I wonder how many of you have ever read a book about sex. Not something erotic, but an instructional how-to type book on gettin’ heavy. Me, I’ve delved into a few over time. Right now, I’m jumping through different chapters of Paul Johannides’ classic sex tome, “The Guide to Getting it On.” Whatever question you have about sex, it has likely been answered by Paul.
This chick gives it five stars. It’s one of the best out there. Here’s a quote Paul cites from Clean Sheets, the online erotica magazine:
“Why is it that some men just can’t deal with the idea that a smart, together, professional woman like me can actually deserve their respect and still want to be thrown down on the couch and pounded like a cheap steak now and then?”
Heh. Well, that’s a very good question, honey. We all like a little steak now and then. Mm. I think guys are more hip to the duality of today’s woman than they’ve ever been, but maybe I’m an optimist.
Can the guys out there comment on whether knowing a chick likes it a little rough and dirty compromises how you perceive her in the “real” world? Chicks, can you comment on whether you feel this is less the case now than before, or whether you’ve noticed a change in perception of you after your sexual preferences have escaped?
(the photo isn’t from The Guide. the images in there are all cartoons, this was found on the web by moi, taken by photog David Perry. I think it’s kinda hot, but it may bother some of you. Feel free to comment.)
Author Archives: Steffani Cameron
Dear Reader: Go Fuck Yourself
A reader wrote:
Late at night your long-time female partner believes you are alseep and commences to masturbate right there beside you in the cot.
The unmistakable sound of her arousal soon has e breathing heavy, but she’s concentrating so hard she thinks it is snoring coming from my side of the bed.
What should a man do in these circumstances, expecially as she has denied this activity ever took place when challenged previously? Sex life is quite OK, but she obviously wants more and wants it solo.
Should I request she leaves the room to perform this act of self-service?
Signed,
Not Snoring, Breathing Heavy
When your lover’s laying next to you and apparently wants an unmanned journey to The Big O, there are a few questions you need to ask yourself, Mr. NSBH.
- One, is my sex life as good as I’ve been deluding myself that it is?
- Two, have I really been honest when talking to my lover about sex?
- Three, is she comfortable truly telling me her desires?
- Four, what can I do to have her wanting me to join in?
- Five, is there something wrong with my approach?
Now, I couldn’t help but notice you said she “denied this activity ever took place when challenged previously.” Allow me to pull a Dr. Phil here and point out your choice of language: “denied” and “challenged.” The tone’s argumentative, and it leads me to suspect you may have dropped the ball when you addressed the issue in the past.
She shouldn’t have been challenged, and shouldn’t have been put in a place of having to “deny” or “admit”. That’s inarguable. Masturbation may not be mentioned by name in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, but I tell you, we’re all entitled, baby, and so is she.
But was she in the right to be doing it right then? Well, that’s the debatable part, and I say no.
If your lover is fucking themselves in bed next to you, there’s really only three ways that goes.
- One, they want to be discovered because they secretly desire to fuck you.
- Two, they’re already fucking — with your mind — and are doing it to taunt you.
- Three, maybe it really is a sudden middle-of-the-night desire and they’re just dealing with it as the situation arises, so to speak.
Situation three seems not to apply to this case in point, since it’s happened on more than one occasion.
Face it: If you’re in bed, masturbating, and your lover’s six inches to your left, you might as well be lying there with a low-wattage neon sign that’s shouting “fuck me now, please.”.
Maybe, though, you’re part of the really ignorant segment of society whereby you feel you have the right to lie next to your partner, masturbate, then tell them you’re not interested in them helping. If so, I got to tell you, you’re a right cunt.
Get out of bed and masturbate someplace where you won’t be fucking with your partner’s head. They deserve that, at the very least.
The fact is, most of us, when faced with someone masturbating by our side, will find ourselves ragingly horny as a result.
If you’re a guy, and your woman is doing this to you, then I say you should try to get in on the act. Personally, I’d welcome it. A middle-of-the-night fuck is always one of my favourite kinds.
Now, don’t be an idiot and start talking to her. You may catch her offguard and shock the mood right out of her. No, better to keep your mouth shut. Just lightly trace a finger up her thigh or gently bite her shoulder. Do not try to get a touchdown by rushing for her genitals. She’s already aroused and they’re hypersensitive. Do a light tracing and guage her reaction.
A quiet moan from her means you’re in. Rub your palm down her, and back up. Maybe find your way to her breasts. If she starts responding more, then continue with the surface play for a little while longer, letting her tell you what to do, while you prolong the tease before delivering. If you do things right, you’ll either go down on her or enter her, depending on what she wishes, since this particular session ought to be all about her, since she’s generously allowing you along for the ride.
If she’s not interested in you joining — she gasps, grumbles, or just suddenly stops and rolls over — then you need to have a conversation in the morning, but save your pride and roll over for now.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with masturbating when you’re in a relationship. I think it’s fine. It’s better if you have a healthy sex life and let your partner help you, but it’s not a death knell. But no lover gets carte blanche. You do not get to lie in bed next to your lover, fuck yourself, and tell them essentially to fuck themselves when they want to be fucking you in your moment of fuck-worthiness.
It just ain’t right. You want to do self-service? Then do it where you’re by yourself.
After all, Elvis said it best, baby. Don’t be cruel.
My Take on The Fuckable Friend
I was asked a while back to address the issue of The Fuckable Friend. You’ve been friends for years. You tell each other everything. Now it seems like sex could be a fun indoor sport to play with each other. And hey, with winter coming on, don’t we all need more of those?
We’ve all had those friendships — the ones where innuendo comes up far too often for our comfort. But it’s just so darn fun, that innuendo.
I personally have always caused grief in my friendships that way. I really enjoy the toying, but it’s become a problem a few times in the past. It has never worked out, regardless of how great the sex was. (And it always was. Can’t beat “friend sex.”)
The important thing about fucking a friend is this: If it works, are you ready for a commitment?
Fact is, if the sex is on, the friendship is on, then you’ve got no excuse to avoid a commitment, have you? What a great predicament to be in… a fuckworthy friend you can tolerate in the morning. Stop the presses. Ride that ride a while and see where it takes you.
One of the wonderful things about having sex with a friend is that you’ll be able to laugh about it without having to apologize. You have that synergy where you’re both in on the joke. The thing that sex with a friend always tends to offer is the ability to have fun and be intimate simultaneously while fucking.
“Yeah, but isn’t that what having sex is?” Well, most of the time, not really. How many of us can truly say we’ve been involved with our best friend? It’s a pretty rare experience. But sex with friends offers that rare look at true fun intimacy.
If you can get over how fucking weird it is to be schtupping your friend, that is.
Odds are, you’ve had all those great accidental “friend” moments. The bad burps, the stupid things said, the idiocy displayed, the utter humiliation, the total hurt. And it was always okay, easy to handle, ‘cos you were always just friends. It was voluntary.
Now, though… choice is the first thing to go. It becomes obligation, and that can be a real problem. You sit there and think, “Oh, I wouldn’t be that petty.” It ain’t petty, it’s human nature. Few of us are conditioned to like other people having any control over our lives. It’s asking a lot.
Let’s put this simply: It’s really, really, really hard finding good friends… And it’s so fucking easy to lose a lover… But loving a friend can be a truly awesome experience, and sometimes that’s worth the risk.
If you’re gonna take that risk, you need to be able to commit to ‘em if it works out. Otherwise, you’ll not only lose a lover, but a friend. Will I fuck a friend again? Current selection, no. But I wouldn’t rule the behaviour out in the future, either. Will not rule it out.
It’s always been fun, and the friends I’ve lost, well, one is regrettable. The others are still worth a smile. Good people, but expendable. Incredible sex.
There aren’t many friendships able to overcome a not-right-for-a-relationship, but-let’s-still-be-friends foray into fucking. Most of the ones that do try to resume the friendship will invariably realize how strange it has become after the sex. You don’t feel comfortable talking about crushes, you avoid movies with sex scenes in them, you get awkward talking about physical problems. It’s a lesser, less fulfilling version of your old relationship, fraught with stilted strangeness and abbreviated exchanges.
The few and the far between are in fact able to transcend all that shit and become stronger friends as a result of it. What lucky bastards.
Do you fuck your friend? Your call. Your gamble. If you secretly think, “I bet she’d still be fun in five years, and man, I never get sick of hanging around her…” then maybe sex might be the way to get something real started.
Or it might just be a great lay.
Just so long as you know the cost.
I’m sure that if I asked, my wonderful readers could share some of their experiences on the matter with you, as well. Have at ‘im, kids.
wishing otherwise
wistful jazz wails in the background. the drive bustles with beatniks and bohemians, baddies and babes. stale cigarette smoke wafts towards me. i see the source. you.
i only glance at you for the briefest second, but you catch my eye. that smoldering look you got’s really something else, i think, returning to my book. while i reread the same passage, i sense you watching me. this time, looking up, i slowly take you in.
you’ve got crumpled olive green cargo pants on, but they’re just tight enough around your round bubble ass. you’re wearing two tanktops, layered, one white and one black, and a leather jacket’s slung over your forearm, obscuring some of your tattoos. surprised at myself, i openly admire your breasts as i continue up you and meet your glance.
“glance” is too light a word for that look of yours. your eyes are locked on me like a fighter plane acquiring a target. so brazen, so bold. so intimidating.
i find myself wishing i had that in me, but today i don’t. i smile weakly, then break the gaze, dropping down to my book, back to my safety zone.
out of the corner of my eye, i see you shoot me a final glance as you join up with your approaching friend. sad to see you leave, i at least watch you go.
now, days later, i revel in my regret for the courage that came too late, and for the chance squandered so quickly.
Stupid is as stupid does
I’m doing the online dating thing. Let me say ONE THING: Your opening line is EVERYTHING, boys.
So, the guy who just opened with: “May I have your panties?” Uh… Where to even begin on the lameness scale for that one?
Remember, “block this person” is the most valuable tool you have when doing the online thing.
Block, block, block. Fucking twit.
______________
So, Dear Readers, I’d like to ask you to stay tuned. Starting next week, I’ll have more time on my hands and a more diligent writing schedule, and I have a few ambitious ideas to tackle. Hopefully this place’ll be hopping again. In the meantime, I’d like to leave you with this lovely image.
Why this image? Because I’ve been pursuing the online thing more of late, and my GOD am I getting frustrated.
Okay, here’s a mini-rant.
Men are willing to go off to war. They’re willing to scale mountains. They’re willing to do all manner of stupid, life-endangering things, like running with bulls, but god-fucking-forbid they have the balls to cancel on a chick or see through some plans. (Obviously, there are awesome men out there who are not these guys… WHERE ARE YOU? Come HITHER. Now.)
As far as I can tell, these guys all want me. They’ve said so in countless ways, but as soon as our plans roll around, the guys are typically forgetful men and they often FORGET the dates. Instead of having the balls to say, “Shit, I forgot,” they pussy up and never contact me again. And the amusing thing? I’m usually pretty cool about that sort of thing. I’m a busy chick, and I like my time alone, so getting a night to myself is often a bonus, not a horrible event.
I’ve always thought I was pretty decent at decoding men, but these days, I’m getting just a little flustered. I tell you, I’m five minutes away from walking into a bar and laying it on a guy. Trust me, I could easily walk in, and walk out with a dude on my arm — I just hate the got’em-at-the-bar kind of deal.
On the flipside, meeting a nice CHICK someplace seems like a fuck of a lot LESS (ed. note: seems I forgot the most important word in this sentence earlier… AHEM.) hassle. I tell you, I’m so close to being driven to dyke by the dicks. So very close.
Getting Stiffed By the Stiffy & Happy Birthday to Me
I’m 32 today, folks. That being the case, I’m a little busy being busy and birthdayish for the next couple of days. YAY me.
I wrote this posting over on NYHotties for you kids to read in answer to LabBoy’s question about the “five-minute” rule — you know, how guys tend to blow their wad the first time they have sex with a broad in about all of five minutes of steamy action.
You can read the original comments here. The posting is in full below, though:
Here’s a conversation I had with a reader:
How do I get over the “5-minute” rule when it comes to doing it with someone for the first time? Whatcha mean by the 5-minute rule?
5-minute rule: All the dates before “the” date have been foreplay. I’m turned on beyond belief, so when we get to “the” moment, I can only last for 5 minutes. I can “reload” and “reset” fairly quickly and go back to my usual 30 minutes or so of long-lasting action… But it’s always very fast that first time!
Well, have you done the jack-off-before-date routine when you know you’ll be getting some? Is a cock ring out of the question?
That’s just it!!! I never know if I’ll be getting some… So should I just, ahem, service myself regardless? Just in case? Always be prepared? What am I? A boyscout?
A cock ring? Somehow I think this doesn’t have to do with rooster fighting in downtown Guadalajara…
I sometimes wonder if guys are given the short end of the shaft thanks to the fact that they reach their sexual peak in their late teens, but chicks don’t reach theirs for a decade or more after their first sexual experiences.
Most younger women live under the delusion that there’s “something wrong” with them, so they do everything they can to try and maximize their sexual experiences. For instance, women almost always know about the wonders of Kegel exercises.
What are Kegels? They’re an exercise through which the pelvic floor is strengthened and empowered. What does that have to do with sex? Better orgasms, kids. You have better control over that region of your body, and thus can prolong your experience before orgasming.
The problem is, a lot of guys don’t realize they can — and should — do these exercises, too. Like one resource on the web says, if you’re a guy with an erect penis, and you can’t squeeze your pelvic muscles and cause your dick to jump substantially, then you need to do these exercises — more than you know.
Guys often snicker and laugh at the notion of some men “lasting for hours” in bed. The rockstar Sting is known for his passion for Tantric sex and his claims that he can have sex “all night long.” Why guys snicker and laugh at this is beyond me, but I suspect it’s largely insecurity along the “that’ll never be me” kind of lines.
No, not without work, it won’t be. If guys were to do Kegel exercises regularly, the odds are good that their newly healthy, strong penis could have a towel hung over it when erect and still be able to little lifts and lowering at will.
So, Reader, first of all, do your exercises. Every single day. Second of all, learn that your “regular 30 minutes” isn’t really much to write home about either, but it’s unfortunately become the almost-accepted norm for men.
You can do better, and when you do, you’ll wonder how you ever managed to be complacent with the sex life you once had.
I was speaking with a man I know and he told me how yoga was “the best thing” he ever did for his sex life. I asked him if it was because of the stronger abdomen helping his erection, and he said yeah, that, but also because it taught him how to breathe right, and that did wonders for him.
In his late 30s, the man’s experiencing the best sex he’s ever had, all because he’s lost his inhibitions and learned how to control his body like he’s never done before. Through yoga he has learned to focus on his abdomenal muscles and their role in his ability to withhold his orgasm for hours. The breathing techniques he has learned have allowed him — with his partner — to slow down his breathing and thus find greater control over his bodily sensations.
And if all this sounds like too much, then I suggest taking the easy way out and jacking off before your dates. Even if you don’t get laid, at least you’ll be relaxed and more willing to let the evening happen naturally, rather than being concerned about getting yours.
Finally, there’s always the option of a cock ring. There are important considerations when choosing a cock ring for yourself, particularly in regards to size. Too small and it could really cause you problems, and may get stuck on your cock. Not good. Too large and it’ll do nothing. The safest way to go is a strap-on cock ring, since you can adjust the tension in case you’re unsure how tight to go, and sensation is your best guiding force. You can even get cock rings that have a vibe attached to really give your partner her bang for your buck, too. But if you’re a man on a budget and you still want to have that upscale ride, then visit your local hardware store and buy a few little rubber seals/gaskets and see which works best for you, at a fraction of the cost.
But what does a cock ring do, you ask? It traps blood in your cock and makes your erection both larger and last longer. When you finally do come, it’s a more explosive orgasm, so to speak, since the blood has made the orgasm more difficult and lengthy to achieve, thus heightening your end experience.
The “first time” you do it with a chick will probably always leave a little to be desired compared to your regular endurance ability, but maybe it’s time to up the ante all the way around. A little extra dedication to your dick will help you become the man of your dreams — and hers.
I Don't Wanna Be Your Dog
My latest raunchy rant can be found over at Alexa’s sizzling site, NYHotties.com, where I’ll be a frequent contributor for awhile.
Here’s the link if you wanna read the comments. Here’s the posting in full, though:
I’m sorry, Iggy, but it’s true.
This one goes out to the porn school boys. Yeah. You know who you are. The guys who watch porn and think women actually want to fuck like that.
The majority of women don’t have “getting titty-fucked” at the top of their weekend to-do lists, all right? We don’t necessarily globally relish having our asses smacked while we’re being ridden doggy-style by some dude who thinks he’s one lap away from the Kentucky Derby. (Almost every woman likes to take one of those laps from time to time, though.)
The majority of chicks aren’t going to gush and coo like a girl on Christmas morning as you cum on their face. Most will be pissed that you’ve even attempted it, really, especially since there’s that very small matter of possibly contracting AIDS when the spunk hits an eye.
Face it, boys. Porn movies are movies that are made by men, for men. They are entertainment. They’re the sexual equivalent of the DC Comics’ League of Justice: highly improbable, hugely exaggerrated, and excessively stylized.
If you’re taking your sex tips from porn, you might just want to think twice before you invite Debbie over for a little diddling.
Fact is, porn’s for the uninteresting. Most North American porn is so laughably cliche, so utterly uninspired, that it’s a wonder Europeans ever sleep with any of us. Thank god they know better than to believe everything they see on television. Pity the same can’t be said of everyone on this big ol’ continent, though.
All right, you need allusions to really get the message? Let’s say that sex is like sanding wood. Sure, you can get all aggressive and just sand the shit out of it with 200-grain paper, but you know it’s going to look like crap until you slow it down and do nice, even mid-pressure circular strokes with a 50-grain.
It’s the same with sex. You might — might — be able to get the job done in a fevered frenzy of action, but you’re gonna miss out on so much of the good shit you only find when you really get into the detailing.
If you’re content to underperform, then porn away, boys. If you really want to get fucked, and you really want to know what an orgasm has the potential to feel like, then explore the full dimensions of sex.
The problem with the Porn Boys is they just don’t fucking understand that orgasms are like concert seats. Just because you’re at the concert doesn’t mean you’re getting the best show. In fact, sitting in the nosebleeds might get you into the gig, but with all that frenzied distortion and being so far away visually, you’re barely scratching the surface of the experience.
Upgrading and getting in close seems to sometimes slow it all down and make the experience bigger than life. The bass rocks you, the sweat slowly builds as the tension gets better and better throughout the headliner’s act before they finally blow their wad on the show-stopping encore that leaves them and the audience gasping for more.
Stop being content to just show up and get rocked. Put yourself in the show and really make it an event.
What have you really got to lose, besides your breath?
You asked? Cock Rings
Chelsea Girl requested that I address the issue of cock rings. So, here goes.
Once upon a time, in Middle Earth, a Hobbit named Frodo went on a quest to destroy the One Ring that would rule them all… Err. Well. Okay, different ring.
A cock ring is a blood-flow restrictor for the penis. Cock rings are the original penis-enlargement procedures. So, for starters, there’s the size-increasing bonus plan that the rings provide. The real benefit, though, comes in the fact that the trapped blood causes the penis to require more stimulation in order to come. (And when you do come, one word: gusher.)
What does that result in? More playtime (for most men — read on). A longer-lasting, new, improved loverman with a harder cock and the ability to go for a little while longer. It’s a great toy, particularly for those wanting more marathonish experiences in the bedroom.
How does it work? Simple. A cock ring wraps around the very base of the shaft (with or without the testicles, depending on the type/size of ring used), which traps blood in the upper regions of the cock. If you want a see-for-yourself experiment, just wrap an elastic band around your finger. If you find the right amount of snugness, not only does your finger get a little larger and a little stubbier, it can also get more sensitive to touch. (Which is problematic for premature ejaculators, who may not be able to handle a cock ring, but there are men who are less sensitive, too, with cock rings, so it’s a user-specific experience.)
If you’re a guy and you’re nervous about putting on a cock ring and then imploding sooner than you want to, then I suggest trying it out during your Sunday morning masturbation routine as you get to know Jenna Jameson a little better, or something.
Now, I don’t know about using a hair scrunchy in the Loverman-Improvement-Plan, but go on ahead and try it, if that’s all you got kickin’ around the house tonight. Finding the right cock ring can be a challenge, since too much restraint can cause injury to the bad boy, and too tight a ring might prove a bitch to get removed.
(Just imagine that visit to the hospital emergency room, eh?)
Cock rings come in all sizes and any number of different materials and designs. You can get a nice leather strap with a clasp, very adjustable, and very safe, and every bit as good as any other ring. You can get a leather strap with a number of snaps on it, allowing for any number of girths, also a great, safe approach.
You can get metal rings, plastic rings, rubber rings, and they all need to often be sized for your shaft’s width. A little trickier, I’m afraid. You can get funky ones with mini vibes attached that offer clitoral stimulation during the sex act.
It really comes down to your personal style and what just feels right for you. Some rings are all flash, and that’s fine, but it’s pretty unnecessary. Some rings are a feat of engineering since they have elaborate designs that can do everything from tugging and restraining the balls to clamping off the shaft, and even clamping your nipples at the same time. Clearly the latter design’s for those who’ve ridden all the smaller rides in the park and are looking for a little more bang for the buck.
Experts recommend that a cock ring shouldn’t be too tight (for seemingly obvious reasons) and shouldn’t be left on for more than 20 minutes, definitely not more than 30. Now you’re thinking, “well, why not apply it during the act and really prolong our experience?” Nice thinking, but a guy’s got to be flaccid or only semi-hard to apply these bad boys.
If it’s a new experience for you, don’t use metal rings. It’s advisable to use adjustable or stretchable cockrings, since this is one experience you don’t want to have go bad because you’re bad at judging your size.
Cock Ring Emergencies: You got ballsy and decided to try a metal cock ring, and now it’s stuck ‘cos your billy stick got too big to remove the bastard? Fill the tub with COLD water and sit in it. In a couple minutes you’ll be happier about experiencing shrinkage than you’ve ever been, and you should be able to get it off. If not, you’re going to the emergency room, kids.
Cheap tricks: Why pay $20 for three rubber cock rings when you can spend $3 at a hardware store for the same product, sans packaging and spin?
Wanna read some guys’ accounts of using cock rings? Go here.
Harrass this, you PC bastards
When I recently whored myself for more topics, Grover Flanagan asked this:
Ooh! Ooh! I’ve got one! A new girl just started at work. She’s either as tall or just a bit taller than I am, cute as hell, and built like a brick house. (what a winning hand!) I’ve introduced myself, but have no idea where else to go from here. Afraid I’d be far too obvious (never been Mr. Subtle) if I tried to strike up any further conversation.
How about some do’s and don’t’s on workplace flirtation in this harrassment-sensitive age.
Oh, boy. Harrassment.
Could there be any greater reason why less people than ever before are getting laid? What are we to do without the always-fun office fuck? My God! As if dating was hard before, now there’s this bullshit to contend with? Why not just thrust us all into fucking monasteries and nunneries and leave it at that? Jesus.
Harrassment laws have their place, but why in the hell has zero-tolerance had to enter the equation? What the fuck is wrong with “Hey, wanna get a drink tonight?”
Nothing, says I. Fuck that shit.
I say you ought to just ask the woman for a drink. I think there’s nothing wrong with asking. It’s what happens after the asking that’s the issue.
If she says no, then you back off. If she says yes, then when you’re on the date you need to guage how it’s going and have an actual conversation about your attraction to her before you proceed with anything physical. You need to talk about what will be the fall-out at the office and how you need to deal with each other in that environment as opposed to outside of the office.
So, asking, not a problem. It’s everything after that which complicates matters. Is there a no dating policy in the workplace? No? Then that’s a good first step. If there is, then you’ll need to learn to keep your mouth shut about things, won’t you?
Since there’s a million ways that part of the scenario can go, I won’t even go there.
Fact is, the workplace offers a lot of insights into people that we don’t normally get exposed to until far further in the relationship — insights that might’ve been a dealbreaker or dealmaker if we’d known of them earlier in the game.
Do they get grumpy easily? Do their moods flip like a fish out of water? Do they buckle under stress? Are they curt and offensive when they’re having a bad moment? Have they always got a smile, regardless of the adversity they face? Are they thoughtful and generous?
But back to the question of harrassment. I think most people in society are pretty cool with knowing what constitutes harrassment and what doesn’t. Personally, I always enjoyed pushing the envelope back when I was in an office. I’d occasionally let a dirty joke slip or might’ve made a comment about a blowjob to a male coworker, just to see what the reaction would be. And it never got the kind of reaction I suspected, and never caused issues. So while the laws may be strict on paper, the reality is that people tend to be a little more flexible. This will vary workplace to workplace, but it comes down to the same babysteps most adventures require: Start small, and if it’s received well, take a slightly larger step.
You seem like a pretty perceptive kinda guy, so I’d just run with that and see where it gets you. Fuck the rules.
The Failure to Fuck
Not too long ago, an Italian man was ordered to pay his now-ex-wife damages for failing to disclose to her before they tied the knot that he couldn’t get it up.
Apparently the courts have told him he’s guilty of abusing her “right to sexuality.”
Now this is why I believe in getting sex out of the way. Pfft. I mean, wait? Yeah, that’s gonna happen.
But you gotta wonder: You’re abstaining, but you make out, right?
So, there you are, you’re makin’ out, gropin’ a little, wandering around, pressing together, getting all heated up… and you never once notice he doesn’t have a stiffy in response?
Honey, do you have any powers of observation?
What chick, getting kissed against a wall, doesn’t notice a guy’s degree of interest? Which chick doesn’t judge its rigidity at that time? And if the guy ain’t putting it out there in a covert yet obvious way? Something’s up, and it ain’t Dick.
Honestly, it’s a pity they’re divorced. They seem impeccably matched.