Wednesday, December 19, 2012

What if the Guy in 50 Shades of Grey was...a Leprechaun? And other really really bad erotica.

My Twitter friend @stillmansays sent the following missive:

"@Jill_Hamilton please write about this... Abraham Lincoln: Presidential Fuck Machine."

I dutifully clicked the link.

And, well, Holy Fuck.

Abraham Lincoln: Presidential Fuck Machineis an e-book about, well, I'll just show you the blurb:

Few people know that Abraham Lincoln was the greatest fuck machine of all time. His sexual prowess is unmatched in the history of American presidents. When he gets word of a nefarious plot hatched by the insane Emperor of Japan, he must learn to use his most potent power--the power of his cock!

Uh, what??? "Abraham Lincoln" and "fuck machine" in same sentence? Cock power as 1800s foreign policy position? Possible need for insane Emperor to do anticipatory waxing for diplomatic summit?

The book is on Amazon, and has one of those "Click to LOOK INSIDE!" buttons. So--of course, yes!--I fucking well did click, immediately. And I am so glad I did because, well, behold this opening:

April 22, 1863

It was a balmy spring morning and the White House was abuzz with activity. I rose early, as I always did, and paced restlessly around the bedroom. Mary looked angelic in sleep, so I didn't wake her. As I stripped my nightclothes and prepared to dress, I noticed that my cock was fully erect and ready for duty, most likely due to some dream or humour that had overtaken me in the night. My birthmark itched, as it often did as such times. At first I considered mounting Mary and using her soft familiar slit to relieve the pressure in my prick but she was never very agreeable in the morning. Do not judge me too harshly, dear reader, but I must admit that, at that moment, I had an overwhelming urge to visit Martha instead.

As you know, I completely adore the idea of people's odd specificity in their porn/erotica, and this whole Lincoln thing is so...exactly that. The reference to humours, a man speaking of his "nightclothes" and even, gak, mention of his birthmark--even worse, an itchy birthmark. (Oddly, I find the birthmark detail much more off-putting than the idea of a pantless Lincoln and his "iron hard prick.")

The Lincoln porn turned me on to (note to self: think of different way of putting that) a whole new world of weird-ass e-book erotica. Holy crap, there are all kinds of these short ebooks about humans getting it on with every manner of literary creature, both mythical and beastly. Lincoln, at least, was both real and a human. Something which cannot be said for the other romantic leads in this genre.

For example, at the bottom of the Lincoln book page under "Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought" was the title...Snowballin': I Fucked Frosty. Yes, that Frosty. The Snowman.

Of course--of course--I immediately pressed Look Inside! but there was no snowy, snowy action on page one and I had to content myself with the cover blurb: 

When a boyfriend fails to fulfill his sexual duties, sometimes the only option is to turn to the cold embrace of a snowman.

"That is someone who is not looking at their options realistically," said my husband when I told him about this, as he tried with increasing desperation to move the conversion in directions far, far away from snowman fucking. As a result, I was alone as I tried to figure out how things might have gone down with Frosty. I suppose his carrot nose is an obvious place to start, but I just read somewhere that it's dangerous to insert carrots in one's orifices. (Can't remember why it was dangerous, just retained the salient point--"do not fuck carrot.") Though I suppose, in this case, carrot loss is less of a concern than genital frostbite.

I eagerly looked under the Frosty book's "Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought" and found all kinds of crazy-ass shit, including The Horny Minotaur, Fucked by the Lake Monster, Bred by Trolls, Merlin's Magic Wang, and Bred by the Boogeyman. I never knew this, but there is a whole sub-genre of these "Bred by" books. "Well, of course I didn't want to fuck the Boogeyman, but he forced himself on me."

However I found myself most intrigued with The Horny Leprechaun 1 not only because it has spawned a sequel, The Horny Leprechaun 2, but for fuck's sake, it's about a Leprechaun. Not only that, but this particular Leprechaun sounds like he's kind of a dick. Here's the blurb:

Some Leprechauns are not so nice........

All Karen wanted to do was go to Ireland.  That is until she goes out hiking one day and finds the rainbow's end. Unfortunately, she runs into one pissed off Leprechaun who thinks she is after his gold. Now the Leprechaun wants payment for trespassing with sexual acts that some called depraved while others might call it magically delicious. Karen finds herself with a bit of a sadistic man who takes what he wants and Karen finds that she likes it.

"The Horny Leprechaun 1" also starts with possibly the most alarming book preface I've ever seen:

"Warning: This story contains oral sex, forced seduction, and anal sex" ...WITH A LEPRECHAUN! A JERKY, BOSSY LEPRECHAUN! [ed note: yelling typeface part added]

This stuff must be getting to me because I'm already writing a scene for The Horny Leprechaun 3 (maybe 3-D? seek funding?)

Karen: "Helloooo, I'm in my hotel....What are you wearing?"
Horny Leprechaun: "Green booties with curly toes, ya filthy whore. Now get ye gigantic human-sized ass over to me mushroom house and I'm gonna pound ye with me wee green prick."

Fuck, that's hot.

To someone. Else.
Anyway, I'm gonna go keep looking at these. Need to figure out which first: Goblin Gangbang or Cum For Bigfoot 12 ? Or maybe I should just go seasonal with Bred by Santa (An Impregnation Sex Story). Oh, quit your judging. I read the first page already. Santa's not cheating or anything. Mrs. Claus is dead (one of many of his mortal wives over the years, apparently) and Santa needs to have a male heir. Anyway, I don't want to, like, fuck Santa, he forced me--for breeding.

Or maybe I should just stop.  I just had the suddenly sobering experience of seeing "Your Browsing History" for this session and am realizing that for the foreseeable future, whenever I log onto Amazon, I'm going to see messages like, "Recommended for YOU: Taken and Milked (a forced lactation sex fantasy)."

Right. I'm gonna go now. 


(image: The Grinder by the beyond fabulous and completely strange Mark Ryden. He is also obsessed with Abraham Lincoln, though probably not in the "fuck machine" way.)

Saturday, December 8, 2012

The Appeal of the Experienced Lover, Or Why Older Women Are So Very Fuckable

I am 46 years old and I have never felt hotter. Never. Hotter.


And I'm not just saying that to dull the pain of some Horrible Truth like when people tell you men only care about a woman's inner beauty or that if you just breathe in a jaunty, can-do manner during childbirth, it won't hurt.

When you're older, sex is just...better. Way better. You notice more, you feel more, you just enjoy it more. In the post, In Search of the Elusive Third Type of Orgasm, dear reader Anonymous had this theory about it:
AS we get older, we are less concerned about how we look when screamin', whoopin', full heartedly ENJOYING mind-blowing sex. 
True. Plus once you hit 40, you get a delightfully useful "Fuck it" attitude that makes life much more enjoyable. Things you don't want to do? Don't do them! Fuck it! Boring people in your life? Don't talk to them! Only deal with people who enchant and entertain you. (And if you don't agree, piss off! I've got no time for you!)

Not only do I feel way hotter than my 20 year old self, I think I probably am, in some sort of observable, measurable manner, actually more smokin' hot. But in lieu of a complex and probably cost-prohibitive science experiment involving a time travel machine, a startled (and most likely drunken) version of my 1980s self, and an intrepid team of embarrassed/aroused scientists in lab coats calculating orgasm response times, we will have to test my hypothesis with empirical evidence. That is, observation and experience.

Exhibit A, Experience:  A 43 year old friend of mine recently bought a sex toy (It was something like this, with an inner dildo-y part plus so-called "rabbit ears" for outer stimulation) and quickly discovered that she could have g-spot orgasms. She had never known this about herself.  For 40-fucking-3 years! This information can be nothing but good, I say. Nothing but good! 

Yeah, it's definitely his Inner
 Beauty that's got us.
Exhibit B, Observation: Here I will have to go with Benjamin Franklin, favorite of old broads everywhere.  Franklin was not a looker, but he had a good brain which is ten times as hot, and was thus quite popular with the ladies. Here in his (once banned!) Old Mistresses Apologue (June 25, 1745), he advises a friend on why older women are clearly better Amours
I repeat my former Advice, that in all your Amours you should prefer old Women to young ones. You call this a Paradox, and demand my Reasons. They are these:
1. Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are better stor’d with Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreable.
2. Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their Influence over Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of Utility. They learn to do a 1000 Services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good Woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc’d may be attended with much Inconvenience.
4. Because thro’ more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent Suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your Reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the Affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin’d to excuse an old Woman who would kindly take care of a young Man, form his Manners by her good Counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.
5. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part: The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.
6. Because the Sin is less. The debauching a Virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for Life unhappy.
7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may give you frequent bitter Reflections; none of which can attend the making an old Woman happy.
8thly and Lastly They are so grateful!!
I'm especially fond of number 5, with its talk of "what is below the Girdle" and Franklin's trying to explain to his friend that below-the-girdle action remains oh-so-good by invoking sciencey phrases like "Animals that walk upright" and "Deficiency of the Fluids."

Franklin wasn't alone in his love of experienced older women. Men throughout history have come to the same conclusion. In this article in The Smoking Jacket (a site from Playboy, Worldwide Headquarters of young nubile boobs), writer Chris Lathrop cites Franklin's letter and his "centuries-ahead-of-its-time awareness of something that's become common knowledge among modern men and anyone who watches Sex and the City or Desperate Housewives: Older women fucking rule."

The Roman poet Ovid* (43 BC- 17AD) also noted that older women fucking rule, albeit more eloquently (i.e. "enjoy the fruits of Love in their full and ripe maturity") in The Art of Love--Ars Amatoria, a sort of instruction manual on Love:
They are well versed in all the mysteries and attitudes of Love, and are thereby able to enhance your pleasure...Their appetites do not need to be provoked by wearisome titillations and they will share their pleasures with you equally...Dutiful embraces repel me, for nothing can be more pleasing to the ear of a lover than a trembling voice of the beloved when she whispers ecstatically of her joy. What can compare to my happiness when my fair one pleads with me to prolong her rapture? Naught can be sweeter than my beloved, inebriate with ecstasy, holding me at arm's length and pleading with swimming eyes that I slacken my pace.
So what do you think of all this? Men, do you agree? Have you known the pleasures of an older women? Women, are you feeling sassier these days? Is your body more responsive? Less so? And does anyone else besides me wish that they were gazing upon the face of their beloved "inebriate with ecstasy" instead of sitting here at the fucking computer?


* p.s. If you want to feel smart and read something pretty sexy at the same time, I urge you to read The Art of Love at once.

Beware: some of Ovid's advice can be:
--practical, yet not currently socially acceptable, i.e. take two mistresses instead of one so you don't get too attached, or,
 --comically weird and outdated, i.e. this recipe for a face of "dazzling whiteness" which begins "Pulverize the first horns dropped from a lusty stag." (note: Ovid provides no clues on determining which stag is the lusty one.)

But most of his advice is still perfectly good. Here's Ovid on taking your time in Love, which, more than 2000 years later, is still damned good advice.
If you will listen to me you will not be too hasty in attaining the culmination of your happiness. Learn by skillful maneuvering to reach your climax by degrees. When you are safely ensconced in the sanctuary of bliss, let no timid fear arrest your hand. You will be richly rewarded by the love-light trembling in her eyes, even as the rays of the sun fitfully dance upon the waves. Then will follow gentle murmurs, moans and sighs, laden with ecstasy that will sting and lash desire.

photo source 

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Cathy, the Inflatable Cow. Slut. Lover. Temptress.

Whenever someone tells me, "I saw this and thought of you," it's never about helping orphans or something--I don't know--reputable. No, it's always about some weird-ass horse fetish gear or a big honking dildo with wings or something.

Today was no different. Someone saw this and, well, you know. Let me just show you the photo.
Let us read the ad copy together, shall we?
Elsie Blow Up Cow is an inflatable cow. Elsie has a rear entrance and makes a moo sound when she is excited! For farm sexual enhancement.
Okay, let's stop here a moment and take stock. "Cathy" is an inflatable cow. That you fuck. That much is clear. But as highly disturbing as that is in itself, it is just the beginning of the conundrums Cathy brings up. For one, why does it come with the supposed aphrodisiac Spanish Fly? If fucking a blow-up cow is your thing, shouldn't an aphrodisiac be unnecessary? Two, why does the product come from a company called Discreet Romance? Maybe it's the writer in me, but I think the word "romance" is a bit strong for what's going to go down with poor Cathy. And finally, and perhaps most unsettlingly, don't the people who designed the box know that there's no apostrophe in "moos"? It an outrageous misuse of punctuation, I tell you!  

And not to offend both the right wing and PETA with a few careless words, but is it really so difficult to get lucky with an actual animal? I mean, how much of a loser do you have to be to not be able to score with livestock? "Yeah, last night I was with this really cute sheep. I bought her dinner and got her pretty drunk, but she's just not ready for an intimate relationship."  

Maybe I don't understand. Cathy and I would have to overcome several barriers to have a "romance." One of which is that I am a women and the only thing I can think of to do with Cathy is to go down on her. And that doesn't seem like it would do much for me or Cathy, despite the potential for Cathy making "a moo sound when she is excited." 

If you want to create a whole sexy barnyard menagerie, you can also get some of Cathy's buddies, including Blow Up Billy GoatErotic Love Piggie and Luvin Lamb. That way, if you and Cathy have a fight or something, you can still get some sweet vinyl love action. (Although, I can't help but worry about those jagged seams where the vinyl meets. Sharp seams + personal area = can't be good.)

If you're still determined to go this route, as I see it, your biggest problem--besides, of course, that you're fucking inflatable animals--is making sure you have a really, really good hiding place for them. Even the most penis-like looking vibrator can be semi-passed off as a personal massager, but good luck explaining why Luvin Lamb is lying ravished in your bed, all covered in Spanish Fly lube. "She's....she's....she's...oh, damn it, we're IN LOVE!"


Addendum:  I was discussing Cathy with my friend Tim and told him that on her web site there were all kinds of testimonials from supposed "customers" on Cathy's reputed hotness. They were all along the lines of "I got Cathy as a joke, but then one night I was feeling lonely and..." 

My friend considered this and said, "I've been lonely, but I've never been 'cow-lonely.'"

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Note to self: Think of better name than Rerun Week

Hello brothers and sisters, my in-laws are visiting so I am hereby declaring this Rerun Week. If you get the blog via email or RSS reader, you'll need to click over here yourself. Tiresome yes, but for your trouble you'll get fresh, or freshish, content every damn day. And I'm taking requests, so if there's something you'd like to re-see, let me know.

See Day One: The Copulatory Gaze and the Body Language of Flirting (note: contains one aroused chimp.)


Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Instant-ish Karma Contest

Early remote control vibes were unweldly
In Bed With Married Women has hit well over half a million page views, which is great--even though maybe 100,000 or so are from people like... the dear Canadian who Googled "Barbie beds in Hamilton" and instead of getting a nice kids' furniture store in Hamilton, Ontario, got my post about some dude sticking a stack of Barbie doll heads up his butt.

And in the past couple of days, some of you lovely souls have bought stuff through Amazon, Good Vibrations or shelled out for a Kindle subscription.  So I'm happy--or at least as happy as I can be on my new, only marginally effective, generic Lexapro.

In this state of sort of/almost happiness, I am moved to do something for you. Something I do best, which is give sex toys to random people online. Which, luckily, is exactly the career choice What Color Is Your Parachute? recommended for me.

Today's offering is the bNaughty Unleashed Premium Wireless Bullet Vibrator from Good Vibrations. Best of all:  Remote. Controlled. Which is completely hot.

Oh, I'll press it again. If you beg.
A $69 value, here's the blurb:
This ingenious and quiet little vibe is perfect for naughty partner play! Hand over the remote (which will work up to 20' away when the batteries are fresh), tuck the velvety soft-finish waterproof bullet somewhere sensitive, and wait for unexpected (or carefully negotiated) fun to begin! The remote's backlit screen shows which of the ten different functions -- from different vibration intensities to oscillation and pulsation settings -- is currently working its magic.
(There was also a bit in there about not sticking it up your butt and "a cord for retrieval when used vaginally," but the whole idea of remote controlled butts and heroic vaginal rescues seemed like it might "ruin the mood.")

Anyway to enter, do something nice for In Bed With Married Women--go to the right margin and donate, buy some Amazon thing or get a big honking vibrator from Good Vibrations (Jesus, look at this one.) If you're cash poor, but rich in friends and $6.99 bottles of generic Lexapro (I hear ya), then you could recommend a post on Facebook or pass a note to a friend in class or something. Whatever you want! I won't even check because that's how much I trust your ass, Dear Internet Stranger.

To let me know you have indeed entered and do--dammit!--want that Wireless Vibe up your wang or the wang of someone you love, leave a comment below. You can tell us what act of IBWMW boosterism you did, or not. I'm not the boss of you. And if you're shy,  send me an email.


ps Jennifer M. asked on the IBWMW Facebook page how the Amazon, and Good Vibes ordering works. If you order something using a link on this page, I get a cut. However, I DO NOT see who is ordering what or anything. So, if you want to stock up on all your Santa fetish gear and accompanying erotica, I will be none the wiser. So go to fucking town.

pss Winner announced Monday.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Dr. Andrea and the Mystery of the Possibly Missing Clit*

Welcome, troubled friends, to the third installment of Ask Doctor Andrea. Dr. Andrea is our groovy IBWMW Doctor-at-Large with specialties in women's/sexual health, nutrition, and Ayurveda. If you have an entertainingly embarrassing problem, or hell, just a regular old boring one, man up and email it on in. (Note: This is not a substitute for individual medical advice or care. So if Dr. Andrea tells you to stick a rusty tin can up your butt or something, check with your doctor first.)

I have been married for 35 years and I have seen my wife have four orgasms in that time. The first one was on our 25th anniversary vacation. She says she has very little desire for sex. But we make love once or twice a week and she says she enjoys it to a degree (the touching, skin-on-skin, closeness, cuddling, etc.). 

We have had ups and downs in the relationship but overall do pretty well together.  We have seen counselors to keep the relationship healthy and we have talked about her lack of desire and lack of orgasms.  The conclusion is that she just has a low libido and is “wired” with a low sex drive.  That’s just how she is, physically and personality-wise, so I am trying to accept that (as one might accept a physical disability in a partner). 

Still, there are some paths we have not explored thoroughly.  To get to the point, what is a "normal" clitoris? I know where it is supposed to be, but will an aroused woman have a little button or bump or something external that a man can feel there (with finger or tongue or whatever)? Because I have never felt anything more than a slight swelling at the top of my wife's genitals. I suspect that may a contributor to her lack of responsiveness.

I have only been intimate with my wife, so I have nothing to use as a comparison.  But when I read erotica: “He rolled my swollen clit between his fingers” or self help books (Satisfaction, K. Cattrall & M. Levinson): “The clitoris responds quickly when his tongue draws circles on its surface.”

Surface?  Circles?  Swollen?  Sounds like their should be a little button or nub or something.  In all my years of going down there, there is nothing “sticking out” or swollen or anything but concave cleft between her labia minor. My wife says she can feel her clit, but I certainly cannot. I have heard there are medical conditions where the clit never "descends" or stays under the clitoral hood. She could have a general sensation there but nothing I can detect externally.  How common is that?

She is also very sensitive in that area.  When I rub it to try to stimulate her, after a minute or so, she pushes me away, complaining I am “rubbing her raw,” even if we are using a lot of lubricant.  I have talked to her about this over the years, and although I try to be very gentle about it, it's a difficult subject to discuss, as she takes it as me criticizing her, or saying something is wrong with her. Well, four orgasms in 35 years, it sounds like something is not right. But she says she has asked her OBGYN and she says she's "normal" physically.

I just wonder if this could be related to her difficulty in enjoying sex.


Dr. Andrea: First of all, thank you for asking! It shows you are willing to find new information to be more aware of what's going on and try to change a situation that isn't as fulfilling as it could be. Kudos.

I have to say I have several questions before I answer as best I can with limited information- it's odd to do it over the internet and not in person so I can see the expressions/body language/energy of both people.

That said, here is my response:

It's probably not her anatomy. Everyone's clitoris is different- and the thing is, it's a tiny area with a fantastically dense amount of nerve endings, and since she's 'super sensitive in that area,' you have noticed 'swelling,' and there's no history of female circumcision (RIGHT?!?), she's likely perfect. Most don't actually 'pop out.' It's not a penis, and there's a reason it was so 'mysterious' for much of western medical history (cultural patriarchal issues aside for the moment). When did you start trying to find her clitoris? Atrophy does occur in women as they age, and the entire area can flatten and thin out, especially if sex is infrequent (or unsatisfying- the positive hormonal and anatomical response is important in keeping the tissue functioning), so the anatomy may have changed slightly since you married. Is she peri- during- or post-menopausal? Changing hormonal balance could also affect her perception, lubrication, enjoyment, and communication, depending on how it's going for her.

Point two about anatomy- the female body has about a billion potential erogenous zones. Let that sink in. Think about a billion. Yes, the clitoris is a magical thing. But imagine this: take all the nerve endings in your penis, all of them, and shrink the physical size of skin area down to smaller than your pinky finger tip, then poke/prod/itch/tap/lick only that tiny area for more than a second or two = overwhelm and irritation = forget it. Especially if it's never been successful before. Not fun so much. 

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Dr. Andrea will Not be fazed. Questions about itchy privates and Sylvia Plath references? No problem, sister.

Dr. Andrea explaining a metaphor in The Bell Jar
Welcome to the second installment of Ask Dr. Andrea, our new IBWMW Doctor-at-Large. Dr. Andrea is an open-minded, completely cool doctor with specialties in women's/sexual health, sustainable medicine, Ayurveda, nutrition, yoga and such. She'll be answering your questions, eh, about every month or so, so if you have a burning issue--perhaps literally like our suffering friend below--email it to

I have three questions:
1.  I have a very itchy part of the entrance to my vagina that usually lasts a few days each month.  I don't think it is a yeast infection, as there is no discharge or smell, and I was prescribed Diflucan which did nothing to ease the itching.  The natural lubricant from my vagina seems to make the itching worse after masturbating, or after sex.  My doctor did not seem very worried about it, and prescribed Clobetasol Propionate, which I use liberally every time I get itchy and it solves the problem.  However, do you have other patients that have this?  The spot is located right on the entrance to the vagina at the back part of the "rim" and the spot is approximately the size of a nickel.  Oh, and scratching at it with toilet paper makes it itch even worse.

2. Perhaps this is related to the first question.  I have pain every time I have intercourse.  It is not bad, maybe a 3 on a scale of 1 - 10.  The pain is during the first penetration, even if I'm lubricated and have already orgasmed.  After that, I can be penetrated several times with no pain.  Is my vagina just highly sensitive?  

3. This question is just purely out of curiosity. In the book "The Bell Jar", the main character starts to bleed uncontrollably the first time she has sex. She goes to the emergency room and the doctor says something like "this happens to one in a thousand girls", or something like that.  What is it that happened to her? Or did the author just make this up?  I have always wondered...

Dr. Andrea: Ok, so, all the info and things you've tried narrowed the answer down a bit, so thanks!

There are several things that could be going on, so it's difficult to figure out without at least an exam, and sometimes even a biopsy is required for definitive diagnosis. The first question sounds to be a version of "vulvar vestibulitis syndrome" (assuming yeast is truly ruled out by symptom type as well as ineffectiveness of the usual treatment, and that steroid cream helped). Various dermatological issues in that area that seem likely are as follows: lichen planus or sclerosis, lichen simplex chronicus, HPV related irritation, HSV (atypical presentation), psoriasis or seborrheic dermatitis, tinia (ringworm), pemphigus, or erythema multiforme. Hormone cycles can affect all of the above, as well as diet and contact with fabrics and soaps/lotions (and of course yeast or bacterial infection would make symptoms worse). So, I would suggest a couple things right off to see if they help:  make sure your diet is low in processed flours and sugar, wear natural fabrics like cotton for underwear to wick away sweat and allow airflow, and use soaps and detergents without dyes or perfumes (preferably natural instead of petroleum sources).

As for the second question, yes, it definitely could be related, and yes, it sounds like your vagina is sensitive! That can be a good thing- but it requires a bit of patience and care to work with. It sounds most like something called vulvodynia (or dyspareunia, although that usually refers to the entire sex act being painful). In your case this might be due to a muscle spasm that won't relax until it's rather forced to. There are several ways to approach this. The first is giving yourself more time and having your partner both take it easy during first penetration, as well as massaging the vulvar area (from the entrance in/up about 2 inches) well beforehand. Fear of it can make it worse, so taking time away from sex to do your own massage will help too. One way to do this is by doing a daily massage before your shower with warmed sesame or almond oil (put the oil in a flip-top and warm it with a few changes of hot tap water in a larger container), liberally massaging everywhere. And yes, inside! Not necessarily with sexual intent... think self-love, rather than self-loooove. The good thing about the self-massage (other than that you'll never need lotion again) is that the oil is antibacterial and antifungal as well as lubricating and moisturizing, so it can kill several birds with one stone. Not that I advocate killing birds. You get the idea. There are also physical therapists that help with vaginal

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Can the "Rule of Thumb" determine how you have an orgasm? Let's see!

So could you take a moment, grab a mirror and stick your fingers in your pants for me?

I'm asking because my post about Princess Bonaparte and her tenacious efforts to figure out why the hell she couldn't come via fucking alone is running right now over on the Good Vibes blog.

Basically, Bonaparte discovered that the distance of the clitoris from the vagina determines the likelihood that a woman can have an orgasm from intercourse alone. Clit close (less than an inch) = easy coming.  Clit far (inch plus) = break out the heavy artillery.

I was thinking about this because my friend Janet, she of the exceptional ass, hosted a marathon showing of Gigoloslast weekend. It's a supposed reality show about male gigolos working in Las Vegas. Beside the shock my cable-less self found at them showing people, like, actually fucking, on TV, I was also struck by how many of these supposed customers ended up getting a porn style rapid-fire fucking. In the eps I saw (an embarrassingly high number I must admit), I saw no vibrator use, no mouth pleasuring and just a wee bit of finger stroking.

Is the fuck-pound what these women really wanted? Or, were these particular gigolos just kinda bad at figuring out what women want/need? Or was the reality show fake, with producers just creating sex scenes that they thought women would request?

Because, according to those randy fuckers over at ABC News, about 75% of women never reach orgasm through intercourse alone. That's right, I said Never.

Now, nothing wrong with a good fuck pounding, but it makes me want to do some unscientific research. (The fuck pounding itself doesn't make me want to do research--I'm not that nerdy.*--but the prevalence of all of these clients supposedly requesting it.)

Which brings me back to that finger in your pants? Do me a solid and measure the distance between your clit and your vagina (your vagina in the true, non-vulvaish sense.) An inch is about the distance between the tip of your thumb and the first knuckle.

Let's do some research!

This is what I need:
--Tell me if your clit-vag distance is more than an inch, less than an inch, or about an inch?
--Tell me if you come easily, never or sometimes via intercourse alone.
--Optional:  Rapid-fire fuck pounding--yay or nay?
--Optional Plus: If you had to chose, who is the most desirable of the Gigolo gigolos?

I know, they are completely personal questions, so go ahead and comment anonymously if you want. If you're a gay chick, feel free to answer regarding other blunt object penetration.

I'll report back with the results.


*Not true.
(photo source)

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

A Farewell to Vagina

In Poland, you get a "pochwa"* to work with.
Vagina, vagina, vagina. Nope, still not comfortable saying it.

Oh, we tried. Believe me. But vagina, well, it rankles.

This despite Naomi Wolf's  Vagina: A New Biography becoming a best-seller, thus providing the enjoyable side effect of listening to NPR newscasters having to choke out the word.

This despite the general vindication of Representative Lisa Brown after she was boorishly silenced for saying "vagina" on the Michigan house floor.

And this despite (or, in may case, perhaps because of) my own dear Fight-the-Power mother being involved in a vagina-saying vaginal protest at the Michigan capital. (With t-shirts featuring Statue of Liberty saying "Vagina."  That no one wanted to wear again, ever.)

Yes, we made a valiant stab at vagina, as it were, but it's time to accept that "vagina" is just not gonna happen.

Vaginas get examined and might require special ointments. Vaginas rile overly vigilant feminists when used improperly in place of vulva. Vaginas do not get fucked.

Yes, I covered this breaking news back in 2010 in The Land Down Under, but it delights/pains to tell you that Caitlin Moran did it 8 thousand times better in her Jezebel article Naming a Vagina is Tricky Business. I mean, her bullet points alone!

There is a panoply of slang words that are, in their ways, just as truly awful as "vagina." Let's bullet point!
  • Your sex: sounds like a preemptive attempt to shift blame.
  • Hole: a bad thing that can happen to stockings or tights. My Johnnylulu is a GOOD thing that happens to stockings and tights.
  • Honeypot: inference of imminent presence of bees.
  • Twat: an unpleasant mélange of cow-pat, stupidity, and punching. No.
  • Bush: the band of the same name are tiresome. The vegetation has spiders. No.
  • Vag: sounds like the name of a busybody battleaxe, à la "Barb" and "Val." Suggestion also of chain-smoking Marlboro Lights, and borderline addiction to bingo. No.
So this whole idea of re-claiming "vagina"--well, I feel like we've given it a fair shake. And when it gets down to it--oh, just fucking admit it--no one really likes saying vagina.  Even Eve Ensler, Little Miss Vagina Monologues, wrote "Doesn't matter how many times you say it, it never sounds like a word you want to say."

Saying it more is not going to make anyone more comfortable with the word. Vagina is, and will always be, just too...vaginaey. And I, for one, am still on the lookout for a suitable replacement.


*Hej kretynie, srom pochwa nie jest! (translation from the Polish: Hey, moron, a vagina is not a vulva.)

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Something "Dodgy" Down There: Dr. Andrea on Herpes and Unreliable Dick

Doctor, is this normal?
Welcome to the first installment of Ask Dr. Andrea, the new IBWMW Doctor.* Dr. Andrea is a down-to-earth, open-minded, completely cool doctor with specialties in women's/sexual health, sustainable medicine, Ayurveda, nutrition, yoga and such. She also uses terms like "morning wood," which I like, though I can't say why, exactly. For more info on Dr. Andrea, do have a look at her web site.

Please welcome Dr. Andrea as she tackles her first two questions:

I am a 30something year old woman in an open marriage with a husband and a boyfriend, no other partners for me. My husband and I practice safe intercourse with other partners, but oral sex is unprotected. Both men get cold sores occasionally, I have never had one. To make a long story short, my boyfriend gave me herpes of some kind via oral sex. He had a cold sore, which he says he has been getting since childhood. Three weeks later, I had an outbreak (which at the time I thought was the world's worst yeast infection, but after the second outbreak two weeks later--not nearly as bad--I realized what was going on). I've never had anything dodgy down there except the standard yeast and urinary tract infections, so I was pretty upset.  Anyway, I went and got the blood test... It came back as HSV-1 4.7 and HSV-2 3.33--both positive. Sooooo, I was super-double bummed out, because it is my understanding that HSV-2 is a MUCH bigger deal than HSV-1. Anyway, a little googling gave me some hope: a value less than 3.5 gives some realistic chance that its a false positive. Google tells me I should go get a Western Blot to confirm HSV-2, which I plan to do right after I get some health insurance (I went to Planned Parenthood and tried to explain all this but they were befuddled by my question, and claimed the Western Blot is only for HIV, which did not inspire confidence, and I left).  

So my questions are: 1) Could he have given me both types of HSV?  2) How big a deal is this if it is HSV1 and the HSV2 was a false positive?  What do I have to disclose to future partners?  IME, once you disclose crotch rot of any kind, no matter what your excuses, nobody is interested in fucking you. I can't blame them, but if my chance of passing it along without symptoms is like .00001%, then that matters in what I decide to do. Obviously if it is HSV2, I have some problems, because my husband doesn't have it (to our knowledge) and I probably shouldn't be sleeping around if I know I do. I can't envision myself having condom protected sex with my husband for the next 50 years. Neither man has had any lab work done.

Thanks for your opinion!   

Dr. Andrea: Thanks for writing in! Let me answer the questions piece by piece:

1. Yes he could have--so could your husband actually--from either oral or any other type of genital contact from themselves (perhaps they've carried the virus forever and didn't know, or had sex with someone recently who had a lesion or was an asymptomatic shedder) [***Oh and an important note for ALL readers: condoms only protect the shaft from touching your skin and mucosa directly but many many herpes outbreak locations are nowhere near the genitalia and are often just on the outside for females so those bits definitely have contact with the partner's skin (for example: labia majora, inner thighs, buttocks and cleft area, top of pubic bone, and of course, in or around the mouth/tongue/nose area)]. Both types of HSV can be asymptomatic, and there are VAST numbers of people that test positive WITH viral shedding but NO symptoms (shedding means the virus is in the skin and sheds bits of itself that if they touch another person may get into their skin and nerves and make themselves at home)... and since they have no idea they pass it on and on and on...

2. With all the oral/regular flip flopping that goes on in our beds, at this point in history it really doesn't seem to matter whether you have HSV1 or HSV2 in normal situations--both can occur in both places. HSV1 seems much worse from a doctor standpoint since it can cause lethal encephalopathy (brain inflammation) especially in people with weakened immune systems, and babies or old people, with lasting damage to the brain. The thing is, most of us are exposed to HSV1 when we're babies since 70+% of humans have the virus and it rarely causes issues in healthy people, unless under stress a 'cold sore' pops up, which might be unattractive, but doesn't seem to freak everyone out quite as much as HSV2. HSV2 can cause a viral meningitis (usually with the first outbreak only) that is usually just a seriously awful headache, neck stiffness, and high fever, but rarely causes any lasting damage. Somewhere around 35% of people may have HSV2 now, although the estimates are all over the place since blood testing catches many people that have been exposed but have fought it off and don't have shedding, OR shed without symptoms, and those that have symptoms often don't seek treatment or tell anyone out of embarrassment etc...

Now for the 3rd question/issue... your chance of passing it without symptoms is low, yes, but larger than 0.00001%. Partially because you shed before and after the lesions are present, so it's hard to know 100%. The risk goes down if you take daily suppressive medication, but still isn't zero. So, yes, you DO need to tell partners. And I would suggest both men and you having total lab work done (including G/C/Chlamydia, syphilis, HCV- much more deadly than HSV, and HIV of course) so you all know where you stand and can make educated decisions about further open-relationship involvements (which means new partners in ya'll's group need to be told--and should really be tested also). I personally think all new partners should do lab work in the interest of honesty and knowledge of risk, especially since not everyone wants to disclose every indiscretion they've ever had and lord knows people like to say things they WISH were true but aren't, especially with touchy subjects like this...

That all said... HSV is NOT the end of the world. It isn't 'crotch rot' per se, in that it doesn't smell bad or cause infertility (that we know of) or for things to fall off (some infections do!). It can be painful, annoying, and it can be embarrassing to discuss. But just like with the 'protection/birth control' discussion, talking about this stuff is NECESSARY and if we're all adults here, we should be able to say the word herpes out loud if we're going to be getting naked with each other anyway. Honestly, SOOOOOO many people have this stuff, it needs to be understood and the shame lifted so we can all protect ourselves better. Two people with different versions of the virus can re-infect each other over and over too, so even if both people have it, daily suppressive therapy (or at the very very least herbal suppression (unproven) and immune system optimization are needed) is the best idea.

Now, for the sensitive part. It may seem upon being diagnosed with this, that the fun free sexual world is over. People can and do end up feeling dirty, perhaps violated if the partner didn't tell them

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Ask the IBWMW Doctor in Residence, plus boringish tech update

IBWMW's Doctor in Residence. (Artist's representation)
1. The new IBWMW Doctor in Residence is in and ready to take your questions!

"If you have doctory questions about women's health/body issues, I've got detailed answers for most health-related and emotional stuff. I focused on that for years before switching to more alternative medicine. So nothing shocks me. "--The IBWMW Doctor in Residence.

So, yes, submit questions to  And please don't worry if you have super-embarrassing questions about monkeys living in your wang or a possibly haunted left boob or whatever because our doctor is completely cool and non-judgey. I mean, she says "doctory," which is a good sign in a medical professional.

Two things to know:
--I'm keeping our Doctor in Residence's daytime identity anonymous because she is, as she puts it, is "hopefully mostly respectable to even all the conservative whoevers in my city."
-- Obviously, none of this is a replacement for individual medical advice so check with your doctor before starting or replacing any current treatment plan.

2.  Boringish Tech Update

In the process of switching my domain from unwieldy to snazzier url, I fucked all sorts of things up, most of which I barely understand.

In the midst of all the craptastrophy, I sent a test post out for the email subscribers and got the surprise gift of hearing from a bunch of readers around the world (Hungary! Thailand!) who have, before this, uttered nary a word. It was lovely to hear from you all and, please, pipe up more often. I've been completely fascinated by the open and honest comments on What would your ideal sex life look like? and would love to hear more.

As for whether the tech problems are solved....hell if I know. I thought they were, then the subscription service went rogue last night and emailed everyone some random old post. Please let me know if something seems amiss. Same goes for you lovely Kindle subscribers--I'm sorry to report that I tried to "fix" that too.

3. The Takeaways
--Technology is kind of a jerk.
--New Doctor in Residence! Ask her anything!
--If you were hoping to be the IBWMW Ambassador to Venezuela, sorry but, due to his charming letter, Ivan pretty much has the position locked up.


Thursday, September 6, 2012

The Best Comment Ever

I Was a Grade School Nudist ran on Jezebel last month. It was the top story of the day, like it was breaking, headline news. So, not only did I share my shameful secret, I shared the living fuck out of it. Here it is, if you're so inclined: Jezebel--I Was A Grade School Nudist.

There were lots of Jezebel-y comments ranging from thoughtful to completely nitpicky, i.e. this one chick:

"I hope you got permission from your friend to go skinny dipping in their pool. It's one thing to be a nudist at home or the camp site but to do that at someone else's house seems disrespectful," she typed in what I'm quite sure was a nasally high-pitched manner, as she mentally congratulated herself for her rigid rule of always asking friends' permission to skinny dip in their pools.

I read the comment to my pool-having friend--whose name is Heather--and she said, "Jeez! It wasn't like you were sitting naked on my couch eating Cheetos." Which I was most certainly not doing. Primarily because I dislike Cheetos. And having their orange powder dusting my boobs seemed like an undesirable outcome as well. Whatever. The point is: I CAN skinny dip in the pool. Heather said so. Nyah!

Last weekend, despite my admission of pool nudity*, I was again dogsitting for Heather (see above: "nyah") and briefly considered forcing my husband to sit naked-and-Cheeto-eating on her couch so I could take a picture and give it to Heather. It didn't happen because the last dregs of my Appropriateness Filter kicked in and I dimly realized that it was the kind of joke that, if she didn't think it was funny, she would REALLY not think it was funny. Also, I'd have to go to the store and purchase Cheetos and that sounded like a lot of work.

Anyway lots of comments on Jezebel, blah blah blah, but my very very favorite one was one right here on the blog from gentle reader Anonymous:

My wife always forces me to relive my nude childhood when we have guests. I still haven't met another adult who has at least admitted that they went/were dragged to a nudist colony.

My parents still have a yellowed nudie park newsletter where I medalled in the nudie olympics, my totally retracted junk on display after winning a swimming race. Takes me back. 

God, I absolutely LOVE that this photo exists. Surely it must be the Most Embarrassing Photo Ever! Do you have something worse? Well, do you? Bring it on!

I will leave you for now.  Coming next:  Reader Mail.


(photo source)

* If I'm dogsitting at your house, I will go naked in your pool. We may as well get that straight now.

Friday, August 24, 2012

A Contest: What Word Makes You Cringe?

Caution: Gazing at photo may
cause loss of consciousness. Or
possible "bewilderment."
Today's prize is the Velvet Passion Bullet Vibrator from Good Vibrations, a company that has given me a strange and quite unexpected superpower: Ability To Bestow Sex Toys Upon Random Internet Strangers. I had been hoping for X-ray Vision or, at the very least, Three More Wishes, but hell, you play the cards you're dealt. Which if you're filling out your IBWMW Official Record Book is the very first, and I expect the last, time I have said or written the phrase "play the cards you're dealt."*

Feel free to click here to read all about the Velvet Passion, aka the next thing you might possibly--if you're lucky!--be sticking up your wang. Or, I'll just toss out some buzzwords from the Good Vibes blurb: "velvet softness," "waterproof" and "pulsation patterns." The Velvet Passion also comes with a possibly frightening "memory function." "Remember that time I was up your wang?" "Tssst! Shut up about that!"

The Velvet Passion is, according to the blurb, "visually stunning," perhaps a wee misuse of the word "stunning" [i.e. stunning, (adjective):  causing, capable of causing, or liable to cause astonishment, bewilderment, or a loss of consciousness or strength.] I like a vibrator as much as the next girl, but I don't want to be losing consciousness every time I open up my nightstand drawer. Although, in truth, that particular function could save me quite a bit on my recreational Benadryl budget.

To enter, you must tell me the word that you absolutely cannot say aloud. Mine, oddly, is "vagina." I am also loathe to use the word "clitoris," in both CLIT-oris and cli-TOR-is form. Yes, I clearly have issues, but there is no time for that today. (Or ever, actually, because I do not wish to attend to my issues.)

Anyway, you there with the old, unsightly sex toy, get on it. Think of your icky word, and leave it below as a comment. Or, if the word is especially unsettling, lock yourself in a darkened room, close your eyes and type it trepidatiously into a top secret email. I'll have Stella, head of the IBWMW steno pool, choose a winner Monday.


* I also don't expect to ever write "It is what it is," so you can just cross that one off your list.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Thursday, August 2, 2012

They're Here, They're Queer, Get Used to It

O, Ye Shall pointedly buy chicken sandwiches.

I'm all wigged out today by this article in the L.A. Times, "Chick-fil-A fans and critics take to the streets." It's about how yesterday, a bunch of asshats human beings that I need to love went specifically to Chick-fil-A to buy a sandwich to show that they were against gay people.

Now, although I find the concept of purchasing a chicken sandwich to show your contempt of "the gays" a bit comical ("And a large fries, because I hate cock-sucking a lot, too"), I am a bit horrified by the number of people who thought it was a-ok to make a public appearance as a hater. I mean, even if you were way, way against gayness wouldn't you just cower at home hating gay people privately? Making sure of course, to watch plenty of gay porn to keep tabs on their nefarious ways.

As you may recall, this all happened because the president of Chick-fil-A, Dan Cathy, said some crazy-ass crap in an interview about our nation inviting God's judgement by having "such a prideful, arrogant attitude to think that we have the audacity to define what marriage is about." One might note that the words "arrogant" and "audacity" might also be applied to one is so fucking certain that he knows God's wishes. Or that a man having the last name of Cathy is actually a teensy bit gay. And I am most certainly inviting God's judgement by wondering why a god would create a bunch of gay people if they are indeed so wrong and hateful. I mean, that seems kinda jerkish.*

But whatever, Cathy said what he said. I don't agree with it. But he's a whack old dude, he can say whatever crazy ass crap he likes. I don't think cities should ban his stores or anything because it's a free county. (Well, freeish.)

One of the protestors, Roy Simmons, 60, who was dutifully expressing his disapproval of gay marriage through the purchase of chicken sandwiches said, "With the left, if you don't toe their line and say what they want you to say, they shut you down as a hater, a bigot or a homophobe."

It would probably also be hideously leftist of me to provide Simmons, who is most certainly NOT GAY, with the definition of the word homophobe, which I happen to have right here:
Homophobia is a range of negative attitudes and feelings toward homosexuality or people who are identified or perceived as being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT). Definitions refer variably to antipathy, contempt, prejudice, aversion, irrational fear, and hatred. Usage: "I stood in line at Chick-fil-A to buy a chicken sandwich Wednesday to express such negative attitudes because I am a bigoted, hater, homophobe who is so not gay."**
It might also be a bit crass to direct SO NOT GAY Simmons and the other protestors--some of whom wore Superman costumes to the protest (also completely not gay)-- to this Scientific American article "Homophobes Might Be Hidden Homosexuals."


* If there is indeed a hell, I suspect I'll spend quite a lot of time there re-reading this particular sentence.
**I may or may not have added that last sentence in the definition.