Charles Marshall and his Impossibly Sexy Teddy Bear--New Twist in Their Epic Love Story

Um, can you just put down that I killed someone?

Here's late breaking news from my dear friend Tricia who--if she isn't careful--is venturing dangerously close to being named the IBWMW Minister of Phushophilia*: Charles Marshall Accussed of Having Sex With Teddy Bear For the Fourth Time.

Marshall, as shown in possibly the most embarrassing mug shot ever--was first arrested in 2010 for getting down with the bear in the men's restroom in a public library in Ohio. The judge in the case cruelly banned him from all Hamilton Country libraries.

After giving the matter much thought, Marshall apparently figured out the loophole in this punishment, choosing a teddy bear love nest that was....somewhere other than a Hamilton County library. His genius plan of wanking it in an alley was foiled when workers at a health clinic interrupted the hot bear sex spotted the offense.

So now poor Charles Marshall's mug shot is plastered all about, but I am wondering if the poor dude's getting a bad rap. After all, maybe the sex was consensual. Shouldn't a certain someone else be taking some of the blame?

I mean, Charles might not have been the only one who wanted this--and wanted it bad. Maybe, just maybe, little innocent dear Teddy is actually one hell of a fucking tease.

xoxox,
jill

*Love of stuffed animals. See also: I am going to fuck you so hard, Snuggle.

Indifferent Cats in Amateur Porn

A reader from Long Beach who (whom?*) I will refer to henceforth as the IBWMW West Coast Minister of Porn sent along this missive. "For your files," it read intriguingly, and included a link to...and this is the best part:

Indifferent Cats in Amateur Porn

It's a Tumblr blog which is, as the name strongly implies, dedicated to screen shots and/or clips from amateur porn featuring household cats pointedly disregarding the "action" with maddeningly catish indifference. To wit:

Behold my indifference.
 Or don't.
I'm a cat. I don't give a fuck.

But my favorite part of the whole thing was this astute observation from one commenter:

This website is absolutely awesome, especially since cats+porn = 99% of reasons why people go on the internet. I predict a huge success.

Word.

xoxox
jill


*IBWMW Minister of Grammar--please look into this matter.

Reader Book Recommendations (Day 2, for Advanced Students)

Damn, I love smart people.

Not only did you not find it odd that I got so brain-sparked by Sex at Dawn you came right back with, "Yeah, you liked that? Then read this." I love it when you're all bossy like that.

On the off-chance there are others out there who think reading a book about human mating habits is a fine way to pass an afternoon, I offer a list of book recommendations from readers, most of them inspired by the Sex at Dawn post. Happy reading! (Helpful hint: tuck book behind regular book like The Help to give appearance of being less pervy and/or nerdy).

[note: if you buy a book or two through the links here, Amazon will toss me a couple of pennies. But I'm not gonna tell you what to do.]

--mjs writes: I love Sex at Dawn and wish that it was required reading for teenagers along with Arousal: The Secret Logic of Sexual Fantasies by Michael Bader, Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence by Esther Perel, and Sex, Time, and Power: How Women's Sexuality Shaped Human Evolution and The Alphabet Versus the Goddess: The Conflict Between Word and Image by Leonard Shlain.

-- Anonymous: I really liked Sex at Dawn. It changed the way I view the world, and turned me into a skeptic overnight. The book is jam-packed with great stuff, and along with The Ethical Slut (Dossie Easton and Janet W. Harding) has really changed how I look at women's sexuality, from a male's perspective.

--Agrees Sarah:  Check out Robin Baker's Sperm Wars: Infidelity, Sexual Conflict, and Other Bedroom Battles We want the security, therefore monogamy, but our bodies can override the tightly held ideal. Sometimes even thinking about "temptation" can scare the monogamous.

--Agrees afungi:  Sperm Wars is a better book imho, as it looks at modern human physiology to draw conclusions about human sexual programming. For instance, most sperm can't fertilize an egg, and in fact is there only to kill the sperm of other men.

--rederekp:  The Myth of Monogamy: Fidelity and Infidelity in Animals and People (David P. Barash and Judith Eve Lipton).

--Ninja Mike and someone called weeeeeeearggggh both recommend the work of Geoffrey Miller, specifically The Mating Mind: How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature

--JLW:  The Evolution Of Desire  by David Buss is another good read on this topic.

Plus 2 others in a similar vein:

--Jerry T: My wife and I found a book that talked about the uniqueness of each female and male genital anatomy and how the appearance described the personality of the man or woman, The Sexual Practices of Quodoushka: Teachings from the Nagual Tradition by Amara Charles. 

--IBWMW Minister of Science: I'm a big fan of Dr. Tatiana's Sex Advice to All Creation: The Definitive Guide to the Evolutionary Biology of Sexby Olivia Judson and Why We Do It: Rethinking Sex and the Selfish Gene by Niles Eldredge. Both are a tad more science-y (OK, a lot more - anything authored by someone named Niles just screams nerdy) than the ones you have, but what do you expect from the IBWMW Minister of Science?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find some books.

xoxo
jill

Coming next:  Insistent throbbing arousal pressing against our sweet swollen wetness, aka Reader Recommended Smut! There's still time to suggest your favorite.*

*Unless it's one of those Harlequin Romances about having a secret baby with a billionaire. Because I read one, okay two, of those the other week and they were--as pretty much anyone with a testable level of intelligence could have told me beforehand--really really bad. If I hadn't been so busy furtively hiding them under The Vagina Monologues (which was actually my least embarrassing library selection that day), I would have seen that they had "Billionaire and Babies" scrolled across their covers in telltale pukey Kotex box-style font. So it was my old damn fault. Also my fault that I had to read both of them to definitively--like 100%--determine their badness.

(photo source)

Dawn: On Lesbian Bed Death and Lexapro Sex

An email exchange on Lesbian Bed Death with Dawn, who is, indeed, a lesbian. Please, no flash photography.

Dawn: So, I've been irked by the Kurt comment on Glee! about lesbian bed death. [IBWMW: In the scene of which she speaks, Kurt worries that he and Blaine are becoming too familiar with each other (including 'familiar' in the sense of 'family-like') and might be suffering from lesbian bed death.]

Here are some thoughts:
 
I don't remember the last time Lyn and I had sex, but it definitely isn't because I think of Lyn as "a sister" (or a sista' either for that matter), which is how Kurt described it to Rachel. Frankly, I think it is that we are just both exhausted. I guess all couples probably are, so what makes us "special" I don't know. We should be all over it, I suppose, with no risk of an "oops" baby. And we have so much more disposable income to go out on dates not having to pay for birth control. Except we both only make 70 cents on the dollar if Rachel Maddow is to believed - and she is - so crap, there goes that theory. Maybe two vaginas* (today's secret word) is too much subconscious ugly for one room? Perhaps we are still subject to being conditioned not to be sexually assertive so neither of us makes the first move? One of us (OK, me) being on Lexapro doesn't help since that cuts the potential drive by half, or a quarter, or something - math isn't my strong suit so we'll just say diminished. Or is this something that happens to many married couples, but since it is two women, one of the pair can't blame the other for "holding out" and using sex to manipulate? So, they came up with this label. Probably to scare people away from lesbian relationships. "Sure you may double your wardrobe if you choose a partner wisely, but you will die a horrible bed death." I think that's it.

OK, creative juice depleted. Entering refractory period.
TTYL

* You use this "*" thing all the time, so I wanted to use it too. How fun! OK, focus. Spell check doesn't like vaginas. Its first recommendation is singular "vagina" - so I think it is probably homophobic. Except that penises is somehow OK, so they are women haters. "Vaginae" does make the suggestion list - but that reminds me of alumnae, which makes me think we are all graduates. In a way we are, I suppose, of the vaginae of mothers everywhere. What does it take to graduate summa cum laude? Get an APGAR score of 10?

In Bed With Married Women: So to clarify, you are irked because everyone has bed death and it unfairly makes it look like a lesbian thing? Yes?

Btw, I too am on Lexapro and although the negative sexual effect (in my case, more difficult to come, TMI of all times) appear to be lessening (oh, please let it be!) my shrink once advised that you can take drug holiday over the weekend if you decide you want to get it on. Not sure how long you can be off safety and to get results. If one of us is brave enough to do it, let's report back on our results. Because that's the scientific thing to do. [Note: Readers? Any of you tried this? Oh, c'mon, surely you aren't all happy and well-adjusted, like, naturally...]

Dawn: I think I'm irked because this may have been the first time a lot of people have heard of LBD and now think that lesbian relationships are even more weird than they thought. Interestingly, Lyn and I have been out places and have been asked if we are sisters. We don't look much alike, really, but I think people must pick up on a degree of closeness beyond friends, so they guess sisters because thinking about two women in bed together bothers them. Guys *say* they like to think about it, but they really mean 2 straight porn stars with breast enhancements and shaved cunts, not the real deal. Watch some lesbian porn for lesbians sometime - the comparison is comical. Anyway, the sister comparison makes the sex part go away, like some soothing ointment for an oversexed imagination or something. Who the fuck knows, but I don't like it. So there.

For the Lexapro, I can only go about a day and a half and I'm off my titer. I get nauseous and dizzy, and not in a cute school-girl way, both coming off and going back on. Not so great for setting the mood. I do have a similar side effect to what you describe, but it isn't too bad since it has throttled back my drive to nearly nothing. The up shot is that Lyn and I used to have a lot of conflict about our different drives, so now it is all harmonious. Harmonious like, like, I don't know, sisters?

(photo: Giulio Aristide Sartorio - Nus Féminins, n.d.) 

"Shocking (fine) details of a gentle vagina," aka the Misguided Googlers' Quarterly Report

A German variation on Pesäpallo 

In preparation for the IBWMW International Summit in Helsinki, in which we will discuss Important Matters over plates of Karelian pasty (karjalanpiirakka)--a traditional Finnish dish made from a thin rye crust with a filling of rice and topped with munavoi--I am creating a presentation tentatively titled Trends in Misguided Googlers®.

As we saw earlier this week, the IBWMW Ministers of Science, Grammar and Homographs are a prickly bunch (so far, thankfully, the Minister of Technology is staying neutral) so I want to make sure I don't unduly rile anyone up. Plus the stockholders are, well, let's just say they are beyond pissed off at the blog's financial statements.

There's a lot at stake and to be honest, I'm getting kind of wigged out. So mind if I run it by you first?

Good, then, here goes:

*Clanking of spoon on glass filled with Salmiakkikossu, a drink made by dissolving salty-licorice in strong spirits resulting in "an intense black liquid with a stingy smell that tastes like old fashioned cough syrup." I will only pretend to drink said "stingy" drink in order to appear polite to our Finnish liaison, Jaakko.*

"Assembled IBWMW Ministers, welcome. My remarks will be brief today as I have been advised of the Minister of Science's afternoon session of Pesäpallo, the national sport of Finland, which is a baseball-like game similar to brännboll, rounders, and lapta.

I've been reviewing the list of search terms used by Misguided Googlers®. My findings may interest you. Besides the usual items, your penices and veginas,  the seemingly endless variety of endings to the phrase married women like to fuck..., and the multitude of boob descriptions (i.e. matronly, sagging, pointy, perky, jutting, disappointing), I've identified several less obvious trends. I say we exploit the fuck out of  find ways to serve these underserved markets. Perhaps we can direct our outreach efforts to the following users:

1.  People with passion: These are the Googlers that don't just drearily type in their search terms, they infuse them with passion! This expressive group dynamically searches for things like sex in bed yeah ass and titys, ooooh, vibrating cock ring oh yeah, oh little dick, and wow! boys wanking. These on-the-go, high-achievers are a natural market for Kindle subscriptions to IBWMW.

2. People who treat Google as genie/slave: This practical group says--nay, demands--exactly what they need. Their on-point, direct searches include: Let's see some older women getting fucking and I need to see women being fucked with gridle on. (A sidenote: I'm pretty sure that last searcher meant "girdle," but I have our Finnish intern Kyllikki researching that to make sure.) This demanding group knows what it wants. They want service and they want it fast. I recommend we push the Good Vibrations merch on them, hard.

3.  Needs more research: Despite international cooperation, no one can decipher what these potential customers actually want. Terms include: miraculous bra groping me, on March 8 big boobs and penis on the cult, and anus looking. Oh, there's a change on your handouts: Kyllikki has just informed me that her research indicates that pictures of sewiest womens pussy may contain a typo.

4. Way too fucking specific. Butt shot with pink panties in a bed with a white headboard, a horse with no name fucks women, floppy foreskin, feather duster in the butt, stuffed animal teddy bear bondage, girl masturbating with a spatula, woman masturbating with candy, woman touching balloons, nice cow looking tits on a woman, and finally underwear with inflatable pads and genital enhancements and hidden pickets and hidden pouches and patents. I think we can appeal to this demographic directly. When I get back to the States, I will prepare posts on anonymous horse sex, nice cow looking tits, and whatever the fuck that wordy underwear weirdo is talking about. We'll appeal to them in their "sweet spots"--then bam!--make the sale.

5.  Easily pleased. Searches include: Boobage, good vagina, and porn regular. These simple folk don't need flippin' pink panties and white headboards, they're perfectly happy with 1 pic of penis in vagina. Let's hit these folks up for a straight donation. They are cheery, angst-free folks who are happy to contribute.

6.  Way too upsetting. Hansel and Gretel + naked, yak and woman fuking (so far no interest indicated for yak and woman macking lov) and smelling Grandma's vagina. Here we run into legal as well as aesthetic ramifications. I say we leave these folks alone.

7. Oddly poetic/Things I wish I had posted about: fascinating boobs, a smart and fabulous fucking experience, and my very favorite, shocking (fine) details of a gentle vagina.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going for my afternoon sauna to contemplate precisely how handy one would have to be to come up with a DIY homemade inflatable sex doll that wasn't completely and wretchedly unfuckable."

xoxoxo and Näkemiin
jill

photo source

Reader Mail Week, Day 3: Underrubbers, reader has sex with a U-shaped device, and the newest IBWMW Minister

The new IBWMW Minister of Angsty Posing

Yesterday the reader mail was about an exceptionally dickish dude, a sort of Master Ninja of Psychological Abuse, who told his (thankfully now) ex-wife that her vagina was "ugly."  It was all too much. I mean, "Of all the nerve!" as people were often exclaiming in the out-of-date used books I read as a pre-teen. I tell you, that fellow could have used a smart slap across the face accompanied by a richly deserved, "Fresh!"

Today let us return to a happier place in which men and women don't psychologically torture each other. Except, you know, in the fun way.

To that end, here's a review of the We-Vibe couple's vibrator by Sabrina who, with the pluck and aplomb characteristic of all IBWMW readers, bravely got down with the vibe and a guy.

"Meh." That's my whole review. It vibrates, and I suppose it'd work for some women. Alas, I must have "funky vagina" because I couldn't get the rotter to stay in when not actively getting dirty (my vagina muscles of steel would just slooooowly push it out), and DURING sex the stupid thing would torque to the side making it pointless. If I wanted to hold something in place I'd just buy a bullet that has REAL power.

In summation, I think what Sabrina is saying is that a) she has a funky vagina, b) with muscles of steel and c) in foreign lands, "rotter"= sex toy. If you are in England and someone says "rotter," they mean "sex toy" so just make the translation in your head.

If anyone else has tried it the We-Vibe, please feel free to send in a review of your own. I'm especially curious if you've tried the next gen model, the We-Vibe 3 (note: both funky and non-funky vaginaed reviewers welcome.)

Meanwhile gentle reader Ciana Pullen, who I think I might be a little in love with, raised some Very Pressing Issues regarding the post about the Bikini Condom:

I'm a little late to the bikini condom party, but I suppose in the year 2012 we all are. I'm confused. I have so many questions.
--So, the tubal part is automatically inserted into the vagina upon "coitus." Where is the tube *before* coitus? Is it scrunched up like a bendy straw fresh from the package, then the penis stretches it out? When one re-uses it does it scrunch back up or is the tube all stretched out? Does the tube hang down (does it wobble to and fro) like an inside-out jacket sleeve? Sometimes when I shove my arm into my jacket sleeve and the sleeve isn't completely right-side-out my arm gets stuck. It seems an analogous problem might occur with the bikini condom?
--Is it one size fits all?
--To me the term "pouch" suggests something in which a baby marsupial might dwell, and that is truly the most positive connotation, and even then those pouches are only cute when they're in cartoon form. As alternatives I suggest "pussy pocket" "pocket protector for her" "underrubber" "safety knickers" or, if you continue with the marsupial pouch idea, "underoo's."

Ciana, as usual, I have few, if any, answers. But I like your style. "Pussy pocket" is an incredibly excellent name. It's spunky, naughty, kinda cute. (I am also quite smitten with "underrubber.") I am quite certain that today you have discovered your Superpower. Too bad it's thinking of spot-on names for obscure and unloved contraceptive devices. We don't all get to have X-ray vision.

And finally, we have a new IBWMW Minister of Grammar. I'd tell you a little more about them, but I have no idea who it is. They gave themselves the title and, as their first official duty, promptly corrected the grammar in a comment from the IBWMW Minister of Science. I sense some tense moments at the next IBWMW International Summit in Helsinki.

If you need a title of your own, feel free to grant yourself one and start making decrees and such. Why the hell not? Seems I lost control of this thing a long time ago.

xoxox
jill

And btw, IBWMW Minister of Grammar, don't even bother telling me that "vaginaed" isn't a word.  I just made it up and I love that motherfucking word. Love it! So back off.

(photo: "Moments before, during and after sex," Daido Morivama, c. 1970s)

Reader Mail Week, Day 2: High-Level Mind Fuckery

Maybe these gigantic pink panties will distract
him from my abnormal vagina-looking vagina.

When my post about vaginal "rejuvenation" ran on Blogher, most of the comments were along the lines of "risky," "medical community shouldn't support," "irks the crap out of me" and so forth, but one in particular really stuck with me. It was this from CreoleQueen:

I was married to my high school sweetheart for 15 yrs. We recently divorced, and he has no qualms about telling me before, during, and after our marriage, how ugly my vagina is. I started looking into medical intervention, and found a few blogs and doctors who are able to help. While I know many women will disagree with my wanting to do this, I cannot see myself with another man and risk him seeing my vagina, and feel like my husband did. I guess my post is to kind of speak for women who may need this kind of surgery. 

This makes me so sad/mad in about 17 different ways. Because of this dickhead of a beau, this poor chick is now convinced that she has a problem and "needs" help. Surgical help. Expensive, risky, weird-ass surgical help.

And this guy! Even if this crass asshat of a bf/husband/ex actually thought her vag was unattractive, why the fuck would he be boorish enough to mention it to her? I mean if her equipment was truly so repulsive to him, shouldn't he have just broken up with her, telling her he had "commitment issues" or some b.s.?

Of course not. And you know why he didn't do that? Because he had discovered the perfect manipulative put-down. It's genius in its many tentacles of evilness. Not only is he handing her one HELL of a neg,  he's also completely insulting the very center of her womanhood. That is some heavy-duty mind fuckery. But, best of all, it guarantees she will never stray. You see, exactly as he'd planned, dear CreoleQueen is now terrified to be with another man and "risk" him seeing her heinous vag.

Mission accomplished, dickhead.


(photo source)

Misguided Googler Contest, Plus G-Spot Finding

As decreed on the In Bed With Married Women Facebook page, I'm compiling a list of reading materials referenced on the blog. Said materials (mentioned by me or readers) will include plain ol' smut to smarty-pants sciencey/sociological things to stuff that's funny. (And do let me know if you have any recommendations.)

Anyway the task is way more arduous than I was expecting and the kid I hired as IBWMW Minister of Arduous Tasks didn't show up for work today, so I'm gonna need more time.

To make up for my trail of broken promises (I swear, kid, we're gonna make it big someday!), I offer you this contest. Your task:

Match the Misguided Googler's search terms with the IBWMW post Google sent them to.

Search Terms (as spelled)
1.  "is it ok to fuck married women in ass"
2.  "why married women deire anal pleasure with vibrators"
3.  "picture ofpenise in vegina"
4.  "grateful old slags getting screwed" (IBWMW is the #3 choice for this, btw. Which is bittersweet.)
5.  "sex porno sperm from mouth to your vintage"

Google-suggested IBWMW landing page:
a. The Fuckiest Conest Around
b. The IBWMW home page
c. Spatula, I'm taking your ass down."
d. How Wanking It Created the Universe and Other Theories on Masturbation
e. Sorry, No Explicit Picture of Penis in Vagina

First one to correctly match the search terms with the landing page wins The Pop Tops Deluxe Silicon G-spotter from Good Vibrations. It's designed to go on top of the infamous Hitachi Magic Wand Massager  (you rest the flattened end pleasantly against your G-spot). So if you don't have a Hitachi Magic Wand, you're kinda out of luck--in many ways, or so I've heard. Lack of G-spot* could present a problem as well. (If you prefer, I can send you the huge-ass bag of 20 Lifestyles condoms Planned Parenthood recently gave me, clearly way way overestimating the amount of sex I would be having in the 7 days it would take my new IUD to become effective.)

You can answer in a comment below or via email. I'll announce the winner when someone gets it right.

xoxo
jill

*To get my mind off the suddenly very depressing fact that I didn't use the 20 condoms, and even perhaps even need to go back and demand more at once ("Only 20 for 7 days? Seriously?"), let me ask you this: Did you read any stories about that largely discredited "cosmetic gynecologist" (puke) who claims to have discovered the G-spot in the corpse of an 83 year old Polish woman? On one hand, I was happy that he described the spot as "grape-like" instead the usual "shaped like a bean" description since, as you recall, the bean is the least sexy of the legumes. (see also:  How to Have a G-Spot Orgasm).

But on the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder if that Polish woman was having that out-of-body death experience where her soul floats over her body. As she headed peacefully to the light, did she take one last glimpse back upon her earthly self and see this, this...guy, what? What the...? Was he sticking his fingers up her wang?!** What, after all these years?  Now? NOW, someone looks for her g-spot? And a handsome(ish) doctor, no less? "No, no, not ready yet! There is more I must do!" she yells wordlessly, as she glides, no longer so peacefully, toward the warm, glowing light.

** Actually it was a billion times less sexy than this. According the Miami Herald, he "peeled back the six layers of the cadaver's vaginal wall and found a sac structure between the fifth and sixth layers that housed grape-like clusters of erectile tissue." "Peeled!" Holy crap!

(photo: Anonyme - Nu aux bras levés, ca. 1930) 

Reader Mail Tuesday: Canned Vagina Haiku, Bestiality, and Girdles for Sex

Woman demonstrating early belly-hiding technique

Even if I didn't make tens of dollars a year on this blog, I might still do it because of the mail. Oh, child, the mail!

Like this from Matt, who I suspect is from a Foreign Land because he signed off with a "cheerio." ("Cheerio," is, what? Japanese?) Matt, who we've just determined is probably Japanese, was inspired by the posts on bad erotic haiku, and wrote:

Damn!  I'm too late to the party. again. Well, I'll send the haikus that came to mind, using the funniest things I've read on your site:

rubber mangina

in his face.  his erotic

asphyxiation

alone with redtube

out comes the canned vagina

can he use it twice?

Like all truly good poetry, Matt's haiku made me Think and Feel. I felt sort of like I might yak. Because I had never pondered the reusability, or lack thereof, of canned vagina. Do you just sorta rinse it out when done? Do you wait until it's full of splooge, then toss it? Neither of those options sound too great, but just tossing it after one use seems like a waste of Perfectly Good canned vagina.

Other non-productive thought spirals: Is canned vagina a third incarnation in the science of Vagina Preservation? Maybe early prototypes--frozen and freeze-dried vagina--seemed good in the laboratory stage, but didn't work "out in the field."

I do, however, suspect that they found an after-market for the unusable freeze-dried vaginas. My mother buys these supposed "dried peaches" at Trader Joes which have an odd aroma and, well, here, have a look at them.

Exactly. I think we're all know what's going on here. (One purveyor of these "peaches," perhaps trying to "cover their tracks" has this secret clue helpful fact on their web site: Both members of the rose family, peaches and roses have in common an intense scent that can evoke strong response. "Intense scent," "evoke strong response" = code for "yes, these are totally dried vaginas, bro.")

I could talk about vaginas, canned, dried and otherwise all day, but let's move on to this haiku by Cagey-C (His third! The dude's on fire!)

Wakened orally;

vivid pleasure. Why so ab-

rasive? No! Bad dog!

I am ashamed to admit that I too considered a haiku with a bestiality theme. The last line was "Fido gives good head," which, though containing a haiku-appropriate five syllables, seemed in poor taste, even for me.

And lastly, after the post on women and The Man tellin' them what they should look like, JT alerted me to the existence of shapewear for the bedroom.

Says the web site:

Traditional Shapewear is great to look good in your clothes, but what happens when you have to take it off for intimacy? The tummy you took such care to hide is now hanging out for your partner to see.

That's right. I don't mean to scare anyone, but what would happen if your partner accidentally saw your body during "intimacy"??? (Assuming, of course, that you still had a partner after referring to sex as "intimacy.") Everyone knows the amount of men (or women) who bolt away during foreplay after a woman shows her stomach is well....that number is ZERO. If someone's already in bed with you, sister, they're staying there.

Now. Believe me, I hate my stomach as much as any woman raised in present day America, probably even more. But fuck, now we're supposed to wear girdles during sex?

Yes, no one will have to look upon the horror that is your stomach, but....girl, you're giving up so much! No one can place sweet, soft kisses up the side of your belly. No one can lick their way down between your legs or up to your breasts. That's right, not your breasts either. Because the woman in the picture is also wearing a clearly padded, push-up bra. Which presumably, offers protection from her (not nearly as judgmental as she's imagining) partner seeing or touching her shamefully imperfect boobs.

I looked on the site's FAQ under "Am I saying you should feel self-conscious about your tummy?" I got "Page not found." Maybe because there's no possible honest answer besides, "Yes, you should--to a paralyzing degree!"

And the worst part about it? They're selling it as "A New Revolution for Women."

Bah.

(photo source)

A Gas-Powered Vibe, a New Fangled Vibe, a Contest and a Rerun

The Detwiller Vibrator.
Which is the sexy part again?

In honor of this scary-ass looking gas-powered vibrator (ack!) finding a new home at the Good Vibes' Antique Sex Toy Museum, I'm rerunning the post on Female Hysteria and Creepy Old-Timey Vibrators as well as throwing a new contest in which you can win a new, most decidedly non-gas-powered state-of-the-art vibrator. (instructions to do just that at end of post.)

The Detwiller Vibrator, patented in 1906 by someone who was, in my opinion, overly cavalier about putting loud and unpredictable gas-powered objects near one's own wang, contained instructions that included checking for gas leaks, yet another "deal breaker" for me that until this very second I hadn't even considered.

The Detwiller also came with a big gas tank (leakage! explosions! not the good kind!) as well as...whatever else that stuff is in the picture. All I can tell is that a judge's gavel and possibly a mini-megaphone seem to be involved.

Here again, then, is one of my favorite posts, Female Hysteria and Creepy Old-Timey Vibrators:

LADIES...

Are you exhibiting any of the following symptoms:

--Trouble sleeping?

--Fluid retention?

--Irritability?

--"A tendency to cause trouble"?

Yes, yes, yes and oh yes?

Let's see, according to my medical book, circa 1895, you have a clear-cut case of Female Hysteria. (Men with similar symptoms will need to diagnose themselves with some other old-timey disease. May I suggest "dairy fever" or perhaps "dropsy"?)

In the 19th century, as many as 75% of middle-class women were estimated to suffer from hysteria, but luckily medical science was there to help them. Doctors treated hysteria with "pelvic massage" until the patient reached "hysterical paroxysm." In modern times, we know "pelvic massage" to be "the doctor jerking off his patient" and "hysterical paroxysm" to be "orgasm." The procedure as a whole is now known as "grounds for a lawsuit."

Doctors of the day were happy to provide such a treatment, as it provided a steady stream of paying customers (patients were advised to come in weekly for their treatments). It was all good, except for one thing, doctors found the actual manipulation of their patients genitals to be tedious and tiring. According to the highly entertaining Wikipedia entry on Female Hysteria:  "The technique was difficult for a physician to master and could take hours to achieve 'hysterical paroxysm.'" (The physicians' widespread befuddlement at mastering these basic lady-pleasing skills puts Marrying a Doctor much lower on the To-Do list.)

The doctors were saved from the arduous task of trying to make these damn women come, already, by the magic device, the vibrator. The first of these "massage and vibratory apparatus" was patented by American physician (USA! USA!) George Taylor and was--and I can scarcely stand to type this--steam-powered. (The resulting billowing smoke making this perhaps the least discreet form of masturbatory tool.) Soon, physicians' offices were outfitted with electric vibrators, allowing doctors to get the job done in a matter of minutes instead of hours, and allowing most of mankind to stay blissfully ignorant about female orgasm until about the 1960s.

By the early 1900s, these miraculous health-giving electric vibrators started showing up in the American women's home. In fact, vibrators were one of the earliest electric home appliances invented, showing up ten years earlier than the vacuum cleaner or iron. Regular old, non-pervy companies like Hamilton Beach and Sears Roebuck were in the lucrative business of selling vibrators to housewives. The photo at left, for example, is from the 1918 Sears Roebuck and Co. catalog. "Very useful and satisfactory for home service," it says, vaguely, hoping you get the idea.

Vibes were openly marketed in catalogs and women's magazines. The ads weren't directly saying, "Put this on your wang" but they did refer to its "wonderfully refreshing" effect. Read one ad: "Can be used by yourself in the privacy of dressing room or boudoir, and furnish every woman with the essence of perpetual youth." The home vibe was a thrifty purchase, too. With doctors charging $2 to jack you off, the $5.95 portable home vibrator would pay for itself after only three uses.

According to this one dude, Mike, who collects antique vibrators, there were also air-powered and hand-cranked vibrators. Here's a photo from Mike's hand-cranked vibrator collection (a collection which I imagine causes some awkward moments on Mike's dates) of the Macaura's Pulsocon Hand Vibrator from the late 1800s.  I don't understand the physics of the device, but Mike explains that there is "a plunging motion of the center disk." To me, it looks like a hand-mixer. And, I know it's supposed to be an erotic device, but I see this and think of the twisting motions of a hand mixer, the voluminous bushes of 1800s-era ladies, and well, I can venture a guess as to why we don't all have Macuara's Pulsocon Hand Vibrators stashed in our nightstand drawers.

If you, like Mike and--apparently, me--are fascinated by these old devices, by all means make haste and check out the online Antique Vibrator Museum they put up at Good Vibrations. There is an educational video, plus photos of all sorts of creepy-ass, early electrical vibes. Like, look at this 1902 Hamilton Beach model, the "Type A":

The Hamilton Beach, Type A, 1902

I mean, Good Lord! The giant motor! The thick cloth covering the cord! And is that an oil can in there? The Type A looks loud--roaringly loud, jackhammer loud. But most importantly, electricity back then was scary. I wouldn't even be brave enough to use a toaster from those days, much less put some shorting-out, spark-shooting, scary new-fangled doodad on my nether regions.  I don't care how "wonderfully refreshing" it's supposed to be.

As all this new information (scary old vibes! hand cranks! hysterical paroxysm!) rattles around in my mind, I find that I keep going back to the 19th century doctor's office and this strangely sexless sex between doctor and patient. Were either of them aroused by what was going on? Did the females see the doctor breaking out his Hamilton Beach 4000 or whatever and feel a thrill of anticipation, or just the kind of dull disinterest one would experience while watching a mechanic change the car's oil. And I wonder about the women's orgasm. If they were not told it was pleasurable, did they experience it as pleasure, or as just a release, akin to finally getting to pee on a long car trip?  And not to be all zen koanish or anything, but is non-erotic sex that is not recognized by either party as sex indeed sex?

(image source: http://wickedknickers.tumblr.com/post/341563049/lacontessa-matisse-at-work) That's really Matisse, not a doctor, btw.


*********************

The Trojan Torsion, note
  very welcome absence
of lawn mower-like pull cord.

THE CONTEST: Share Your Favorite Post
THE PRIZE: The Trojan Midnight Collection Torsion Vibrator from my history lovin' corporate overlords at Good Vibrations.
THE VALUE: 89 bucks, sister.
YOUR TASK: Share your favorite In Bed With Married Women post with someone ("share" = tell them, post on Facebook, RT something on Twitter, leave anonymous threatening note at doorstep, etc... "someone" = a human) 
YOUR TASK, PART 2: THEN you must fess up to your favorite IBWMW post either as a comment below or via email. I'll pick a winner Thursday, March 29, 2012.
THE OBVIOUS LOOPHOLE: If you don't share your post and just say you do, how the fuck will I ever know? You're right, I won't. But try and be good now.


The product description if you're really still here. (But really after this, go outside and get some fresh air, would you?)
Enjoy intimate sensation with a twist of orgasmic bliss with the Trojan Torsion multi-position Vibrator. Part of Trojan’s signature Midnight collection, this sophisticated vibe features a gentle, curving design coupled with a powerful variable motor with 5 speeds and 3 vibration patterns. The curving, ribbed upper shaft is girthier than many similarly-styled vibes, offering intense internal stimulation, while the twisting handle adjusts to four pleasuring positions. Made with medical-grade silicone, the Torsion vibrator is water-resistant and safe for use during your steamy shower play. An elegant storage pouch is included to keep your vibe safely tucked away between uses. Smooth, sleek and powerful, the Torsion vibe approaches erotic adventures from a whole new angle.

The Fuckiest Contest Around

We learned a new word over at the IBWMW Facebook page yesterday:  "fuckiest."

It was given to us by a Misguided Googler®* searching for "fuckiest woman." "'Fuckiest' is instantly my new favorite superlative adjective," commented Suzanne.

Agreed! Though I'm not sure about usage. If someone says, "That was the fuckiest thing you ever did," is that, like, good? Bad?

"Absolutely," wrote Brad, sagely.

And that's what makes fuckiest so great. It doesn't actually mean anything, but, damn, you sure sound like you feel quite strongly about...whatever it is. Fuckiest takes its meaning from its context. Like a word version of tofu, but a really kick-ass tofu.

Which brings us to today's contest.  Your challenge:

Use the word "fuckiest" in a sentence. 

The prize is the lovely Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator (shown in the photo) from our benevolent corporate overlords at Good Vibrations. (You can also just buy it yourself if you're not a gamblin' type.)

Here are the technical specs, if you're picky about what you stick up your wang.

Get ready to conjure up sensational sensuality with the Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator. This bewitching blue beauty is a mini-sized wand style vibrator that packs a powerful pleasure punch. The flexible head bends in every direction to facilitate proper positioning while the powerful Japanese-made motor cycles this vibe through three levels of intensity and three vibration patterns. Similar to the popular Mystic Mini vibe, the Midnight Desire is battery-powered, splash proof and suited to shallow submersion in up to approximately 3 feet of water, making it a charming travel companion. A pretty pouch is included for storage at home or on the go. For an absolutely enchanting erotic experience, the Midnight Desire will have you spellbound.

Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator
Silicone and ABS
6” x 1 ¼” diameter (15.24 cm x 3.17 cm diameter)
Uses two AAA batteries, not included
Volume: 3, Intensity: 4

So yes, not only is it a $49 value, but you can also submerge it under 3 feet of water, if you're subjected to flooding conditions while aroused.

Drawing is Saturday, March 17. Fuckiest sentence wins. Whatever that means.

xoxox
jill

*My other fave Misguided Googler® of yesterday: "You should fuck the robot." Which, I just decided, is going to be the chorus of the first death metal song I write. It'll be blah, blah, verse expressing sentiments of angst and whatnot...  then I'll yell hoarsely, "You should FUCK THE ROBOT!"

Real Sex Story: Midge--"I have let go of my inhibitions"

(You have arrived in the midst of a grand celebration in which we're re-running IBWMW's all-time greatest Real Sex Stories)

"Have you ever done stories about women who are NOT married, but were married and have been enjoying their sex life so much more immensely since no longer being married?" wrote Midge*.

No, but let's do it! Here, I'll get the old True Wife's Tales stuff out of the blog's attic. True Wife's Tales, if you're new around here, were the whole impetus for this blog. It was gonna be all earnest, Studs Terkel-like Real Women telling their Real Stories about their sex lives so that we could all get some fucking honesty happening. (Hence, also, the name of the blog.)

But then I learned about the existence of stuff like anal ring toss, and, well, my attention was diverted from these loftier goals.

Here's "Midge," 40ish, in the process of ending an 18 year marriage.

I got married when I was 24, and I was definitely not a virgin.

My first sexual experience was utterly awful. I was 16, I did it because the rest of my friends were doing it, and I had "heard" that doing it while on your period made it less painful. Well, that certainly wasn't the case, as there was blood EVERYWHERE, it hurt and I'm actually surprised that the guy I had sex with had sex again, there was so much.

When I met the person was to become my husband, and we had sex, I thought it was the most amazing thing I had had. I was 22 then. He definitely turned me on. His dick was VERY well sized, and fit so well inside me.

After a bit of a turmoil here and there (and at 22, 23, EVERYTHING is still turmoil), we got married when I was 24 and he was 22. We were married almost 18 years.

Because, having no other sexual partners and being only with him, I knew no different. And even with the partners I had before marrying him, I had never had an orgasm. There was one time later on in our marriage when I truly remember having an orgasm while we were having sex. I cried. I literally cried because I couldn't believe I had finally had one and how good it felt.

The time I was with him, I will have to say that I can recall a few times where the sex WAS really good. At least really good for the time when I knew no different. There was one time we stayed at a lodge after a Christmas party and I was so turned on I kept climbing on top of him all night long. I couldn't get enough. And there was a time in Vegas, when it was the same. While the sex wasn't bad, it was only what I can describe was nondescript. It was there. It was what you did. The basic motions. Missionary. Me on top, a "spooning" type, one time. Positions, that although they were a little different, did not change the way he felt inside me.

Now, just writing that, I realized that the best times were when we were NOT at home. Having kids definitely changed a lot, mostly for me, and I will take that blame. Taking care of kids all day, working part time, taking care of the house, it put a strain on our sex life. I didn't have the desire most of the time.

Also, my ex traveled for work and would be gone for months at a time. Back then, I guess, also, you would say I was a prude, because I was the of the mindset, "It's either the real thing, or nothing", meaning no toys. Boy was I WRONG! Back then I literally put sex out of my mindset because I knew I wasn't getting it, so no reason to think about it.

We had sex for the last time, six months before I asked him to move out. Now, if you ask him, he will say that the lack of sex was a determining factor in the demise of our marriage. Maybe he's right in a way. I had no desire to have sex with him anymore. Not because my desires had decreased but because of other factors of lack of trust, deceit, etc.

But it was during these last six months, however, that I did start to find my sexual libido. I had always read "soft porn" "romance" novels, and I found that when reading those, my pussy got warm and wet. And so one of those times, when I was home alone, I went into the dresser drawer and grabbed an electric massager that we had (he used it on me a couple of times, but I felt silly at the time and could not relax enough to enjoy it). It had a little nub on it as well. I decided to experiment. I plugged it in and put it between my legs, right on my clit. The orgasm was so amazing and I came so hard. From that moment on I was hooked. There was no turning back. I may have not been having sex with my husband anymore, but I found something else that gave me extreme pleasure.

I toss a cock ring into the crowd. Please no trampling.

So, I can't seem to locate the winner of the Bad Erotic Haiku contest. Meaning, the prize--an O-Man vibrating cock ring*--is sitting around, cooling its cock ring heels.

This perturbs me because, not only do I like bestowing sex toys upon you, but I'm also cheap and hate waste. So a free sex toy going to waste? Well, my friends, that is a travesty in all kinds of ways.

No, I say, the cock ring must not have been created for this ignoble end! It must fulfill its Cock Ring Destiny of buzzing pleasantly upon some dude's wang.

"It should go to a good home that will take care of it, maybe a big farm where it has room to run," my dear friend B said.

So, because--unlike our opponents--we are openly and proudly "against" injustice, here is the quickest damn contest you've ever seen.

You can win our heroic cock ring and help it reach its True Purpose by:

1. Having already entered the original Bad Erotic Haiku contest last week. (Entries made via time machine to return to last week not accepted.)

2. Being the first person to comment below.

If you meet these highly stringent criteria, then email me your name and mailing address and fella (or girl, or intelligent computer-using monkey), you've won yourself a cock ring.

*It's waterproof, in case you want to wear it on a rainy day. Or are super super--some might say "excessively"--sweaty.

More Bad Erotic Haiku Than Is Probably Healthy

Ask me about my "baller"!

Today is the drawing for the winner of the Bad Erotic Haiku Contest. I am going with a random drawing due to latent socialist tendencies that make me twitchy at the prospect of choosing one person over the other. (Though going with random chance, now that I think about it, is probably even more unfair.)

But there's no time for philosophical deliberations and expensive probability analysis because, fuck it, the winner is...Bill!

Bill, you are the soon-to-be new owner of this lovely O-Man Waterproof Vibrating Cock Ring courtesy of Good Vibrations! Email me your mailing address and that thing will be buzzing away pleasantly on your wiener in a matter of weeks.

Here's Bill's touching haiku:
fiercely thrusting shaft
you have bitten through your tongue
must you always cry?

And in case you didn't see all the entries, I'll run them here because, oh lordy, they were genius. (Note: The fucked up formating and cacophony of fonts is my fault and I'm sorry for the assault on your aesthetic sensibilities. Not sorry enough to take the time to fix it--somewhat less sorry than that, while still being sorry.)

Gia with "Using a cock ring with Boyfriend" 
How does it go on?
WHOOPS that looks pretty painful
I'll go get the ice


Cagey-C with 
Moans mean satisfied,
right? I am never certain.
Was that the right hole?


Mal with "Give It To Me, Baby - or - Prostate Poetry"
Whispering wine thoughts,
excitement, lube, and hands like
The Truckasaurus.


ohnothankyou with
i have a headache.
a blow job? are you kidding?
go the fuck to sleep.


Betty Fokker with
Lovely is his cock/
with a new vibrating ring/
for my orgasm/

jenerosity with

To go down on you
to savor your creaminess
Ack! Was that a pube?

Sherri with
Hands cuffed, on the floor
Whipped and bruised used like a whore
Shit, where are the keys?



mjs with
Pussy stays open nights/
like a moon on hot wet summer/
tampon string, teeth, braces

I've Got Your Damn Contest Right Here, Buddy. Write Some Bad Erotic Haiku, Win a Manly, Manly Prize

All hepped up by the post on Bad Erotica, reader Bill over at the In Bed With Married Women Facebook page had the genius idea for a bad erotica-writing contest. "Oh, yes," I thought, "But the Gentle Readers of Today are busy. How about a bad erotica contest...using haiku?"

Are you in?

The prize is a cock ring, because we're classy like that. Specifically the O-Man Waterproof Vibrating Cock Ring courtesy of my sex toy corporate overlords at Good Vibrations.

Here's a photo of it posing nicely for you, at left:

What the hell does a cock ring do? Well, here, let's have a look at the description.

Take a step up from standard stimulation with the O Man Vibrating Pleasure Ring. This buzzy buddy combines a battery-powered bullet vibe with a textured elastomer ring for superior stimulation, and then brings “the boys” into the action with the “baller” attachment! Just stretch the secondary ring to wear around the testicles to kick the intensity up a notch.  And while the O Man makes a super ring for solo play, the additional tickler nodule on the baller makes it the perfect partner pleaser as well.  Waterproof and easy to use, the O-Man is exactly the right tool for yours!

To win it, write me some bad erotic haiku and put it as a comment below or email it in. I'll pick a random winner on Saturday. Let me know you're an IBWMW Kindle subscriber and I'll give you two entries because, quite frankly, I like you more than everyone else.

If you don't have a cock of your own, or access to one, or cock is not a part of your life, I guess you are out of luck, unless you have a hard-to-buy-for man in your life. Sorry. I'll make sure to get a lady-pleasin' prize next time.

xoxox
jill

(photo source)