Category Archives: Sex

Mutual Masturbation: Why to Rethink It

I don’t know if it’s the new rage, but there’s something pretty hot about it, you know? Sitting around, toying with yourself as someone repays you in kind. It’s the ultimate in voyeurism. You’re there, front and centre, watching – and satisfying yourself in the process of – someone experiencing the deeply personal act of giving themselves an orgasm.
I had a man recently ask me if – since I didn’t engage in sex-for-sex’s-sake sex – if I might be interested in masturbating for his pleasure.
Now, you have to realize that, before this point, this was one of the sexiest, most intelligent, and thought-provoking conversations I’d had with a man in a while. If there’s an iota of truth to the brain being the largest sex organ of all (and there’s plenty more than an iota to that) then suffice to say that I was about as aroused as I’d been in a while. (Unfortunately, he was married. I don’t go there.)
Some chicks look for big cars, some chicks look for big words. Which am I?
So, he asks me this. And I seriously considered it. I know it can be a really intense experience, if you can get behind the walls of bullshit we all conjure for the world at large, then yes, it’s a pretty intense experience to share with someone.
So, I was giving it due consideration, and then I realized that, for me, it would be as intensely intimate as fucking him would be, something I considered incongruous with my own ethics, as much as I really did want to do it. And I thought, wow, what a gift I’d be giving a guy I didn’t feel like I could afford to be that way with. Just, yeah… a gift, really.
The nature of masturbation, when you get down to the heart of it all, beyond that fleeting sense of ecstasy, that arrogance of knowing you’re always able to make yourself feel like that, the prideful sense of independence… beyond all of that lies the very, very simple truth of being literally absolutely naked with yourself. You think true thoughts, have real fantasies when you masturbate. I think there’s seldom a time in which we’re more brutally true to ourselves than when we masturbate… for good or for ill. It comes down to what it takes you to go there, the imagery you need to form, the thoughts that find their way into you.
To lie there opposite each other, and get there in the manner you would if you were naked and alone, it’s a very eye-opening, fly-on-the-wall kind of moment.
Yes, it can be incredibly hot.
But yes, it can also be incredibly weird. There are those out there who believe there’s no sense in bothering with the mutual masturbation – letting your partner start & finish fully without touching them, this is the definition of mutual masturbation. And they would be wrong. It really is about the ultimate in vulnerability with your partner. Not because you need to submit to their touch, but instead, you must submit to their scrutiny in your moment.
With that experience comes a different kind of bond than one just forged by sex and love alone. Vulnerable is the hardest thing to be in a relationship. I struggle with it. My independence and strength have been towers of power in my life, and to submit to vulnerability is to give up all that’s gotten me through to now. A small little seemingly insignificant act like mutual masturbation is enough to bring all that to the forefront. In sex, it’s easier to hide behind those eyes-closed moments.
Anyhow. I just need to clarify, as much as I believe mutual masturbation is a really important stage in your sexual evolution as a couple, and as much as I think it benefits on an emotional level, too, it can be a really intense emotional experience sometimes, and you sort of need to anticipate that, particularly if trust issues are something you’ve had in the past.
I honestly think, though, that it can do nothing but good for a relationship. And, hey, if you’re single, it’s truly safe sex.
In the meantime, please feel free to comment on experiences you’ve had with it, thoughts you have on it, whether I’m right / wrong, why, and if it applies, why you won’t / will be doing it anytime / sometime soon.

Guest Posting: EA's Account of His First Self-Gratification

One of my favourite male erotic bloggers is Easily Aroused. I like him for his lyrical prose that often, for me, evokes the intimacy of the encounter. The reason why you go over for one blogger, one author, over another is pretty simple, really. It comes down to style. Some have it, and some wish they did. He does, and I’m feeling quite privileged to have him along for the self-love ride.
With his ode to discovering how good he could make himself feel through exploring his body as a teen, here’s Easily Aroused. (Thanks, EA.) For obvious reasons, the photo is clearly not of a teen.

________________

My love affair with my cock started in earnest after my twelfth birthday. However, my desire for women (a desire that I anticipate prevailing until my final breath slips from between my lips) began to crystallise a little earlier than that.
It’s quite possible that its origins lie in the moment that I saw Sean Connery using a dermatome to cut the straps on Anna Dor’s evening dress in ‘You Only Live Twice’. As I watched him ease her zip down the line of her spine, the camera teasingly fading out just before her waiting buttocks were exposed, I was captivated.
I’ve been bewitched ever since.
It was at middle school that I first sought to emulate the brawny Scots spy. From somewhere deep in my genetic makeup came the nascent desire to explore and enjoy women with the same philandering style that Bond did. The problem was: how to do justice to such grandiose designs when you’re only ten years old? Beyond kissing – and by ‘kissing’, I don’t mean something Valentino would have nodded approvingly at – I had little idea what I was meant to be doing with the girls I dallied with; no concept of the true effect they were meant to elicit in me.
In senior school, the real differences between men and women started to become apparent to me. For one thing, girls matured faster when it came to sex. Much faster. It wasn’t long before the fairer sex was turning its collective attention towards older boys. By the time I’d reached my teens, the more sexually assertive girls in my class were dating school leavers, surly youths who sported Don Johnson stubble and driving licences. How the hell could my peers and I possibly compete?
And that was a problem. The girls I stood the best chance with were shy, demure creatures. They didn’t share the adventurous appetites of their more desirous sisters. They wanted to hold hands and giggle, to kiss with tightly pursed lips and their tongues safely out of reach. They swiftly moved your hand away if it got within a foot of their bosoms, slapped it sharply away if it dared stray towards their thighs. The sad truth was that they couldn’t hold a candle to the bad girls. Not at that point. So the mere fact that the bad girls had less than zero interest in me didn’t deter me from being drawn to them like a moth to the scorching dangers of a naked flame.
I don’t recall how it started, but I began writing fantasies about the girls who piqued my interest the most. My scribblings were confined to a hard-bound book which I secreted at the back of my wardrobe. There were no real favourites as such: my lustful attentions tended to flit between the most pronounced objects of my adolescent desire. I don’t remember the scenarios as being especially explicit, either; they were mostly concerned with undressing the girls to their underwear (and beyond) and indulging in some foreplay. Either I lacked the knowledge – or the confidence – to take things further, even when my desires were confined to the literary world.
Yet despite the naivety of my written fumblings (who knew what was to come, eh?), I found myself aroused by the words dancing across the pages, by the images that accompanied them in my mind. They provided my first self-delivered, earnest erections. I’d be lying on my bed, or sometimes the floor, my ears ever alert for sound of feet ascending the staircase, writing feverishly away. Without realising it, I’d be pressing my pelvis into the mattress or the carpet, my cock hard against my belly, trapped, squirming and thrusting as my excitement built.
Inevitably, on a warm summer’s evening, my excitement reached an entirely new stratum. The sensations emanating from my loins went from being ‘good’ to being unbelievably good, utterly consuming in their deliciousness. I began to thrust harder and faster as I wrote, until I reached for the first time what is now an unmistakeable peak. I didn’t realise what had happened right away. I saw the semen squirting from my cockhead and wondered, “Have I broken something?” But how could something that had damaged feel *so* good? And finally, the light bulb flickered on. I’d done it, achieved that mythical goal I’d heard about in the locker room. I’d ejaculated. I’d *come*.
Of course, in doing so, I’d circumvented the more traditional route to masturbatory success. The next step in my private education was to learn how to produce the same effect by using my hand.
And that is a whole other story…

________________

BACK TO ME: I must say, EA, I’m always quite the fan of a good tease. Nicely done.

TWOFER: I'm a Bitch & Something Smells

You have those nights sometimes, the nights before a simple kind of day, a your kind of day-day, where the only thing you really know is this: You’re calling the shots.
The man? Fuck him. The woman? Her too. And everyone in the sub-genres? Them too.
It’s 12:24 a.m., and I’ve decided that whatever it is I do when I roll my lazy ass out of bed, it’s okay. Tentative plan: A fine breakfast, a little South Park, a trip with the bike and the camera downtown to play tourist, for kicks. That’s it.
Before, I had these grandiose plans of, oh, I don’t know, accomplishing something, or something. I’ve come to my senses. Partly sunny. Dubious, you think? Fuck no. Partly’s sounding like it’s from God’s lips, man. Yep. A fine day, whatever materializes. With the last 45 or so days being filled with 40 or so days of rain, well, I’ll take drizzle, man. Just get me the hell out.
Though I feel like keeping to myself after my crazy past six weeks, I am going to force myself to be social. A tad. But only to cute men.
The women, they’ll get nods and grunts. Yep. Balance. It’s all about balance, isn’t it?
Oh, I’m joking. I play well with all others. My folks brought me up with manners, etiquette, you know, and that makes me the mostly charming young thang before you. I say “mostly” because having a mouth like Susan Sarandon at her time of the month is really not doing me any favours. But it feels so damned good, and the hedonist in me, that’s all she really needs, ya know.
_____________
Hopefully the following applies to none of my male readers, but, guys, I’ve been hearing some horror stories.
See, I’ve heard all these things through regular conversations with real, live guys, not through this blog. So, I’d like to just say this right now, that there’s a little too many instances of this sort of thing. You want chicks to feel all right about touching themselves and such, then we need to get on page about this.
Chicks, we’re sensitive, right? Estrogen: License to Pill. It’s rough, yeah, baby. Real rough some days, and you guys, you’re so lackadaisical and oblivious. Normally, it makes us chuckle, but sometimes, y’all leave scars.
These conversations I’ve mentioned, have all included guys, who, upon going down on women they were with, reacted in one or more of the following ways:

  • Gasped
  • Retched
  • Dry-Heaved
  • Actually vomited between her legs
  • Groaned, grabbed his clothes, ran, and proceeded to dress in her apartment’s exterior corridor

I mean, my GOD, guys. If you’ve done this, you are such an ass. Even if it was totally unintentional, oh, lord.
Don’t you ever get the sense that some people are the needing the emotional form of toilet training? Instead of just blurting out every fucking thing you feel in the split instant it hits, try something incredibly nouveau and cutting edge: Hold your goddamned tongue until you’ve let the stupid idea rattle around yer skull a moment.
And that doesn’t go out to just guys, there’re so many women that applies to, and we all know it.
If a guy reacts like that in one of those moments, it’s akin to a woman snickering at the size of a man’s cock. “You’re… not cold, are you? Oh, sorry, yes, that was optimism. I was hoping I could at least turn the thermostat up. Sadly, though… there might be little point in— Oh, I made a punny! (giggle)”
I just find myself wondering what such an experience would do to a woman’s future sex drive, considering how much more governed by emotions (and estrogen, sigh) we happen to be.
I’ve only had one real experience of issue with a bit of a foul odour, and it was after an eight-hour car trip with a guy I really, really, really wanted to sleep with when I lived in the North. He had a girlfriend at the time, and I had shit going on long distance, so I constantly felt the hopelessness of that, too. He paid me the most incredible compliment that day, too, that would sound totally cheesy to say here, but probably the greatest thing a guy ever said to me. It was his tone of voice and the way he stared through me as he said it, though. I melted. A couple hours after that, and needing a washroom for a bit, and I was conscious of my scent. Nothing too intense, mind you, but it was there, perceptible, a little, and I became hyperaware. We arrived at a washroom within five minutes of my noticing it, and I was able to wash up and feel great again, and I’m pretty sure he never picked up on it.
But if he had, it probably would’ve been a source of pheromones, not offense. Since that time, I kind of started to quiz the guys I’ve been with, and have been remarkably surprised at what was, I perceived, an offensive odour, and what guys have found attractive. They seem to have a more accommodating standard, I suppose. We chicks, we get bombarded by media ads about “feminine freshness’ on a daily basis. Hell, they have “feminine wipes,” which are the female equivalent to the baby’s-dirty-ass-alcohol-soaked-wipe. Unfortunately, there’s a market for them. It’s called “being single.” The Age of Paranoia.
I’m just saying, guys need to be empathetic to the issues that chicks sometimes have to deal with, and being nice and delicate about the fact that she needs a shower can go a long, long ways. How about, “God, I bet you’d be incredibly hot all lathered up. But mostly, I wanna do the lathering. Get you wet. Dripping. In the shower.”
That way, you get to play with a bar of soap. (Dove is nicely contoured. Ever notice that?) You get a nice shower. You get a clean chick. And you get to get laid after all. Everybody wins. She keeps her pride, and you get to enjoy the perks.
And though there’s not such an amenable conclusion for chicks who are usually stupid enough to blurt out a comment about a man’s penis size, really, they just ought to bloody well know better. I mean, Jesus. A little empathy. Just like God gave you that flabby bit on your inner thigh that no amount of working out can resolve, the small-penis thing wasn’t likely a request, and surgery ain’t no walk-in-the-park boob job, either.
Anyhow, thanks for coming on my tangential walk this evening. I’ve clearly been sort of colouring by numbers on this posting, but hey, it’s been fun for me. Come again.

Hey, Got A Cam? Cybersex and Masturbation.

show me ur tits. squeeze em.
oh, yah, baby. ur so hot. hard now.

Ah, the internet: Where the flame of romance never dies.

I’ve been talking about masturbation for the last 10 days or so. How can I possibly ignore cybersex?
The butt of many jokes, cybersex is still vastly overlooked for its potential to destroy the modern relationship as we know it. But that’s changing. Mental health pros are finding themselves inundated with sex addictions these days – more than ever before. It turns out that cybersex is the crack cocaine of sex addiction.
It’s changing the dynamics of human relationships. Communication was already doing pretty shitty before this, but now it’s plummeting to all-time lows.
Now, I’m not trying to be an expert in double-speak here, but I gotta revisit earlier claims that masturbation wasn’t addictive. Let’s qualify that. In the same way that marijuana is not addictive, so too is masturbation not.
Dope, you can get pretty compulsive about. Hell, I’m first in line to admit to marijuana compulsions. It’s “not really” addictive because it can be kicked with a little self-control. I think masturbation’s the same. You can be compelled to do it far more than you should be doing it, yeah. Absolutely. But that ain’t addiction, that’s a user malfunction. It’s a user with an addictive personality, someone with lacks somewhere, who’s trying to fill the need with a substitute of choice.
Hell, that’s life, most days. That ain’t a candybar, honey, that’s a need for affection and someone’s lovin’ arms around ya. Same deal. The only thing is, masturbation’s so much easier to paint with that brush of judgement than, say, having a second helping of pasta. “Oh, but’s a cream sauce, I get it. I can relate.
Needs are needs, and sometimes we fullfil ‘em the wrong way, but we all got the needs, and we all got compulsions.
I’ve done cybersex. Sure. I masturbated when I did, sure. But he had it better at his end, ‘cos after all, cybersex is all about the verbs. Me, I got verbs. Girl’s got vocab, baby. So, I was left a little unquenched, but thank god I was in good hands: Mine.
And that’s the beauty of cybersex. It’s sex on demand, and you know it’s gonna deliver – every single time. With every click, every page, appeasement, baby. You get to fill your own needs, so you get off, fully, completely, each and every time. It leaves everything up to you, it’s more selfish, intensely personal, voyeuristic, and ultimately, it’s all in your head.
Just like every drug I’ve ever had. Personal. Selfish. Imaginative. Voyeuristic. All me. That’s drug use for you, whether you’re into cocaine or Jim Beam, so when anyone tells you cybersex ain’t just like a drug, tell ‘em for me that they don’t know shit.
I think there’s nothing wrong with a little cyber-dallying. Do I? No, I don’t. It’s not my bag – repetitive, uninspiring, and has the feel of those dirty jeans you find on the corner of the floor in a jam – does the job, takes care of the moment’s needs, but a little too loose’n’easy for a real good fit. However, if the right lit man came ‘round with a suitably sexy repertoire of vocab, I’d find myself curious how he’d play through words, sure.
Cybersex worries me, it does. I see dire times ahead for human relationships. I see a time when we’ll be unable to ask for sex in a healthy, seductive kind of way. I see romance and foreplay taking wrong turns. I see communication growing increasingly truncated, and I see us becoming far too introspective and inward-driven to really know how to interact in a meaningful way anymore. In that way, the masturbation is the enabling act that makes it feel “real” when it’s so not.
It’s freaky. I heard about Isaac Asimov’s Robot series and how, in one of the books, he predicted cybersex would transpire – in 3500 AD. Here we are, only 50 years later, doing exactly that — communicating through screens, performing for each other instead of being real, using shortcuts for dialogue instead of fully expressing what’s on our mind. As science fiction, it’s interesting, as reality, it’s disconcerting.
I think it all comes down to balance, really. Masturbation’s awesome, but if you’re sitting around your apartment masturbating all day (must be nice to have such resilient skin and tissue), you might want to consider if it’s doing as much for you as you’re letting yourself believe. It’s about reality checks and knowing when too much of a good thing’s too much. It’s about remembering that your home comes with a door, and when you open that door, a world is at your heels. This virtual shit, well… “Virtual” says it all, really: Nearly real, but, like, not.
I always love to say, “It is what it is.” In this instance, cybersex, masturbation, remember, it ain’t what it ain’t. I ain’t never gonna be what you want it to be. If you’re aware of that, then you’re fine. If you forget that, or lose the desire for the real deal, then you’ve got to take a look at yourself.

Rape Fantasies & Masturbation

Please, read the questions listed in the posting below this, regarding male masturbation (questions are applicable to both sexes) and answer, if you can. As a result of those questions, I’ve just received what I think is an important email from a very articulate young man, on masturbation. He writes:

This is going to sound really disturbing to women but I think a lot of men fantasize about rape. I think that rapists are the lowest form of life. Rape is the single most disturbing and horrible thing you can do to a person. Someone that is raped is scarred forever. My best friend was raped and I would kill the man responsible if I could. That is why it bothers me so much that I have fantasized about it. I don’t want you to think that I’m a potential rapist because I have fantasized about it but I think most men probably do. If they can admit it to themselves. The fantasy part of it isn’t about hurting her or scarring her. I think its just about taking something that youre not supposed to have. I guess something thats extremely taboo is sexy to us. Thats why there are movies about rape, incest, pregnant women, etc. I think thats why guys are so interested in anal. We want what we cant have.

Whew. Rape Fantasies. Yeah. Well, I’ve had ’em. But I’m also a strong girl who can take care of herself, and I pity the bastard that tries it.
That said, this is an topic that needs more discussion. It says a lot about human nature, doesn’t it? Here’s the response I sent the guy, word for word, so I can jam and go back to bouncing around to those ponces, Oasis:
I was just playing with some photography and you emailed me as I finished up, so curious, I read it. I’m deliberately not responding to people, but you’re young and clearly disturbed by the rape thing.
IT’S VERY COMMON WITH MEN AND WOMEN!
The thing is, I think it’s a pretty sterilized fantasy — like, nothing too explicit, you know? With guys, I think it’s a subliminal desire to feel like they could have permission to demand and take what they want — but not necessarily through violence. Just a primal thing, like the caveman dragging his woman by the hair. Whereas with women, it’s more a notion of wishing someone would feel that height of desire that they need to take us then and there — but we’d want to kill any man who’d try it.
It’s a really difficult fantasy for most people to come to terms with because the real act is usually outside our ethics, but we are, at heart, animals, and every now and then I think the notion of being true to that, without all these complications of civility and social correctness would be appealing to us all — the sexual equivalent of a cabin in the woods: basic, bare, free of bullshit.
But the reality of rape is something horrific for a lot of people, in both sexes, to come to terms with. So, instead, we never talk about the fact that most of us have thought about it in that faceless-stranger-in-the-night-this’ll-never-happen kind of way.
Thanks for bringing up an important topic. I was ironically thinking of this this morning, so your timing was stellar.

Fishies: Wake up and smell the pheromones

I’ve been on a masturbation writing tear, and I’ve got more to say about it, too, from a couple different points of view, and both will be a little tricky to say just exactly what I want to say, so I’m biding my time on those – but later this week, they’ll be up.
In the meantime, I apparently opened a can of worms when I posted the rant found below without having the add-on disclaimer at first. I agree, it might’ve been a little harsh for some of the men in my audience. I stand by what I say, though, because it applies to a good deal of men who are oblivious to appeasing their partners’ needs.
But what about the women, then? All right, to the women we go, then.
Everyone has heard the phrase, “She lies there like a dead fish.” This is where you got to realize that stereotypes and clichés exist for a reason. You can get all huffy and say, “That’s not polite!” but hey, the truth hurts.
If you’re lying there, and do nothing but a little groping and kissing, as your man does his thing, you have NO right to complain about lousy sex. You have no right to say he doesn’t know how to get you off. You have not one iota of justification to piss or moan – at all.
Sex is only good when both partners get involved, when both partners do what it takes to appease the other. If you’re one of the Dead Fish among the female population, then you’re doing a few things:

  • Making the rest of us have to make the stereotypes go away so that it’s known that sexy, vivacious women who like to get hot and heavy do in fact exist.
  • Making the rest of us feel like rock stars because we leave the men quaking in our wake, after they’ve been stuck with underwhelming partners before they happened on us.
  • Causing your sex life to be as unfulfilling as it is.
  • Denying yourself the knowledge of how bloody incredible it is to discover your inner vixen.

The interesting thing about both male and female lovers who are unfulfilling for their partners is they have two things in common: Ignorance* and laziness.
But it’s a lot more than that when it comes to the chicks. So many chicks have so many hang-ups. I’ve talked about it before, becoming that “vixen” I’ve mentioned means learning to accept that saucy behaviour in the bedroom doesn’t mean you’re some morally compromised individual – particularly if you’re behaving in that way while in a relationship.
Women get terrified, sometimes, of behaving “badly” in the name of feeling “good,” because they know their boyfriends/husbands/lovers feel that there are certain qualities in their women that they absolutely adore – how kind they are, all of that. A lot of women can’t come to terms with being that character-filled individual, and then being a sexually skilled “bad girl” in the bedroom. They don’t realize that it’ll usually enhance the relationship, not hurt it.
But seriously, girls, get the hell over yourselves. Don’t assume you know how your man’s gonna react. Show him the respect of letting HIM decide how he feels about such a notion.
The fact is, you’re having bad sex in part because you refuse to do your part of the job. If you spice it up, odds are damned good your man’s desire will up in quantities you couldn’t have imagined. Even in the boring old missionary position you can spice things up by wrapping your legs around his waist and clenching your vaginal muscles with every thrust and digging your nails in his buttcheeks or something. If you encourage him to take different positions, that’ll help, too. Here, go to this site and take a look at all the pretty pictures, and then promise yourself you’ll try a few. Oh, and if it makes you all tingly, don’t hesitate to touch yourself as you look’em over.
Every position changes the sensation. If you’ve never orgasmed, and you don’t masturbate, and you’ve never tried any of these positions, it’s no wonder you’re a lousy lover. Sex isn’t something that’s just instantly good when you add one genital to another. It takes skill, spontanaeity, a willingness to try new things, a dedication to educating yourself, it needs a level of fitness, specifically endurance, and a commitment to being open and honest with your lover.
And most of all, it needs a voice. You need to express your wants, your desires, and most importantly, your concerns and/or fears. If you’re not comfortable talking to your lover, nothing’s gonna ever reach a plateau for you. Conversations about sex can be as arousing as any kind of touch or tease you do. Sitting there on the couch with a lover and talking about all matters of sex – and not touching each other – can be a really arousing kind of foreplay. Then, you do everything you talked about, and it’ll be hotter than it’s been before, guaranteed. The conversation as foreplay was one of my earliest sexual lessons, and transformed me as a lover. And now, here I am.
Your first step is being comfortable touching your own body. Once you do that, you have to start taking chances with positions, props, whatever. But you got to come to play, baby.
Otherwise, you deserve the lack of orgasms, the lack of passion.
There ARE men who will not respond to a vixen, and don’t let anyone tell you different. There are men who are intimidated by a strong lover. They’re uninspired, they’re not confident, they’re not willing to do what it takes to appease you, and you will need to decide if an unfulfilling sex life is something you can live with. I’d vote no, but hey. When it comes to lovers like that, I like to remind folks that our actions speak volumes about our character. An unwillingness to really learn how to please your lover is indicative of hang-ups, pettiness, insecurities, whatever, but it’s indicative that something is off, and don’t forget it — after all, it’s indicating the same thing about you. You really want that?
It can be hard transitioning to a sex goddess, but hey, the view’s great from that lofty perch, baby.
I think everyone – EVERYONE – needs to read good books on how to perform sexually. Hey, worked for me. For the women out there, most decent sized cities have women-only bookstores. Check’em out. You’ll be surprised what you can learn just by visiting their sexuality sections. Sure, you can order books online, but it’s better to examine ‘em in real life. Better yet, ask a qualified clerk for help. I was very generous back when I worked in a bookstore, and just loved having a woman come back a month later to thank me. One brought me flowers, once.
The last word? There’s too damned many women who think that lying on their backs is all it takes to have sex. It’s selfish, it’s boring, it’s uninspiring, and it’s flat-out wrong. Sex, done right, is an incredible experience that is seldom surpassed in life. Don’t you want a ticket to ride?

*Ignorance is defined as:
The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.

Steff Rants: On "Letting" Women Masturbate

All right, I read a comment this morning from “The Dating Master” on my posting about why 40% of women don’t masturbate, and I’ve been a little riled ever since.
I should be cleaning my house before my friend arrives for a barbecue later, but he’s seen the mess before, and I’ve got a groove on with some classic Verve playing, so fuck it, let’s tackle this.
The guy, and I can’t be entirely sure of whether he’s serious or not, but I’m leaning towards “yes,” based on his own blog, said: “the problem is if we let women masturbate then they will say hey why do we need guys we men are sexually starved as it is.”
The thing IS, though, that even if he’s NOT serious, there are men out there who think like this. So, I’m gonna take ’em on!
Normally, I’m kind enough to fix people’s grammar, but his stays as-is. All right, rant mode ON. I just voted, I feel EMPOWERED, baby. And I feel like swearing a lot — I am one with my inner-trucker tonight. (This is NOT an anti-man bash! It’s an anti-sexist-guy/anti-lousy-lover bash! There are good guys out there. I know it!)

_____________
First response: What the fuck?
Second response:LET” us masturbate?
Third response: Why, you…

All right, no one needs to LET US do a goddamned thing. This is why I’m telling women to talk charge of themselves and get to know the fine act of self-love. It’s 2006, buddy.
If you men are “sexually starved as it is,” maybe it’s time everyone stop, sit the fuck down, and think about why that might just be. Here, I have a few ideas. Let me share.

  • Almost every guy thinks he’s some kind of stud when he gets in bed. The guys are thinking, “Nah, that’s not me,” and the women are thinking, “You fucking tell ‘em, sister.”

You do not just insert your penis and see us crumble into ecstasy. You can’t just rub our clit for 30 seconds and think we’re done. You can’t just work us for the average 14-18 minutes that statistics say the average man lasts. There’s a reason foreplay exists – it’s so that WE orgasm, too.
You may be sexually starved, but you ain’t getting the fucking job done when we do let you at us, in most cases, so why the hell should we bother? Seriously. I’d rather read a fucking book than have lame sex. You want to underperform? Go masturbate, I’m having a bath. Yeah, seriously.
Educate yourselves. Learn what the hell the g-spot is, where it is, and why it works. Learn that less than 30% of women orgasm every time they have sex – and their partners have a good deal to do with the low results, but I’m not suggesting a woman NEEDS to come every time she’s getting laid, but men NEED a reality check on the matter. Learn that less than 40% of women are capable of having an orgasm vaginally. Learn that our BODIES are one giant erogenous zone – not just three regions of it. If you don’t work it, we won’t want it. Period.
You want us to want you more? Learn how to make us shudder. Learn how to tease us, deny us, prolong us, then satiate us. And learn how to have better longevity with your erections. I mean, Christ, it’s a MUSCLE, and very few men ever do exercises to strengthen it, other than masturbating and deflating.

  • And the other part of the problem? Women who are still being fucking subservient to the men in their lives, and completely disrespectful of themselves, who aren’t putting it on the table and saying, “THIS IS WHAT I WANT. This is what I enjoy, and THIS is what you need to do to make me orgasm.” And why not? Because they’re ashamed to talk about sex, they think they’ll hurt their lovers’ feelings by being honest, or they think they’re not entitled to say anything, or worse yet? They’re as fucking ignorant as the men they’re fucking.

Men, it is in YOUR interest to educate your lover, to educate yourself. By simply having sex in the standard formation – missionary, whatever, for 15 minutes – you’re denying yourself. You’re making your woman apathetic. Women NEED to be titillated or they just won’t care. Men are hardwired to have their dick inside something, we all know this, and that’s a good day out for just about any guy, really, but women, most of us can cope without sex and without you, just fine, and you really, really want to avoid having us feel that way.
When you take the apathetic way out with sex, you’re essentially dining at the sexual taco hut. Sure, it’s a great thing now and then. But there’s a big world out there – homecookin’, upscale, little quickie snacks, and you’re relegating yourself to the same goddamned thing every time.
Women, they’re BORED. And you’re doing nothing to affect it.
The butthead who made this comment, he’s blaming his woman for the lack of sex drive. Take a long, hard look in the fucking mirror, first. And then ask yourself why you’re so damned threatened by the notion of having your woman actually understanding her own sexual organs.
And women, speak the hell up. Why in god’s name do you not?
I was exposed to something at work today that just makes me shake my head at the state of the sexual union. God, things are fucked up in the world of sex these days. I’m not really into the whole reading-erotica/surfing-porn thing. I’m concerned about sex, and that’s why I write all this and seldom visit sex blogs. I’m on a mission, really. I think it’s time we deserve good sex, all the time. I think it’s time we learn to communicate about it.
Masturbation is the starting point. Then talking. Then practice. Then experimentation.
But guys like the above, they just want the third step. All the goddamned time. Unfortunately, these are the men (specifically the sexist breed above, I mean) who will NOT respond to a woman saying what she needs or wants. He thinks he knows, and that she’s just asexual. A good portion of men become excited when their woman wants to actually talk about sex, so don’t let this guy deter you. And if you’re with a man like this, you need to seriously consider whether or not that’s something you can live with – you sure as hell deserve better, but can you live with it? Better yet, why should you?
Jesus, I hate sexism. Thank god most men are smarter than that. You guys, I love, love, love. This guy, I wanna slap.
Someone thought this was an anti-male bashing. It’s not. I’ve been fortunate to have mostly wonderful, considerate, thorough lovers, and I’ve repaid them in kind — like it should be. There are women out there who are lousy, lousy lovers, and they piss chicks like me off, because they lower men’s drives to learn more about pleasing us. Sex takes two, and every position can benefit from mutual involvement. If you’re guilty of the “dead fish” lay-there-and-love me sex, women, smarten the hell up. You’re getting the lousy sex you deserve. I’m gonna rant on YOU on the weekend. I got something else up my sleeve next, to get back on the masturbation topic.

Here's to the Forty Percent

Masturbation is a sin. If you do it, you will never be able to be satisfied by your lover. If you do it, you will become addicted to it and will never be able to control yourself, even in public. If you do it, you will be a dirty woman. If you do it, everyone will be able to tell. If you do it, you will never be forgiven in God’s eyes.
If you step on a crack, you’ll break your mother’s back. If you cross your fingers, it’s not really a lie. If you kill a spider, it will rain.
If you believe in the above misconceptions about masturbation, you might as well believe in superstitions, myths, and anything you read in Harry Potter, for it’s all equally grounded in fiction.
Do you really want to know what masturbation is? It’s the physical manifestation of the search for your own inner beauty. It’s relying on yourself to provide yourself with the pleasure that you may never receive from anyone else. It’s about developing the kind of self-knowledge you need in order to really become a lover of any consequence. It’s a tool for discovering what works and doesn’t work in the love department for you, because every single body responds differently to touch. How does yours respond, do you really know?
But most of all, it’s okay. It’s all right.
What’s shameful isn’t the act of masturbation. What’s shameful is that you’re being made to feel as if you’re still subjective to men, that you still need a man to be the woman you deserve to be. What’s wrong is the flagrant abuse of power and authority these people have committed when they’ve told you these lies about what masturbation is. What’s disgusting is this endless sense of embarrassment you’re expected to have about your body, and the lack of knowledge you’ve been provided.
What’s empowering is the realization that all we’re talking about is the sense of touch. That’s it, that’s all. There is no deity from on high that will strike you down for a stroke of your own flesh. I know, because I’ve yet to be turned into a lightning rod for the Almighty’s wrath, and the Lord’s had as many opportunities to smite me as I’ve had to wash my hair. I kid you not.
You will never get “too good” at masturbating. You will never exceed your limit. It will increase your ability to orgasm with your lover, no matter how many times you come alone. You will not be stigmatized if the world ever finds out. You will not get so addicted that you lock yourself in your room and never come out.
You will, though, learn to feel better about yourself. You’ll be better at managing your stress. You’ll be more confident when you’re displaying affection for your lover. You’ll develop curiousity about more sexual experiences. You will have a more open mind. You will better know how to be satisfied, and if or when you’re ready to share that with your lover, you might be astounded at how happy he (or she) is you’re able to help him (or her) better please you.
This lack of support, in the media or otherwise, for the notion of a woman pleasing herself is one of the last major hurdles we, as a sex, must overcome. It is time we demand what we deserve – a sense of self, and a sense of satisfaction.
If you don’t ever want anyone to know, then they don’t have to find out. You can keep it to yourself, and maybe one day you’ll want to share that with your lover, or maybe you won’t. But don’t deny yourself, not one minute longer. Don’t allow shame to control your life. Don’t allow others to make you feel you need to be judged by a higher power. Don’t allow them to tell you that you must continue labouring under the insecurity you’re so clearly feeling.
There are those who tell us that it’s a sin. Is it? Really? Is your perception of your god one that would leave you believing that he/she/it wants you to be less than completely in love with yourself? Do you believe he/she/it wants you to not feel beautiful, attractive, desired? Why would the creator have made the clitoris within arm’s reach? Why not just have the vaginal canal, instead, which isn’t exactly a convenient distance to reach with ease? You want to talk Intelligent Design, then let’s talk about how much we’re designed to please ourselves. Let’s talk about how masturbation and orgasms are the best kind of physical releases, best outlets for stress, that anyone in any condition can engage in.
In the movie Pleasantville, Joan Allen hears about masturbation for the first time in her life in her 40s. She runs herself a hot bath, gets in, starts to stroke herself, and she suddenly changes from a black & white character to a Technicolor character (literally). She explodes with pleasure, feeling the first orgasm of her life, and is overcome with waves of love – for herself. It transforms her as a woman. She awakens to her female desire and learns that she can be her own everywoman, that being subservient to the men in her life isn’t making her who she wants to be, that what she’s been looking for all these years has really been inside her for all that time. She learns that she has entitlements to her own happiness, and that she can now ensure that happiness by just showing a little tenderness towards herself.
It’s a sad thing that we’re taught, as a culture, that happiness comes from the people around us. It can’t. We can’t wait for others to enrich our lives. We can’t hope that the things they do or say will contribute to who we are to become. We must achieve that on our own, and if masturbation is a tool towards that, then I’m all about me.
As a society here in North America, we’re suffering from an all-time high touch-deficit. Meaning, more people than ever before go for days, weeks, months, and sometimes years without touching another person – be it a pat on the shoulder or a kiss on the lips. We’re so deprived already, that the notion of not allowing yourself to be personally pleasured through masturbation is nearly cruel and inhumane, and self-inflicted, at that. No one deserves to be alone, and no one should have to live without having that feeling of coming alive through an orgasm.
It’s not dirty, or shameful, or sinful. It’s a beautiful, empowering act. And sometimes, it’s just a damned nice thing to experience.
Take back control of your sexuality. Learn about yourself. Live a little. Ditch the shame. Embrace your femininity. Push the magic button that’ll change everything you feel about yourself. It’s the first step to becoming the woman you always wanted to be: Strong, sexy, confident, and self-aware.
For first-timers, instructions are here.

Why 40% of Women Don't Masturbate

Every now and then male-female relations seem like a bad day at the UN. Understanding the issues is imperative, but no one speaks the same language.
John Gray got rich off the chaos that exists in that weird little world of relationships, by telling us that men were from Mars, and women from Venus. It’s true. We have so many differences it’s a wonder we ever crawl under the covers together. But we do, and still, we speak entirely different languages. It’s a pity we don’t have those interpreter-on-the-fly headphones in our ears like they do at the UN – it’d make hooking up a hell of a lot smoother, don’t you think?
I sometimes wonder who my audience is comprised more of: men or women. The chicks who read me tend to like my feminist attitude that doesn’t get clouded with antagonism towards men, and that’s awesome.
But the men who seem to read me tell me they’re here for, I don’t know, a different take on sex, but most importantly, the fly-on-the-wall perspective of the modern female’s mindset.
So, it’s no surprise I’m getting asked a lot of questions by those guys right now about why women are resistant to masturbating, why some (a staggering 40%) just flat-out won’t masturbate. I’m saddened I’ve heard nothing from the women who don’t, but perhaps the notion of lacking the sexuality and curiousity it takes to be a masturbator is incongruous with reading sites like these. Let’s hope not.
That said, I’m going to tackle that question here and now, but from a point-of-view directed to the men in my audience. There are some commonly accepted reasons for why so many women are hesitant to touch themselves, but I’ve got a few perspectives on my own. I think this topic’s far more complicated than most people allude to. I think it’s a societal problem that encompasses everything from religion to upbringing to media.
Let’s start off with the commonly accepted perceptions of why these women resist the urge, and my take on them.

  1. Dirty Girl Syndrome: These are the chicks who think that if they touch themselves, it means they’re dirty or slutty. This is one of those things I think we can lay the blame for squarely on the media, and on our parents. In the media, even now, it’s only the promiscuous women that are portrayed as masturbators, whereas every guy is commonly accepted to jack off, like it’s a male right of passage. Kim Catrall’s character on Sex & The City is an obvious example. “Of course she masturbates. She’s a whore.” God forbid we ever hear about Oprah owning an assortment of vibes. It’s almost as if we’re still left with the impression that sexually desireable, successful, independent women don’t need to “Jane off,” as one of my readers has dubbed it. And oh, do I beg to differ.
  2. Addicted to Self-Love Syndrome: There are those who can’t help but think that if they get into the mode of masturbating, they’ll become addicted to it and won’t be able to stop. Unfortunately, these testimonials we get of women who masturbate twice a day, for half-hour stretches, etc, aren’t doing a lot to change the Resistors’ mindsets. These are likely the women who do have strong sex drives, who are scared at the intensity of their desires, and who fail to realize that not masturbating is making it worse. They don’t realize we’re sexual volcanoes, and without a release, we tend to blow – or just shut down entirely, which is more often the case. They don’t learn how to regulate that pressure, how to cope with it, and that the more familiarity they acquire, the better they will be able to handle the pressure mounting in times of arousal. Instead, they feel the intensity, get scared, and everything shuts down. They don’t experience orgasms, and don’t know how to get there, and are scared of reaching one.
  3. All Or Nothing Syndrome: “If I masturbate, I won’t be able to come any other way.” These are the people who fail to understand balance. I’m amazed at the number people who ask “Is it possible to get too good at masturbating?” I don’t know the answer, and maybe it is possible, but we have to take into consideration that your touch isn’t ever going to be the same as someone else touching you. This is why it’s not only nice, but smart, to masturbate for your partner. They can learn how you make yourself come. You can take it a notch further and make them have their hand over yours as you do your own “dirty work.” The thing you never, ever have in masturbating is the element of surprise, and that’s the element a lover brings to the table. This mode of resisting is essentially a lack of faith in their lovers. Nothing more. These might be the people who obsess about things and get really intense about anything they commit to, and they might just not know how to achieve balance. Instead, they avoid trying masturbating so they don’t need to find out if, in fact, they can balance masturbation with partner sex.
  4. Obligation to Partner: These are the ones who think they have to save their excitement for their partner. They know they have issues with orgasms, and they think that if they pursue one alone, they’ll never get to come with their lover. They’re also the people who don’t understand that orgasms take skill, take developing. The more you learn about sex, about yourself, the more pleasure you’ll find. They don’t realize that the human body doesn’t have a quota for pleasure. This is as much borne from ignorance as it is fear and bewilderment.
  5. It’s a Substitute for Sex: These are the women who don’t realize that masturbation influences a lot of who we are as lovers, what we’re willing to try, what our confidence level is with ourselves, our bodies, and our performances.

And that is that, some will tell you. That’s all that’s preventing women from touching themselves. But they’re just whack if that’s what they believe. Like I’ve said before, there’s so much more to it, whether we want to accept the blame as a society or not.
Let’s take one example. I’m sure every man who reads this has, at some point or another, had someone say to him, “Suck it up. Be a man.” How did that make you feel? Unable to express concerns or fears? Ashamed to be weak? Forced into the stereotype of being Manly Man when, for once, you just wanted to be human and feel whatever was hitting you?
It’s no secret, vulnerability isn’t exactly encouraged in men. And let’s face it, no matter what you want to say about the media today or the modern woman, sexuality is NOT encouraged in women. We should be pretty, alluring, gorgeous, but God forbid we be overtly sexual.
Chris Rock said it best, as a father, your ONLY responsibility is to keep your daughter off the pole.
Men may want a woman who likes to fuck, who will do the things that are borderline dirty, sexually experimental, but ultimately, we’ve all been raised by fathers who shared Chris Rock’s POV: We have to stay off the pole.
So, we’re raised with hearing tidbits like, “That’s not ladylike.” Personally, I’m not Fluffy-Miss-Feminine. I’m in touch with my femininity, but as a kid, I hated Barbies. I disliked dresses, and I heard, all my life, “That’s not ladylike.” When it came to sex, I believed there were certain ways I had to behave. Masturbation was my secret shame until I was in my early 20s, when I learned my boyfriend loved the fact that I did it, when I heard him tell me how much he admired my confidence and my ability to admit it. He told me it made me a strong woman. I began changing my perspective then.
For women, we have to battle so much bullshit we’ve been fed about what a woman is. Until the media begins embracing the idea that masturbation for women isn’t something exotic that only promiscuous chicks do, that stereotype is going to prevail. The fear and shame and apprehension will remain.
And you can’t tell me that men, when they were boys first discovering their sexuality, didn’t also feel like they had a secret, like it was a sin. We’ve all heard the stories of boys playing under the blankets, hoping not to be caught. It’s the same deal with women, but we’re on a different timeline. Men peak at 18, we peak at 32. Of course it’ll take longer to reach the point of comfort with masturbation. Many women don’t get there until their 20s. Hesitant women need to feel like their lovers aren’t trying to get them to perform like a porn star when they’re asked to masturbate. They need to know they’re not being perceived as someone dirty because they’re touching themselves. Unfortunately, that support isn’t as common as we’d like to think. And also unfortunately, a lot of guys are pretty lousy at requesting things from their lovers without making it sound too dirty or risqué. And that, again, becomes a communication issue.
Like I said, this is a huge, huge topic with vast implications, and it’s not a problem that will go away overnight. The media is responsible. Parents are responsible. Lovers are responsible. And the women, in their ignorance and fear, are responsible. So how does it get fixed?
I haven’t a clue. With time, I guess, and with the media, and parents, and lovers, and women all getting on the same page.
Just a second here, I need to glance out the window and check if pigs are flying yet. Hmm, not yet. So, yes, the problem persists. I’ll give some thought on how a woman might be persuaded to learn the fine art of self-love, but I honestly don’t know where to begin just now. It’d be interesting to hear feedback on whether anyone’s had success on that front. Care to share?

Female Masturbation: An Intro For Newbies

And I’ve been thinking about masturbation. Not doing it, writing about it. I still want to hear more results and comments and emails based on the letter down below, but I think this topic is growing in importance for me.
Yes, guys need to understand more about female masturbation – but so do 40% of the female population who never, ever do it.
Why don’t they? You got me. Hang-ups of every kind, from social perceptions of what masturbation means, to fear, to religious implications, to good old-fashioned second, third, fourth generation shame.
Honeys, listen to me when I tell you this: Get over yourselves.
Oscar Wilde once said “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” Yes, it is, in more ways than one. Let’s put it this way: The orgasm is the ultimate in human sensation. It’s every nerve ending in the human body shuddering its way to absolute ecstasy, then collapsing upon themselves in spent euphoria.
Orgasms, though, don’t just fall out of the sky. The ability to come isn’t just something a woman wakes up with overnight. Female masturbation doesn’t get talked about, aside from jokes about vibrators, and that’s very misleading for a lot of women who have no experience in this area. Masturbating yourself is far less complicated than having to screw up the courage to spend money on a potentially embarrassing sex toy that you may not wish to have found.
If your courage lacks, it shouldn’t. We hear that we need lube, we need vibes, we need all this shit, and that’s all wrong. All you need, girls, is a happy little thought, and the soft pad of your fingers. Shorter nails helps, so you can get more variety of feelings, but so long as you’re working with your soft finger pads, not the tips, but the bit down closer to the first skin folds on the top joint. Like the photo below, you just slide your hand over your mons (that bit below the bottom of your belly, the mound) and into the first recesses of your vulva, the home of your clit. And massage around it at first, not on top of it right away because you might be too sensitive when you begin, but as you massage more, start increasing both the speed and the pressure, and begin going right over the top of the clit. And just keep going until you finally orgasm.
Any female who has not yet orgasmed, who’s approaching it for the first time, might feel fear and confusion. Some strange things happen to the body. At first, you might think you’re experiencing pain. Maybe you think you need to go to the washroom. But there’s a million different ways it might feel, and you need to relax and get past that point.
Then, there’s the issue of moisture. When you finally do orgasm, you will probably produce some form of ejaculate. You will be wet, lubricated, and you might even squirt some out. This is normal. There should be no shame with this, so try to be aware of it being an absolutely common occurrence. If it bothers you, one little visit to the bathroom will make it all go away. But you’ll become comfortable with this as you experience more orgasms and learn to let go.
I sort of discovered masturbation at about the age of 13. I remember being really excited about some George Michael photos I’d found – shirtless, tight shorts, that kind of thing – and I found myself dry humping a pillow. I kept getting up and running down the hall to go “pee” because I kept thinking I had to. Nope, that was approaching orgasm – something that never did happen for a few more years. I went from dry humping a pillow to them putting something solid and round under a pillow so I’d get more pressure, then I, well, let’s leave that one out, but the point is, it took a while to get the nerve up to start rubbing myself. Years, really. As for touching myself “under the panties,” well, that probably didn’t happen until I was 19 or 20. I was only comfortable rubbing over my panties because I thought it was dirty, wrong, and strange to touch my vagina on purpose. It was that moisture, it baffled me for a long time.
Fact is, being uncomfortable with masturbating is normal when you’re a woman. It’s sad that that’s the case, but it’s true. This generation coming up now, they’re the first ones to ever hear about female masturbation, really. My generation, and I’m 32, we never talked about it. Sex and the City has changed that. It’s suddenly okay for women to self-serve. But there are still so many hang-ups that interfere with our ability to orgasm.
And that, my friends, is another program. But here’s a great site with neat statistics on the female orgasm (and some on the male’s).
Come to think of it, I’m a little tense. Maybe I’ll go tend to something. Ahem.