Friday, January 12, 2018

Emma from Sweden Reports on Her Vibrator Because That's the Kind of Place This Is

Someone who is not Emma
If you must know, I was kinda pissed that Emma from Sweden didn't mention that she was from fucking Sweden when she entered to win something from that big-ass box I got from my beloved Erica Braverman at Doc Johnson.
 
Not only did I have to pay like $50 bucks to ship the damn thing to dear Emma at a time of personal poverty (aka always), but I had to deal with the super gross guy at the post office who always needs to drill down on what, exactly, I mean by “massager” on the customs form.

Anyway, now all is forgiven because Emma wrote back with a wholly unnecessary but delightful review of her iVibe Select iBend. She even sent pictures and is the cutest thing ever.

Here then, Emma from Sweden, who will remain only thus because, "I have children who I do not wish to shame."
 
******

I won something! On the Internet! This in itself is miraculous, as I rarely comment on blogs and have never won anything before. And then it turned out (and turned on) to be a sensuous object of desire. It arrived in a package all the way from sunny California, USA to cold and dark Sweden, discreetly packaged and marked as "Massager" on the customs label, but I managed to hide it from my prying coworkers. In the evening, my Darling was out of town on work, so after I had sent my children to bed, I decided to go for it. Should I dress up for my new electronic lover, or put on sexy undies?

The box was sturdy and made to resemble the packaging of phones of the apple kind, and the pink matched my Colefax & Fowler wallpaper very nicely. Inside was a reliable-looking silicone dick with a super-smooth surface and pleasant size. It joined the other electronics on my vintage teak vanity, Kobo reading tablet (fantastic!) and Natural Cycles thermometer (the best thing that happened to my sex drive ever!). After half an hour of charging, which I spent knitting like the Little Old Lady that I am (44), I unplugged it and turned it on to the first stage. Mild, friendly buzz, and I tried the other six patterns on my thigh (foreplay?) before getting serious. The iBend can be bent in one direction, and then HOLD that position, which is brilliant. I bent it to an angle that allowed insertion and still provided enough buzz on my clitoris. The second setting made me come hard and sudden. Next time I will try the other rhythm patterns as well, and maybe let my lover decide for more surprises.

I can strongly recommend this dick to horny folks who like something well-made and versatile for their buzzy needs. My only complaint is that it is somewhat difficult to turn off, it requires pressing the on/off-button for 4 seconds, but as the iBend can run for over an hour on one charging, it is not necessary to save batteries. In the instruction leaflet it says to store the iBend away from other sex toys. The reason for this must be that the other toys will get really jealous when iBend gets all of your attention!

Nighty-night!
See? Cute as a damned button
xoxo
jill 

Thanks Emma and everyone who has sent mail that I not only haven't run yet but might not have even answered yet. I can be cruel that way.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

What You Weirdos Bought on Amazon This Year

super sexy, but plz consult footnote
When I'm at the store, I'm a cart voyeur. I look at what other people bought and assess/judge them. Do the people with the healthy stuff look healthy? Do the folks with the cart of junk look weak and slovenly? My findings thus far: inconclusive.

And yes, I do the same voyerism/judgey thing to you. Those of you who kindly start your Amazon shopping through one of the links there in the right margin not only support the blog with a few pennies (literally) per purchase and indirectly support democracy not dying in darkness, but you also give me some truly stellar cart voyeurism.*

Every year I look over what you bought, looking to draw big connections like Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind when the random letters rise from the newspaper and he sees the Secret Wisdom within.

But, as it is with my cart research, I find myself with more questions than answers. Like:

--Dog toy or sex toy?


--Were the oddly high number of people who bought Naughty With Santa: An Erotic Christmas Story wholly satisfied?  Like $2.99 satisfied?  Seems kinda pricey, though the first sentence alone is probably worth a good buck fifty:  "I really didn't mean to, but I fucked Santa."

--And to the person who bought the Cowardly Lion Badge of Courage. I have no question--just liked that you wanted it. I'm going to imagine that it totally worked.  

I did manage to learn some stuff about you. Here are 4 things that, like Oprah, I Know For Sure.

1. Someone bought a friggin' snow-making machine! And, apparently, you can buy peppermint scented snow juice to go in it! What a world, what a world! (If peppermint is too delightful for you, there's also charred corpse --wtf--or cannabis, aka the cock tease of snow juice scents.)

2. You like to stick all kinds of things in and around your body and the bodies of others, up to and including: 12 speed Ben Wa balls, thigh cuffs, deep throat numbing spray, tons of lube, prostate massagers, and something called Vibrating Penis Rings Fun Clit Dual Vibrating Cock Ring Stretchy Delay Penis Rings Sex Toys for Couple because it's just not a sketchy Amazon sex toy unless there are about 17 seemingly random words in the name, each making it a bit more confusing.

In that vein (huge and realistic, natch), even though I like money and am beyond grateful to you for taking the extra time to buy thru IBWMW, I feel obligated to tell you that jelly toys are are bad for your body. So person who bought XIKEZAN 8" Lifelike Huge Dildo Realistic Penis Sex Toys with Suction Cup Base & Balls 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed (Pink) et al, maybe time to find a new penis n' balls fuck toy.

3. Someone bought a Lock N Hold Rod Rack which, disappointingly, has something to do with fishing.

4.  Except for the person who bought what I would consider an excessive amount of chinos for the big and tall man, y'all like to dress sexy. I mean, damn, girl.

Covering her boobs because, modest


Coincidentally, I too am currently wearing the Eternatstic Women Mesh Cupless Babydoll Sleepwear Lingerie Set Thong (see above: Amazonese product name, word salad) and it's getting a bit hard to type while simultaneously cupping my boobs, so I will leave you for now.

Thank you for your purchases. I am grateful beyond measure. 

To a New Fucking Year, my friend. Huzzah!

xoxo
jill

*For those of you worried about privacy (hahahaha, privacy is not really a "thing" anymore), I can't actually see who bought what, just what was bought. That means I can't personally thank the person who bought the Vagisil Daily Intimate Powder, Odor Block, but I also don't know that it's YOU that requires ODOR BLOCK for your nether regions. (For the record, don't buy that shit--it's bad for your cooch! Maybe remove sugar from your diet and if things get really rough, try this.)

And in vaguely related news, this is my favorite joke that everyone else thinks is just meh:
Person 1:  Mmm, you smell delicious. What is it?
Person 2:  It's my tampon!  It's scented.

***********************************************
Fund bloggery/outdated communication styles:

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.

xoxox
jill

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.

xoxox
jill

*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?)

MOOD
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.



xoxo
jill

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

(top image courtesy: governmentname)

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