My wonderful BF emailed me this
news article today:
Post menopausal women who have lost interest in sex may be able to bring their libidos back to life with a testosterone patch, according to new research published this week in The New England Journal of Medicine.
Well, I’m obviously not post-menopausal so I take it he’s referring to the sex drive part LOL.
BF and I have been dating for about 5 years. At first we had sex like wild rabbits, but as time has gone by the amount of sex has diminished which I’m sure is normal. We are grown adults with busy lives that don’t live together. I think once-a-week sex is more than enough, don’t you? I have talked to my girl friends about this and they say that’s about as much sex as they have as well, even the ones that do live with their husbands/significant others.
I just have to ask, what is it with men? Sometimes I’m so tired, busy, worried, the thought of sex won’t even cross my mind for days. And not just sex; I can go weeks without playing with myself if things aren’t going so well. But men, they don’t care if they’re being chased by an evil serial killer with an ax; if they have time to stop for a quickie on a park bench they’ll do it. And we’re the ones with the problem?
Labels: sex and the bitches
The Wet Spots ROCK. This hilarious duo should be more popular than, say,
Justin Timberlake. I heard he cries whenever he’s high. :/ Dude, a dude crying because he’s high isn’t so different from a dude crying because he’s scared of the dark. Well, Justin looks like he’d cry me a freakin’ river if a bee was chasing him. Or when he watches porn (
if he even watches porn). My point is, outrageous kick-ass performers like The Wet Spots should be muchos popular than singers who sing like a whiny little girl.
Labels: celebs crap, fucking around, sex and the bitches, youtubery
The last two VDs I posted how
Singles Awareness Day gets my knickers in a twist—and not in a good way. This year, with a box of ChocNut from my little brother (he’s 17 now with tons of GFs yet he still gives me chocolates *big smile*) and 4 jars of Nutella from my recurrent ex, quite constant BF of the last 3 years, I’m so full of delicious goodness mm mmmm I’ve decided not to have a VD rant; instead, I’m going to give you something to ogle. *g*
You guys know about
my lurve for sex toys (like
here and
here and
here and then
here and
here), most of them for girls. I just realized, I’ve yet to feature something for the boys. (For shame; so sorry, my darling boys...) Nah, I’m not talking about blow-up dolls.** Nope. Gents—and ladies—I present to you, the Pussy Foot...
The SiFeet Pussy Foot is the ultimate fantasy sex toy for foot fetishists. This size 6, 100% silicone foot is cast in pure silicone from a real life actual, beautiful female foot.
The feature that makes the Pussy Foot even better than an actual foot is the pussy located on the sole of the foot. You can passionately fuck the foot in a way you’ve never been able to before. It is the perfect combination of foot and vagina.
I’m not Trollop the Foot Fetishist, but jeezuz, have you seen anything like that?!? It looks like a crossbreed between a diabetic foot with an ulcer wound and a poor woman who stepped on a humongous nail. (She definitely needs a tetanus shot. :/)
Actually, if you ask me, I think this... um, thing, is a loonytrap. Ya know, you order it and—BAM! Dudes in lab coats with butterfly nets and syringes show up at your house and lock you in before you go on a killing rampage! (DUN-DUN-DUN!!!) Er, *ahem* just saying: Beware, pervy heathens.
Wonder what would be the male equivalent of this. A washboard abs torso with a big cock in the middle you can cuddle? Hmmm, wocha think? And would you buy it? Hee. C’mon, admit it. :P
**I have a friend who once told me, and I quote: “When you buy a sex doll, never be tempted to blow it up the whole way, because if you do the vagina will pop out and it’s an absolute bastard to get back in.” LOL Until this day I’ve no idea why he imparted this piece of gem with me but I swear on Trollop’s wooden dildo I don’t have—and don’t fantasize of having!—a blow-up doll. With that said, if you learn nothing else from TBB, take that fact to the grave. *wink*Labels: bloody vd, cock fetish, holidaze, nutella lovah, sex and the bitches
First off, have you read my
do-your-Kegels-or-you’ll-have-a-loose-coochie post? *g* If you have, please proceed...
Experts have discovered that wearing the high heeled shoes tones women’s legs and strengthens pelvic muscles—decidedly improving a woman’s love life. The study said that the heels “directly work the pleasure muscles which are linked to an orgasm”.
Urologist Dr Maria Cerruto, based at the University of Verona, in Italy carried out a series of tests and research on women who wore high heels. Dr Cerruto discovered that women who held their feet at a 15-degree angle to the ground, the equivalent of a 7cm [2in] heel, showed up to 15% less electrical activity in their pelvic muscles. The results suggest the muscles are more relaxed when women wear higher heels, increasing their strength and ability to contract.
An official guide to better sex, provided by NHS Direct, advises women to become more aware of their pleasure muscles and advises them how to exercise them to aid sexual arousal. The NHS recommends that women, particularly before and after pregnancy, should do pelvic floor exercises up to five times a day.
Manolo Blahnik welcomed the research. “If you are a woman, it’s a way to appeal to the male species, it’s a way to attract. And it works. I have men who tell me that heels have saved their marriage.” (Source)
Heels and sex. Okay, my mind just conjured a lot of dirty scenes LOL.
Erm, *ahem* so are you guys stiletto lovers? I love stilettos that make me feel girly, fuck-me pumps that make me feel verra sexy, but lately I wear mostly flat shoes as my days are only spent going to malls or doing errands for my dad. But after this, swear to Xenu I’ll wear high heels more even if I’m only going ice-creaming.
Really, joint pains, bunions, stress fracture *or* more orgasms? Unless you’re celibate or your honeypot rot off, not really a choice now, is it?
Related: Labels: kinky lifestyle, sex and the bitches
I was just reading
A Sassy Little Guide to Getting Over Him by
Sandra Ann Miller. I really don’t like the “I’m desperate enough to buy this bacause I’m afraid I’m gonna die alone” books (what exactly is this genre called?) because the few I’ve read are all rubbish.
ASLGTGOH, however, didn’t feel like the author was just talking wakka wakka wakka.
As the title suggests, the book is about getting over some fucker who broke your heart. I didn’t know what to expect when I got this little pink book at the UBS (it’s only 128 pages) but I was surprised to find it quite entertaining. It’s honest and blunt yet witty and funny with a dose of compassion in it. It has some great advice for breakupees: how to start healing, preventing breakup mistakes, how to keep yourself from running him over with a bulldozer, etc. It’s verra sensible too.
Check out this fun excerpt. I wonder which of you has done this or that... and that... :P
Related:
Before we go any further, you need to make some promises to yourself. Raise your hand and repeat after me...
I, (state your name), do, hereby, solemnly swear that I will not behave in the manner of a crazy ex-girlfriend. I will not participate in foolish or destructive behavior. I promise to act in a dignified fashion and that means I will not do stupid things, no matter how I might rationalize them. Therefore, I vow the following:
- I will not call him. No matter what good or bad news I think he should hear only from me, I will not call him. Even if I am convinced it will make me feel better, I will not call him. I will not call him even to get my stuff. I’ll have a friend do that, preferably via email.
- I will not email him. Not even an innocent and rather funny group email forward. I will not email him simply to give him back his stuff. I will not contact him at all.
- I will not frequent the places I know he goes to, even if I went there first and like it better. I acknowledge that this is not a pissing contest about territory. I know going to such places will hurt more than it will help. Until there has been some space and time between us, going to those places is asinine, can be viewed as stalker-ish and will be painful only to me.
- I will not encourage or allow friends to do anything foolhardy, even with my best interest at heart. That includes talking to him when they see him in public to let him know he is a jerk and he’ll never do better than me, or to share that I am looking fabulous, got a promotion, bought a new house and am dating George Clooney (or the regional equivalent thereof).
- I will screen all of my calls. I will get caller ID, if necessary, and put “private call block” on my phone. I will not answer the phone unless I know who it is and am sure it’s not him. All other calls will go to voicemail.
- I will not take his phone calls. I repeat, I will not take his calls.
- I will not return his phone calls or emails. If he is “just checking” to see how I am, I know he is really just checking to see if I think he’s a jackass. He is looking for an ego stroke, not to get back together, and I know this because he did not start out the communication with, “I am sorry. I made a mistake. I want us to get back together.”
- I will not look for signs that we will get back together. This includes asking the Magic-8 Ball or tarot card readers and the like. The only professional guidance I will seek will be that of a licensed therapist or member of the clergy.
- I will not believe this is temporary. I will see this as permanent until proven otherwise by concrete actions, immense apologies and couple’s therapy.
- I will not hide under a rock, be humiliated or ashamed that this relationship ended. For all I know, this could be the best thing that ever happened to me. And I believe the wonderful stuff I deserve is on its way.
I promise to abide by these vows for at least thirty (30) days, or until I have gotten over him, whichever is longer. This is about me feeling better and that has nothing to do with him.
This I do affirm. So help me.
Signed:
Date:
**Excerpt copyright © Sandra Ann MillerLabels: bibliophile’s affair, sex and the bitches
Does anyone remember that episode in
SATC when Samantha casually mentions to the girls over brunch that she’s doing her vaginal exercises? Yes? No? Well, I do. The moment she declared that’s the way she stayed “tight” was the second I went to find out how to get my butt in shape (er, no pun intended).
After
Trollop’s poor results in the five orgasms challenge, I have to ask: Are you guys doing your
Kegels? Yes, I’m asking all of you heathens and not just the pregger ones.
I’m surprised a lot of women don’t know what the Kegel muscle is (more accurately called
pubococcygeus or PC muscle), or if they do know about it they’re not exercising it. DUDE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? No one wants a loose coochie!
I admit, I’m lazy and I barely go to the gym. (In my defense I go shopping almost everyday and walk for 3 hours.) But when it comes to my PC muscles, I tone and condition, squeeze/hold/release, clench and unclench, baby. Here’s why: - A strong PC muscle (let’s call it “The Kegel”) gives both partners a muchos greater sexual fulfillment. Meaning: MORE MORE MORE orgasms, more intense orgasms, including the ever elusive G-spot orgasms.
- “The Kegel” will give you a higher libido. You’ll get in closer connection with your body and become more responsive and intuitive during sex. Hence, the sex will become better and you’ll want more sex because you’re learning how to work it the way you want it.
- “The Kegel” will squeeze your man’s pole of love so tight he’ll see the light and whimper from orgasmic delight!
Now, don’t tell me you don’t have time to do Kegels yada yada yada. Shut up. I do my Kegels any time: at home, at the mall, boring date/meeting, while reading, pestering Trollop, watching TV, etc. Seriously, there is no excuse not to do them. All you gotta do is sit for like five minutes, concentrate and voila! So verra easy. You can do it for 40 seconds at a time trice a day and before you know it, you have enough muscle control that it can use the TV remote on its own (verra helpful skill when watching a yummy studmuffin and your hands are otherwise occupied ;P).
Okay, let’s find your PC muscles first. Here are some tips: - The easy way: While you’re peeing, intentionally stop the flow of urine. Repeat it several times till you become familiar with the muscle you’re using to stop the flow. This muscle is your PC muscle.
- The Harlot’s way *wink*: Ask your lover for help. Lie down. Take his hand and guide his finger inside your vajayjay. Clench. If he feels pressure around his finger, you’re using the right muscle.
For Kegels virgins, read this and this for more instructions.
If you keep forgetting to do your Kegels, the key is this: find something to use as a trigger. Like when you’re having breakfast, waiting in line at the pornshop, on a subway, browsing our blog, anything really—and the beauty of it is no one needs to know why you’re grinning. Or shuddering, heh.
Now, don’t think the men are getting off easy here (pun intended). Yep, men have PC muscles too:
Exercising this muscle regularly will prolong the duration of lovemaking and make your climax much more intense. Some say that guys with healthy PC muscles can actually hang a towel over their erections and raise and lower their penises at will.
If that’s not enough to convince you blokes to do Kegels I don’t know what is. Chicas, feel free to share this info with your BF, hubby and every dude in your harem whose sorry asses aren’t reading TBB, hmph. Thank me later when you’re having better sex. :P
In conclusion, here’s what I hope some of you have learned:- DO your Kegel exercises.
- DON’T underestimate the power that lies between your legs.
- Let me repeat it again, say it with me this time: There is NO excuse not to do Kegels.
- Added tip for the ladies: Try doing some Kegel crunches while your man is deep inside you. That would give your PC muscles some work and I guarantee, your lover will take it like a man: moaning and begging for more. *g*
Labels: cock fetish, sex and the bitches
Almost two years ago I wrote a post titled “
The Big Cock Theory.” I was in the midst of reading
Passion by
Lisa Valdez and I was shocked (shocked!) about the number of times Mrs. Valdez mentioned the hero’s huge penis and subsequently huge testicles. Mark Randolph Hawkmore’s
cock was like his sidekick, practically a character in the book!
I understood that 10.5 inches was big, however, I don’t think I could honestly get my mind around *just* how big. I suppose I imagined Mark
“hung” like a porn star or something similar—but never this! At this moment all I know is that whatever idea I had was nothing compared to the
reality of a BIG cock.
(Click at your own peril! Images soooooooo not work-safe!)
Jonah Falcon’s penis is 9.5 inches flaccid, 13.5 inches erect. Tense your forearm. Now wrap your hand around the middle of the muscle. That is the girth of Falcon’s erection. Those who have witnessed it describe it as “grotesque,” “gorgeous,” “hideous” and “stunning.” Falcon, who stands five foot nine, thinks his penis is perfectly formed, with a fifteen-degree downward curvature at the six-inch mark and absent the blotching, lumpiness and sudden bends that mark some oversize sex organs.
His balls are proportionately huge, each the size of a grade-A jumbo egg. When erect, Falcon’s penis generates enough heat to warm hands—campfire style—from a distance of six inches.
That, right there, is fucking scary! This thing could light your hoohaa on fire, cinder your pubic hair (though, it’d serve you right for not waxing it off!), and give you third degree burns. It probably glows in the dark—a good item to own in a blackout.
Falcon packs his penis to the left and buttons his pants. The human brain needs several seconds to reconcile the sight. His dick stretches across his pelvis and settles against his outer thigh. The head of Falcon’s organ rises in unmistakable relief from beneath the fabric. His balls, especially when he pushes them up as he does today, look like the wide, oval eyes ascribed to Martians in popular drawings.
I’m bowled over by the images this description is placing in my mind. 9.5 inches flaccid? Balls the size of jumbo eggs? As thick as a forearm? I’m scared witless that I’ll ever have to encounter such a penis. I’ll never be able to look at another man now and not wonder what monster he’s hiding under those nice tailored pants.
If this dude and I were stranded on an island, I’d castrate him the minute he’d tried to use that rod for anything other than hammering, drilling holes in the sand or fishing!
Now, click here to read “The Big Cock Theory.” *g*Labels: cock fetish, for the love of rakes and rogues, sex and the bitches, some like it hot
While reading Crazy Wild I described a scene to the BF where Jungle Boy Creed goes down on, er, you know, whatever-her-name-is, a gazillion times. The scene was so yummy I just had to share it with him. He laughed and said there was no way I could handle that much oral sex back-to-back, and I asked him if he cared to bet on it.
So today, ladies and gentlemen, we’re having our first ever “Five Orgasms Challenge” LOL. I will be resting all afternoon and doing some pelvic exercises to be in tip-top shape for this evening. Okay, I’m lying through my teeth. I don’t know any pelvic exercises and I’ll probably spend the afternoon reading Crazy Sweet, but there is no denying how excited I am to begin our little experiment. *wink*
I only have two minutes to rest from one orgasm to the next, which is quite a test when you take into consideration the too-sensitive-to-be-touched feeling one gets just after coming. My BF seems to be counting on that to “win”.
Oh, innocent boy. Even if I lose and can only do, say four, how is this anything but a win-win situation for me?!?!!?
Anyone else care to try this at home? *g*
Labels: sex and the bitches, trollop and harlot’s stuff
I like
Jezebel; it’s funny and sarcastic, two of my favorite characteristics in the world. *g* Yet there are times when its kind of feminism is the type that shows women as ceaseless victims at the feet of men. Oh, honey, VERRA insulting.
Yesterday’s post
“How About You Don’t Ask to Come on My Face on the First Date” filed under the subject “How Porn Ruined Sex” (with a picture of
that Kim woman looking like a
lingerie-wearing goat), talks about—supposedly—women and their encounters with appalling sexual requests, including the face-coming:
[...] “they don’t think sex is ‘good’ unless it’s somehow fetish-y.”
We all know it is true: porn is doing to sex what scotch is doing to your liver. And I mean, it makes sense! It’s so easy to get, and so perfect for the beaten-down and emotionally unavailable! But seriously, it has to stop. That’s all.
Who was it that said: “There’s so much comedy on television. Does that cause comedy in the streets?” I can’t help but wonder, if porn watching is undeniably behaviour altering, why aren’t programs like lifestyle shows? Or cooking shows? There are a lot of male chefs on TV and a lot of men are watching them cook; so where’s my man-cooked meal? What about violent shows? Trollop is cuckoo about Tarantino’s films. I’m telling you, the gorier it is—flying hacked limbs and all bloody stuff—the more she likes it. Has she ever shot or stabbed or chopped off some dude’s dick? Well, not yet.
I don’t agree that porn is bad—and that we should eliminate it—but I’m not going to say it’s unquestionably good either. I’ve seen porn that ranges from teeth-gnashingly annoying with women faking as they mewl and meow like cats, to some that are actually hot. Yet even when it hovers on the laughably bad category, I’ve never once thought that “proliferation of porn is forcing women to do ‘things they don’t want to do’ in bed.” WTF? Seriously???
Not only did Jezebel forget to consider that there are women who actually like to have come on their faces (if that’s what you’re into, what’s wrong with that?) but that women—and men—HAVE THE RIGHT TO SAY NO to stuff that makes them go “Euww!” Similarly men—and women—have the right to request said stuff, yep, even on a first date. And really, would it be so bad to talk a little about sex before doing it? “No buttsex, darling, yes to *beep beep verra pervy b-b-beep*.” ;)
Has porn ruined sex? Oh, wait. Maybe BOB and sex toys ruined sex? What about provoking suggestive ads? Lingerie, condoms, lubes, Kama Sutra, *gasp* romance novels?
I loooove vanilla sex. I love being bent, folded, licked, sucked, tweaked, wanked, fiddled—not necessarily in that order. *g* I also love it when a man can dominate me in bed and allow me to act out my fantasies. And also be happy with the roles reversed, heh. I like a lot of sex that would appear in your typical porn, particularly when someone I adore gives me access to his cock on a frequent basis because I’ll show him a woman who’s happily loved-up. What I don’t like and need is to be told that I like “fetish-y” stuff because your personal belief system doesn’t encompass mine, nor that I *only* like what I like because I’ve become a victim of the gawddamn eeeebil porn industry.
Don’t come on me because I DON’T enjoy it.
Come on me because *I* take pleasure in it.
I assure you, my sex life—and my liver—are both healthy. I’m a porn loving, porn reading, porn watching, mind-blowing sex fan who never had a problem saying NO to a sexual act I do not want to do. And yes, heaven help the stupid fuck who will come on/in me without permission, or pound me while calling me “you’re a dirty little whore!”
Related: Labels: kinky lifestyle, sex and the bitches
What can be more fun than poking at badly written sex scenes? *g* This is why I soooo love the
Bad Sex Award, not because it aims to recognize the worst description of sex in literature—and to discourage it (as well they should; bad sex scenes should be ILLEGAL)—but because this is one of those instances where Romance gets to laugh at the face of those “literary” snobs. Ha! Take that, you stupid sex writer wannabes!
One of the
lucky contenders this year is
Will by
Christopher Rush. I swear it has
more than enough purple prose to make
Fabio’s lance of love to leap around like a shower dropped in an empty bath:
O glorious pubes! The ultimate triangle, whose angles delve to hell but point to paradise. Let me sing the black banner, the blackbird’s wing, the chink, the cleft, the keyhole in the door. The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim—I’d come close to it now, this sudden blush, this ancient avenue, the end of all odysseys and epic aim of life, pulling at my prick now, pulling like a lodestone.
Anne Hathaway’s cow-milking fingers, cradling my balls in her almond palm, now took pity on the poor anguished erection, and in the infinite agony of her desire, guided it to the quick of the wound. At the same time I searched wildly with the fingers of my left hand, groping blind as Cyclops, found the pulpy furred wetness, parted the old lips of time and slipped my middle finger into the sancta sanctorum. It welcomed me with soft sucking sounds, syllables older than language, solace lovelier than words.
The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim? What, no slippery waterweed? *shock* Gabaldon will have a fit! Oh, well, I was sold at “o glorious pubes.” :P
Her hand opened me. Then her hand became a wing. Then everything about me became a wing, a single wing, and she was the other wing, we were a bird. We were a bird that could sing Mozart... I was sinew, I was a snake, I changed stone to snake in three simple moves, stoke stake snake, then I was a tree whose branches were all budded knots, and what were those felty buds, were they antlers?
Huh? Me thinks—call it grasping at straws, if you will—this is a sex scene??? *verra confused* Erm, Ali Smith thinks it is. I haven’t read Girl Meets Boy; I’m guessing the story is about a girl who meets a dude who’s a shapeshifting bird-like Mozart-fan hippie and they smoke some crappy hash.
Anywho, the Bad Sex Award can’t be complete without some pervy author obsessing about the vajayjay. We’ve already established that no matter what the man’s intentions are, his main goal is always the same: to get between her legs. (C’mon, I DARE you to deny it. *g*) Apparently, the bush on top of it has its own wow-wow-wee effect. Here’s a snippet from Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart:
Her vagina was all that, as they say in the urban media—a powerful ethnic muscle scented by bitter melon, the breezes of the local sea, and the sweaty needs of a tiny nation trying to breed itself into a future. Was it especially hairy? Good Lord, yes it was. Mountains of kinkiness black as the night above the Serengeti with paprika shoots at the edges—the pubic hair alone must have clocked in at half a kilo...
Was it especially gagging? Good lord, yes it was! Eheh. Probably why, in The Stone Gods, Jeanette Winterson suggests that inter-species illegal sex with a robot—who has a silicon-lined vagina fetish—is the way to go. And she has a point! Look at this quote from Richard Milward’s Apples:
She had on no knickers, and my heart went crash-bang-wallop and my eyes popped out. She hadn’t shaved, and her fanny looked like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet.
“So, you just gonna sit there?” Abi asked, and I laughed nervously. I was hardening up... but my heart wasn’t into it—her cunt smelt a bit like an armpit, and when I pulled the lips open I knew I’d have to shut them numerous times or else I’ll die of Aids or I’d fall into it.
Dude, honestly, WTF? Heaven help the stupid fuck who might think my fanny smells like an armpit and looks like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet. Swear to Xenu, I’d shoot him in the head and then plunge a dagger in his heart to make sure he’s fucking DEAD. Hi-yah! *karate chop-chop*
Whatever. Fucker. :@ The winner will be announced today where passages from the books will be read aloud by actresses, hopefully with “a commotion of grunts and squeaks, flashing unconnected images and explosions of a million little particles.”**
**From last year’s winner, Twenty Something by Iain Hollingshead.Labels: bibliophile’s affair, fucking around, ooh la la fabio, sex and the bitches
I just have to ask, seeing as even Harlot asked me what the “Jimmy Fingers” were: Does no one else here
treat her/his body like an amusement park after reading a very dirty sex scene in a romance book? Because if it’s just me, I’m in serious need of counseling LOL.
It doesn’t happen often but when it does, it’s quite fun, my chickies. *g*
Ok, I just have to add this piece of disturbing material I found while googling “romance novel masturbate” to see if there was some extra info I could include in my post and, OMG, this is what some Christian dude had to say on the subject:
My alarm clock read 6:30 a.m. I had an hour before I needed to get ready for church. I crossed the room to my dimly lit closet and rummaged though my secret stash of paperbacks until I found the cover that showed a wild-eyed, barely dressed couple clinging to each other.
After flipping through several chapters, I turned to a graphic sex scene. Sexually excited by what I’d read, I locked my door. Then, I masturbated for the first time. For a while, I’d been curious about whether sex felt as great as the couples in these books seemed to think. [...]
When I picked up that romance novel, I hadn’t planned on masturbating. I simply followed my body’s urges to what seemed like a natural release. But that first experiment soon became a habit [...]
But I couldn’t stop. I almost always ended up locking myself in my room when I read a romance novel. Eventually I didn’t need the books; the images packed into my brain were available anytime.
Oh, good lord. *groan* Romance novels will never be the same for me again. *ACKKKKKKKKKK* I hope I’ve equally disturbed you so I’m not the only one with the nightmares tonight LOL.
Related: Labels: ooh la la fabio, romance baby, sex and the bitches
Jesus, I don’t know why I always end up getting this kind of videos. *long suffering sigh* (Another one
here.) I swear I wasn’t looking for an erotic dentist’s chair, nor was I searching for any weird-ass coin-operated shopping center ride. (I wasn’t! Sheesh. Well, heh, not this time at least. :P) Still, my curiosity was aroused enough *ahem* so I just had to do a wee research on it. Here’s a muchos better but verra
NSFW version of that demo video.
Dear perverts, meet
Dream Love Chair (no shit!), South Korea’s contribution to the Sexual Revolution. I know it looks like something your horny granny would have built because even I can see Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore using it, but nah-ah, don’t be fooled, you skeptic heathens. It’s way advance than the
Sybian and
Angel Wings Sex Chair, or
Power Sex Chair and
Luvseat!
Switching on the machine prompts the man’s chair to move backward and forward, while the woman’s slowly rotates. The machine has a five-gear speed system, with the fastest promising five thrusts per second. There’s also a pause button to allow time to consider what’s taking place.
Women’s seats on the Dream Love Chair have even more functions. They can rotate in either direction at a whopping 10 different speeds! And the seat also vibrates—at two adjustable speeds!
Hmmm. Perhaps stories like these should have a “pause button” to allow time to consider what I’ve just read. *confused* Er, but really, I’m trying to imagine: FIVE THRUSTS PER SECOND while the woman is rotating/vibrating in different directions at variable speeds??? Hoh ding-ding-ding, daddy! Hell probably has amusement parks like this LOL.
But the main effect is that the machine basically does all the moving for the couple, taking the drudgery out of grinding the pelvis.
Okay, wait, wait. The DRUDGERY? No wonder the birth rate in Japan is declining. :/ In any case there are two things I’m pri-ti sure of: (1) this ultimate fucking machine is invented for lazy fucks (if you’ll pardon the pun) (honestly, HOW LAZY must you be to use it to have sex?!?), (2) I’d probably end up breaking the stupid thing *g* but I’d love to try it.
What? Oh, c’mon—admit it—you’d love to give it a spin too! *hmph* Fuck the old fashion fucking and the parabolic upside down rotating lumberjack sex! Who cares if it takes out the fun in thrusting?! The only drawback I see is the dude won’t have enough blood in his brain to reach down and speed/slow down the naughty nookie knocker when he’s too horny, banging away and yelling, “NIHON BANZAI! NIHON BANZAI! AIYAYAYAYAY!!!”
Related: Labels: cock fetish, sex and the bitches, youtubery
I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve written about BOB/wanking. Heck, I gotta write about it when it’s fascinating and
I it know by heart. I suppose it helps that it makes one forget of other things (by “it” I mean wanking) and it does keep one sane (writing AND wanking) (wanking saves the world, really).
Last week in some cave somewhere whilst I was rusticating, I stumbled upon an
article at Slate about the history of vibrator. It’s short, only ten slides, with verra interesting—and SCARY—pictures. It covers the history of “hysterical paroxysm” *snort* (yep,
same lesson brought to us by Teacher Trollop on one of her kinky classes), perverted quacks of yore who gave their women patients some cure (AKA: handjob), poor bastards diagnosed with “spermatorrhea” (AKA: horndoginess) and, of course—EUREKA! HALLEEELUUUUUJAH!—the invention of
BOB (AKA: women’s BFF *g*). Who knew that even way back in 1917 there were more BOB than toasters in American homes?
Here’s a picture of one of those vintage BOB by Hamilton Beach:
Toldja, toldja! Scary, isn’t it? Gahh. Not that scary freaky-shit apparatuses have or WILL stop a “hysterical” person to spank his monkey or pet her beaver or tickle the pickle—or, er, jerkin’ the gherkin? *confused* Oh, you know what I mean...
**I’m fixing some stuff on blog/template, changing sidebar, checking links, repairing damages caused by Trollop, etc. If you guys notice any problem, let me know. Thanks.
Related: Labels: cock fetish, sex and the bitches
First off, let’s be clear on this (for newbies):
I am no damn expert on anything except my own selfish harloty desires. So before you have another short course of training in the Harlot and Trollop’s Sexual Boot Camp that’s akin to a veritable pu pu platter of sex orientation, let me remind you that everything is given under a fruity martini (with wee umbrella :D) while I’m in the kitchen successfully making a mess and several little fires.
Now, those of you who like older men, say aye. *g*
What? Nay? Liar. :P It’s a known fact women are attracted to older men. I don’t mean a 26-year-old like me dating a 76-year-old geezer who needs Viagra before His Robin and His Merry Men could function OMGWTFBBQ. Dears, that’s not attraction, that’s affliction. :/
I’m talking about women wanting a strong and confident man. In the days of yore, this meant an egg fertilizer who looks more of a caveman than a baboon and could hunt to feed his family while protecting them from saber-toothed cats and giant beavers. Lucky for us, today we now have sperm clinics, butchers and policemen from the zoo! YAY!
Oh, a woman still EXPECTS a man to provide for his family—but in this era of TV soap operas, she now expects her man to be mature, know who he is/what he wants/sure he’s not gay, and provide financial stability and long-term security. Yes yes, these can be found in most men over 18 but more often than not, women correlate older men with the CAPABILITY of providing said traits and an oh-so-pritti Birkin. :D
In favor of the older man. Women want to be wooed, and ohhh... older men KNOW how to do it. I.e.: Instead of inviting you to a friend’s party, they invite you to an out of town concert. Something that most young men wouldn’t think of because they can’t afford it—or their mama won’t allow them, Xenu forbid!
There’s also the fact that older men are more experienced, and with experience comes muchos better performance. *ahem* It’s true: like fine wine, they get better with age... *g* Add his graceful ways, proper grooming, dressing well, that certain hot-hot-HOT sexiness of I-have-seen-the-world-fuck-off, and smelling good whilst kissing you and sitting in his comfortable car. Oi, muuuuy delicioso. ;)
On dating an older man. When I was 20, I dated a 35-year-old guy. He was Mr. Super-Sexy-Smart-Smooth; I was Bounce-Bouncy-Shy. (What? I could be shy! *hmph*) After the first awkward date, we found some common interest and started from there. The fact that he’s a fantastic kisser, mmm mmm... didn’t hurt at all, hee. :P The TRICK is this: (a) Find a common ground that will let your relationship to be successful. (b) If your interests are completely different, heck, just embrace it and RUN with it! I.e.: Instead of pouting that I dunno what he’s talking about, I listened to him—and he did too. We learned a thing or two from each other. *g* Plus, he likes to cook; I like to eat. He likes books; I like to read. He loves oohs and aahs; I... oh, get with it.
The most common dilemma is the negative speculations from gossips around you. But hey, I’m a shameless heathen who doesn’t give a flying fuck what others think LOL. I say as long as you know that YOUR and HIS intentions are inline, then no reason to justify your relationship. If your family/friends think you’re being “weird”, just let them get used to it. Surely if they see how happy he makes you, they’ll be happy for you too. Just—for crying out loud, woman—DON’T DO PDA!!!
How young is too young? Mr. Super-Sexy-Smart-Smooth and I didn’t work. Why? The two decades dividing us and, let’s face it, I was scarcely an adult. Oh, youth! *sniff*
There are 16-year-olds that are being pursued by a much older man and they fall in love with them. I can’t blame them, but do I think it’s right? Hmm... I don’t want to say things like statutory rape, *cough* borderlinepedophilia *cough*, EWW GROSS and PERVERT PERVERT!—but this makes me want to shout, “Drop the creep! Enjoy your youth and date guys closer to your own age!”
This is the 21st century, dude needs psychiatric help if he’s 30+ (mid-20) and seriously consider having a relationship with a 16/17-year-old. Age ISN’T nothing but numbers when YOU’RE A FUCKING TEEN AND HE’S TWICE YOUR AGE. I think any man who gets involve with a girl so young has demons in his closet; he’s either immature or has low self-esteem, Tom Cruise syndrome (crazeee midget with a god complex), a control freak, under-achiever, in an early mid-life crisis, emotionally confused, PERVERT PERVERT, or all of the above!
Now, I won’t say your feelings aren’t real. It may be real to you—and who’s to say he’s not sincere? But truth is, THAT’S NOT ENOUGH. You HAVE to consider: Why can’t he relate to women his age (or at least 10 years younger)? What does his being older mean; does he control you or take charge in some other way? What about his exes; *alarm* are they all teens as well?
You might say, “Judgmental Harlot, harrumph, what about those in their 30’s dating someone in their 50’s?” The simple answer: life experience. A teen can’t claim he/she has finished school with a stable career and lived as an adult. Basically, a teen—no matter how mature—is just starting life while a 30-something-person’s is already in full boogie, or, er, tango.
After 11 years of dating, I’ve deduced... ALL boys are the same LOL. Younger men, older men, they all want to get between your legs and dance to the tune of shaking the sheets. (C’mon, I DARE you to deny it. *g*) They only differ on HOW they get to it. Younger men are eager, sometimes too sweet like a little seal pup you want to clobber. Older men, ah... they’re like crossword puzzle: complicated, tricky and you’re NEVER really sure you got the right answer.Labels: cock fetish, sex and the bitches
Trollop’s snobby post made me think of all the misconceptions I’ve gotten due to our blog. Not
Raoul being my EXCLUSIVE love property as that is the truth and nothing but the truth so help me Xenu and his Galactic Confederacy—but I’m sure you won’t be surprised that most of them are sex related. *suffering sigh* I suppose there are consequences of having Harlot as your name... Well, at least I’m not
“Vicious Harlot” as that would be juuuust wrong. :/
If you’re tired of me talking about sex stuff, go take a hike and live with the mountain goats or something. As for the rest of you lot, let’s talk about the best misconceptions about me and my sex life, shall we? *g*
Misconception 1: I prefer BOB than the real thing. (or) Because I like BOB, a cock is not enough.Mainly it’s because of
this,
this and
this. I’ve said it before: I highly advocate masturbation and the use of BOB (Battery Operated Boyfriend). That won’t change until infallible scientists tell me
fiddling with myself will make
my “little man in the boat” fall off! Xenu forbid! (Or is it
Xemu? *confused*) Still, I would NEVER say a BOB comes ANYWHERE close to being with a man; and BOB will never give me the satisfaction and bliss I get with the real thing.
There are different circumstances though. If you want to make love with someone, a BOB will disappoint you, but if you fancy a quick sail on a golden cloud, a BOB is bloody fantabulous. ;)
Misconception 2: I’m blinded by beefcake.
Not so, my good man. When a Capt. von Trapp passes me by, I’m no Fraulein Harlot who won’t look and assess how he’d look naked while bringing me drinks. Ohhh, I can’t deny it: I love eye candy and fruity martinis!
Now, I love a strong man on his knees (with olives and cute tiny umbrella :D) but I don’t fancy a bulky Hulky Hogan (and no red bandana, euw!). Me likey leaner guys with broad shoulders, defined abs and strong arms/hands that know how to make margaritas and mojitos, mmm mmmm...
Misconception 3: I’m really, really sexually experienced.
Again, no. What? RIIIILLY, sheesh. Perhaps it seems as if I’m shagging a new man every night but, sorry, that’s mostly my own conceit. I’ve had an assortment of experiences but compare to Trollop, I’m pretty lamecore. :/ I’m no damn expert on anything except my own selfish harloty desires. Oh, anguish, truly truly. *sniffles*
Misconception 4: I have a foot fetish and love sucking toes.
This is a vicious lie circulated by Trollop! Yes, I have an oral fixation that MIGHT border on a fetish—I love having my man suck and lick stuff and moans and tongues and, yes, mouths—god, nice—oh my good Xenu, I beg thee!—BUT THAT’S IT!
Er... *ahem* hee, what I mean is if I have a fetish for a body part, it’s the man’s hands: how masculine it looks, its shape and size, how strong it seems and how it feels... ooh la la...
Misconception 5: I get tons of lurve emails from our male readers.
Sadly, no. *weeps silently* The last one I got was months ago from lovely George who thinks: “Too bad we are so far apart... both in distance and in age... My loss I am certain.”
I got this one from *Him*: “... beauty that makes me long to touch you but with command that stings and would not allow me. Cruel, cruel, beauty, beauty.” Hmmm, I know I’m bitchingly uber pritti :P but I hope I’m not that cruel...
ANYWHO, now, your turn. *g* Anyone thought you’re into reading upside down or milking a cat or any freaky thing like that? Come on, tell us, what are the best misconceptions about you (sex-related or otherwise)?Labels: sex and the bitches
Lately I can’t help but think how my perception about sex, relationship and love has changed over the years. How I’ve grown up, how I now see things differently, how strange that what I laughed about then is what I need today.
I’m from a very conservative family, went to Catholic schools for 20 years and was basically raised with the teaching that having sex outside of marriage is a sin—
not that that had stopped me LOL. I never thought I’d remain a virgin; I’ve always been curious about sex and I was too boy-crazy to be chaste—or to be someone’s lesbian cherrypie, for that matter (AGAIN, Trollop and I are not lovers, sheesh). Probably why Sister Marie (my Theology professor) told me I was a bad student. :/
I used to think that, like anything else, sex with your lover will eventually get boring—to the point where you go into therapy, to the point where you have to train yourself to avert your eyes from the yummy forbidden fruits; that, it’s either you’re in a relationship *or* you’re free—it can’t be both. How fucking ignorant I’d been? I didn’t even consider that freedom has a funny way of making a person content with what she has... or that forbidden fruits ALSO go rotten.
Being a grown up gives me access to almost everything that those which aren’t within the immediate reach of my fingertips I sometimes stupidly see as too much work. There’s always something else, someone else, some shiny new stuff upon which to waste one’s attention...
I’ve come to learn that simply having sex does not a kinkster make, and that sleeping around like a professional footballer is not my idea of a good time. That even with a MOST fuck-worthy man, if he is not the one I love... there will ALWAYS be something lacking... A profound lack of the kind of inspiration I’m used to enjoying with someone who cherishes me, or a profound lack of the kind of affection I’d taken for granted.
I’ve realized my lack of concern for other men shouldn’t make me feel embarrassed, nor should I go see a shrink and get a prescription for anti-ennui pills. Oh, I’ve looked—I’ve flirted, I’ve teased, I’ve even tweaked a nipple here and there—but I haven’t been interested. It’s just, now... I know what I want; I know what’s important; I know what turns me on, what turns me off; I know what I’m looking for in a relationship. I want steak and I’m forgoing hamburgers indefinitely.
Someday I won’t be young and beautiful and witty and clever and full of myself and sharp and adorable and adventurous and uncontainable (mythically speaking, of course :P)... Someday, somewhere out there, is another little freak who will love, understand and kiss my three heads to make it all better.
Related: Labels: kinky lifestyle, sex and the bitches, trollop and harlot’s stuff
I was talking to Trollop’s dad a while ago and he mentioned some exercises that will ease back pains. You see, my poor babe’s back is hurting again (god knows what trollopy things she’s been doing :/) and since I’ve been told by insensitive ingrates that my massages feel like karate chop-chops, *hmph* I thought I’d google some helpful stuff.
Now, listen here, you dirty-minded heathens. Before I continue, I want to make something clear: my intention is PURE and TRUE (truly, truly!) and it’s nothing but to help Trollop out; I SWEAR... I have nooooo idea how or why I ended up looking at
bizarre butt plugs!!!
I highly advocate masturbation and the
use of BOBs, buttt since I’m not into butt plugs—and anyone who even thinks of inserting something up my cutie little (at least that’s the rumor ;)) bottom will be kicked out of my bed—I never gave any thought about them. It never occurred to me that there’s a complete wacky world of butt plugs out there for me to discover LOL.
Honestly... devil, pony, fox, peacock tail butt plugs? Hee. *g* There’s even a
Celebrity Butt Plug! (“Hurry up, luv. Insert Brad Pitt up my arse...” *batts eyelashes*) And what about that
Extreme Anal Jewelry, the butt plug of the rich and famous? I heard the “size, shape and weight of this beauty have made all of the other plugs obsolete.” :P BUTT, ohhh, here are my, er, favorites:
According to Subby Hubby—who I truly believe is utterly reliable (his name rhymes, ya know;
I’m putty in poet’s, um, hands :/)—
Anal Ring Toss is the bestest...
My wife and i bought this and we love it, she put it in and me and my friends threw a couple of rings. After that i put it in and her friends played, with a slite twist, my hands were tied to my feet, they bet money on who would win, and they had a steel studded paddle. In the event of anger, my ass functions as a anger/stress reliver.
You: Sweetiebuns, it’d be kinda hot if you dress as a pig, with piggy ears and piggy nose and curly tail and then crawl around...
Pig Lover: Yeah?
You: Mm-hmm. The
Pig Tail Butt Plug alone would make me hot. Fuck me all piggy. Snorting. And then I can huff and puff and blow you. *rarr* I mean... *oink*oink*
Is your lover dying to do the bunny hop for you? Why, whatcha waitin’ for? Get the
Bunny Tail Butt Plug and he/she will surely hop like a floppity, hoppity, rabbity bunny! Besides, isn’t this like THE CUTEST butt plug evah? Seriously. Say it isn’t so and I’ll call you a liar. :P
Labels: cock fetish, fucking around, sex and the bitches, youtubery
I’ve never seen HBO’s
Big Love but my ex just sent me its complete first season DVD. (Men...
I have no idea what he’s suggesting, honestly.) I wasn’t even aware of this show as I’m pretty sure they’re not showing it here yet in Far Away Land. So, of course, I looked it up and...
*Gasp* I’m sorry? Eau de Polygamie??? *confused* Surely, there’s been a mistake. Er, right? :/ Hmmmm. In any case, I looked for more...
Polygarol? A polygamist Viagra??? “
You can’t even remember whose night it is. How can you be expected to perform?” WTF... This simply CANNOT be true! But good lord in heaven, I clicked the video and saw this!
Did you hear what one of the wives confides? “
With Polygarol, we can finally get that fourth wife we’ve been talking about.” I burst into uncontrollable laughter until I was crying it’s no wonder my mom said, “Harry Potter again? That boy is a maniac.” LMAO *wiping tears from my eyes*
Well, I suppose I can understand. :P Polygamy isn’t easy. Women have to set themselves apart from all his other wives, while men have to keep up. I mean, if you’re dipping your stick into multiple pools and are expected to satisfyingly give every one of them “
ripples and waves,” *tsk* buddy, you and your “
little buddy” are
going to need some help! Aye! I suggest you talk to your doctors about Polygarol but—oh ho ho, my good man—do remember what the disclaimer in the video tells us: *ahem* *quick-spoken deep voice* “
Polygarol is not right for everyone. Doses may vary depending on amount of wives per household.” ;)
Related: Labels: fucking around, fun and games, mctv, sex and the bitches, youtubery
Whilst perusing
Love Honey *wink* I came across (no pun intended) this very unique toy called
Vortex Vibrations Suction Vacuum Cleaner Vibrator...
The Seducer (AKA: “less suction, more vibration”) and The Introducer (AKA: “more suction, less vibration”). Heh, sounds more like romance novel titles than a BOB... Or, maybe not.
Attach to your vacuum cleaner and you’ll never moan about doing the Hoovering!
Place Vortex over the clitoris against the labia. Suction will immediately increase blood flow to the clitoris causing it to enlarge and become sensitive. Move the slider down and the clitoris itself starts to vibrate, fluttering like a reed in a saxophone. By adjusting the slider upward or downward, YOU control the rate of vibration.
Excuse me, *choke* say what? Attach it to a VACUUM CLEANER and put that freaky thing over my clit??? *gasp* *shock* ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!?
First of all, I doubt my clit will “flutter like a reed in a saxophone” (WTF?). Second of all, I’m pritti sure my “little man in a boat” will die of a little clit panic attack asking why in god’s name I ever let it come into contact with a fucking vacuum cleaner! (I’m quite fond of my clit, thank you.) (If you want to know more how this BOB aberration works,
check out this video.)
You know, all the vacuuming in my house is done by my love slaves (well, they don’t want me to do any work... *long suffering sigh*) so, yes, I’ve yet to use a vacuum cleaner. But even I know folks use it to suck up dust and dirt and all kinds of horrors. Hel-looooo? I’m talking about bugs, poop and god-knows what! Honestly, I’m all up to dirty DIRRRTY *rarr* sex, but this
stupid contraption “attachments” will suck the life out of your “pleasure nubbin” by an unhygienic Dirt Devil!!! *shudder*
I think I’m going to have a word with
Eduardo and
Edmundo about their vacuuming... :/ I mean, now that I can’t stop thinking about this (I can’t!—jeez, look at that thing!), I’m crossing my legs in fear of a vacuum cleaner getting anywhere near my precious bits! I can just imagine the damn machine calling me: “Haaaarlot, ohhh looovey, let me hoooover around your coooochie...” *suck*suck*suck* Oh good lord, AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
Oh, and oh ho ho, if you think that this couldn’t get any weirder, check this out:
I say, the only rug that requires vacuuming are the ones on the floor. And, please, let’s leave wanking with household appliances to the boys. :/
Related: Labels: cock fetish, kinky lifestyle, sex and the bitches, youtubery
I recently met an Italian guy who is charming, funny and very cute. *g* He’s an aerospace engineer that works in physics and he makes great pizzas—or so he claims LOL. I enjoy talking to him; sometimes he teaches me Italian words while I, well, teach him to be more delightful. :P One night he told me that he’s tired of western women’s way of sleeping around; that he’s bothered by women being so sexually active nowadays. I don’t know if I should frown upon this or if I should agree. True, women have all the right to be as open about sex as men, but it’s also a fact that women today are very different from women of yore. I couldn’t help but wonder, are women of the 21st century sluts?
During the 1960s, women’s sexual independence flourished with the sexual revolution and the women’s liberation movement. Birth control pills were invented and body massagers started being used for more than muscle soreness. Ever since the mental illness “hysterical tension” *snort* simply became “orgasm”—and women stopped visiting their perverted quacks doctors just to get a cure (translation: handjob)—women have slowly, but surely, taken steps to have sexual freedom.
I live in a country where many brides get to their wedding night virgins. I, Harlot, will never be one of them, heh. I believe that, as long as I’m practicing safe sex and doing it for the right reasons, I have nothing to be ashamed of. There was a time I felt guilty about it. But then, I realized, WHY? So I told myself, “To hell with it! I am a sexual being. I like this and I am going to keep doing this. I’m not going to feel bad about it—and by god, I am entitled to all those mind-blowing orgasms!”
I believe every woman has, or will have, that moment (call it awakening, if you will) of sexual independence. All I can say is, ladies, EMBRACE your sexuality. Don’t be embarrassed to do things that will bring you pleasure and bliss. As long as you take care of yourself and you’re not hurting someone—who doesn’t want to be hurt ;P—please, DO ENJOY. We only live once, we should enjoy it fully. I say, have tons of orgasms—and more, more, more! Buy a BOB, fiddle with yourself, fulfill your fantasies, wear something kinky/lingerie that makes you feel very sexy, handcuff your lover to your bed, put Nutella on his body, moan loudly and proudly, grab him and make him BEG for it.
My lovely ladies, have a great 4th of July.** ;)
**Little trivia: In 1946, after 381 years of near-continuous colonial rule, the Philippines is granted full independence by the U.S.Labels: holidaze, kinky lifestyle, nutella lovah, sex and the bitches
