And so we say good-bye, for now, to Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating.

Beauty Hole Ass Vagina inspired Indolent to create...this.

The winner of the "Is Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating an ass? Or a vagina?" Contest is...Indolent.

Indolent wins because he or she tried so darn hard. Not only did they provide this excellent answer--

"But why must it choose one? You're trying to force an identity on it not of its own desire. Doing that, you're liable to give it self-esteem issues, and maybe even some sort of disorder! (I would say an eating disorder, but a mouth seems to be the one orifice it's not trying to be.) You should praise it for its unique sensibilities, its individual contributions to the world, rather than trying to make it conform to a preconceived notion of normal. You should let it know that, no matter what else, it is a Beauty. Ass, vagina, egg, all are irrelevant. The important thing is to accept it for itself, to allow it to forge its own destiny, to reach the heights of splendor by its own path. (Perhaps not unmolested, but at least unhindered.) It is Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating, and it is Beauty."

--which could have won just for the mention of the often-overlooked Beauty that is Beauty Hole Ass Vagina, as well as the sentence "Perhaps not unmolested, but at least unhindered."

But THEN, Indolent came back a few days later, with another comment, plus a link to the artistic work shown above left.

"In an attempt to answer this question for myself, I have drawn a picture. It would appear that it is, in fact, possible for this to resemble a vulva. However, the unfortunate possessor of said vulva managed to get half of herself hit by a shrink ray, causing everything to become grotesquely out of proportion."

The best part is that the png file is called "I will never admit I drew this."

Well Indolent, if you want your prize, the possibly fabulous Pirouette Waterproof Vibrator from Good Vibrations, you're gonna have to admit it, at least to me. Drop me an email with your mailing address and soon you'll be opening a benign-looking package with a nice twisty vibrator inside.

And, if you didn't read the other answers people submitted, go back and have a look. Everyone (almost) is so fucking smart and funny and possibly over-educated/underemployed, it makes me beam with pride. Go on, look--what other place offers you fellow readers that are equally comfortable using the terms "cloaca" and "assgina"?

I will leave you today with this perhaps divinely-inspired meditation on Beauty Hole Ass Vagina from reader EB.

While this is a highly complicated question, I find it be philosophically interesting in the same way that cloudwatching is philosophically interesting: to each person, the result may be different but at the same time, if you have truly connected to the person viewing beside you, you may see the same bunny-shaped cloud. Therefore, the question is not "is it an ass or a vagina" but rather, is it an ass or a vagina to both you and the person you are viewing it with? If it is the same, the benefits of this are clear--but if it is different, this is an opportunity for growth for both of you as you explore the whys and wherefores of the difference. Therefore, this question could be the very basis for the deep and lasting development of a special relationship, making the question itself not nearly as relevant to the journey to its answer. 

xoxoxo
jill

(art by Indolent)

Contest! Win a velvety twirly vibrator! Just answer an unanswerable question!

Your challenge:

Is Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating an ass....or a vagina? Explain. There is no right or wrong answer when it comes to Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating.

As you may recall, we know that its package contains "1x big ass" so that might provide a clue. On the other hand, we also learned that it boasts "the feeline of mridens's skin" which tells us...um, well, that's for you to decide.

Winner, as chosen by the vagaries of my ever-changing whims, will be announced Tuesday, May 28, 2013.

The prize:

Formal portrait of purple Pirouette with blue friend

This fabulous Pirouette Waterproof Vibrator from the sexually empowered folk at Good Vibrations, who maybe will continue to give us free stuff if some of y'all get your butts and other toy-needing orifices over there and buy something.

Here's Pirouette's blurb:
Offering a new twist on vibration stimulation, this waterproof vibe features a spiraling shaft, creating a contoured surface to add a textural element to penetration play. The super-smooth velvety exterior feels sensationally soft against the skin while the simple dial control lets you adjust the intensity to suit your sensual needs.

Sounds good, yes?

So get your brain on this:  Ass? Or vagina? Ass? Or vagina?

xoxo
jill

P.S. In Bed With Married Women is now the top rated humor blog for Amazon Kindle--thanks to YOU! Which translates not to highest sales. That would go to a blog called "Joke of the Day," perhaps because it's incredibly hard to unsubscribe from. Here's a review of Joke of the Day:

"it was terrible and it comes up EVERYDAY on your homescreen. i suggest NOT to buy this blog. for one reason it is a waist of money on this silly blog and my other reason is because, the jokes are inappropriate and have NO funny part of them.

Exactly! Don't waist your money on silly things with no funny part of them, switch to IBWMW today.


(photo)

Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating

This is like the third time this has happened, but I was looking up the Amazon link for Naomi Wolf's book Vagina: A New Biographyfor a post I always claim I'm going to write, but somehow never do, and AGAIN I went completely off-track via some other enchanting vaginally-related product (see also: my Jezebel-disapproved post Vagina Panty).

Beauty Hole Ass Vagina

This time it was Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibratingprimarily because it's called BEAUTY HOLE ASS VAGINA WITH EGG VIBRATING.

Not quite familiar with what a Beauty Hole Ass Vagina can do for you? Let's have a look at the product description:

This lifelike masturbator.sexy inviting. Make materials use the latest simulation material, virtual touch that is with an extremely realistic feel,like that of the human body,if you close your eyes and touch the material,you can't tell the difference between it and human body. The comfortable handheld size also allows you to control the tightness as you are enjoying every last inch of the amazingly lifelike penetration! The Sleeve Sensations Thruster is ready for action any time or place you need a release!Sex toys bring more erotic pleasure to the world!Body Massager!Gentle or strong,Its up to you!Enjoy your happy life everyday!

I like how it's not just a product description, but also includes a guilt-reducer ("sex toys bring more erotic pleasure to the world") as well as the random exhortation  to "Enjoy your happy life everyday!" It's fine advice, but perhaps, well....unexpected in an product description for a disembodied Ass Vagina thing.

Anyway there's more:

Package include:
1x big ass
1x vibration bullet (batteries not include)

I heard nothing previously about this "big ass" but, to make sure you're not getting ripped off, please ensure that 1x big ass is indeed included with your package.

It also says this:

• Size: about L13.6 x W9 x H6 (cm)
• high qurlity tpr materibl
• the feeline of mridens's skin

Which is....pretty fucking mystifying. Though perhaps not as much as the fact that there are only 2 of these Beauty Hole Ass Vaginas (new, thankfully) available for sale. Why only 2? Seems like if you were taking the time to get out the Beauty Hole Ass Vagina-Making Machine, you may as well set it to 50 or, hell, even 100.

And why is Beauty Hole Ass Vagina accompanied by a link for Adult Size Authentic Mexican Sombrero? What is the connection?

At the bottom of the screen, there is a little "ASK" box with the question "What do you want to know about Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating?"

But, you know what?  I am not going to ask. I think that, perhaps, there are some things we are just Not To Know. Let's leave the haunting mysteries of Beauty Hole Ass Vagina with Egg Vibrating to the ages.

xoxo
jill

ps If you're feeling it, see my DAME article on a dating web site for men with penises 7 inches or bigger.  Thank you to the Facebook IBWMWers (catchy? yeah. so not.) who helped in framing the assignment.

pps THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to the people last month who purchased stuff through the Amazon link in the upper right corner of the blog, the one (1) dear soul who bought something via the Good Vibrations ad, and the IBWMW Kindle subscribers who faithfully shell out their 99 cents every damn month. You all warm my heart more than you'll ever know.

Sexual Edumacation

Couple demonstrating "sexual gateway activity"

Breaking news from my time machine that travels back to one week ago...

Reports Jezebel:  
Yesterday, the Ohio House Finance Committee's Republican members voted to adopt a state budget amendment that mandates an abstinence-only approach to sexual education....The idiotic measure will "prohibit the teaching of sexual education coursework that endorses non-abstinence as an acceptable behavior or promotes sexual gateway activity." "Sexual Gateway Activity" — what's that?: 

ORC 2907.01(B) “Sexual contact” means any touching of an erogenous zone of another, including without limitation the thigh, genitals, buttock, pubic region, or, if the person is a female, a breast, for the purpose of sexually arousing or gratifying either person.

In addition, teachers can't distribute contraceptives at school, because nothing keeps a teen not pregnant more than not giving them condoms.

***
So I want to be all mad about this, but not only am I far too aroused by the erotic writing of ORC 2907.01(B) to think straight, but the part of my brain that gets mad at people for being stupid does not want to become engaged with this.  Especially the thought that spawns of these Ohioans, made sexually ignorant by their mandated sex-free sex ed, will predictably--yawn--fuck incorrectly and poorly, but not poorly enough to prevent unwanted pregnancy, thus producing even more of their kind. And so on and so on.

Nope, I'm gonna look the other way today. To good things happening in sex education, which I would define as sex ed that provides, you know, education. (This does not include my own 1970's sex ed in Georgia which was taught by the gym teacher and involved lots of talk of vas deferens. I learned nothing about real sex. The whole good part--attraction, arousal, or hell, even a basic how-to--was dismissed with a vague reference to "the sperm meeting the egg.")

So, yes, good sex ed, like:

1.  The adult sex ed classes offered in San Francisco by Kink.com. They feature real life people demonstrating real life sex, orgasms and whatnot for the class.  

Writes Tracy Clark-Flory in My X-Rated Sex Ed Class:

It isn’t just a live sex show, though. Before any pants were removed, [instructor Madison] Young passed around a diagram of the g-spot, reviewed the anatomy, dispelled myths about female ejaculation and goaded the audience members into talking about how they liked to be touched. Then she whipped out a speculum and brought her model Ava, or “stunt pussy,” up to the front of the room. In went the clear plastic device and then Ava began to stimulate herself with a Hitachi Magic Wand in an attempt at making her g-spot swell and become more visible.

.....My mind was blown by this sex-ed class even before the squirting began — but that was plenty mind-blowing on its own. Ava got up on the table in front of the class, spread her legs and began stimulating herself with a Hitachi and a stainless steel g-spot stimulator. Young explained what we were about to see: “It’s the release of all the juicy fluid that’s building up in the para-urethral sponge … and then it pushes forth through the urethra.” Young answered audience questions over the buzzing of the toy and Ava’s growing moans. And then there was a sudden burst of clear ejaculate that splattered inches from my feet.

After a vigorous demonstration of hand techniques on a melon, Clark-Flory leaves not only with an unsettling image of Gallagher, but the realization that there is still so much to learn about our bodies.

...Even having grown up in hippie-dippie Berkeley, Calif., having attended a feminist-minded women’s college, having read about hand-mirror-toting consciousness raising circles, having ended up reporting on sex for a living, I had never clearly seen what the vaginal walls actually look like — at least not outside of an illustrated diagram. I tell you, it was a revelation: I wanted to hightail it to the nearest Good Vibrations and buy my very own speculum — and one for each of my ladyparts-having friends. It made me angry that all those times I’ve had a gynecologist uncomfortably perched between my legs, they’ve never offered to hold up a mirror.

2. Meanwhile, the French, who continue to do, well, life, better than the rest of us, offer their postpartum women free classes in la rééducation périnéale, or reeducating the listless post-baby pelvic floor muscles so that they can actually work again. The classes include biofeedback and a coach to help teach proper Kegel techniques.

Writes Claire Lundberg in  The French Government Wants to Tone My Vagina:

Despite the occasional embarrassment, these sessions actually work. There haven’t been extensive studies done, but what studies exist show that la rééducation significantly reduces incontinence and pelvic pain at nine months after giving birth. Frankly, I’m happy there’s a medical professional paying attention to what happened down there. Rééducation périnéale gets scoffed at in American and Canadian publications as one of the most lurid examples of the indulgent French welfare state, but as far as I can tell, we do exactly nothing in the United States to help women get back into shape after giving birth.

An American woman gets her six-week postpartum checkup and, if nothing is seriously wrong, she’s cleared to have sex again and sent on her way. If she’s lucky, the doctor or midwife reminds her to do her Kegel exercises, but without much guidance. Meanwhile, at least in the experience of many of my friends, she may still be experiencing a variety of symptoms that, while not medically serious, sure are annoying, embarrassing, and strange, and not at all conducive to reinvigorating her sex life. Elective “vaginal rejuvenation” through plastic surgery is on the rise in the U.S., though this surgical reconstruction is largely aesthetic and pays little or no attention to returning sensation or control to the woman. Americans’ lack of attention to the female body after giving birth is our own version of the modesty gown or the word vajayjay; we’re covering our eyes and pretending there’s nothing there to see, until it can no longer be ignored.

So yeah, there is good stuff happening. Just not right now, or last week for that matter, in Ohio.

xoxox
jill

(photo via Lady Cheeky)

Real Sex Lives: Nola, "I had an affair. Now what?"

This is the latest "True Wife's Tale," an IBWMW series about real people (doesn't have to be a wife despite "wife" being right there in the name) telling the truth about their sex lives. As I've tiresomely overstated, the idea is that knowledge=power, the truth will set us free and any other number of slogans I learned watching Saturday morning cartoons in the 1970s. In that spirit, don't be a Judgey Judgerson and be criticizing dear Nola's choices. You haven't walked in her moccasins (see above: life philosophy gleaned from 70s children's TV), so even if you think her moccasins are slutty, amoral moccasins, keep that $%$% to yourself.  Here then, is Miss Nola, or Ms. Nola, I suppose, since she's married:

I hadn't had sex with my husband for a year.  Which in a way was fine. Not the no sex part, which was soul-killing, but the "with my husband" part. We had been together a very very long time and sex, which had never been the focus of our relationship, had dwindled down over the years until our sex life was only definable by its absence.

When we used to have sex, it was...fine. Orgasms were had, equipment worked, words of love were exchanged. But it was never hot. Or creative. Or after a time, something that either of us seemed to want. At first this was okay--I had kids to raise, a job to do, books to read. But after I turned 40, I experienced some sort of rebirth and, for the first time in my life, felt my own sexuality. I felt free and sexual and full of life.  I tried to turn it back on with my husband. I'd ask him to have sex and though he seemed perfectly happy doing it, he'd never instigate. Whenever I tried to explore things a little further, I got the feeling I was making him uncomfortable.

Eventually I resigned myself to a sex life with my own hand. 

But still... I felt so ripe and ready. I looked at my body in the mirror and it was still good.  Maybe better than it had ever been. I wanted someone to appreciate the particular curve of my hip and the way my nipples poked out through my shirt. I wanted to be kissed well and hotly desired. I felt like my body and sexuality were going to waste.

This is the point where the old lover appears via Facebook. Mine did and he was just as hot and dangerous as ever. We exchanged insanely sexy texts, emails and pictures and had phone sex in which I came so loudly I was afraid the neighbors could hear. Back in college, Old Lover very blunt and very sexual. He would say things to me like "Your pussy is so wet" which, to me, accustomed to the earnestly fumbling boys I'd been with, felt so dirty and scandalous. I was so prissy then and the way he talked about sex and so relished it was incredibly freeing. 

Talking to him 20 or so years later, I felt the same freeing feeling about sex which--depressingly--I hadn't experienced since him. My body still reacted instantly and violently to him. To this day, he is the only person who can make me go wet just from the sound of his voice. I concocted elaborate fantasies to tell him on the phone, and as I whispered the details to him, I relished the way his breath would quicken, the way he would gasp out "You have me so turned on right now" and his moans as he came. Once I sent him a picture of my boobs while he was at work and he had to go into the backroom to jerk off. I loved how sexy and beautiful he made me feel.

So yes, not only was he making me feel hot and gorgeous and letting me see my body in a whole new light, but in talking about sex and sharing these fantasies, I was--finally!--getting to share my sex life with someone who was not me. Which I was, and for the rest of my life will be, incredibly grateful.

When we finally met in person, the sex was amazing. But not in the way I'd pictured. I thought it would be all dirty and elaborate, perhaps ending with me crawling around the floor or something. Instead it was pretty basic, some very sweet kisses, a lift of my skirt and in.

As he kissed me and slid slowly inside of me, I felt something that was beyond sex. I felt the most sublime squishy glowing pleasure I've ever felt. I don't know if he was shaped differently than my husband or was just bigger (yes), but his cock was touching me in some deep deep place, both metaphorically and literally. It was fucking profound.  Which I guess is the same thing as profound fucking, which it also was.  For me, it wasn't a tensing thing that would lead to orgasm (and in fact it didn't), but something that was beyond orgasm.  It didn't need to go anywhere because it was already there--in this amazing spot of squishy grand fuckiness and oh-god his scruffy cheek and sweet lips and floating in a sublime space that was like somehow existing inside an orgasm.

I couldn't do anything but clutch onto his big hairy shoulder and cling to him and feel just...gratitude.  Gratitude for him and for this incredible feeling he gave to me. It was the best moment of my life.

"I contain multitudes"--Song of Myself, Walt Whitman.

*****
Of course it ended badly. (Who could've seen that coming?) And I've done a lot of furtive weeping. But I don't regret any of it. I'm glad I'm jumped into the fire and got to feel that feeling. I got to live in passion and threw myself into life, fully and with an open heart.

*****
A few days after it ended and the weeping continued, my friend recommended I have a toss with my husband. We did and it was...decent. It did stop the weeping. And I realized that one of the things I'd been crying about was the idea of going back to a sex life alone. I saw that I could have pretty good sex, in home, with none of the emotional b.s. 

I'm still not sure if that's gonna be enough for me.

I have a little bag of sexy lingerie and some sex toys I bought when I thought I'd be going to see Old Lover again. Right now it's sitting unused under my bed. I'm thinking of it as my sexual Hope Chest.

Thank you to dear Nola and the rest of you who have been so honest and brave to share. If one of the rest of y'all has a tale to tell, rip your little heart out and send your story to: jillhamilton001@gmail.com.

xoxox
jill

(photo: Lady Cheeky)

Bill Gates and Condoms, A Big-Ass Tub o' Lube, Monsanto, and Other Notably Unrelated Things.

Improper condom use

When I lived in Ann Arbor, I wrote for a magazine section named "Tidbits." "Tidbits" is a terrible name. Tidbits are a low-end dog food, or possibly something you have to sweep up from a rodent's cage. When talking about my work, I would use convoluted verbal arrangements--much like this sentence itself--so as never to actually have to call the little blurby things I wrote "tidbits." Because I have my dignity, you know. Fucking "tidbits." Still hate it.

However, today's blurby post proves that although I am now far, far away from Tidbits, I still have some tidbitiness about me. (Sweep those up, will you?) But hell if I'll call 'em Tidbits. Here...let me think of a Theme. Let's see, the theme today is Things That Don't Go Together. Which is lame, but at least it's not Tidbit lame.

1. Bill Gates and Condoms
Emily sent in the financially important news that Bill Gates is offering $100,000 to the person who can design a better condom. The idea is this: Although condoms have been around at least 400 years, people don't really like them. Yes, they're cheap, easy and very effective in preventing STDs and pregnancy--so calm down, no one's saying don't use them or anything. However, they do feel kind of sucky and I think we can all agree that they look a bit ridiculous. (Pssst, not talking about you. You look sexy as hell in a condom. Your condom-encased penis looks absolutely nothing at all like a burglar wearing pantyhose over their face.)

Anyway, the idea is that you develop a condom that's somehow...better. Maybe it gives more sensation, maybe it's easier to put on, maybe it just looks mighty fine. All up to you.

What walks down stairs, alone and in pairs?

This ORIGAMI male condom is an example of what the Gates people consider to be an innovative condom. Besides that fact that it looks like it might make a pleasing SPROING noise, the folding design offers the following "advantages," according to its makers:

1. Easy donning method slides the condom onto the penis in 2.8 seconds.
2. Consistent expansion/contraction of the condom provides a natural reciprocating motion of the penis inside the lubricated condom.

Still, I think they still have a way to go aesthetically, and hell, perhaps the condom you design will go on in 2.7 seconds. However, if you are timing your own condom-donning, keep it to yourself or your partner will be gone in 5.4 seconds. Deadline to enter May 7, 11:30 a.m. Pacific Time.

2. Vinegar and Douche
A question for you: Why are there vinegar douches? Vinegar smells horrible.  There is no smell anyone's got going on down there that could be improved by adding vinegar to the mix. I get that vinegar's a weak acid (or I do now after Googling it) and it might have something to do with balancing flora or something, but is there no other weak acid to do the trick? Maybe a can of Sprite, or, hell, if you're shoving stuff up there anyway, how 'bout something inherently decent smelling like a basil leaf or an Altoid? (Btw, pretty much everyone besides the makers of Summer's Eve products agrees that douching is bad, unhealthy and not advisable. Especially using stinky-ass vinegar.)

3. Lube and Bulk Buying

The crush-worthy Firehorse_on_SL alerts us to the availability of this 55 Gallon Drum of Lube"Maybe a purchase for a very open-minded shopping club?" she suggests. It comes with a pump, weight 522 pounds and costs $1,235.94, which seems a bit steep, but the shipping is free so maybe it all works out. There are only "new" tubs available, which is probably for the best.

There are some semi-funny reviews over there--not anywhere near as good as the ones for the BIC Cristal For Her Pen (if you haven't seen them, go there at once) --and I am ashamed to admit that I laughed at one recommending the lube tub as being perfect for a session of schtupping the old, and presumably vaginally arid, Helen Thomas.

In case you're wondering, I just looked up the veteran newswoman to see if she was dead and she's not (Good news, Helen!), so I don't feel quite as bad. However, I don't want to malign her. Maybe ol' Helen is a tight and slick as...well, a Helen Thomas. "Oh God, watching you slide that Origami male condom on in 2.8 seconds is making me so...fucking...wet. Helen Thomas wet."

4. Monsanto and Sex Blog

I have a new piece up at DAME magazine, Monsanto: Six Truths and a Lie.  It's about the various dickish things Monsanto has done, which, upon researching, were actually more numerous and hideous than I'd ever dreamed.  Go on over and comment and/or share via Facebook or Twitter if you're feeling Fight the Powerish.

xoxoxo
jill

(umbrella image)

The Return of Reader Mail Friday, featuring "Insane Monster Bush"

"Did you mail that letter to Emma yet?"

1. The Russians like their Mom Porn

This is why I love my readers so. One among you, Tim, forwarded me a link from PornMD, which is a porn search engine where dear Tim coulda been looking up any weird-ass thing he desired, including such videos as "Bianca's Insane Monster Bush" or "This Ass Ain't So New Anymore."

But what tweaked his fancy was a nerdy sociological chart, Global Internet Porn Habits Infographic. There, you can click on a state or country and learn brain-clogging information such as "monster cock (gay)" is the second most popular search term in Kenya. Or that the more racist a southern state seems, the more likely "ebony" will be the most popular porn. Or that the people of the Czech Republic have a thing for "castrated shemales" and Icelanders like "prostate massage."

I also learned that it was a bad idea to click on the term "old man porn." Though, in hindsight, that probably should have been self-evident.

2. Happiness is a Warm Bum

Not sure what "healing" implies.

Meanwhile, lovely reader Christina sent in The 10 Worst Products for Men Ever Created which included such products--attention people of Iceland--the Prostate Gland Warmer. Apparently you stick the pointy end up your bum and the light bulb is there to...I don't know...to indicate to others that you've fired up the prostate warmer yet again?

Wrote Luis at Cracked: "We were rather discouraged to find out that the light bulb was not activated solely by the mighty electrical currents generated by a human rectum like a potato in a 4th grade science fair project." Indeed. I also kind of want the light to make that little sound Rudolph's nose makes when it lights up, but I think the Prostate Warmer technology of 1925 was not quite there.

3. "Hey Emma"

Finally, in response to the Vagina Panty! labiaplasty post, A MALE READER wrote in shouty caps.:

HEY EMMA: I READ SOMEWHERE THERE IS AREA NEAR NEW ZEALAND WHERE THE WOMEN ALL HAVE EXTREMELY LONG INNER LIPS.  THEY ARE CALLED HOT-IN-TOTs.  THE ARTICLE CONTINUES TO STATE THAT THIS IS GENETIC, ESPECIALLY IN THIS AREA.  CAN YOU EXPLORE THIS AND TELL ME IF I WAS FOOLED OR IS THIS A TRUE FACT?

Dear MALE READER,
Thanks for sending me off on a tangent of learnin'. Yes, people of Khiokhoi tribe in Africa were called Hottentots by European immigrants, though that is considered to be a derogatory term. They did and do have elongated labia and some employ stretching techniques to further lengthen their lips and enhance their sexual pleasure and desirability.

According to Wikipedia which, you know, may or may not be accurate, Stephan Jay Gould said, "The labia minora, or inner lips, of the ordinary female genitalia are greatly enlarged in Khoi-San women, and may hang down three or four inches below the vulva when women stand, thus giving the impression of a separate and enveloping curtain of skin."

The Europeans were aroused and fascinated with these women and their bountiful lips but, instead of just accepting that fact and seeing where it led them, they decided that such labia clearly indicated moral depravity, racial inferiority and all-around sluttiness.

Right, she is the morally depraved one.

The most famous Khiokhoi was Sarah "Saartjie" Baartman who traveled around Europe in the 19th century as a freak show performer so people could gawk in moral superiority at her long (though veiled) lips as well as her buxom booty, another clear indication of her wanton sexuality.

But that was all a long, long time ago.  And certainly nothing like the porn watchers of Alabama and Mississippi surreptitiously searching for their "ebony" action, right?

xoxoxo

jill, or possibly, emma

Six-Word Sexual Memoir Contest Winner

Six: A little review might be in order

The Six-Word Sexual Memoir Contest spawned over 50 entries and the unsettling knowledge that some among us are not the brightest of pennies. Said duller pennies include the more than one person who submitted a Six-Word story that was more like six-ish words, and me for not only not catching the 5 and 7 word entries, but sending them out into the world via Twitter and Facebook. (I mentally put the person who sent in a 4 word story into an even lower category because, dude, that's not even close.) Thank you to the sharp-eyed Stacey and Andy, now respectively the new IBWMW Minister and Deputy Minister of Word Countery.

The winner of the purportedly very charming Butterfly Bliss vibrator (courtesy of Good Vibrations) is:  Samantha.

The Butterfly Bliss and friend

Yes, I know I said I'd choose randomly because I'm not gonna judge art, blah blah blah, but here's Samantha's entry:

He is broken; I am frustrated.

So yes, obviously Samantha must win. But there were a ton (equivalent to 47 pounds, metrically) of great entries. Here are some of my favorites, but do go back and check out the original post if you want to see them all. 

Ophelia said...
Silent success, as dorm mate snored

Sandra Davies said...
Ignorance, insufficient imagination: inescapable, lifelong tedium.

Lizzies Valentine said...
precocious preteen found jewish erotica: eureka!

not exactly "Saint" Michael said...
Lonely, awkward. Learned women, happy now.

Anonymous said...
More often than not: my hand.

Yinna said...
After 30 seconds: "OH!...shit. Sorry"

Anonymous said...
involuntary virgin until marriage, always horny.

MySS said...
Good loving gone bad, New lover

Christina said...
Twenties, eh. Thirties, oh! Forties, YEA!

Just a girl said...
Multi-orgasmic. Need I say more?

tineke said...
Nice warm-up, too short, almost came :-(

lgettings said...
Experimentation nearly kills me. Lesson learned!

Stacey Shelton said...
Boys or girls?? I chose both.

Indolent said...
Too shy for reality; reads erotica.

Highly sexual woman said...
I am a slut. Love it!

Dicky Carter said...
No orgasm again, she buys dildo.

Wendy said...
Babies first, then bliss: Second marriages!

L said...
olfactory susceptibility drives brief inadvisable affairs.

fitzlurker said...
One spouse; too many other women.

Anonymous said....
Fake my orgasms, even when alone.

Anonymous said...
Online dating too frustrating. Home masturbating.


xoxox
jill

p.s. If you see one above with a non-six amount of words, please be my guest, and dub yourself an Honorary IBWMW Minister of Word Countery. Any sea captain can help you fill out the proper forms.

Contest: Write a Six-Word Sexual Memoir

6 words: See-though partner kinda freaking me out.

Now that we've mastered the delicate art of bad erotic haiku, we now move onto the Six-Word Memoir. The six-word memoir was popularized by Smith Magazine spurred by a challenge Hemingway was reportedly given to tell a story in six words. He wrote: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." (Although since Hemingway was known to leave his stories at a good stopping point so he'd be inspired the next day, perhaps the first day's draft read: "For sale: baby shoes, never...")  I told my 11-year-old about the six-word stories and she went off to her room, coming back with "Party after war--no one came." 

So yes, you can go all dark like Papa and my dear daughter, or you can take it whatever direction you'd like. My instructions are just this: write your sexual memoir in just six words.

The winner, chosen randomly, because who the fuck am I to judge your Art, man, will be announced Tuesday March 19.

The prize is this Play-Doh-looking Butterfly Bliss Silicone Waterproof Vibrator courtesy of Good Vibrations. This g-spot intensive, plus outer stimulation set-up, according to my sex toy-selling friend, is good. Damn good. So you might wanna work for this one. Or if you'd rather just buy your way into it, click here.

Leave entries below as a comment or drop me a line at: jillhamilton001@gmail.com.

xoxox
jill

(photo source: Lady Cheeky)

My Most Failed Joke of All Time

I have a thing for failed jokes. I love them. I collect them and savor them later.

One of my favorites is when I was returning a pair of pants and the clerk asked, "Reason for return?" "They're haunted," I said. Clerk edges away and speaks no more.

Or the time my neighbor and I were discussing a local vet's penchant for suggesting unnecessary surgery. "Oh," I said, looking at my dog, "Maybe I won't get Daisy that boob job then." Neighbor stares at me. Discomfort ensues.

I don't know why I like failed jokes so much. Maybe it's because it's so completely bad and awkward in the moment that celebrating them is only way to process it.

My latest failed joke, however, isn't gonna go down that way. It was a post I just did for Jezebel about vagina panties. (Sound familiar? It ran here first.) The idea was that instead of women getting unnecessary cosmetic labiaplasties they could instead just pop on a pair of these, panties with a vagina built right in:

You know, no muss, no fuss, fairly cheap, you can change 'em out as labia "styles" change... Ha ha--that was the joke. Whatever.

You may as well know this first. I also called this sort of cosmetic surgery "retarded," which was dumb. I thought that we had come to a point where we could judge from context whether retarded was a cruel and deliberate mockery of a mentally-challenged person vs. an adjective for something poorly thought through. I thought "retarded" had entered the vernacular, as did former medical terms "idiot" and "moron." But clearly it hasn't. I obviously regret that people felt hurt by my use of the term.

So yes, I get and am sorry for the whole "retarded" thing and my ableist ways.

However, here's what else Jezebel readers complained about: (I realize intellectually that Jezebel commentators are famous for being particularly vitriolic and uber-PC, but it was still pretty shocking to me how completely misunderstood my message was and how personal the attacks were. "Fuck you, Jill Hamilton!" being one such input. You can head over to Jezebel and view the carnage if you wish. You should probably take a pair of protective goggles along.)

Anyway, the complaints:

--I am mocking transfolk.*
This, I guess, comes from the fact that I wrote that the panties intended purpose was for "cross-dressers, transfolk and the like." Because that's what they're for.  Their product description says:

"Wearable Vagina, Vagina Panty for Crossdressing, Tranvestite and Transgender (S/M (30-36" Waist), Nude)." 

It was intended as a factual and neutral statement like "Skis are worn by skiers." Someone was furious because by saying transfolk instead of just folk, I was making transfolk different. Which I was, because in the one instance of who these panties were designed for--and that instance only--transfolk are different.

Perhaps I am wrong. Maybe there might be a day when I, a non-transgendered person, might want to pop on a pair and sport a double vagina look. Or hell, maybe two pairs and go triple vag. "You like what you see? I've got two more where that came from, honey."

--I am mocking women who had labiaplasty for medical reasons.
Jesus, how much of a jerk do they think I am? If you need the surgery, go to it, sister. If, however, you are like this woman who wrote to In Bed With Married Women a few months ago...

I was married to my high school sweetheart for 15 yrs. We recently divorced, and he has no qualms about telling me before, during, and after our marriage, how ugly my vagina is. I started looking into medical intervention...

...perhaps a bit of sisterhood support (i.e. your vagina is gorgeous and he was a controlling asshole) might negate the desire for the surgery.  I highly recommend Large Labia Project, a site that empowers women to celebrate their different sizes and shape of labia via photos and reader letters.

--I mentioned Naomi Wolf's book Vagina: A New Biography which someone was angry about because they didn't like the book.
 What? I like that book. Suck it.

--I used the term vagina for vulva.
That's because the panties are called "vagina panties"--officially, for fuck's sake. And everyone knows what we're talking about anyway. That's the term Naomi Wolf uses as well and since I've already tossed my lot in with her, I'm sticking with it.

I also used the term Kleenex today, when more properly I should have said Kleenex Brand Facial Tissues. Please take up the issue with your congressperson.
 
xoxox
jill, a total cunt, possibly

*If you are transgendered and were offended by this, please explain to me your objections. I do take that one seriously and since I'm non-trans (CIS), I could very well be completely tone deaf on the topic. I don't want to be that guy who's like, "What's she so mad about? I just asked her if she's on the rag?" If you could just tell me your concerns, instead of yelling and possibly avoid the sentence, "Fuck you, Jill Hamilton," I'd be grateful.

(image via Lady Cheeky, aka Smut for Smarties)

Should You Fuck a Robot? On Second Thought, Maybe Not

"Let us do some sex at now."

As you may recall from Should You Fuck A Robot? Well...Maybe,* I was all hepped on banging robots. My main arguments being:
1) An article I read skimmed that predicted that one day doctors would prescribe sex with robots as part of a healthy lifestyle (orgasm=longevity). But mostly:
2) The sudden realization that if sexbots were as good as predicting what I liked, sex-wise, as Pandora internet radio is, music-wise--well, sign me the fuck up.

However, I'm not saying that you should rush to locate the nearest robot and start humping away. No, there are a few very important caveats. To wit:

1. I'm talking about robots in the future. WAY, WAY, WAY in the future. Like in 2050, the year experts predict sexbots will become indistinguishable from humans. (Although, by 2050, the only thing I'll be wanting my sexbot to do is bring me my slippers and juice.) Unfortunately sexbots of 2011 are quite distinguishable from humans.

The happy couple

Consider Roxxxy (above and left) the state-of-art in sexbots from TrueCompanion. She has five programmable personalities, a motor that makes her appear to breathe, and she talks in her sleep. She can hold a "conversation," "look" at you with her dead, soulless eyes and will fuck you senseless for 3 hours (at which time her battery runs out), never once mentioning the wretched fact that you have just spent the last 3 hours having sex with a household appliance. However, I think TrueCompanion could stand to do some re-jiggering on Roxxxy's general demeanor.  I am not a robotologist, but in these pix, Roxxxy appears to be less "in the mood" and more "prepared to acquire human genetic samples to take to hostile home planet."

2. Expense. $7000--a sum of cash that's difficult to hide, even using the kind of highly developed "black budget" I've adopted in my own household finances. And don't be trying to save money on this kind of thing. Reader Belinda brought up the enchantingly disturbing possibility of cheaper knockoffs that would exhibit only a passing knowledge of human sexual desires. "You liiiiike arm," your cheapo doll would squeak in an unpleasant voice, using the twisted syntax of dollar store product instructions, as it poked your arm painfully. "Time to put sex on me!" Then its plastic eye would fall out.

3. Various and sundry concerns brought up by beloved In Bed With Married Women readers (among them dear Ed, Tricia, Annah, Candycan and The Barreness) including lack of relationship drama, loss of human interaction, and fear of becoming so smitten by robot love that you'd give up on flawed humans entirely. Not to mention embarrassing tech support calls. ("Well, the problems started when Roxxxy and I decided to get a can of peas involved...")

I will leave you today with a link to this wonderfully cheeky Cracked.com article, The First Talking Robot: A (Terrified) User's Review, in which Daniel O'Brien spends an evening with Roxxy. Is it a date? Household appliance review? You decide...

xoxox
jill

*Yes, this a rerun, okay?  I would offer you an excuse but I can't really think of one.

IBWMW Smuts Up Dame and a Brave Reader Tries Zestra

The Zestra Rush--big time.

1.  In very squee-ish news, my article 50 Shades of Wrong: Erotica's Least Sexy Leading Men is running over at Dame magazine! Go on by, comment and feel free to share the living fuck out of it via Twitter, Facebook, and/or tin can and string phone system. I want that article to be good and sore by the time we're through with it.

2. Also reader Keppiehed was brave enough to try out possibly scary "arousal gel" Zestra (see also: Fire Down Below!!!) on our collective behalves. Here's her report:

First try:

As someone who can't smell or taste, I needed a partner-in-crime in this venture. Luckily, my best pal N is used to odd requests, and she didn't blink an eye when I showed up with a package of arousal oil and asked her to smell me.

“It's not like I want you to shove your nose in my lady parts,” I reasoned. “Let's just put some on our hands. I brought enough to share.”

We split the first pack between us. I even rubbed some behind my ears for good measure. Not wanting to ruin the validity of the test, I didn't tell her that there'd been some considerable online smack talk about the odor, or that the package warned that “the sensation may result in a temporary feeling of discomfort.” Being a great friend, I allowed her to cheerfully smear the stuff on, and we waited.

Results were almost instantaneous. “Oh,” N said, wrinkling her nose. “It … something doesn't smell right.”

“Be more specific,” I encouraged her. “This is for posterity. And a sex blog.”

She was shaking her head in disgust. “It smells like something's burning!”

I was disappointed in her description, since this had already been used before and was, therefore, boring. “Anything else?”

She sniffed at her hand. “It's terrible. It also smells like old people.”

This was encouraging. “How? Explain.”

“It's like they tried to cover up the burning plastic with something cloying and floral, like someone sprayed old lady perfume on a tire fire.”

“Tire fire ...” I tried to remember the exact phrase for later.

N licked her palm. “I can't believe anyone would make this for its intended purpose.”

“What does it taste like?” I asked. I licked my own hand but it was disappointingly free of tingles or any other sexy sensation.

“Metallic. All I can taste is metallic. If I don't eat a piece of the kids' leftover Valentine's candy to get the taste out of my mouth, I am going to throw up,” she said.

“Well, smell me first. Is it different on me? Behind my ears?” I asked.

She leaned in. “Nope. The same.”

“How bad is it?”

She thought a moment. “Well, I probably wouldn't notice it if you were just standing there. But if I had my nose buried in there it'd be pretty unbearable. I can't believe they made that.”

I kept flexing my fingers for awhile, but I didn't feel anything. The only thing that stood out was when I got home about four hours later my dogs swarmed me. They tried to lick my fingers and where I'd wiped my hands on my jeans, as if I gave off the odor of rancid meat. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Second Try:

Okay, this was the serious one. I was feeling as if it was going to be a dud, given my first trial experience, but I had to do this thing right. To be perfectly honest, I'd never tried a product like this before, so I wasn't sure exactly what it was supposed to accomplish or how I was supposed to apply it. The pack gave explicit instructions, assuring me that I was going to “feel more—effortlessly” and went on to say that it was guaranteed to “work within minutes by heightening your sensitivity to touch—for deep, pleasurable sensations, sexual satisfaction and fulfillment.”

Well, since I can't smell, the whole grandma/tire fire thing is a good trade-off for that kind of promise,

Fire Down Below!!!

1. We, as a people, can be unsmart
"Surely there's a blog in this," writes a reader from Long Beach, California, directing my attention to Ow! Public Hair Grooming Injuries on the Rise, Researchers Find. Feel free to click over to the article, though the title pretty much spells it out.

It's not horribly surprising news. Razors, scissors and/or hot wax  + delicate nether regions = someone's goin' to the emergency room. I am more surprised by the fact that there are any researchers scoring funding to follow this important issue, let alone a team of them. The best part is they got paid to go through old Playboys where they were supposedly analyzing the amount of pubic hair on centerfolds, which is researcher-speak for "just reading the articles."

2. Stuff to Put Between Your Legs
 I know I've become completely unhip when I'm getting sexual information from the Sunday newspaper coupon supplement--home of ads for pastel colored stretch pants, for fuck's sake--but that's exactly what's happened. This Sunday's coupon supplement, clearly working blue, had ads for a Vibrating Tri-phoria Intimate Massager and Trojan Intensified Charged Orgasmic Pleasure condoms, which judging from the packaging (left) are like Emergen-C for your junk. Or you could just put a few Pop Rocks and some Dr. Pepper in your condom and save yourself some money.

For display purposes only

Meanwhile, Playtex is hawking "Fresh + Sexy Before and After Intimate Wipes" in tampon box-like packaging that says both "New!" and "Nouveau!" to give them that continental flair. You are to wipe yourself with these before sex to make sure that your snatch smells clearly of hand sanitizer. Then, afterwards, you leap out of bed to OCDishly scrub yourself of your lover's offending essence. The product, btw, is marketed toward both sexes, so that men can enjoy the gender equality of frantically "sanitizing" their balls, pre-love. I say we all just encase ourselves in thick plastic, ala your old lady neighbor's "good" living room furniture, and be done with it. Or, if you're on the go, just hang a couple of pine tree air fresheners down there for a quick fix.

3. Experience the Zestra Rush. Because I'm too Scared.

Via Twitter, a reader suggested I try out an arousal oil called Zestra and experience something called the Zestra Rush. I watched a video of a middle-aged woman online who was experiencing said rush there on camera and she seemed happy enough, so I asked the company for a sample. I was all into the idea until my friend and I decided to look up the reviews on Amazon and they were wretched. Stunningly so.  I became fascinated by the way the reviewers tried to capture the exact badness of the smell or horrific feeling it gave to the crotchal region. Behold these actual reviews.

--It smells bad, like a nauseating burnt candy smell, sweet and bad at the same time.
-- The smell is so disgusting powerful, basal and kind of oily soapy that it was hard for us to even stay focused.
-- ...the smell of the product reminds me of latex gloves.
-- It literally smells like a fast food restaurant.
-- The smell is so bad I gagged!....The worst part is I couldn't wash the smell away. I washed my hands 3 times and it wouldn't go away! 
 --I was so sickened by the stench of it that I was barely able to continue consummation!...My wife and I finished with the "process", but two minutes after we recovered, we turned to one another and said, "Ok, is it me or does this stuff smell like dirty bacon grease?"
-- It smells horrible. Like.. rotten pork mixed with plastic. And as if the smell wasn't off putting enough, after application I felt like I had fire crotch!...this just made it complete misery.
-- It was probably the equivalent of rubbing Oragel on your genitals. My husband said it was the worst thing he had ever tasted.
--My wife stated it was like rubbing kerosene on herself and lighting it.
-- I have tried the product and had a horrible burning sensation that would not cease. Had to literally keep cold water on the area to get some relief. DO NOT BUY, DO NOT ORDER A SAMPLE, STAY AWAY FROM THIS PRODUCT!!!

So now I am completely afraid to use it. But maybe some of you have no such qualms? I have four little packets of it that I am generously willing to give to four of you if you're into the fire crotch thing. (There were some good reviews...you might be one of the ones who like it...)

If you feel like playing fast and loose with your groin and trying some of this stuff, just drop me a line or leave a comment saying you want some. (Don't worry, if you leave a comment and don't specifically say you want some, I'm not forcing it upon you.)

Anyone feeling brave? First come, first served...
(Photo)

Reader Mail 2: Son of Reader Mail--It's Alive

Happy Reader Mail Day, darling!

Apart from all those ignorant fucks who left in a huff when I outrageously wrote that gay people should be able to love whomever they want, IBWMW readers are a smart, open-minded, curious lot. And other readers are always asking what you all might think about...everything. Like the writers of these letters below. Feel free to answer if you feel called to do so, because I'm feeling a little Quaker Meeting-like today.  (Note: I am very bad about responding promptly to reader mail, hence the post-Christmas theme in the first letter. Let's just pretend it's few weeks ago and make do, shall we?)

Letter #1:
From B: Have you considered an article (or poll of your readers) along the lines of "Did you get the sex you wanted for Christmas?" It could be only a husband thing, but I always want some kind of special bedroom stuff- something beyond the ordinary fucking- for every gift-giving occasion, and I never get it. I wonder if other couples do this... instead of buying something as a gift, do something nice in bed? Do wives like this as a way to save money, or do they hate the pressure of it, or think it makes the holiday "dirty?" I'd be fascinated to hear other wives and husbands talk about this...

Anyone? Thoughts on sex as holiday gift idea?

Letter #2:
From Lady J, who in lieu of the True Wife's Tale she's been meaning to write (a "really boring one," she says, "for balance"), got all hepped up on the Necessity of Foreplay after trolling about on mummy blogs and finding  The Authoritative New Parents' Guide to Sex After Children.

I was a bit personally outraged by some of the advice, and I kept thinking that you and your readers would be the go-to people for opinions about this advice.  In particular I really struggle with the author's assertion that "foreplay is icing.... and... wastes precious time." especially in the context of sex after you've had babies.  In no particular order, here are the reasons why I object to this assertion:

* If you're breastfeeding (I am) it changes your hormonal balance and makes your vagina drier than it might otherwise be - so foreplay is essential for the necessary physical lubrication for penetration not to be painful
* If we skip foreplay it's difficult for me to even be in the mood for penetration (mental lubrication, if you will)
* Given that most women don't achieve orgasm from penetration, skipping over the bits that are pleasurable to women would seem to imply that their pleasure isn't as important as the man getting his rocks off
* Skipping foreplay for me is skipping the most enjoyable bit of the experience
* If the man is subject to erectile dysfunction, or doesn't last long once penetration has begun (not necessarily dysfunctional, just "short-fused" shall we say - not necessarily a problem either) then it's certainly a case of wham-bam-thank you-ma'am, where the man is replete and satisfied and the woman is just getting warmed up when it's all over (and then in the article it says you can have "afterplay, if there's time" - in other words, if there's an interruption and/or no time, mama misses out again)
* I think that foreplay and love play in general lead to a feeling of closeness between partners, and if you leave this out repeatedly then you are leaving out a level of closeness essential to maintaining a healthy relationship
* Just cutting straight to penetration seems to be privileging penetration over other sorts of closeness and lovemaking, which seems to be buying into/influenced by porn culture
* If you always leave out the foreplay (and this is a big fear of mine) you set a precedent for it not being a requirement /part of lovemaking any more, and it's possible that your partner might think it's no longer required at all in the future (my husband already has to be reminded to begin at the beginning, not in the middle of things, if he wants to get me in the mood for sex)
* (I have a whole bunch of issues surrounding sex, and or but) it feels to me as if by always saying "yes" to your husband, no matter how inappropriate the timing or how much you DON'T feel like having sex, and then JUST having penetration which does nothing for you, you really are just servicing him and his needs, and it feels very clinical and unloving (lie back and think of England/ a woman's duty etc etc).
I know that random mummy blogs are not necessarily the most reputable sources of information, but this one has really triggered some stuff for me. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on this article and my reactions to it - and does anyone else think/feel like this??  (When you're new to a town, without many friends and also at home all day with 2 pre-schoolers it's hard to get adult input/feedback, especially on more sensitive subjects like this).
Thanks for the excellent content on IBWMW - I can't afford to pay for a subscription (every cent counts here as we're on one income with 2 pre-school children) and I'm exceedingly grateful that I can still access the content for free.  

That's all for today, oh, wait except for this one that came via the sometimes wee bit sketchy IBWMW Facebook page from someone I will refer to as "Harder Fucker man."

Letter #3:
I am Harder Fucker man from Bangladesh.I have strong dick.My fucking during time minimum 45 minit,any unsatisfied lady can contact with me satisfied fucking.

I was notified via email that it had been posted on the page, but by the time I got there, it had disappeared. I'm guessing one of y'all deleted it, but I prefer to imagine that Harder Fucker man had a Great Enlightenment and re-thought his "I have strong dick" girl-wooing technique. Or, if not that, he is registering Harder Fucker Man at the International Kick-Ass Superhero Name Registry in Helsinki.

Until later,
xoxox
jill

(photo)