Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Critique My Dick Pic

Consider the courtship practice of the Sending of the Dick Picture.

Men like sending them, but few women -- and only under very specific circumstances -- like getting them. (I think they're sexy, but I get that impression that I'm unusual in that regard.) In any case, it seems like a bit of messed up evolutionary mating economics--all supply, little demand.

Supply's not going down any time soon, so it seems the best solution is to create more demand. In this case, creating a better quality--hence possibly better-received--dick pic.

This is the mission of Critique My Dick Pic.  Writes site creator/judger of peni, Madeleine Holden:

this is a tumblr with a simple premise: send me your dick pics, & i’ll critique them with love.
'with love' is an important addendum. i'm never going to shame you about the size of your dick or what it looks like; i'm not about that life. i will, however, be ruthlessly honest when it comes to things like angles, lighting & general tone. i'm trying to help you improve, because in all likelihood your dick pics are artless & dull.

The girl is ruthlessly honestly and is against "Porky Pigging," that is, wearing a shirt but no pants, and photos featuring "the log," (says she: "the log" is when you take a bird’s eye view, close-up shot of your enormous dick, with your dick taking up most of the frame & with very little surrounding detail. dudes, they’re boring. they’re ~so~ boring. they say "look at my fat cock" & fuck all else.") She ends each review with a letter grade. In bold.

Consider this poor guy who sent in an uninspired shot of his dick hanging over the edge of a kitchen sink. (You'll have to look yourself b/c as Holden puts it, this site is "Not! Safe! For! Work!")

um no this is definitely not very good.
your dick is unceremoniously flopped out of your pants & you look like you’re about to piss in the sink. your right arm is hanging limply & the top right hand corner of your pic is straight blur. sender, this is very bad? you didn’t try very much here? it is extremely unlikely that this picture would arouse anyone?
if i were you, sender, i would scrap this entirely & start again, with 100% less sink, 100% less blur, & 1000% more effort.
thank you for submitting to critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com. your dick pic gets a C-.

I am completely in love with this site and wish I could just run a bunch of the pix here so you don't have to be clicking around, but Google gets a little peevish when I get too racy.  Do hop over, then tell me what you think. I welcome any and all dick pic stories you might send me as well.


ps yes I do appreciate the absurdity of kowtowing to Google's prudery while running afoul of Porky Pig's copyright holder.  Though I give part of the blame to him for not wearing pants.

Hey. Been drinking?  Leave a little tip today. 

Friday, November 17, 2017

The Tipping Point

You know how you throw a buck or two to the coffee lady? If you're feeling flush, pretend I'm the coffee lady, but with delicious words for your soul, man.

(If you are rich and/or drunk when this finds you, consider becoming a monthly patron!)  

xo jill

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

How Wanking It Created the Universe and Other Theories on Masturbation

I am thinking of masturbation this morning. Not in the sense of putting it on today's "to do" list (although--what the hell--maybe I was, you don't need to know every damn thing), but in a more general, historic context way.

It was spurred by Kathleen telling me about a sexuality talk she gave some 'tween girls, based on the excellent book Changing Bodies, Changing Lives.

Armed with some notes and pads of paper for the girls to doodle on (secret real purpose: to give them a place to pretend to stare at if things got too embarrassing) brave Kathleen laid it all out for these girls--including the hows of orgasms, the phases of sexual response, and the role of masturbation in a healthy sex life. Kathleen even talked to them about sexual fantasies and told them different ways that girls might want to touch themselves. The eminently sensible idea being: people armed with knowledge are better able to make smart and responsible decisions about sex.

It was completely revolutionary to me. The one hour of sex education class I got in the 1970s contained quite a bit of information--an excessive amount, to my mind--about vas deferens, fallopian tubes and the like, but nothing in the way of practical information about sex. That is, the $%$# you actually wanted to know. I mean, my teacher described the doing of "IT" as "the sperm meeting the egg," as though a cotillion was somehow involved. There was no fucking way she was going to talk about the emotional and physical benefits of jerking off.

When I had my first self-given orgasm, I thought I had probably broken myself. I might have asked someone about it, but I was somehow aware that this was the sort of activity one didn't speak of. (Later I worried that I might have become pregnant after an interesting experiment with a pool water jet.* I was perhaps not the brightest of children.)

This kind of masturbation shame/ignorance is, fortunately, a fairly recent development. Throughout most of history, masturbation was considered natural, good, a sign of fertility and such. There are spurts of masturbation references throughout art, mythology and history. The ancient Greeks approved of stoking one's own fire, considering it a healthy outlet for both men and women. And in Egypt, the god Atum was thought to have brought forth the universe by ejaculating during what must have been a rather interesting session of beating off. ("Atum! You're still in the bathroom? What are you doing in there, young man?")

So accepted was the practice that nannies in 17th century Europe would masturbate young males who couldn't get to sleep(!) This is perhaps what people mean when they complain they can't get good help anymore. Dear Carmen, the lady who used to clean my house before I became poor, never once offered to give me a handjob, even after I pointedly mentioned I was having trouble sleeping.

How did we get from there to here? I mean, what sort of crazy-ass mind control propaganda could get people to turn against such a pleasurable activity? It was an influential pamphlet, of all things, circulated in 1700s America. It explained that semen held the Life Force and, as such, should not be squandered in the handkerchiefs of the day.

Soon, a variety of health and moral problems were added to plain ol' life force squandering. In "A Solemn Appeal," Sister Ellen G. White lists a host of old-timey ails caused by "the practice" including the dreaded "dropsy." The alarmed Sister warns, "The mind is often utterly ruined, and insanity supervenes." This perhaps explains why I have been known to stare blankly when someone asks me my cell phone number.

In Daniel Hack Turke's 1892 A Dictionary of Psychological Medicine, he described a habitual masturbator thusly:

The face becomes pale and pasty, and the eye lusterless. The man loses all spontaneity and cheerfulness, all manliness and self-reliance. He cannot look you in the face because he is haunted by the consciousness of a dirty secret which he must always conceal and always dreads that you may discover. He shuns society, and has no intimate friends, does not dare to marry, and becomes a timid, hypersensitive, self-centered, hypochondriac.

Obviously such a fate was undesirable and young masturbators needed to be saved lest they, too, become pale and pasty in the face. According to Mary Roach in Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, "Little hands were tied to headboards, and trousers fashioned without pockets. Hobbyhorses were taken away, and climbing ropes removed from school gymnasiums." And in 1914's Scouting for Boys: A Handbook for Instruction in Good Citizenship, scouting founder Robert Baden-Powell urges boys stricken with the forbidden urge to literally run away from temptation until presumably the boy would be so physically exhausted he would no longer have the energy to reach for his member.

This kind of hysteria fed on itself, and at a certain point, anti-masturbation advocates sound less concerned with the moral health of our youth and more like completely insane sadists. John Kellogg, the cereal guy, claimed that the "solitary vice" caused a host of health problems, up to and including death. "Such a victim literally dies by his own hands," Kellogg wrote, perhaps chuckling to himself over his wit. I knew Kellogg was wack--I mean, the dude invented a high-powered enema machine for personal use--but I didn't realize just how much of a nutter he was until I saw this in Wikipedia's History of Masturbation:

He recommended, to prevent children from this "solitary vice", bandaging or tying their hands, covering their genitals with patented cages, sewing the foreskin shut and electrical shock. He also recommended burning off the clitoris to prevent masturbation in girls.

Enterprising Americans wanted in on this action and dutifully invented all sorts of dreadful devices to stop people from ravishing themselves. (For lots of scary pictures, see also: Stephenson Billings' The Anti-Masturbation Movement's 14 Greatest Inventions on ChristWire.) There were penis fans to keep one's member from undue warmth, full body suits to prevent lustful wandering hands, and alarm systems designed to alert parents to their children's nocturnal erections (not quite sure what the parent is supposed to do once alerted). Penis cages and trusses locked the guilty organ up or tied it down to physically prevent erections. And when those didn't work, physical pain was employed. 

"The Timely Warning" (pictured at left) prevented "night emissions by arousing the wearer." "Arousing" is, at the very least, a curious choice of words. I guess it's an 1800s adman's best try at a positive spin on what would more accurately be described as: "being rudely awakened from your sweet dreams and pleasantly swelling erection by the sharp stab of a ring of metal teeth cutting into your wang."

The fetish gear-looking contraption shown at right is from US Patent 745,264, filed May 29, 1903, by one Albert V. Todd, for a device designed to prevent masturbation and nocturnal emissions. It features "a lockable belt with a tube for inserting the penis." If the errant penis were to rise while its pious owner was innocently sleeping, the device would employ spikes, an alarm bell, and an electric shock to get things back under control.

It's madness, obviously, but plenty of people are still afraid of masturbation (see also: The Dreaded "M" Word by former U.S. Surgeon General Jocelyn Elders, who was fired--I can still scarcely believe it!--for merely mentioning masturbation.) This article, for example, Freedom From Masturbation, offers guilty onanists a religious approach to stopping, including specific anti-monkey-spanking prayers to recite and the advice to "pray intermittently in tongues as the Lord leads you." (I would much less disturbed by walking in on some guy jacking off than some guy not jacking off while sporting a huge hard-on and speaking in tongues, but that's just me.)

The good news is that, in general, things seem to be finally turning around. Viva Changing Bodies, Changing Lives and people like brave Kathleen teaching girls how to wank it! As Dan Savage says in Savage U, "Girls should be encouraged to experiment, masturbate, learn how their bodies and orgasms work before moving on to partnered sex. Partnered sex would be less intimidating and disappointing out of the gate if more women arrived knowing how to get themselves off."

Go forth and create a universe.


*I'm pretty sure that this is how Aquaman was conceived.

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Monday, November 6, 2017

Subtitle My Book (aka What The Hell Is It I Do?)

Consulting the Oracle:  Hey, gorgeous. I need your good brain and/or mystical contacts.

Here's why:  I've compiled the best of IBWMW into a book, working title Hysterical.* I sent it to three agents and all said, "Love your voice. (pause) Essays are impossible to sell."

So. I need an alluring through line that makes these impossible essays seem more like a memoir or quest or otherwise must-have book. They would still be the essays, but tarted up and packaged in a more saleable way.

When I get a solid/compelling subtitle like Hysterical: (blah blah blah i am a lady who stares too closely at sex and have learned some shit, this is the point/quest behind the whole book), I'm in. But I've been thinking on it for weeks and I CAN'T FUCKING FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS. (this, for the record, is my DO SOMETHING! shout into the Void.)

Do you see the highly marketable theme/quest/format that I'm not seeing? (Talking around it/vague ideas also helpful, if pithy titles aren't your thing.)

If you are the one who pulls the subtitle from the ether, not only will I dedicate the whole damn book to you AND offer you the coveted title of IBWMW Minister of Big Ideas, I will send you something from my big box of secret sex toys. Presently residing in there are:

--An iCome throbby rabbit-style vibe from Doc Johnson
--Snug Plug from b-Vibe, a weighted silicone butt plug
--Snug Plug 2 from b-Vibe, same deal, but bigger
--Novice Plug from b-Vibe, small and powerful vibrating butt plug w/ remote control for torturing a loved one
--Le Wand, a big-ass old school rumbly wand vibrator like the original Magic Wand that got our foremothers off. (don't think too long on this.) I'll throw in the Curve, a weighted silicone attachment because I am just that desperate for clarity.

What are you holding? Consult your Muse and let me know. 

We're Number....2...yeah:
Thanks to you, IBWMW was #2 in the Reader's Choice category for this year's Kinkly's Sex Blogging Superhero contest. I am undecided whether to be deliriously happy that the blog beat out over 400 other blogs for the honor or peeved about the one (1) blog who beat us. That it is not obvious to me is something I should probably discuss with a licensed professional.

Okay Then: Now that I've just asked you to solve my life, I feel awkward and exposed, so I will divert your attention with this shot from Salvador Dali's 1973 photo shoot for Playboy Magazine. It might be safe for work or might not--kinda hard to say.


*I'm thinking of re-naming the whole blog Hysterical. What say you?

(top image courtesy: governmentname)

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Female Orgasm and How Biology is a Jerk

O, cruel biology
This is a rerun.*  Do not be alarmed. 

So I was going through your responses to the questions about clit-vag distance and its relation/non-relation to your propensity to come via straight-on intercourse alone (Woo! Sexy talk. Is it hot in here?) and now I am just...depressed. Or possibly pissed off. At the very least, I am most certainly miffed.

Why? Because of those among you who can have an orgasm--like no problem--with no other kind of hand stimulation, mouth assistance, divine intervention--nothing. Practically all the time.

For example, in response to "Do you come easily, sometimes or never via intercourse alone?" Anonymous commented:

"rather easily and usually multiple times"

And Naomi bragged answered:

"always come easily, no fingers or appliances needed (or even wanted, too distracting from the main event)"

For me, coming from just fucking alone has happened--maybe--five times. In my life. And that's rounding up.

It's biological tyranny, I say.

For men and the rare lucky chick who just needs a little in-and-out to come "rather easily and usually multiple times," let me explain. I think porn and romance novels and the in-and-out chicks have skewed what we think is a "normal" sexual response. Despite what we see and read all the damn time, the majority of women need some sort of extra stimulation to have an orgasm. The vast majority of women. That's just how it is.

Several men and women, who I consider to be generally enlightened, have mentioned variations of "it just takes the right man"--which is, I think, only true to a certain extent. Yes, some men are much better lovers. Yes, some men's parts are more compatible with your own. And yes, some men will get you so hot you could practically come from their gaze. All of these are good and can help.

However, in most women, the clit is where things are happening. But in a cruel twist of nature, Today's Generally Accepted Fuck Moves are happening in the vagina, which is annoyingly close to the clit, but...not...quite...there. Men, picture if your main sensory pleasure center was, say, on your perineum but you were expected to get to your bliss via regular old boning. You could get close. Your balls might rub against there occasionally, or you might figure out some crazy-ass position that sort of almost did the trick. But it wouldn't the kind of direct you-are-there-stimulation you'd need.

This is not to say that most women don't like pure fucking because we do. We definitely definitely do. And not just gentle soul-lock lovemaking--sometimes the hard and fast porny fuck pounding, too.

Wrote JS: I like the fuck pounding even if it doesn't "get me there." This is what I crave during sex, a certain amount of roughness or hard thrusting. The soft stuff and touching is great also, but I can do that on my own. I can't fuck myself hard.

Added Anon: Oh, hell yes!! But I don't come like this. Just enjoy it for the raw intensity and squishy noises. :)

I was feeling embittered by this and started wondering if I were a bad lay. After all, would you rather fuck someone who came "rather easily and usually multiple times" (sorry, I'm obsessed with this) or someone who was going to need a hand, and not in a metaphoric sense? I mean I can see that there's a certain hotness in being able to control a woman's orgasm with your touch or to be able to watch her as she brings herself to that place, but damn, I was still a little jealous.

Luckily Trisha, who's making a completely cool sounding movie about female sexual response called Science Sex and the Ladies [update:  She made it!] calmed my ass down over at Reddit:

Agreed, it does make you feel high-maintenance and frustrated sometimes, but I say we think of these "in and out" orgasmers in a different way; as a really small minority - like the 1% billionaires. They're loud and influential, and the culture seems to be shaped around their needs, but it shouldn't be. The vast majority of us, and probably a lot more than we'd think, are in the same boat. We just need to start shaping the culture more around our majority situation; then we wouldn't have to feel so frustrated for no reason. Let's rise up Grinders and Manual Stimulators!! :)

While I head to my workshop to make signs for a Grinders and Manual Stimulators rally, here's a bit more from Trisha:

Masters and Johnson found and recorded physiological evidence of some women who orgasmed from penetration alone, but hypothesized it was a Rube-Goldberg situation where the penis pulled on the inner lips which pulled on the clitoral hood, which rubbed against the clitoris. These orgasms were just like the ones they recorded from more direct clit stimulation, but were the weakest orgasms they recorded - not surprising since it was the most indirect way to stimulate the clit. They didn't find any anatomical characteristics that predicted the ability to have orgasms this way.

Not only do I very much like the Rube Goldberg reference tossed into a discussion of fuckery, but this idea of the weaker orgasm is interesting to me.

I asked a friend if she could come via straight ol' p-in-v (Yes, my social skills could use a little refinement. Thanks for noticing!) and she said, "Sure. Sometimes." When she saw my face darken with envy, she added kindly, "But they aren't as good as the ones I get when I masturbate."

I come away (not via vaginal intercourse, as you now know) even more confused. Are women's orgasms via sex generally weaker than via external stimulation? Are men a little bummed out when they get a woman who requires more work? Shouldn't our high-maintenance ancestors been edged out through evolution--how are we the majority? And how fucking unfair is it that most of us get what might be seen as a pretty major genetic rip off?

I'm also having new admiration for straight men, gay chicks and other lovers of women. I know every new lover is a different country to discover and all that, but seeing the huge variations in what women want, like and require made me realize just how hard it would be to fuck a woman well. The focus-on-the-clit move that would be meltingly blissful to one would be way too intense for another. Men are different from each other too, of course, but it doesn't seem like the differences between them are quite as extreme.

What do we do with all this? Well, we keep talking about it and how female sexuality actually works instead of how we think it should probably work. Just fucking do it. If not for you, then for your sisters, so that we may all go forth and fuck freely and well as nature intended.


*Why am I running this again? Because just the other day a grown man, a perfectly smart and earnest one, told me that his new girlfriend probably had a biological issue because she couldn't come via his his smart and earnest thrusting.

photo: Etude de nu 1950 by Raymond Van Doonen

Friday, October 13, 2017

Contest Results, Butt Smackery and Reasons Not to Marry a Vibrator

Contest Results! If you ever get a shit-ton of vibrators in the mail, I highly recommend that you give 80% away, like a fucked up version of tithing.

It's even better if you force everyone to compliment you first, as Donald Trump does with his Cabinet members. (See also: What's Your Favorite Post?--A New Contest)

For my act of sexual servitude, I'll be mailing out 8 embarrassing packages to the contest winners* with which they can do unspeakably filthy things. And....if the other versions of Doc Johnson's iVibe Select line are anything like the two I tried, they are gonna lose their fucking minds.

As you know because I lack a filter, I was madly in love with the iCome model just last week but then I tried the iRock one and--holy shit!--I have never fucked such a glorious thing in my life. (I don't get any kickbacks or anything, I'm just telling you as a fellow traveler.)

So epic was it (I'm telling you--the shit was good. Like g-spot heroin) that it made me revisit the question of why do we deal with the messiness of another when a slutty slutty machine can do such an incredible job, at least in evoking a purely biological set of responses.

Are we not men?
Reader J sent an perfectly-timed email reminding me about the sublime pleasures of human connection and why I am not (yet) packing my bags to go off and live with my iRock where we would have fruit trees, a writer's studio/guest house by the pool and lots of beautiful fucking.

J was nominating Why We Fuck for the "favorite post" question I'd asked, writing, "You get a whole person to yourself" Oh wow! Yes! And it is an awesome, humbling thing. As an atheist, I cannot ascribe any preordained meaning to the world. We create it from our actions. And we are essentially alone, struggling to make sense of the world and find that meaning. When you join with someone else, when you lose yourself in them, for a brief or long while, it overcomes our aloneness, and creates purpose. It is the most life affirming experience possible.

For the record, he also nominated The Blow Job as Path to the Divine ("Such a hot, sexy and thoughtful, meditation on what can make this a transcendent pleasure.") And, with that, J brought it all back into perspective. I mean, I could, I guess, give a blow job to the iRock but it would be unrewarding for both of us and lack the whole making sense of our essential aloneness aspect.

There is such a deep primal pleasure--equally sacred and profane--in going into that sexual space with another. The literal and metaphorical nakedness, the intimacy of tasting them, hearing them moan as they lose themselves in it and leaving with their scent still clinging to you. That alone is so heady and rich and nearly overwhelming that the machine-powered orgasms can scarcely compare. At least in the mental/spiritual aspect of it all.

Anais Nin wrote of Henry Miller "...with all the tremendous joys Henry has given me I have not yet felt a real orgasm. My response does not seem to lead to a true climax but is disseminated in a spasm that is less centered, more diffuse." Theirs was one of the most torrid affairs ever recorded.  Did Nin's weak-ass orgasm-like spasms render it less so? I would actually say No. I think. You?

Anyway to J and the rest of you, thanks. I absolutely love hearing how it is from your end.**

Slap That Ass
Meanwhile, a guy named Segun Odogwu in Nigeria re-runs my Cosmo sex position articles, but adds his own flourishes/personal translations which I find oddly charming. Here's how he interpreted one on butt-focused positions which he calls I Love That Booty! Issa Booty Call!:  

"If you love the booty, then get behind it in, push the panties to the side, then let your partner go to town worshiping that ass either with his mouth, let him/she slob their tongue all over that pussy, the clitoris, everywhere down there."

On another he added his own little tip: 

Depending on if she likes spanks, this position can allow you spank her ass or you can start beating them to make percussion if you like. 

So please make these edits in your butt-focused fuckery:
1. slob your tongue everywhere down there.
2. if you find a booty in your face, play a little drum solo.


 *Hey mystery Heather, you won too!  Msg me your contact info! 
**With a few very notably icky exceptions. Probably not you.

PS Nice things to do:
--Go vote for IBWMW for Kinkly's Sex Blogging Superheroes list. Super easy. 
--Donate here to help cover postage costs, extra pixels and the coffee I'll require to get over the ordeal of having to declare to the mail clerk that I'm sending a big-ass dildo to a nice woman I don't know in Sweden:

Image: Pervy Oprah by reader Brad, who is good like that.
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