I Had Sex With Something Called A Clitoral Stimulator

My pricey lover with unidentified companion

I don't know if I'm bragging about this or confessing, but Good Vibrations gave me a new kind of vibrator to test out in return for my honest review. Everyone has their price, supposedly, and I now know mine:  $189, the exact cost of  The Womanizer Rechargeable Clitoral Stimulator.

For your $189--or in my case, the whoring out of v. personal moments--you get a thing that looks like an ear thermometer, plus a USB cable, extra tip, fancy case and instruction booklet translated from the German with references to the KLITORIS and somewhat frightening/mysterious exhortations like "Turn the device off whenever unusual sounds are heard and do not continue using it."*

To use (fuck? make love to/with?), you put a little suction cup-like thing directly on your clit and it sort of vibrates and does something that feels a lot like gentle sucking, like someone's mouth is on you. It's a totally different sensation, as far as vibes go--sweet and nice, but not too ethereal. There are like 6 settings of intensity but I could only handle the first two.

The first time the Womanizer had relations, we had some first date issues. During some of it, it was insanely good, then it would somehow suddenly be just "meh" and I could have gotten up and had lunch or something with little regret. Then back to insanely good again.

Instead of a straightforward Masters and Johnson graph from arousal to orgasm:

...it was more like one of those Family Circus cartoons where Billy takes the meandering, long-ass way somewhere...

La de dah.

I think it was self-consciousness due to using it in front of someone coupled with the thing's notable resemblance to a wee little clit-sized milking machine. Still, I kept with it out of sheer determination, which is not exactly an optimal sex attitude. It was pretty frustrating. But then, when it finally happened, I literally screamed. Like, out loud. In a good way, in case you were wondering. This is not something I generally do.

Second time I snuck in the bathroom and put some porn on my phone (is this making you hot? No? Sex stripped of its mystery, connection and passion is so... almost workaday, like I'm describing how I changed the oil in my car or something. Which for the record, I don't know how to do, so don't bother asking me to). The Womanizer caused no screaming this time, but it was quick and easy, which sometimes is all you're looking for.

Third time, it was good. Real good. I'm a little bit in love with it, if you must know. If that thing had a varsity jacket I would so be wearing it.  

If you shell out for one, let me know how it was for you, 'cause then I will feel like we're even somehow.

xoxoxo
jill

*Because that's when the ghosts have taken over the vibrator. (Denn, wenn die Geister haben die Kontrolle übernommen Der Vibrator)

The Little Penis Inside You. Not what you think.

Ask me about my penis!

Janet and I were talking about the last post on how freaking huge a woman's clitoris actually is and she says, "Oh right, the little penis inside you."

I loved this phrase because it sounds so girls-only 7th grade health class. Like, after an uncomfortable and uninformative talk about fallopian tubes and such, the girls would file past the gym teacher, averting their eyes as she hands them each a pamphlet with the words "The Little Penis Inside You" written in swirly tampon ad font. Said brochure would be quickly shoved to the bottom of one's backpack, only to be retrieved for furtive study once in the privacy of one's own room.

Since you probably haven't yet received your pamphlet, I feel compelled to show you this "Clitoral cross section" photo from Wikipedia because it looks exactly like a little penis. So much so that, to be quite honest, it sort of freaks me out. Behold:

Umm, should it be bending down like that?

(I especially like that that one part is unhelpfully labeled "skin." Like the labeler got tired of being so damn specific all the time and thought, "Fuck it. I'm just putting 'skin' and going home.")

If you're feeling brave and want to see a video of this, this...little penis inside turning into what I can only describe as a lady boner, click here for Ed-Sim's sexy sexy video on "clitoral vascularization."  (note: The video keeps going after you think it's over.)

"According to the sexual response cycle, during the excitement stage, the body (shaft) of the clitoris begins to fill with blood and increase in size," it reads. Whew! Is it hot in here?

I'm not yet sure how I am going to deal with this new information. I kind of don't like the idea that I have a little penis inside of me, although it does explain some past decisions I made. You know, thinking with my little penis and all that.

Also feeling slightly less ladylike than usual and hoping my boob-hugging shirt will negate the effects of this post. Look, boobs! I'm a girl!

xoxoxo
jill

(photo: wicked knickers)

Balls (Both Scenic and Educational), Public Masturbation and Florida Woman Does Some Dumb Shit

Breathe deeply. It's all gonna be okay.

Yes, I know, you were promised balls. Here you go, friend.

Balls!
--Scenic balls!
"Men are taking photos of their balls in front of beautiful landscapes" is the alluring headline that led me to Nutscapes, a Tumblr featuring just that--beautiful landscapes with just a touch 'o balls hanging gently above the frame like...well, actually like nothing familiar. Rarely, I think, do any of us view nature from that particular under-ball vantage.

Ah, fresh balls in the morning.

If you're really into balls, this site probably won't do it for you because the balls are pretty blurry, and the scenery and the balls sort of cancel each other out, but I do appreciate that there are a bunch of dudes out there doing something so pointless and vaguely subversive. My only suggestion, and I can't believe I'm saying this: needs more balls.

 --Educational balls!
Meanwhile, Senhor Testicle (aka Mr. Balls) is a scrotum-shaped mascot who travels to classrooms, and other places where there is no escape, to bring awareness to testicular cancer. It also brings awareness to the issue of what you're supposed to say to big ol' hairy Spokesballs, especially one wearing an especially sad toupee/merkin thing, eerily smiling at you and silently making the "hug me" gesture.

The day at the fair takes a sudden turn.

Public Masturbation!
If all this talk of balls becomes too sexually arousing for you, for fuck's sake, please be smart about it doing something about it. Don't be like the Louisiana woman who was caught "inappropriately pleasing with a package of Jimmy Dean sausages in a Walmart bathroom. Believe me, I so get being overcome by passion, but this is not good. Not only does the sign clearly state that merchandise should not be brought into the bathroom, but it's a waste of perfectly good(ish) food. Because, once you actually fuck the sausage, they can't put it back on the shelf, at least not without a real good rinse.

Meanwhile, in a marginally more upscale incident, a Kansas City woman was caught in a Target bathroom singing "Let It Go" and involved in some sort of highly emotional threesome with a carrot and an Olaf puppet.

I think the point here is that public restrooms are overwhelming sexy, so if you're going to a big box store, make sure you masturbate at home first. And please pay for all meat products before sticking them into your vagina.

(If you cruelly enjoy the charming foibles of the clearly mentally ill, as I seem to, I suggest you check out the Florida Woman Twitter account featuring important news like "Florida Woman strips naked in restaurant, sticks chair leg in ass, slathers herself in ketchup" or, to return to the previous theme, "Florida Woman won't let go of security guard's testicles, even while being tasered." If you imagine that it's all just one woman doing all of it, it makes if even better. And better still if while imagining that, you concurrently make love to a pack of Jimmy Dean sausages--but not the spicy hot ones, learned my lesson.)

Superhero Blogging!
IBWMW made Kinkly's 2015 list of 100 Sex Blogging Superheros.  We're #13, which is good, since I try to strive for upper mediocrity in all I do. Not sure what this year's superpower is but I'm kinda hoping it's something like this, sent in by my friend Quentin who has spent his life "avoiding VaJayJay" and now will be even more vigilant in his efforts.

Not sure how I'm gonna use this power yet, but I'm thinking at the very least, it might get me a bit more space at the communal tables at Starbucks.

Or maybe I'll smite somebody. I have just the person in mind right now. Hope it's not you...

xoxoxo
jill

p.s. for you Esperanto readers, here is a complete translation of today's missive:

En lieu de fakta enhavo, mi decidis mi simple tuj uzi multajn ekstrajn ekkrion punktoj por ke ĉio ŝajnas pli amuza. Ni provu !!!!! Ĉu ni? Yay !!!!
Buloj!
--Scenic Pilkoj!
"Viroj prenas fotojn de siaj pilkoj antaŭ belaj pejzaĝoj" estas la alluring subtitolo kiu kondukis min al Nutscapes, Tumblr featuring ĝuste tion - belaj pejzaĝoj kun nur tuŝo 'o pilkoj pendas milde super la kadro kiel ... nu , fakte ŝatas nenion familiara. Malofte, mi pensas, do ajna de ni vidas naturon de tiu aparta sub-pilko panoramejo.
Buloj vidanta la vidindaĵojn.
--Educational Pilkoj!
Dume, Senhor testiko (aka Mr. Buloj) estas scrotum-forma maskoto kiu vojaĝas al klasĉambroj kaj aliaj lokoj kie ekzistas neniu fuĝo, por alporti konscion al testika kancero. Mi konjektas ankaŭ alportas konscion al la antaŭe neesplorita demando de kion vi supozis diri al granda ol 'paro de Spokeballs.
La tago ĉe la foiro prenas subitan turnon.
Publika masturbo!
Se ĉiuj ĉi tiu parolado pri pilkoj iĝas tro sekse concitando por vi, por fiki, kalkaj, bonvolu esti inteligenta pri ĝi. Kaj ne estu kiel ĉi Luiziano virino kiun kaptis "malkonvene placxas sin" kun pako de Jimmy Dean kolbasoj en Walmart banĉambro. Kredu min, mi do restu venkite de pasio, sed tio ne estas bona. Ne nur faras la signon klare deklari ke komercado oni ne enportadis en la banĉambro, Sed unufoje vi vere fuck la kolbaso, ili ne povas remetis ĝin sur la breton, almenaŭ ne sen bona Rinse. Tio estas nur malŝparo de perfekte bona (ish) manĝaĵo.
Dume, en marĝene pli luksa incidento, virino estis kaptita en Cel banĉambro kantante "Let It Go" kaj implikita en iu speco de trio kun karoto kaj Olaf marioneto.
Mi kredas ke la punkto estas, ke la publikaj necesejoj estas abrumadora sexy, do se vi tuj granda skatolo vendejo, certigi vin masturbado hejme unue.(Se vi kruele ĝui la ĉarmajn asteniojn de la klare mense malsana, kiel mi ŝajnas, mi sugestas ke vi kontrolu la Florida Virino Twitter konton featuring gravaj novaĵoj kiel "Florida Virino strioj nuda en restoracio, bastonoj seĝo kruro en azenon slathers sin keĉupo "aŭ, por reveni al la antaŭa temo," Florido virino ne lasi iras de sekureco korpogardistoj testikoj, eĉ dum estado tasered. "Se vi imagas, ke ĝi estas ĉio nur unu virino fari ĉiujn de ĝi, ĝi faras se eĉ pli bona. Kaj pli bona ankoraŭ se samtempe amindumu pack de Jimmy Dean kolbasoj - sed ne la pika varma, ili lernis mian lecionon.)
Superhero Blogging!
Tiu estas la klaso de aĵoj kiuj helpis IBWMW farita Kinkly la 2015 listo de 100 sekso Blogging Superheros. Ni estas # 13, kiu estas bona, se mi provos strebi por supra mezkvalito en ĉiuj mi fari. Ne certas kion ĉijara superpotenco estas sed mi kinda esperante ĝi estas io tiamaniere, per mia amiko Quentin.
Ne certe kiel mi estas gonna uzo ĉi povon ankoraŭ, sed mi pensas, almenaŭ, ĝi povus atingi min iom pli spaco je la komunuma tablojn ĉe Starbucks.Aŭ eble mi frapu al iu. Mi havas nur la persono en menso nun. Esperas ĝi ne estas
xoxoxo
Jill

(ball photo via Nutscapes.com, natch)

On James Deen, Darkness and the Erotic

Last night I was reading about porn star James Deen and his multiple accusations of sexual harassment and rape. (See also: Adult Film Star James Deen Labeled The "Bill Cosby of Porn.")

And yes yes, his reported behavior was beyond jerky, violent and pretty fucking creepy. It's some serious %#@#, if the accusations are indeed true. And I tend to believe multiple accusers instead of the dude going, "Whaa...? Liars!"

And yet. There is a vast difference between how the regular, sensible brain and erotic brain perceive the world. I have a huge thing for James Deen. (As does he. Huge thing, that is. Sorry.) As I read, I became somewhat enchanted by one of the complaints in which he came up behind Ashley Fires and pressed his erect cock into her bum.

“I was getting out of the shower of the communal bathroom at Kink, I reach for my towel to dry off, and [Deen] comes up from behind me and pushes himself and his erection into my butt,” said Fires in Daily Beast. “He pushes me against the sink and starts grabbing on me and I was like, ‘No, no, no James, no,’ and he released me from his grasp.”

****

This morning, instead of donating to NOW or supporting my fellow women on social media, I somehow ended up watching James Deen porn .*

And it was insanely hot.

The man is so fucking intense, present and seemingly so into it that he's practically growling. I absolutely love the way that man porn fucks.

So. I tell you this because I have no filter, but also because it reminds me of what Esther Perel writes about eroticism in Mating In Captivity. (If you're feeling settled there and read-y, here's a long but super interesting piece she wrote on erotic intelligence.) "Sexual desire is politically incorrect, often thriving on power plays, role reversals, unfair advantages, imperious demands, seductive manipulations and subtle cruelties," she notes.

The erotic lives--and thrives--in places of darkness and the forbidden. Whether we like it or not.

Adult actress Sydney Leathers said she was told of Deen, "He has boundary issues, basically...he tries to break women." And instead of thinking "What a fuckhead!"--as one should totally totally do, I get that--God help me, I was intrigued. To break a woman....it's just so heavy and dark. What would it take to break a woman? To break me?

I realized that if James Deen showed up at my backside pressing his hard-on into my bum, well, my friend, I would fuck the shit out of him. Still. Maybe even more so now.

Not sure what that might mean for you (or me) today, but I'm putting it there in your brain if you'd like to fidget with it.

xoxo
jill

*New link.  Had accidentally put up a weird clean version. Which. What's the point?

On Orgasm and Beautiful Agony

The site Beautiful Agony exists in a space somewhere between art and porn. It's a collection of short films featuring close ups of people's faces as they pleasure themselves, falling into, then through orgasm. It's a celebration of la petite mort* and it's...beautiful. (It's a pay site, but there are some free samples.)

Explain the Beautiful Agonistas on the project's inspiration:

Beautiful Agony began as a multimedia experiment, to test a hypothesis that eroticism in human imagery rests not in naked flesh and sexual illustration, but engagement with the face. We wondered whether film of a genuine, unscripted, natural orgasm - showing only the face - could succeed where the most visceral mainstream pornography fails, and that is, to actually turn us on.

Considering porn has had a few thousand years to evolve, alongside other streams of culture - you'd expect it to be refined and sophisticated. Yet instead of developing in sophistication and nuance, it has become a brutal and charmless rendering of human sexuality. It's like the people who make it, don't really understand it.

Yes. 

What's also interesting to me about these faces contorted in orgasm is the realization that orgasm does come with a bit of agony. If you didn't know the experience yourself, to see someone moaning and grimacing in orgasm's throes would look, well, you probably would not want to "have what they're having."

The experience of going toward and riding the throbs of orgasm is so outside the realm of our other experiences. I mean, what other thing gets us to this place, this place of incoherence and liquid, sweet strokes leading to the deliciously inevitable?  It's so animal and primal and raw and very vulnerable.

Which brings me to this. Beautiful Agony will pay you $200 for an accepted submission. There are qualifications--you need a decent camera, you have to answer some questions and whatnot--but I wonder how many among us would do it. I could see doing it. The arty veneer makes it seem less porny and I like the idea of contributing real sexual experience to the well of collective sexual consciousness. Plus, hey, 200 bucks.

On the other hand, maybe 200 bucks is not nearly enough for the...gift, I guess is the right word, of something so incredibly personal. I think what makes sex so intimate is not the actual nudity but the sort of metaphorical nudity of letting someone see and hear and feel and smell and taste you as you come. When women have an orgasm, portions of their brain controlling anxiety and alertness go dark.  So to let someone be present with you and for you when you're in that space--bearing witness, as the Quakers say, though certainly regarding other things entirely--is a huge gift of trust.

In a nice twist, the primitive, earthy rutting of bodies, flesh and fluids, leads us to a state of transcendence somehow both grounded in and sublimely beyond the physical. Which is pretty fucking beautiful. (Thanks, life!)  To be able to jump into this void while grasping onto the back or ass of someone else, well, it's a bit of magic, really.

xoxox
jill

*Here's Google, waxing oddly poetic--oh Google, what do you know, really, of melancholia?--on the subject:  "La petite mort, French for "the little death"...describe(s) the post-orgasmic state of unconsciousness that some people have after having some sexual experiences. More widely, it can refer to the spiritual release that comes with orgasm or to a short period of melancholy or transcendence as a result of the expenditure of the "life force," the feeling which is caused by the release of oxytocin in the brain after the occurrence of orgasm."



(photo via Beautiful Agony)

"Women Happy Medicine"

I was Googling "sex patents" because -- well, I don't have a good reason for it --and came upon this enchanting piece of history, a 1930s Japanese sexual aids catalogue which purports to provide the "Key to the Sex Question." Whatever this "sex question" is, the answer seems to involve mysterious ointments, finger puppet-looking condoms and a variety of pointy marital aids. But I especially like it for the ad copy, which is charmingly poetic and, often, entertainingly non-illuminating as to what the product actually does.

Consider this:

The copy for the, well, whatever the hell those things are on the right, reads: "This is a blessing to men feel and get young by using this wonderful thing. We particularly recommend it to elderly men." Whatever "this wonderful thing" is (and from the sound of it, even the copywriter is unsure), it appears to come in Big Pointy style or Little Pointy style. I can't read the little booklet in the picture, but I presume it explains why a nice elderly man would want to festoon his wiener with bristles. As for me, if elderly penis is being presented to me, the addition of bristles isn't going to improve the situation. However, I welcome your hypotheses. (And, please know that if you possess elderly penis yourself, I'm of course not talking about your particular elderly penis.)

And speaking of bristles:

More spikes! Why so many spikes? Explains the copy: "If you this (on penis) and love her then she will never separate from you." Because, judging by the photo, she will be permanently impaled (on penis). Which I guess is would be the "unexplainable feeling to women" mentioned on page 6.

And, please, take a moment to enjoy the found poetry on this page:

Like:

"Age lady who has too big organ must use this then she will become condition of virgin."

"If you use this powder putting on female organ then will take off bad smell and increasing her organistic feeling very much."

It doesn't mention how you explain putting powder on your lady's female organ (note: "I'm taking off bad smell" will not go well for you) but "organistic feeling"? That sounds good, doesn't it? Yes, I know these products are overhyped, based on bad science and probably involve banned and/or highly flammable chemicals, but I find myself being lured by the bewitchingly odd prose. If I ever find myself back in 1930s Japan, I am definitely buying the Sexual Stimulants (only 2 yen!) because I am simply unable to resist this sales pitch: "A certain cream and tablets, if used, will make the whole business a real pleasure." And if the whole business can be a real pleasure and provide organistic feeling as well, then damn it, that's 2 yen well spent.