This is the best and most succinct description of sexual petting, despite the pedestrian source. Worth a read.

Definitions are fine, but I like looking outside the box, if you'll pardon the expression. A wonderful idea came to me after a long talk with a lover one day, when she said:

I love it when you look at me like you want to eat me, then fuck me.

That struck home because it expanded the universe of foreplay from an act with a beginning and end, to something couples can engage in all the time. If a simple look can engender sexual feelings in a woman, foreplay can be all-the-time-play.

As enticing as that sounds, it's not practical. But the message to men is clear; foreplay is about more than just physical contact. Subtle creatures that they are, women respond to many more stimuli than you'd imagine. The key to understanding foreplay is to see it as something you can think your way into.

Guys should try this experiment. Next time you sit down with your wife or girlfriend, consciously think of her as sex on wheels. Imagine her in the way that arouses you most, and how much you'd like to taste her and smell her and fuck her. Talk to her - not about sex - while you're actively thinking about bending her over the kitchen table, taking her from behind.

You will be hard put to prevent yourself looking at her like you want to take her right now, and she will probably notice. It works. You don't need to leer or be salacious. Simply bringing her and her sexuality to mind will alter the energy between you.

Women want to be wanted. Women want to be thought of as sexy. It does not require a full-on fuckfest to keep her simmering. Men, this is foreplay at its most simple.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 3.

Foreplay Part 4.

Kiss the Vagina

If there is a gene for foreplay, I was born without it.


{Allowing time for snarky jokes.}


But every man was born without such a thing, because foreplay is a learned skill, not something innate. What we guys are created with is an over-riding curiosity about women's bodies, a field of inquiry that I can imagine lasts until death.

Foreplay, however, is rather more than a game of doctors and nurses (as much fun as that might be). In a way, it is close to the pinnacle of a relationship between a man and a woman, in that it involves trust, sensitivity, humility, communication, feedback, patience and hopefully, humour.

That's the theme for this week: how men can be better at foreplay.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 3.

Foreplay Part 4.