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Start slowly with deep breaths. Mix in a gasp. Work your way to a moan. Wait for him to cum. Quiver and smile.
Faking it was easy.
I was a committed method actor and sex was like a porno casting call every time. Working my way down a checklist I would have “orgasms” on demand – without end.
I nailed the part.
 Photo By Vivi.Nore
It was easy to write off my bad behavior when I was younger – I didn’t know what orgasms were. I questioned myself, thinking “Maybe I am having one and I just can’t tell”. If women came without question in porn, maybe they just liked sex more than I did.
But they don’t.
My first vibrator cleared away any doubt about what an orgasm felt like, but “faking it” had already went from a bad habit to a disease. Instead of dealing with my fatigue, hunger, or insecurity, I could just fake an orgasm and get on with it.
I had an “orgasm” every time we had sex, and my partner came to expect it. I couldn’t stop now, not without admitting I had lied. He would find out that we weren’t actually getting the job done, then he’d be crushed and I’d be totally embarrassed.
So I kept faking it… for years.
I was devoting my time to teaching people how to have better sex, telling clients how to be more open with their partners and how to have the sex they dreamt of. But I wasn’t taking my own advice.
It was okay, until I got my first “faker” as a client.
I heard her talk about the way it affected her, how she dreaded sex, how she was afraid of what would happen if she was honest. The only thing I could think of was “Who the fuck am I to tell this girl what to do?”.
Who was I to teach people how to have better sex?
I was open with my clients, with my readers, with my friends, but I was still lying to the people who mattered — my partner and I.
Being honest was painful, and for a long time I tried every other route.
At first I thought I could just break up with my partner. He’d never have to know and I could start clean with my next partner. It turns out that being emotionally attached to someone makes dumping them because of your own issues damn near impossible and just plain shitty.
My other option was to just ignore it.
I could have real orgasms by using a vibrator during sex. But vibrators aren’t always handy. “Sorry honey, I’ll be able to cum in a minute, I’ve just got to change the batteries”.
I’d fake it when I didn’t have a vibrator, so I’d try my damnedest to make sure I did.
No matter how much I tried, sex still wasn’t satisfying – but only because I had made it that way. If there wasn’t a vibrator around, or I was in unique circumstances, I fell back to acting out my orgasms.
It was a proximity bias. The issue was too close to home. I could tell YOU how to stop faking it. I could tell YOU how to diversify your orgasms, but when I came home at night, I was ignoring my own advice.
It wasn’t just a vibrator I needed, but honesty (like my love for the new and taboo) in the bedroom. Thinking that maybe someday, eventually, my partner would find by surprise that it takes a vibrator and “taboos” to get me off was a short lived dream.
My own voice echoed in my head, “Your orgasm is YOUR responsibility”.
My cowardice was only making things worse.
My partner would think he caused my orgasm, and of course do the same thing again because I encouraged it. Faking it essentially trains your partner how not to please you.
I was depressed, needy, unable to communicate, and the guilt left me totally orgasmless.
Neither of us was doing anything differently, and we eventually broke up.
Fast forward through 5 months of soul searching, surfing, and finally learning some hobbies I’d been putting off, I found myself at a new place.
I was honest.
I learned I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if I want to go out with you next tuesday, but if you ask me then, I’ll have a better idea.
My orgasms are tricky, but if you throw me a curve ball and make sure my clit is happy, we might get lucky – and I’m okay with that.
My partner and I worked things out. We slowly eased back into a relationship, but we had some new rules.
Mine was that I wasn’t going to lie about my orgasms anymore, and in order to do that, I had to come clean about my past. Something I’d been afraid of for over 2 years.
What would he do? Jump ship and leave? Be humiliated and hurt?
It didn’t matter, it couldn’t be worse than dreading sex again.
“Hey, … is it a good time to talk?”
He was away on a trip. After a few years of waiting, I was willing to do it over the phone.
“Listen, if we’re coming clean and going to do this right, I’ve got to tell you something I’m really embarrassed about. I’ve got a lot of guilt built up over it, but it’s really important to me to go back into this with a clean slate.”
I hear hesitation on the phone. I imagine what’s running through his head. With a build up like that he’s probably thinking it’s terrible, like I slept with his brother, or I’ve contracted an STI over our 5 month break.
“Our sex in the past was great in a lot of ways. I really appreciated the attention you gave me and how much love and work we put in together, but I wasn’t honest about the results. Sometimes, I would become self conscious, or distracted, or we wouldn’t have a vibrator, and I knew I wasn’t going to have an orgasm, so I faked it. I was trying to make it satisfying for you, but I’ve realized it was just dishonest and stupid. I’m sorry for being dishonest, and if we’re going to do this again, and make it work, you had to know”.
I was waiting for a click and the sound of a dial tone, but instead I heard a reassuring voice.
My partner told me we would work on it. That we would do whatever it took to make things work. He’s stood by it ever since and I’ve been honest about my orgasms and how to achieve them.
If something’s not working, I say so. My partner and I both know it’s not someone’s fault. It’s not his job to make me come and sometimes the equation doesn’t work out quite right and I just can’t.
And it’s okay.
Don’t get me wrong, it can be frustrating as hell. Six positions, half a bottle of lube, and a new set of batteries later, sometimes I just give up.
I’m hungry, tired, and at this point it feels more like trying to disarm a nuclear warhead than getting fucked. But damn, one of those situations every now and then is a whole lot better than lying.
When you fake it, you lie to your partner, but also to yourself.
You’re saying, “I can’t have an orgasm. I can’t be honest about how it actually feels. I don’t deserve to have better. I can’t come clean now”.
Well if you’re like me, then we’re god-damned liars.
And if this sounds like you, or possibly your partner, it’s time to knock it off.
Here’s how.
If you’re the one faking it:
Come clean.
Right now, admit to yourself that you’ve been dishonest. Take out a pencil and paper, and write down what you need to tell your partner. I recommend the following format.
- Use “I”, not “you”, statements. “I’ve been feeling ______, because I haven’t been honest with you.
- Keep it positive. Mention what did work or feel good. “I really appreciate when we”, “I enjoy this about it”.
- Explain yourself. “I wanted to make you feel good”, “I wanted our sex to be perfect”
- Take responsibility. “I realized that it was dishonest”
- Tell them what YOU are doing to make things better. “I’d like to use a vibrator, I think it’ll really help me”.
If you think your partner is faking it:
Stop it.
No really, stop it. When you’re focused on your partners orgasm, you’re bound to make things worse.
- Don’t set expectations by saying things like “I’m going to make you come”.
- Don’t ask if your partner came. By asking “Did I make you come” you’re setting them up to lie about it if they didn’t.
- Focus on asking questions that require specific feedback. Instead of asking “Yeah, do you like that?”, ask “Do you want it harder or softer?”, “What depth feels good?”, etc.
For anyone who whats to have better sex:
After a good sex session there’s usually a natural rest period. You cuddle up, try not to drip sweat on each other, and wait for someone to break the silence.
Use this time for a “post-game debrief”. Make it a rule to only mention what worked well.
Sex can be one of the best stress relievers, relationship builders, and hobbies of all time.
Being honest keeps it that way.
Have you ever faked an orgasm? Did you (or have you) come clean with your partner? Post below in the comments!
You and I, well, we’re not typical.
While most people dream and hope for better sex, we’re taking action. We both realize amazing sex isn’t something that comes naturally, but rather it’s something that takes effort, persistence, and, yes, talent.
But talent begins with an unremarkable set of base skills. First we walk, talk, and learn how to not shit ourselves. (I mean, let’s be blunt.)
We have to develop hand-eye coordination, balance, and cognitive intelligence. Then we have to learn how to use our skills well with other people. It takes time to become a great football team or reverse cowgirl.
Remarkable teams develop with incredible communication and remarkable talents develop with relentless practice.
Sex is no different.
If you want it to be more satisfying, you have to communicate well and practice — a lot.
Everyone has to learn how to masturbate, orgasm, and pleasure someone else.
 Everyone should feel like this after scoring
Whether it’s sex or sports, people develop skills and talented team work in the same way: Personal skills, Interpersonal skills, Mission, and Practice.
I call it the P.I.M.P process for short. (I know, I know. The acronym is an unfortunately memorable coincidence.)
Here’s how it might apply to sex:
Personal skills: Masturbation, learning how to orgasm, learning what feels good.
Interpersonal skills: Communication, coordination, constructive criticism.
Mission: Simultaneous orgasms, that weird position you saw in a porn, making her cum.
Practice: Following the above three points while having sex and talking about what brought you closer to the mission during and after.
Learning how to have amazing sex isn’t much different than how you’d learn to do anything else. Imagine the skill development of a soccer player.
After learning how to walk and run, he tries to keep control of the ball. Starting with a few light kicks while walking, he can eventually run down the field without losing his balance or the soccer ball.Once he’s able to run and stay in control of the ball, he has to learn how to kick accurately.
Without learning walking, running, control, and kicking, he’d never be able to pass. And passing is where it gets tricky.
Using his excellent personal skills to get where he needed to be, he had to learn how to communicate to another player his intentions. If he can’t communicate properly, the other player won’t know he’s supposed to receive the ball and the pass will fail.
Now, think about all the players on his team. They all develop personal skills, they communicate, and then they decide what their mission is. Ultimately, it might be to win the game, but it might also be to execute a certain play or pass.
Then, they practice — a lot.
I’ve never seen a child run before they walk, and I’ve never heard of a couple having great sex without knowing individually what they like.
Sex, like anything else, takes practice. Sex, unlike the piano lessons you took in the third grade, will be fun to practice.
If you have 15 minutes free during your lunch break, challenge yourself to develop your sexual skills. It’ll be a lot more productive than facebooking your highschool hook-ups and a lot more fun too!
Have you ever used the P.I.M.P. process in your sex or daily life? How did you develop your personal sexual skills? Post below in the comments!
p.s. If you want more information on practicing for better sex, sign-up for my free 3-Steps to Better Sex guide on the right hand side of the page.
It’s that time of year again, when families get together and pretend their differences don’t exist long enough to engorge themselves with food and spiked eggnog.
There’s something special about this time of year. Not the overindulgence or the commercialism, but the tiny bit of acceptance I see in my own family – it gives me hope.
Tolerance has to be beautifully choreographed in my family. We’re a more extreme version of the show Modern Family. Our family includes extremely devout Mormons, partially devout evangelical Christians, openly gay cousins, camouflage wearing rednecks, poor and rich, bi-cultural, bi-lingual and well…me.
I like it. It’s fun to watch personalities bend and stretch to become respectful to those around them — especially when they’re so diverse. People who outwardly hate a category of people make exceptions for their family – or at least for a meal. It’s incredible to watch judgement be put aside, or stifled.
The whole family respects those who are religious and bows their head in prayer (or stays quiet). Cousins who might be “fags” any other day become “partners”. We moderate our political and social comments and stick to safer subjects, like how ridiculous my brothers new facial hair is or how good the onion rings taste at Red Robin.
Some people might say we’re cowards, afraid of conflict and sticking up for what we believe in. I see it in a different light. To me, it’s a magical mixture of everyone minding their own damn business, enjoying one another, and being thankful for a delicious meal.
Then I think about my job and how I see the same problems of judgement around sex.
Working in my field, there’s a lot of different sexual preferences.
I personally know of people who are into:
- People of the same gender
- People of the opposite gender
- People with no or multiple genders
- S & M
- Polyamory
- Pansexuality
- Sex toys
- Feet
- Huge tits
- Tiny tits
- Anyone who’s not their ethnicity
- People taller than them
- Spanking
- Biting
- Younger people
- Older people
- Big Beautiful men and women
- Bodybuilder chicks
- Guys who have a diabetic pump permanently in place
- Sex in public
- Straight men who like butt plugs
- Armpit fucking
- Watching their partner with someone else
- Foodies
- And even someone who likes to be yelled at in another language (even if it’s a fake one).
That’s not a comprehensive list and it doesn’t even begin to touch the variety of sex practices out there. But you get the idea.
I like seeing this much diversity in sex. But with diversity (whether it’s in a family, in sex, or in life) comes a lot of judgement and misunderstanding. When people don’t know a lot about something, their first reaction is fear and judgement.
Being from Montana and an almost completely culturally homogenous community, this usually plays out in the form of racism and homophobia. In my line of work, it comes out as sexophobia. (Yes, that’s a made-up word.)
I wonder what it would be like if the fear, judgement, and misunderstanding that surrounds other peoples’ sex practices were put aside for a moment with their other judgements. I wonder what it would look like just at a Thanksgiving dinner alone.
Perhaps we would be less ageist. Eating our turkey dinners we would look to Grandma and earnestly ask, “Have you gotten laid lately G-ma?”
Maybe we’d smile and feel excited when our teenage cousin and her new boyfriend snuck up stairs to make out. I’d likely be the first to take off my clothes and roll around in the mash potatoes. (Only after everyone had finished, of course.)
What would it be like if everyone felt comfortable with the fact that everyone else has sexual preferences different from their own?
What if instead of describing my family by their political, spiritual, and social standings I could describe them as armpit fuckers, gays, and vanilla’s? What if the topic of sex became so casual and comfortable that acknowledging the massive amount of turkey you just ate is likely to kill your parents’ sex drive because it contains large amounts of tryptophan?
My family still avoids the political and social topics this time of year, so maybe it’s too much to ask them to put aside sexual judgements as well.
I’m not sure what a judgement-free world would look like, but I hope this Thanksgiving you’re able to look at your parents or grandparents lovingly and hope that their lives are sexually satisfying.
I hope that your gay cousin feels comfortable kissing his partner in front of your Mormon family members.
Most of all, I hope that you’re able to spend the holidays being appreciative and giving thanks, regardless of the diversity, struggles, or tension that might be present.
How do you deal with diversity and the things you disagree with? Have you ever been judged for being diverse (sexually or otherwise)? Post in the comments below; I’d love to hear your thoughts!
A quick video on how to have stronger orgasms. Enough said, roll the film!
Have Questions? Leave them in the comments and I’ll respond as soon as I can!
A lip bite, a blush, and an extra twenty heart beats a minute. You’re wet to the touch, but not dripping. The whimper never leaves your throat. Sure it feels good, but you’re yearning for more.
That’s it?
No scream, no moan, no toe curling or pillow bitting. Is it done? Does it get better? How do I know if I’ve had an orgasm?
I can’t tell you the answer, because you can’t compare one orgasm to another. It can’t be said that one person’s foot-cramp inducing orgasm is better or more pleasurable than someone else’s silent joy. I can share with you language and some experience in order to explore the root of the question, “Am I getting enough pleasure?”
What is an orgasm?
According to books and scholars, the word orgasm comes from the Greek word orgasmos which means excitement or swelling. Princeton University says it’s “the moment of most intense sexual pleasure in sexual intercourse”.
According to my friend, “It’s like my vagina has to sneeze. You know when you have to sneeze? It builds up, up, up, and then you actually go ACHOO. Like that.” Others said, “It feels like I have to pee really badly,” and “It feels like a wave crashing on me, but the water is hot.”
Orgasms according to my favorite bartender are easy to remember. “Oh, an orgasm? You get it on your back… No, no, wrong back. B.A.C.K. Bacardi, Amaretto, Cream, and Kahlúa. This is your last one on the house by the way.”
Orgasms have been correlated to quick cycles of muscle contraction in the lower pelvic region. As my 6th grade science teacher told me, correlation isn’t causation. Orgasms for me have also been correlated to things like screaming, tears, giggles, tiredness, increased heart rate, my favorite vibrator, no contractions, lots of contractions, and only a few of my partners. Regardless, every sexual experience I’ve had has a moment that I would consider to be the most intense.
I’ve asked a number of people what the height of their sexual experience feels like. Some use the word “cum” or “orgasm” to define it, others use “heat” “intensity” and “love”. Regardless of their description of what the “moment of most intense sexual pleasure” feels like, when asked “Does getting or being there feel good?” almost all of them said “Yes!”
So do orgasms matter?
Maybe. To me, pleasure matters more. I can’t give you the magic answer to tell if you’ve had an orgasm. Some say “When you do, you’ll be certain,” I say “Enjoy it for what it’s worth.” If something feels good, keep doing it. Your scale of pleasure simply doesn’t compare to anyone else’s. My most mind blowing experience might be a total yawn to you, so why try to say which is better?
Next time, instead of asking, “Was that an orgasm?”, ask “Am I getting enough pleasure?” If you’re enjoying it, keep it up. If you’re not, challenge yourself to find things that you enjoy. Regardless, if you continue to do the same thing, you’ll get the same results.
What does the moment of most intense sexual pleasure feel like to you? Post below in the comments!
Let’s be honest. I’ve spit in the holy water at one of the most sacred Catholic churches in the world, I make funny faces at my family members while their eyes are closed during Thanksgiving grace, and I’ve (unsuccessfully) tried getting off to the thought of Jesus and his mother Mary. I’m not proud, but it’s true. So when I wound up praying with a stranger on an airplane, I thought something truly important could be learned about the power of unfamiliarity. While frightening, the different experiences strangers bring to the table can be very rewarding, and not just on scary airplane rides but during new sexual encounters as well.
My nerves were already on edge when the first flight I was scheduled on was grounded due to some sort of maintenance malfunction and my next flight departed perfectly late. The terrifying trip began with suitcases falling out of overhead bins due to unusually heavy turbulence, followed by me leaving permanent nail marks in the plastic covered arm rests, and a concerning noise (that resembled what I imagine whales humping during a chainsaw competition would sound like) coming from the right portion of the aircraft.
The older woman next to me looked at me in horror. “That worries me.” Without saying another word, her watery eyes gave away her story about the arrival of a third grandchild and the recent loss of her husband.
With each bump, grind, fallen bag, and gasped breath, we appreciated. We longed for the things we already had: our beds, food, families, and even our nine-to-fives. It was as though each bump enhanced our quality of living. Put in the face of threat, our completely standard lives seemed extravagant.
The fragile older woman next to me asked me to pray with her. Normally I’d be offended by her lack of cultural awareness and her assumption that our society is as Judeo-Christian as our politicians pretend, but instead I choked down my cultural snobbery. This seemed like a sincere ask for help and my tactic of trying to claw my hands into the armrests wasn’t providing any relief.
I prayed with her. In my mind, God was a more attractive version of Alanis Morissette, skipping through the clouds and drinking white wine straight from the bottle; I prayed nonetheless.
The flight continued bumping and grinding all the way. We landed safely and all the wide-eyed passengers who were making pacts with God about all the wrongs they would right became forgetful with the smell of Cinnabon saturating the airport.
Now on steady ground, I find that the experience taught me a few things that may or may not have everything to do with sex and strangers:
- When you’ve tried everything you can think of to get a desired result, and you’re still not getting the outcome you want, a new tactic can’t hurt.
- You’re more willing to try something new when you realize you have no control over the outcome anyways.
- When someone asks you to try something their way, it’s probably because it’s worked for them in the past, and it’s with good intentions.
- Appreciation of what you’ve already got, makes what you’ve already got exactly what you want.
- When a stewardess says she has a long lay over before her next flight and she likes your leather boots, she’s not just being polite.
Okay, so the last one was just to brag.
What are some life lessons that you can apply to your sex life? Post in the Comments Below!
“I hear the carpet matches the curtains.”
She said it directly, a smile barely escaping from a tongue that kept wagging across the front of her teeth. It was flirty the first two times, but by the third she started to look like a German Shepherd with peanut butter stuck to the roof of its mouth.
 Genuine Fire Crotch “I put hardwood flooring in a long time ago.” I’m embarrassed. My canned answer of shaving never satisfies and is partially a lie.I should’ve been more offended, but she wasn’t unattractive. I’ve grown used to it, having red hair evokes questions from people in almost every social situation. You’d think between the invention of google and xtube people wouldn’t need to probe a redhead in real life. But there’s just something about us that makes people yearn for proof of colored pubes (similar to Bigfoot, but less rare and much more mystical).
My older brother’s friends started calling me names before I even had fuel for the fire that would soon be on my “crotch”, a word that has since disgusted me. It reminded me of wrinkly grandma armpits, sweat, and something sickly. I didn’t know what was between my legs, but if it was a grandma’s armpit on fire I was sure as hell going to get rid of it.
I didn’t know what the fire was or how to put it out, so my pubes enjoyed about 6 months of freedom directly after puberty. Then I had my first experience with nudity and the opposite sex. I remember hearing “look her pubes are red!” The obvious statement seemed a lot more threatening as a 13-year-old girl. I vowed to never play strip poker again (which actually only lasted a year) then I shaved every pubic hair I could find (which lasted for seven years).
I’ve recently come to terms with the packaged deal of being a redhead: glow-in-the-dark white skin, bubble-gum colored areolas, freckles, and what could be considered an allergy to the sun. My seven-year shave streak was probably a little dramatic, but it wasn’t all about my fiery crotch. The completely bare look has become more and more popular, as I’ve become less and less attached to it. I’m still not prepared to let the fire get out of hand, but I like to keep a little bit burning.
I’m more comfortable about being a redhead than I’ve ever been. But just because I’m comfortable, does not mean you should ask me about my pubic hair (especially in public). For the last time, YES, all redheads are born as interior designers and the carpet matches the curtains.
What sex question do you always get? Post Below in the Comments!
I’ve never seen a woman so pissed in my entire life. She barged into my apartment, hair knotted and mascara smeared. Her ravenous look seemed to suggest either she had just gotten out of a bar fight (which seemed improbable at 9:30 a.m.) or her new boyfriend had been using her pony tails as handle bars. I was relived that she hadn’t been in a fight, but I was shocked to hear the same complaint for the third time this week.
While the post-sex protocol will never make a man a hero, fuck it up and its guaranteed you won’t get a second chance.
Oversimplification:
A woman’s sexual gratification is based on emotion, a man’s on physical pleasure. It’s overly simple, but overwhelmingly true. Even if you’re able to communicate well enough to have pleasurable sex, how do you fight the battle of physical vs. emotional when it’s over?
Whether it’s a one-night stand or a ten-year marriage, here are a few things guys do that bother most women:
- Pull-out without saying anything
- Comment about how it was better/worse than a previous time
- Tell her you’re in a hurry
- Leave the condom laying around
- Flush the condom in the toilet
- Check your phone/e-mail/Facebook etc.
- Avoiding touching her and not cuddling
- Immediately getting dressed
Reasonably or not, women are usually more emotionally involved in sex than men. Anything on the above list is seen as disrespectful and is generally followed by a very pissed girlfriend (or one-night stand). But there are two sides to every coin, it could be that instead of being disrespectful, maybe he’s:
- Got an oversensitive penis and finds it painful to be inside of someone.
- Trying to give feedback
- Late
- Just forgot the condom
- Didn’t know that condoms back up toilets
- Waiting for a very important call
- Incredibly overheated from thrusting and finds is too hot to cuddle
- Self-conscious and wants to cover up
If none of these things apply to you, avoid the first list. Not every woman will be upset that you did one of these things, but it’s safer not to take chances. After all, I know there’s three newly single men on the market to compete with.
While the post-sex protocol will never make a man a hero, fuck it up and its guaranteed you won’t get a second chance.
What pisses you off? Post in the Comments Below!
Every carpenter has a tool belt, every warrior a weapon, and every sexual finesse entrepreneur a “sex chest”. Today, I’m giving away all of my special tools and letting you look at my sex chest (not to be confused with sexy chest). Let the fun begin.
 Take a peek at my sex chest Vibrator(s):
This tool gets the most use. Actually, this isn’t just one tool — it’s three. I have a long Doc Johnson vibrator that I use when I’m masturbating at home and during intercourse. I have a Lelo vibe that is egg shaped and perfectly contours with my pelvic bone. This one doesn’t vibrate like a jackhammer, so it’s quieter and more petite for when I’m feeling more feminine. Lastly, I have a tiny bullet vibe. It’s tiny and practically silent. Its size is both good and bad. I use it to get off in my car or hide in my purse for travel. This also means I have no idea where it is right now.
Condoms:
If sex were a battle (which it is), these would be my armor. Not only are the great for protecting against sexually transmitted infections; they’re perfect for slipping over sex toys so that they can be shared. They can also be filled with water and left in the freezer to make ice dildos (caution: doing this can be dangerous. Be sure to leave the condom on during use and to wash it before you insert it to avoid your vagina sticking to your new toy like your tongue would to a pole on a frozen day).
Rubber Gloves:
These can be used for dental dams, balloon animals, or wearing while you clean the bathroom.
Lube(s):
An attractive woman once told me, “too much lube is almost enough.” It’s a rule to live by. I usually have at least two types of lubes handy, one is specifically selected for the not-so-terrible taste it has when I’m giving blowjobs, the other is a slightly thicker gel lube that doesn’t dry up easily with prolonged fucking. Both are water-based so that they don’t damage the condoms, both are fairly cheap.
Dildo(s):
A cure-all for those hard to reach g-spots, out of town or not putting out partners, and an aid for when his wrist nearly falls off. They’re hot to use with or without someone and if you buy a ceramic one like mine, they’re temperature sensitive and can be pleasurably cold to the touch.
Bondage Tape:
Not everyone wants to have bondage straps hanging out from under their bed (I’m not one of those people). Bondage tape isn’t actually tape at all, it’s a vinyl feeling material that sticks to itself and not your skin. It wouldn’t suffice for Houdini if he were into BDSM, but it’ll get the job done. The best part is it’s reusable and fairly cheap. You get to choose how much to use and where. Wrists, ankles, elbows, knees, you name it!
Towel:
The sex I have can be very messy and I like being able to sleep in clean sheets afterwards.
What’s in your sex chest? Post Below in the Comments.
Over the past 10 weeks I’ve been teaching a series of workshops called “Sex with Billie Becker.” (Calm down, it’s supposed to sound risqué.) I’ve taught about sex toys, erotic massage, anal sex, and other popular topics—or so I thought. I’ve been surprised to find that workshops that involve stimulation of the penis get twice the amount of attendees. So why are cock workshops so much more appealing? I have no idea, so why not guess?
- Stimulating a penis is more difficult, so more people come to learn how.
This couldn’t possibly be true. Sure, it can be difficult to figure out what your partner likes; no two people are a like. But for the majority of men the equation is pretty simple. (For the math nerds: Lube + Grip + Back and Forth Motion = Orgasm.) No, it doesn’t always work that way. Yes, there’s potential for other types of orgasms: stronger, weaker, longer, an ejaculation without one. When it comes down to it though, there’s not a lot of mystery.
- Pussies are easy to please, so less people come.
No way. The female anatomy is like a labyrinth made out of Rubik’s cubes. Not only are we taught the entirely wrong way to pleasure them (Force + Girth + Speed + Depth Inside Vagina ≠ Pleasure), but they’re always changing. What feels good once might not feel good again. Or maybe it will. Or maybe she’ll only want one very specific type of stimulation. Jesus, we’re really over our heads here.
- Heterosexual females find me incredibly attractive and want to attend workshops that pertain to cocks to hide their curiosity.
While it’s nice to dream, even I have to admit it’s not very plausible.
- It’s cool to learn how to suck dick, but not cool to learn how to lick clit.
Ouch. It breaks my heart that this seems all too likely. Amongst my guy friends I hear, “ Man, I’ve gotten SO much ass this month it’s incredible!” Amongst my lady friends it’s more like, “He made me cum so hard! I gave him the best blowjob ever after that.” What’s the difference? Quality vs. Quantity: the age-old debate.
So why do workshops about cocks get so many more people to come?
Because people who suck dick are probably more interested in quality than quantity. But it’s all backwards; if women are interested in quality and men are interested in quantity, why are women sluts for having lots of sex and men aren’t as expected to perform well?
I may never find the answer. In the meantime, I’ll keep dreaming about that third option. (Hey, you never know what curious straight girls will do.)
Why are dicks so much more fun to learn about? Post your thoughts below in the comments!
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