How to Make a Woman Come--Even If You Are That Woman. AKA Things I Learned from Science, Sex, and The Ladies

Louis CK* has a bit on how men complain about women's "neediness" after sex:

“After sex, you’re looking at two very different people. The man just wants to lay there and be cool and the woman wants to cuddle. 'Why is she so needy?’ She’s not needy you idiot, she’s horny, because you did nothing for her. You did absolutely nothing. Her pussy is on fire because it's gone unfucked completely. Of course you’re fine, you climbed on and went “KFHGSKG” and rolled off. And she’s on you because she’s like ‘WH-at SOMETHING ELSE HAS TO HAPPEN! This is bullshit!!' If you fuck a woman well, she will leave you alone. ‘Thanks a lot, buddy. Zzzzz.’”

Louis says this happens because men are "bad at sex." Perhaps, but I think a lot of us are kinda bad at sex--just by default, because we never got the proper instruction. People want to be good lovers and fuck well. But it's incredibly difficult--ridiculously so--to get any sort of reasonable, real-world education.

Even today, we know so little about women's bodies. So very little!  It was only in the past few years that I learned that the clit occupies an extensive bit of pelvic real estate, that scientists still don't know what the fuck women are squirting when they ejaculate (it's "not pee," which just leaves...every non-pee substance), and that the cervix is so insensitive that 95% of women can't tell if it's being rubbed with a cotton swab. (This being the primary reason that the Gentleman's Cervical Swab Rubbing Courtship Technique of 1847 has fallen out of favor.)

In other cases, we know very well what's going with on women's bodies, but for some reason, bury or don't acknowledge this info.

The most egregious form of our sexual ignorance/denial is about how most women actually have an orgasm: A woman comes from having her clitoris rubbed. There are a lucky few (very few!) who can get the job done via p-in-v fucking, but even then, what's going down with every woman is that:

1. their clit is rubbed.
2. they come (or don't.)

That's it.  

This is pretty much contrary to every depiction of women's sexual response we see in porn, mainstream films, and read about in books. Even books written for women by women. (Er. Or not.  See updated discussion about this in the comments.)

Trisha Borowicz got all Fight-the-Power about this (yay!) and made a smart, funny, cheeky film called Science, Sex, and The Ladies "for all the women who have felt confused, frustrated, or ashamed about their ability to orgasm."  

 I learned all kinds of things from Science, Sex, and the Ladies, up to and including:

--I couldn't tell a whit of difference between the photos of the Aroused Clitoris and Unaroused Clitoris (possible future lesbian lovers: you have been forewarned.)
--Women have their strongest orgasms by their own hand, second strongest with someone else's hand, and weakest via fucking and the frustratingly indirect stimulation of a penis rubbing-near-but-not-quite-exactly-where-you-need-it.
 --Contrary to popular belief, women don't take forever to come. Women come as quickly as easily as men, given the right stimulation. Men would also take forever to come if they were only being stimulated by, say, someone diligently rubbing their pubic hair.

My favorite part of the film depicted scenes of people engaged in various forms of sexual congress--a blow job, fucking, etc...--when a cheery actress would walk into the each scene and advise the female participant to "Rub one out!" to enhance her experience. It was fun, breezy and educational--like a particularly racy episode of The Electric Company.

I actually do wish this was the sort of stuff young people saw. And, while I'm at it, I wish more sex scenes depicted women being stimulated realistically, in the way that women actually need to be stimulated, so that women would no longer have to think they were somehow broken, doing it wrong or hadn't yet found the proper dick.

There is an orgasm disparity among women and men that drastically affects the way each understand themselves and each other. The truth is, women go through their sexual lives having very few orgasms compared to their male partners, and this has become a matter of course, a sort of unspoken accepted reality. This discrepancy, however, is not a result of innate differences between male and female biology, but a result of how we as a culture have come to understand, teach and experience sex.

Science, Sex and the Ladies aims to make it known that this orgasm disparity is culturally created, harmful, and in no way inevitable. It's actually quite an appalling and over arching problem that creeps into every aspect of our lives and relationships. Neither modern women or modern men are fully responsible for this problem, but a change in both are necessary for a solution. Science Sex and the Ladies, as part of a larger Orgasm Equality Movement, is a call to action.--Science, Sex, and the Ladies.

Anyway, if you want to be part of the Orgasm Equality Movement--and I do, although I'm totally not going to refer to it as that--the film makers are offering screeners of the movie if you'd like to host a small group showing. It's free--all they ask is that you send them a photo of the festivities. For more info, email anc@ancmovies.com.

I watched it alone, but wish I'd been with a group because I have all kinds of questions now. Like:

--Why are women writing romance/erotica about easily orgasmic p-in-v sex? Are all erotica writers among the tiny percentage of penis in vagina cumees? Or are they writing about how they think sex should be? Or how they wish it could be?
--What is the connection between emotions and sex? I'm totally onboard with Naomi Wolf's ideas in Vagina about sexual/spiritual/emotional connections, heady neurochemicals, and the transcendence that can happen in a really good fuck. And yet..... While emotional connection and getting "in the mood" is great, and certainly something to strive for, it's clearly not absolutely necessary for an orgasm. A woman masturbating with a showerhead or something can come plenty easily without having a big emotional experience and/or scene-setting. And yet... I have also burst into tears after an orgasm. Why and how are emotions all mixed up with sex? Or do we just assume they are, ergo, they are?
--If you are like pretty much every other chick and need to rub your clit to come, do you do it during sex with someone else? Or have you been among those (and, yes, I have been there as well) making "secret, quiet circles on disappointed clits next to sleeping lovers."

What are we all gonna do about this?

xoxo
jill

PS. I recently was also cited on some Spanish-language anti-gay site (blergh) for my supposed anal bleaching expertise.  "Una experta en el tema, la Sra. Hamilton entra en grandes detalles sobre la historia de esta reprobable técnica."

PPS. That site has 2 million views.

*This was before. Damn you, Louis.

(photo via Church of the Victorian Cult, not sure where Wendy Rose got a hold of it.)

Real Sex Lives: Betty Fokker, "Even I, schooled in feminist thought and the rejection of fat-hating bullshit, wonder why he would ever WANT to fuck me"

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

Today's guest post comes courtesy of the lovely Betty Fokker, penner of The Stay-at-Home Feminist Mom. (The slogan on her blog-- and just one of the many reasons I love her so--is: Don't try to oppress me with your patriarchal values. It will not go well for you.) 

Betty is hilarious, smart, and takes my breath away with her adept cussing. She is also fat. Oh, don't worry, she'd tell you the same thing herself.  

Now normally, Betty is well aware of how smoking hot she is, and rails against the whole stinkin' fat-hating society, but in the following post, dear Betty briefly succumbs to self doubt. Here she's talking about fat, but I think a lot of chicks could say the same thing about their stupid straight and/or curly hair, freaky pointy ears, or whatever.

(An aside: It took me like an hour to find a decent image (above left) to convey the concept of sexy zaftig womanliness. By contrast, it took me .00000004 seconds to find an image to convey the idea of "lady with big boobies.")

I also like her post because not only does Betty use the term "asshat" with typical aplomb, but she also lays down this sentence: "Even when I walk out of the shower and he pops a boner that you could club a baby seal with, I still wonder if he likes what he sees."

Here now, ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Betty Fokker:

Turns out that almost 1/3 of the women of Britain feel that they are too fat to have sex, and that (strangely!) has a negative effect on their libido. Imagine, if you will, the concept that you loathe your physical self so much you don’t feel you should have sex since some poor male (or female, since the Fokker doesn’t care one way or another who shares your bed. I am not an asshat.) would have to look at your nekkid flesh, and touch your smooshy body. I don’t have to image, considering the fact every time my Sweet Babou wants to tear up the sheets doing a nekkid waltz, I am surprised and bewildered.

Even I, schooled in feminist thought and the rejection of fat-hating bullshit, wonder why he would ever WANT to fuck me. I’m fat, therefore I am undesirable.

I have always, in my heart, operated under the assumption that he loves me so much he is willing to make the sweaty pretzel with me despite the fact I am repulsive to look upon. Moreover, I see that love as a sign of his quality as a superior human, not as a function of my worth. I just feel lucky. Like a lottery winner, not someone who invented the next-big-thing in computers and got rich from my efforts.

I was a well-loved and petted preschooler, so I always had the hope, maybe even the assumption, that I would be a lottery-winner in love one day. After all, I had been loved, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of reality. But as all the cultural messages of my ‘ugliness’ because of my obesity hammered at me for years, I assumed it would be one of those miraculous events – like a reverse beauty and the beast. I dreamed that one day a man would love me in spite of my hideous outward appearance. Which is better than the idea that I would never be loved, I guess, but is still all kinds of Fokked up.

Maybe I would have been more sanguine that Sweet Babou desired me is he had been a chubby-chaser. Then it would have made sense to me why he wanted me. But no, his prior girlfriends could be used to skewer cocktail hors d'oeuvres. So I have always believed, on some level, that loving me was a great sacrifice on his part, done because his heart was pure. All the rumpy-pumpy since we met has failed to convince me otherwise. Even when I walk out of the shower and he pops a boner that you could club a baby seal to death with, I still wonder if he likes what he sees.

This is not what I want to feel. I want to believe, as well as understand, that my fat does not devalue me. I do not believe it devalues others, but I cannot shake that feeling about myself. It makes me all the more determined, as a woman and a mother and a feminist, to fight fat-haters on every front, since this is horrible and I don’t want my daughters or any other woman to ever think of themselves as less because their body is more. Fat–hate and discrimination is BULLSHIT, y’all.

But I still wonder if he secretly thinks I’m yucky.

*****

See also: My Wife's Body by An Anonymous Husband, in which a husband examines this phenomenon from the male point of view.

xoxo
jill

(image source: http://lacontessa.tumblr.com/post/907275831/tamara-de-lempicka-le-modele-1925)

The Scent of Desire

It's an overcast day, grey and rainy--the kind of day that fills me with an ineffable yearning for something, or someone. As I sipped my coffee this morning, my thoughts drifted to a man I know, and I wondered how he would smell. (And no, this man is not my husband. As I have mentioned, even good ol' house-buildin', church goin' Jimmy Carter entertained "lust in his heart." As far as lust in the heart goes, I allow myself free rein.) I had a desire to press my nose to this man's neck and deeply inhale his scent. The idea was strangely pleasing to me. (In real life, I can see this exploratory neck-sniffing being a bit problematic as I scarcely know the man and, at the very least, highly socially awkward.)

I have no desire to mate with this man (okay, maybe I sort of do--and no, mom, dear husband and various other concerned friends and family, I won't), but my sense of smell is eager to work its biological duty to detect if he would be a suitable mate. When we smell someone, we are sniffing out their genetic make-up and determining if they will be a good match for producing genetically sound offspring. (Read more about it here if you're feeling sciencey.) You want someone who is dissimilar enough to you so it's not like inbreeding, but similar enough so it's not outbreeding. (I'm too lazy to look up the word "outbreeding," so you can handle that one. What do you want? I'm working for free here.) There's no universal foxy scent, though if there is one, I'm quite sure it is exactly how Javier Bardem smells. As the article puts it, "One woman's Romeo is another women's raunchy." Our efforts to disguise our natural scents with various sprays, perfumes and the like are mucking about with our biological wisdom.

Our sense of smell resides in the primitive, reptilian potions of our brain and most of the information we gleam from scent comes to us subconsciously. But as I've talked to women about their sex lives, I've found that some women are quite aware of much they rely on their sense of smell. Mara, for example, is so attuned to her sense of smell that she can actually smell her husband's desire. "If he's naked, I can smell a certain level of arousal, almost a cum smell," Mara reported in her In Bed With Married Women True Wife's Tale. (Mara, btw, loved her TWT. "Wow!" she wrote, "I want to have sex with me.") Another woman can't stand men who have what she intriguingly terms "the peppery smell."

Another woman I interviewed described her tepid sex life and mentioned in passing that she didn't like the way her husband smelled. (For the record, her children are delightful and not at all genetic mutants.) Later she wrote back, entirely screwing up my theory about the uselessness of body sprays, etc...:

I don't think we have a natural pheromone connection. My first really serious boyfriend had the pheromones that made me absolutely crazy and it didn't matter if he was sweaty or filthy or dressed up or whatever . . .  he was just hot to me. This will sound bizarre but recently my husband started taking showers just before bed and piling on the scented body wash and he smells so much better to me. He feels fresher and more in the mood.  I love the way he smells and it makes me feel much more aroused.  We kiss a lot more and sleep with less clothing. He says he's going to shower every night now.  

So--you there!--help me get me attention away from my inappropriate neck-smelling reveries. Tell me what role scent plays in your sex life. Do you like how your mate smells? Have you even been attracted (or not attracted) to someone because of their scent? And does anyone have any idea what the hell "the peppery smell" might be?

*Postscript: If you like reading swoony prose about the senses, I highly recommend Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses.

xoxo
jill
(photo: www.flickr.com/photos/mysteriouskyn/135998094/ )

PS.  This is an old as fuck rerun. Do not be alarmed.

America's Getting Freakier, Plus Your Question of the Day

I'm not saying I have my finger on the pulse of America's sexuality or anything--that would be sexual harassment--but yesterday, the very day I wrote a post on vibe ads in coupon section=a country gone sex crazed, a lovely and attractive reader informed me of an LA Times article saying that Americans really are getting more freaky, or as it's put more scientifically in the article, "expanding their sexual repertoire."

If you don't like to receive your information from legitimate news sources and instead prefer it from half-assedly researched blogs, here's the lowdown:

Across the lifespan, Americans report they are masturbating, alone or with a partner, engaging in oral sex and experimenting with same-gender sex more often than they owned up to in the 1980s, according to a study released Monday.

Apparently Americans, both wigged out by STDs and feelin' freer and sexuality open in a society that puts vibe ads in the freakin' Sunday coupon supplement, are expanding their sexual palette beyond straight intercourse--insert-p-into-v, repeat until done--and incorporating more oral sex, anal sex, masturbation and same-gender sex. In other words, straight people are having sex more like gay people.

It's all good news for the ladies, who are reporting higher levels of orgasms than before. "The vast majority of women indicated that their most recent experience of sex was highly pleasurable and arousing," said researcher Debby Herbenick, PhD to Lemondrop, bringing to mind an unbidden image of researcher Debby Herbenick, PhD, after sex, rolling over and telling her lover in a scientific manner, "I would like to indicate that that was highly pleasurable and arousing."

Ironically (or predictably, depending on your position on the whole Corporate Overloads Taking Over The World issue), the survey was sponsored by the makers of Trojan condoms, the same company that plastered vibes ads all over the former Squaresville of the Sunday supplement.

Which brings me to our question of the day:
--Would you use a coupon to buy a vibrator at your local Target or grocery store? (Factors to consider: $2 off coupon ain't too shabby vs. possibility of seeing neighbors and/or coupon problems. "This coupon for the fingertip vibrator isn't going through! Hey lady, did you purchase a fingertip vibrator?")

I honestly don't know if I could. Even though I am--in the words of the darkly handsome Long Beach Press- Telegram columnist Tim Grobaty, a "sex bloggatrix"--I don't know that I would have the balls (metaphorical ones, mind you) to just march into a store, greeting the neighbors all the while and tossing various sex toys into my cart. "Price check on the inflatable Javier Bardem!" Yeah, no. Still not ready for that.

In Search Of Elusive Third Type Of Orgasm

Our large and unfairly good-looking staff here at In Bed With Married Women has been combing the countryside doing up to several minutes of top-quality research on the elusive third type of orgasm, the cervical orgasm. We were about ready to toss it in, especially after our beloved science/sex writer Mary Roach mentioned in her book Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex that the cervix is so insensitive that 95% of women can't even tell when it is being rubbed with a Q-Tip. (A tip for gentlemen: you might want to rethink that plan of trying to woo your lady with a vigorous session of cervical Q-Tip rubbing.)

But then this message came in, totally screwing up our rigid worldview. Reports this lovely reader, who but of course, wishes to remain anonymous:

Hi Jill- To answer your question about the cervical orgasm- I HAVE experienced them. I used to assume it was a "double orgasm" meaning clitoral and G-spot at the same time (that's how someone described it to me once). But the older I get and the more I experience them the more I know that it is a third, totally different type of orgasm! The only way that I can describe it is instead of feeling like a particular SPOT is having an orgasm..ie clitoris or G-spot, it's like your entire vaginal area is consumed by orgasm and it radiates outward. It releases AMAZING endorphins. I would almost say that it makes you feel high in a very natural way. Now I wouldn't say that I shake for days or anything, but the thought of it the next day will give me a little shiver and my mood for days is impenetrable- all smiles and laughs! They are very few & far between, and quite honestly I have not yet learned how to make myself achieve them ... (wish I could!)

This description is so utterly unlike my day thus far--what with its grocery store trips and whatnot--that I might need to take a moment to go sit in the corner and cry. That said, I have heard many women around

Shhh--I Got A Playboy, Let's Look At It!

A stack of hidden Playboy magazines was as big a part of the standard-issue house of the 1960s and 70s as shag carpeting, jelly jars as drinking glasses, and a paperback copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Dads of the era, who were clearly not gifted at hiding their stash of porn, inadvertently provided many of us with an afternoon activity--gathering the neighbor kids and looking at Playboys. (And did any dad ever choose a hiding place that was not under the bed or in the dresser drawer?)

I don't think I had a seen a Playboy since about 1977 when my friend and I were perusing her dad's, Mr. F's, collection. (Hiding place: under the bed.) So last week, when a reader generously provided me with a copy, I was eager for the illicit thrill of checking it out. I waited until the kids were in bed.  Then I waited further as they faked me out and kept creeping back out of their bedrooms, scaring the bejeezus out of me as I anxiously prepared to look at my forbidden reading materials.

Did You Know There Are Three Types of Female Orgasms? Yes, Three

"I have a secret guilty pleasure of reading Playboy," writes a female reader from California. "The feminist in me screams, 'Wrong! This is wrong!' but I love the articles. I swear -- no pages stuck together in my copies!" This stealth girlie mag reader had sent a (non-sticky) Playboy link to alert me to the important and well-appreciated news of the woman with the world's strongest vag (see also: Another Personal Life Goal Dashed) but what I found even more fascinating was the article accompanying it.

In Kim Anami's The Multi-Orgasmic Woman, she explains the Taoist belief in three types of female orgasms, describes what they each are like and how to get there. If you're too lazy to click the link (and, girl, that is truly lazy), I'll break it down for you. The three types -- clitoral, G-spot and cervical -- are akin to a series of gates that need to be entered in progression for a women to enter "an ecstatic state of arousal." Ecstatic state of arousal sounded a lot more interesting than my back-up plan of laundry-folding, so this was something I wanted to learn more about.

If you or your woman has ever had an orgasm (and if not, put it on the to-do list--stat!) it was probably the clitoral. This is the easiest type to achieve, but also the more superficial.  Freud, maddeningly, was right, and there is a deeper (in both senses of the word) kind of vaginal orgasm that comes from stimulation of the G-spot.  The nerves on the clitoris (and here is the point where I will stop using the word "clitoris") are concentrated and external, while the pelvic nerves are deeper and more spread out, creating "a more generalized, deeper sensation," writes Anami.

The third type is the cervical orgasm, which is kind of like the Big Foot of orgasms, rumored and sometimes observed, but not verified by science. This is the deepest and most transcendent orgasm of them

A Little Sensory Exercise For Y'all

Sometimes my body seems like it's merely a transportation device designed to get me from one school function, sporting event, or whatever else boring-ass mom-ing around thing is on my calendar. This is not good, my friends, as the world is full of tactile sensations to behold and a body that is just propelling its owner on errands is a big ol' waste. Now I'm sure that you are fully in touch with your sensory side -- but I'm going to admit that sometimes I need to reminded how damn cool the sense of touch is.

Luckily, this is easy to do -- just be in your body and notice what's going on. Here, I'll even give you a starting point:

A friend of mine was on medication that dulled of his sense of touch. (A "possible side effect" courtesy of our corporate overlords at Big Pharma.) When he went off the medication, his sense of touch returned and he was struck anew with the wonder of it.  Even the experience of taking a shower, he said, was almost overwhelming with the sensations of it all.

The next time I took a shower, I pretended that my sense of touch had just returned and paid ultra-close attention to the tactile sensations of the shower -- the warmth of the water, the individual jets of water hitting me, the smooth soap gliding across my skin.  And oh...my...God.  I mean, we all know that showers are nice and all, but how often do we notice how completely fucking amazing they are? (And I don't think I need to point out how this close attention to sensory pleasures has a similar super-charging effect on sex.)

So my wish for you this Tuesday, dear reader, is a shower of your own that is completely fucking amazing.

Vajazzling, And Other Upsetting Topics

Have you heard about this whole vajazzling thing? Vajazzling, so says the Urban Dictionary, is "the act of applying glitter or jewels to a woman's nether regions for aesthetic purposes." Also "the transfixion felt by the pointless wonder of vaginal glitter."

Vajazzling first came into public consciousness when Jennifer Love Hewitt revealed in her memoir that to get over a break-up, she had Swarovski crystals applied to festoon her "precious lady." She does not reveal whether or not the break-up was precipitated by her penchant for using the term "precious lady." (My guess:  yes.) 

But vajazzling is but one part of what women are doing to fancy up their precious ladies, according to an article in The Globe and Mail thoughtfully sent in by a reader, "Vaginas Enjoy Their 15 Minutes of Commercial Fame".  Says the article--and why would they lie about this?--some among us are dyeing their

Brave Reader Will Watch Porn On Your Behalf, aka Someone's In The Kitchen With Dinah

"I hate porn in general because of the lack of plot, stupid fake tits and scary fingernails that you shouldn't be wielding around soft body parts," writes Miss Kitler of West Virginia. "I also hate it because no one looks like they're REALLY having a good time and you cannot convince me that gagging is 'pleasurable.'"

Well, Miss Kitler, I think many of could agree with that assessment (and if you don't, send us an irate e-mail immediately). Porn films commonly feature actors joylessly pounding away, as though the act is giving them about 75% less stimulation than it should and they have to hammer at it all the more strenuously to make up for it.  And don't even get us started on the girls and their passionless moaning. "Oh yeah, that feels so good," they groan dully, in a depressingly poor approximation of real sexual desire.

Does good porn exist? Let's find out. Brave Miss Kitler is going to watch some porn for us, specifically Fluid: Women Redefining Sexuality from our favorite purveyors of smut, Good Vibrations, and report back on her findings. Why do we have high hopes for this particular film?

Dreams DO Come True--A Cautionary Tale

So, want to read my tale of inadvertent public nudity? (Fear not, to provide your eyes from burning with the horror of it all, I have not included any photos of said event.) I'll tell you the story right now, if you have the time.  Grab a cup of tea and come sit by the warm glow of the computer.

We Have Our Winner!

"YIPPIE!!!!!" wrote Kim from Long Beach, CA, using 5 exclamation points to convey her joy upon learning she was the lucky winner of the Club Vibe from Good Vibrations. You may recall that the Club Vibe responds to sound and can be hooked up to a music player to pulse along with the beat. It can also be set up to vibrate in response to ambient noises, such as the sound of "a lover's voice," night club music, Bill Moyers on PBS...whatever does it for you.

You may also recall, as I most certainly do, that users were reporting that the Club Vibe is so discreet that they were wearing it everywhere, even to most assuredly unsexy destinations like the grocery store.

What I glean from all this is that we should all assume Kim from Long Beach could be wearing her new Club Vibe AT ANY TIME and we should all behave accordingly.  If you happen to see her about town, you might direct some lively comments to her crotchal region to get the device going.

Or if you really want to show her the love, feel free to perform a vocal guitar solo, talk box-style, ala Peter Frampton, circa Frampton Comes Alive! (one exclamation point) toward her nether regions. It's just plain good manners.

New Contest! Do your other blogs treat you this nice? I think not.

In this one, reader is pitted against reader in a gory mellee of previously dignified ladies fighting it out for a fabulous prize and the glory of winning an unmentionable prize.  Your task:  spread the word about In Bed With Married Women.   Your winnings, should you choose to accept this challenge: Your very own Club Vibe from Good Vibrations, the cool San Francisco, girl-friendly purveyors of sex toys.  

The Club Vibe (a $69 value, mind you--no cheap sex toys, for you, dear reader) is some sort of magical device that responds to sounds.  You can plug it into your MP3 player or iPhone and it pulses to the beat of the music. (I am actually kind of afraid of plugging it into my iPhone.  I already like my iPhone excessively and if it were satisfying me sexually as well, I might just run off with it to an Italian villa.) The Club Vibe also can be set to respond to ambient noise so, as the breathless ad copy suggests, you could "Let the sound of your lover's voice wash over you in waves of ecstasy." Hopefully your lover would get into the proper spirit of things and whisper sweet words of hotness, unlike me who would be compelled to pretend it was a microphone and say something horribly inappropriate such as "Clean up on Aisle 3!"  


Anyway, people seem to like this thing--a lot.  One highly pleased user wrote, "At the gym, the stationary bicycle became an exercise in desire. And nobody even wondered why I was sweating and gasping for air! Also, with the Club Vibe firmly clipped to my hip, the supermarket never seemed so sexy."  I don't know if I am pleased or disturbed to imagine that while I am idly scanning the cover of US Weekly, the other women in the supermarket line are secretly having intimate moments.  ("Honey, we need more bread..."  "I'll go!  I'll go!")


It could be you at the grocery store rocking out with your Club Vibe.  To win, you must gather the most new fans for Facebook's In Bed With Married Women page.  You have from now--right this second--until noon on Friday, April 16 (Pacific time).  If you are vehementally anti-Facebook, and that is certainly understandable, you can also send people directly to this blog, instructing them to let me know that you sent them (have them provide your e-mail address as well).


Btw, if you want to just skip all that work and just order the damn thing for yourself, click right here.

What's Your "Not Tonight" Signal?

Trailers for two recent movies both feature the silent "no sex tonight" signals that wives display for their husbands.

In "Date Night," it's the Wearing of the Mouth Guard:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSV4Y2l7JQg

In "Extract," it's the Donning of the Sweatpants:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzJI08YUNik

I love this idea of the non-verbal no-sex signals from an anthropological aspect. For example, an obscure spider in the rain forest might signal their lack of interest by biting the head off their would-be suitor.  But humans generally have to be a bit more subtle.  So I ask you, human reader: what's your no sex signal?

Since I'm asking you such a personal question, I'll go first. I have two: One is pointedly saying, "Wow! I am soooo tired tonight.  I just can't WAIT to be asleep!"  The other is feigned obtuseness--that is, pretending not to recognize any signals from a certain husband.  These signals are not acknowledged aloud.

That is, they weren't until I just now revealed my secret female tricks to the world--crap!  New secret signals needed--STAT! Dear reader, needing your imput immediately...

True Wife's Tale #2: "Mara," Former Wild Child Goes All Suburbia

Our second true wife's tale comes from the gorgeous Mara, who says, "I'm just a regular mom, incest survivor, recovering topless dancer." Now that she's fully ensconced in suburbia, the only tell to her racy past is her penchant for wearing heels with shorts.

Her only request on this interview:  "Just keep it real."  Well, Ms. Mara, consider it done.  Except that Mara isn't even her name.  And her husband now magically has a completely different job.  And a fake name.  (Lies!  I'm full of lies!)  I did let Mara pick her husband's new name. "How about Ken?" she said. "It sounds like a porn name." And that's a good a reason as any, I guess. Everything else in the story is true, btw, so be don't worrying your pretty little head about it.  To read Mara's story, click here.

For those who just joined us, True Wife's Tales are a place for women to tell the truth about what's really going on in their sex lives.  The idea being:  knowledge = power.  If you would like to tell your own story, click here, little missy.

Mail Bag

Let's see what our friendly (and now-blushing) postal worker has brought today.

One reader was inspired by the post on the anal ring toss toy. "Hilarious," she wrote, piquing our interest immediately. "I actually googled 'Who invented the anal ring toss.' I needed to know the story of the guy--because it's a guy, I'm sure--who invented it. Couldn't find anything. Darn. But what I did find while searching was almost as funny to me. I need to explore these web sites more--check this out:  The Pony Head Bridle Set. Here I feel so knowledgeable, but I didn't know this existed."

[editor's note:  I don't want to ruin the mood, but that "plume" looks suspiciously like a feather duster.  And did anyone else notice how much it is?  $275-335!  Although, as the ad copy boldly claims (and who's going to argue, really?): "You could search the finest stables in the world for the rest of your life and never find a bridle set as intricate and beautiful as this one."  If you're one of those matchy-matchy types, you can also buy the Stainless Steel Horse Hair Anal Plug for only $99 (much better than the old-fashioned asbestos anal plugs).  And if you have an extra $1000 burning a hole in your pocket, the also-advertised Slave Driver Fucking Machine might be worth it just for the name alone.]
The next reader was hesitant to enter our contest (see last post) lest she actually win the I Dare You: 30 Sealed Seductions card game.  "You see, seduction is not a problem in our house.  I try to avoid it, if you

WAY Better Than Those Free Grocery Store Samples

Due to my corporate shillery for Good Vibrations sex toys, they have now made me an official "Product Reviewer."  This is probably not something I will put on my resume, but it does mean they send me lots of stuff for review.  And, as delightful as it would be to have an extra room festooned with various colored dildos and the like, I am willing to share the sex swag wealth with you, gentle reader.

Here's the deal, the first two people to respond will get one of the following products pictured below.  In return, you report back to us what you thought.  (Be truthful, don't be a big corporate kiss-up like me.) Now, Good Vibrations has all kinds of gyrating phallic things with buttons, multi-speeds and alarming-looking prongs, but we're gonna ease into all this.

First up for grabs is:

I Dare You--30 Sealed Seductions card game.  The cards are written by "sexpert" (and yes, it does pain me a little to use that word--thanks for asking) Susie Bright and contain activities for you and your partner to enjoy.  We are presuming that said activities are indeed seductive and not like, "Watch TV all night together while barely acknowledging each other's presence."

Female condom, where art thou?

Ahhhh, remember the female condom?  Yeah, neither do I.  The poor old female condom seems like one of those ideas that got lost in time, like Esperanto or getting Americans to understand the metric system.  I mean, did any of you ever use a female condom?  Or even see one?  (If so, do tell.)

It's not much of a mystery why we aren't all using female condoms on a daily basis.  (Although I personally am wearing one right now.  You know, just in case.)  According to the Wikipedia entry on female condoms (because I am willing to spend minutes on research for you, dear reader), "reported 'rustling' sounds during intercourse turn off some potential users, as does the visibility of the outer ring which remains outside of the vagina."  Yes, the rubbery thing hanging out your nether regions seems like it would be a deal-breaker for most people, especially since the instructions for the contraceptive warn that the device should be hanging out at least an inch.  Yes, hanging out there an inch, flapping in the breeze.  Promotional materials also note that the female condom can be put in early. Perhaps as a way to pre-tease you lover via rustling sounds and the obvious visual.  "Damn girl, is that what I think it is hanging out your pants?"  As if all this weren't enough--and believe me, I think it is--the name given female condoms by the FDA is "vaginal pouches."

The odd coda to all this that Female Health Company (FHC), the maker of female condoms, was just named 8th in the top 100 fastest growing publicly traded small companies by Fortune.  How can this be?    Well, it seems we have been distributing massive amounts to women in developing countries, like a mean big sister handing down clothing rejects.  "Here, these are totally lame.  But you might like them."

And btw, if all this talk of female condoms is making you hot, they're still available here in America from Good Vibrations.

Green in bed

Despite my general distain for corporate America, I don't mind giving a shout-out* to venerable purveyor of sexual education, toys and general female-empowerment, GoodVibrations.

If you click this Good Vibrations link, you will see their welcome page featuring a photo of a nice young woman in a lovely field of wildflowers and the banner "Welcoming...Spring."  But you will probably not notice this.  What you will notice is the large, very yellow Spring silicon vibrator in the foreground of the photo.  "With Click n' Charge Magnetic Technology!" it reads.   I'm not quite sure what Click n' Charge Magnetic Technology is, but Good Vibrations is all into eco-friendly stuff like rechargeable batteries, natural ingredients and even vegan body balm, so it's probably something good.

If you're in the market for a festively yellow spring vibrator (which is actually mini-sized, it just looks all big in the picture), get yourself one right here.  I'm just trying to help you out here.  I think we all know that owning sex toys in passe winter colors is social suicide.

*In the fairness of full disclosure, In Bed gets a cut of your purchase.  In my opinion, that's all the more reason to order one right away.  But maybe that's just me.

Would you, could you, in a boat?

Do you talk, really talk, about your sex life with your friends?

As research for my book, I have been asking women this very question--yes, you would be wise to avoid me on the school yard--and have found that it's split about 50/50.  Some women have told me that they know a lot, maybe even too much, about their friends' sex lives.  Others would sooner strip naked at the PTA meeting than discuss anything like that.

Yeah, sex is beautiful and personal and all that, but why are some of us so loathe to talk about it?  I just happen to have a theory/manifesto about that.  See it for yourself right here.