Melissa: "A Different Way of Being Sexual"

This conversation* started with reader Melissa telling me about a sex toy I'd sent her (the Satisfyer Yummy Sunshine G-spot vibe, if you must know) but our talk quickly evolved into the far more fascinating topic of how she incorporated the toy into sex with a lover who has a spinal cord injury and no physical sensation below the chest.

Andrew Gurza, a totally fucking bad-ass disability awareness consultant and Disability After Dark podcaster tweeted recently, "Imagine if able-bodied people asked each other if their genitals worked at random intervals throughout the day. Weird, right? Then maybe don't ask disabled people. We don't appreciate it either."**

So in one way I absolutely don't want to be a jerky ableist asking about/staring at someone's highly personal bits. Except. I also totally do because being nosy as fuck about peoples' sex lives is kind of the whole point of this blog. So I'm going in, my friends.

Anyway, our talk started off about the vibrator which is the kind that pretty much handles everything, so some men are like, "Um, what is my role in this?" But it ended up being about desire--both physical and psychological, and, my favorite subject, what makes sex sex.

Melissa:  "I use it with this guy I really like. He's beautiful. He has quadriplegia from a spinal cord injury he got when he was about 20. Has no sensation below his chest and has limited use of his arms and hands. He tells me he has the same sex drive as he’s always had. He can get it up, maintain an erection, cum, everything, but he can’t feel it. For him the visuals are extremely important. He LOVES to watch me get off. The Yummy Sunshine vibe is perfect for us because it has a handle. He has enough strength and control in his arms to be able to hold onto it and use it on me. We also fuck. I give him blow jobs. He watches everything. And his eyes! The intensity of his gaze knocks me on my ass (in a good way).”

Me:  Can either of you tell when he’s gonna cum or is it a surprise?

Melissa:  "I can tell because his legs and lower body spasm."

Me:  Does cumming give him a sense of satisfaction?

  

Melissa: Yes, though we’re careful about overdoing it because he has Autonomic Dysreflexia. Basically what happens is that an irritation below the level of the injury can cause a miscommunication between the brain, the heart and the spinal cord. When the body can’t sort out what’s happening, his blood pressure can get dangerously high. It can become a medical emergency. So I’m gentle and I don’t do anything that could irritate his skin. He has a dominant streak, though, so he can get rough with me. He loves to smack my ass! Next time I see him we’ll play around with dominance some more.

Me: Hmmm. At first I didn’t understand how sex without sensation could be pleasing, but sex is really about the connection or maybe even just the having the experience. Like when I see a good sex scene in a movie, I’m totally satisfied. It’s not like I have to rush and have an orgasm immediately. 

Melissa:  Right, it’s a different way of being sexual. He’s really good at oral sex, too, and loves doing it. And the sensation in his upper body is fine - maybe even intensified. So I can kiss and lick and do all those other things to his head, ears, neck, and shoulders. He loves it.”

Me:  “A different way of being sexual.” Love this. 

Melisssa: “I got involved with another guy with a spinal cord injury a couple of weeks ago. His injury is lower on his spinal cord (and less severe?) He uses a wheelchair, though he has complete sensation and quite a bit of control and strength in his arms and upper body. Both of these guys are beautiful and sexy and a lot of fun to be with. Getting creative with them is such a turn on!

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

*This is third in a series of email conversations with readers (see also: Alaska man has crazy-ass p-spot orgasms and the guy who is a dominant). 

** In another sense, maybe we should all be asking each other about our genitals*** at random intervals throughout the day.  As Phoebe Waller-Bridge put it on SNL:  "For a world obsessed with sex, it's incredible how little attention we pay our genitals. When we focus on them, or when they get sick or something, it's all about them. But the rest of the time, they're just sitting there. They're just... sitting there. Patiently."

So yeah. Heyyyyyy genitals.  U up?

***Christ, I hate that word.

xo
jill

Yo, if you've ever liked even one word you read here like, say, "genitals," please show you value the blog with a donation small or, if you've been drinking, really really big. One reader, J, gives a recurring donation one dollar a month and dear A donates 5 bucks a month and these two make me happy every damn month, a good value for not too much money, I'd say.  

Become a Friend of the Blog with a monthly donation or a one-time tip kind of deal. It's billed innocuously as IBWMW. My Paypal is jillhamilton001@gmail.com. 

You heard me. Do it.

Conversation With a Dom, Plus Help! Reader Needs Sexing Advice!

I recently talked with a dominant, K.* He's pretty hardcore in that he would be happy to use an electro-stimulation wand on someone.

I wanted to know what it was about being a Dom that did it for him. So, I just asked him because I'm quite nosy. Here, come and eavesdrop:

K:  As a Dom - I am strict, but very reasonable.  I enjoy training those that are sincere--watching them grow as a person and a submissive and seeing their world expand around them as they learn what they are truly capable of feeling and experiencing. 

I look for someone who truly wants to submit, and please. And I will make sure they are pleased as well.

Me:  What turns you on about it? I mean, you sort of have to do all the work as far as prep goes.

K:  For me it really depends on the person I am with and our relationship, and what it is that turns them on. Knowing you are turning the other person on - that is the biggest turn on. I love being in charge. I enjoy thinking about what to do to a person. How I will do it? What will affect them the most? There is creativity there. How will they react when I make them wear a butt plug to a restaurant? Or Ben wa balls out to a club? Watching the thoughts play across their face. Thinking about, planning the order in which I spank them. Flog them. Use a vibrator on them. So many options. 

I love surprising them, keeping them on the edge. Building. Each subsequent sensation adding to the previous. Pushing them. Getting to know their bodies. Their minds. Paying attention to how they react. Seeing when they start to doubt. Knowing they are seconds away from using a safe word. Then watching them melt as I give them pleasure. Such a rush.  

It is incredible watching how some get so turned on by the right amount of pain. Had one submissive that got to the point she could orgasm and squirt from being spanked. That was amazing. Yes, knowing that they would do basically anything for me - that is an aphrodisiac.

Me:  What is it about the pain?

K:  I have never been into the truly sadistic side. Never driven primarily by fear. But I do use pain to accentuate the pleasure and to train.  I am into all types of restraints, blindfolding - to make you wonder what is coming next. Will it be soft and pleasurable? Or will it sting? Alternating between the two, slowly building up the pleasure until you are begging to cum. You will hold it till I tell you that you can cum.

I want a sub to crave me and be willing to do anything for me because they want to please and because they know I will give them incredible pleasure (along with pain). But never driven by the fear I will whip them bloody. That is too...simple? crass? Yes, I use the threat of things like the cane or whip to keep their attention. Or to ensure they follow certain rules. But that is all.

The vast majority is honestly giving them what they want, sometimes whether they know it themselves or not. And conveniently it is usually what I want to do to them as well.

It is all fascinating.

It IS pretty fucking fascinating.  Thank you K.

Help! Reader Needs Sex Advice! "I'm on Zoloft and can't have an orgasm w/ my partner to save my life.  I can when I masturbate on my own and so I'm defaulting to that cause it's a sure thing. But I want some new ideas we can try cause I really wanna find a reliable partner orgasm situation again like I used to have pre-Zoloft.

A friend recommended this book kinda She Comes First: A Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman but I have two kids and a job and will only read a book if it's close to a sure thing. I also know it's something of a mind game as I can have lucid dream orgasms without even touching myself. But those are less now w/ ye olde Zoloft. This married woman wants to come in the presence of her partner again!!! H-E-L-P, Jill!"

Here are some ideas from me, Little Miss No Medical Degree:
--Switch drugs. Celexa cured my ails but made my sexuality die.
--Drug holiday.  Stop a couple days before doing IT. (If you're going insane, abort mission.)
--Bring on a fuckton of toys.  There are wearable vibes to wear during penetration (haven't tried--anyone?), vibrating cock rings, clit sucking things (this one's good), and if you just want to have an orgasm in someone's presence, I'm all over Doc Johnson's iRock.**
--Get super turned on before--watch porn, jerk off a little, whatever.  You might also try a CBD or THC-based arousal gel like Foria Awaken or Foria Pleasure. You have to massage it in for 15 minutes ahead of time, so maybe the enforced foreplay is what does it, but it seems to do something.  (I think I have a sample packet I can send if you email me your address.)

What say you, orgasm-having reader?

Contest Winner:  The winner of the Prostate Silicone Perineum Tickler and muy importante accompanying Wicked Aqua Sensual Care lube donated by Ella Paradis is a reader named, er, "Fred" who wrote:  Really interested in the Pspot massager and possibilities, kinda skeptical about the orgasm potential. You would think if it were so easy and incredible every guy on the planet would be having one! It reminds me of trying to give yourself a blowjob by becoming more flexible, intriguing but not really practical. I promise that if I win I will shout from the rooftops about my journey into my nether regions.  

Consider yourself warned.

xoxo
jill

*I'm running a series of off-blog conversations I've had with some among you about the odd corners and crannies of the sexual experience (sometimes literal crannies--see also: the last one on M from Alaska's truly stellar prostate orgasms).

**If you buy any of this stuff through those links, IBWMW gets a kickback but I'd recommend them anyway.

New Contest, Old Contest and a Decent Argument Why You Should Put Something in Your Butt

Actual O-Face From "O-Face"

Even though I've been barely attentive to most of y'all (sorry!), I've been having some completely fascinating email correspondence with some among you. I'll be sharing some of it...whenever, I guess...I'm not a particularly dependable chick. But keep a look out.*

For now, here's the first one:

A Decent Argument Why You Should Put Something Up Your Butt, according to reader M from Alaska

I've been corresponding with previously mentioned M from Alaska (see also:  "OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD! Ummm…WOW!"), a recipient of a prostate vibrator under my non-Government funded Sex Toy Fairy Godmother program.

I have taken a probably unseemly interest in the vagaries of M's orgasms with the toy because I don't possess a prostate (though I do have all the symptoms of prostate cancer. #hypochondriac), plus he's super articulate about his experiences and also possibly/mainly because I'm sort of into the fact that I semi-helped some random dude have unprecedented orgasms.

Here, you can eavesdrop:

M:  It’s been awhile but just wanted to let you know that I use that toy easily 3-5 times a week. Multiple Os, better each time I use it.

For the record, when I’m using this toy my dick never gets hard nor do I ejaculate, unless of course I’m stimulating that as well.

Truly life-changing and has enriched my sex life even further.

Me, pervishly:  I am so fascinated by this. Like how did men have this capability this whole time but most of us didn’t seem to realize it?  Do the orgasms feel different than ye olde cock-based ones?

M:  Right?! I think I because of the stigma of ass play being “dirty” and “taboo,” combined w/the notion that if a man sticks something up his ass and likes it, he’s obviously gay;)

All I can say is after witnessing my wife’s reactions (shaking, tensing up, primal sounds, etc.)  to her Magic Wand and other favorite sex toys, and watching her experience orgasm after orgasm…it’s the same thing. No lie, I inserted that toy, sat down in my work chair, and rattled off at least 5 in a row as I cycled through the settings. The euphoria that lingers afterwards is absolutely incredible!

The O’s feel different but more intense (not in a bad way) w/each climax. I have on a couple occasions stroked my cock while using the toy and that orgasm is insane and does cause me to ejaculate; although the size of the load doesn’t seem any different than the traditional method(s).  If I employ that technique (stroke and vibe) I’m done after 1. 

So yeah. I really do find it absolutely fascinating that men (not all men, blah blah blah) can do this completely new thing with their bodies and most straight dudes had no idea for centuries and centuries. It's like when no one could break the 4 minute mile, then once people realized it could be done, like 1,400 have done it since. But with butts.

Anyway if you want to become thus buttally experienced as well, see also: 

New Contest!  

Prostate Tickler

In highly related news, our new advertiser Ella Paradis has offered to send one of y'all a vibrating Prostate Silicone Perineum Tickler and a bottle of Wicked Aqua Sensual Care lube because as I've typed approximately 8 billion times for Cosmopolitan, the bum is not naturally lubricating.  (And if it is--you've got a whole different thing going on.)

To win, tell me the worst thing someone said to you during sex. You can comment below or email me secretly, then I'll tell everyone like I did to poor M of Alaska. (Actually, he did consent. I'm not that much of a jerk. At least in this arena.)  I'll pick a winner by magic incantation. Deadline to enter is September 12, 2019.  

And if you wish for nothing in your butt, but want to tell me the worst thing anyone said to you during sex, I am so here for that too because I am endlessly curious/nosy.

Happy Rabbit G-Spot Vibrator

Old Contest!  

Meanwhile, the winner of the highly fuckable looking Happy Rabbit G-Spot Vibrator courtesy of dear Andy at Good Vibrations is... Markus because he entered on behalf of his wife. "Poor soul doesn't have a vibrating toy," he wrote, in the manner of a husband who knows how to please a woman. Markus:  email me your mailing address and have your  wife prepare her vaginal chambers.



Anyway, later.
xo
jill


 *If you have a subscription to the blog through Amazon's Kindle blogging things, you will be waiting forever because Amazon abruptly cancelled the program last week because they are dicks. Guess 70 PERCENT of the take wasn't enough for Jeff Bezos who, even though he looks kind of like a cute, round-headed baby and owns the Washington Post, which ain't nothing, is still pretty fucking evil.

A New Contest! (Because ERA Yes!)

it's a metaphor

So this whole sex toy fairy godmother thing* has been pretty rewarding, as such things go.

My most recent beneficiary/victim was a cool guy in Alaska with whom I immediately started discussing highly personal butt toy stuff, as is my way. Which was lovely, of course, but the best part is that he loved his new toy! (The toy was this, if you must know. Christ, you're nosy.)

His follow-up report, in part:

OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD! Ummm…WOW!  You are a scholar, a saint, a (whatever description you prefer), etc...[IBWMW note:  I prefer all compliments] It arrived Sat. early-afternoon and I’ve used it 3x already... I’m already experiencing pleasure I didn’t know was possible for a man!

Mission accomplished, my friends.

Now I want a vagina-haver to get something fun to put in, on or near their own highly personal orifice and dear Andy at Good Vibrations let me pick out something for you. Well, one of you, the rest of y'all are fucked (or in this case, unfucked. At least by this toy.)

Behold, your new possible lover, the Happy Rabbit G-Spot.

Pleased to meet you.

I have something similar to this toy and I like it very much (it? Him? Probably a him, but they get to chose.)

To be entered to win:
1.  Tell me what your favorite sex toy is via comment below or top secret email.
2.  Prepare your bedchamber for possible rabbit love.

If you are chosen, Andy will pack up your silicone lover and sent it your way. (Sorry, you have to live in the U.S. because insane shipping costs, not xenophobia.)  Drawing will be next week sometime. Probably.

Anyway, I love you. Not in the creepy way.  At least not at this moment.  Still time. 

xoxo
jill

* My fairy godmother box is a little low right now. I have a few tingly arousal gels for women (use at your peril/delight), a strap-on penis designed to be worn over an existing penis, a small vibe, a mini clit toy and some wee butt plugs. Yours for the shipping and possibly a decent tip from driving my ass to the post office so I don't secretly resent you. (As a fairy godmother, I'm kind of a dick.)

Heart-Shaped Box

I don't believe in illness as metaphor.

Proponents like Louise Hay claim illnesses can be traced to some sort of unresolved psychological issue, (i.e. dis-ease. New Agey types looooove them some etymological wordplay).

According to Hay--who, notably, is not alive: Back problems = "carrying the burdens of life,"  Cellulite= "stored anger and self-punishment," Cancer = "deep secret or grief eating away at the self" and so on.  I'm not onboard with it mostly because I despise when people say stuff like "dis-ease," but also because it's victim-blaming--what the hell kind of "deep secret" could a sick baby with cancer be harboring?

And yet. Several of my friends have recently gone through health scares with parts of their bodies that are called (not here, but somewhere) "female parts." Each of them is sexually dissatisfied.

After some fretting and hand-holding, the tests are back and everyone is fine.  (For now! 'Cause none of us are ever really for sure fine.)*

And now I'm having a thing too. A part of my body is asserting itself by becoming inappropriately thick. Which is not the same as being thicc, though I do like the idea of my uterus being "fat in the right places, creating sexy curves."

It's probably no big deal, but I am a big fucking worrier, and have suffered many tragic and inevitably fatal, imaginary maladies. (Although I do professional-level work, worry-wise, I am not paid for this particular skill.)

“Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place,”  wrote Susan Sontag, who is also dead, because death cares not for your philosophy on it.

If I were going with the metaphor thing, I'd guess mine was about unresolved issues with the deepest part of my sexuality (need to develop a thicker skin? swollen with desire? being unfilled/unfulfilled--bonus for wordplay?) Louise Hay says the uterus represents the "home of creativity."  Damn, girl.

Whatever happens with my sisters and me, I'm gonna take our unwanted citizenship in the kingdom of the sick as a welcome chance to do some personal reassessment--a Gift of the Vagi of sorts. 

I'm going to rip off the big "TO: JILL" tag on this particular present and do some re-gifting to remind you too to go out there and fill your own box with what it truly desires.

xoxo
jill

*The inevitability of mortality--hahahaha! I'm also super fun at parties.

Please tip your server.

Dinosaur Erotica, Literal Ants in Literal Pants and Other Seemingly Undesirable Objects of Desire

(Yes this is a rerun, but I have two new things on the way including a contest so there's that. But for now you get this. Again.) 

******

It probably doesn't speak horribly well of me that not one, but three readers (thank you Eric, Leah and Amy!), saw articles about dinosaur erotica and yes...thought of me.

At first I was kind of like, eh. I mean, after already writing about snowman erotica, horny leprechaun erotica, and Santa Claus erotica, there really couldn't be that much more to cover re: people fucking weird-ass things.*

And dinosaurs? Seemed like the options ranged from clawy scratching to hideous mauling, with all in-between combos also un-good.

But everything has its own life lesson to offer and dinosaur erotica was no exemption. I learned plenty of interesting stuff like:

--Scientists haven't found any fossils (soft tissue doesn't generally fossilize well) but speculate that dinosaurs probably had huge wangs, like 6ft long. The kind of hugeness that could really change the tenor of the exhibits in the Natural History Museum.

--No one is sure how dinosaurs had sex (rear entry position on sexy spiky lady Stegosaurus = instant castration.) 

--Scientists are hard at work (er...) rigging up computer simulations of which positions dinosaurs used to fuck to avoid the castration issue.  "These prickly dinosaurs must have had sex another way," said Heinrich Mallison, who is considered an expert, despite using the term "prickly dinosaurs."

--These phrases appear in Ravished by the Triceratops, according to someone who actually read it.

--I looked into the creature's eyes and saw the rage there, but I saw lust as well.
--I decided that I probably could get all this meat in me.
--I couldn't believe this was happening — I had a ten-ton monster licking my ass!

However, for me, the salient point in all this was:  the two chicks who are churning out all this dino ass-licking erotica started making enough money to quit their day jobs in one month!

This is their career advice:

If you find a market that is underwritten or doesn't exist, populate it.

Not to be mean, but their books aren't even good--not even cheapo niche erotica good--and they're really short, like 29 pages.

So of course, I started searching for an "underwritten market." It was surprisingly difficult.

Satan erotica?  Taken. "Gingerbread man erotica"? Taken.  Clown sex....at the Republican National Convention....with spanking?  Taken.

Finally I hit upon "ant erotica"

Maybe! There are no books about it and an interest, by these three dudes at least. Here's what one guy said on an ant erotica page that was pleasingly listed under the subhead of "romance and relationships."

"For over 10 years I have loved the feeling of ants crawling over my penis and balls....It started when I rented a house that had large secluded greenhouses which were unused. In these greenhouses large black plastic sheets had been put down to stop plants growing. One day during summer I lifted one of the sheets and found the whole ground covered in a moving mass of ants and ant eggs. I couldn't resist touching the mass which instantly crawled up my arm with a tickling, biting feeling. I brushed them off but the erotic feeling I had made me go back again next day. 

I stripped off, pulled back the sheet and gently lay down in the ants up to my shoulders and head. The feeling was amazing. Like a slow creeping tickling sheet being pulled over my body. There was no biting until they reached my cock and balls when I started to get lots of nips. This made me very erect and the more my foreskin pulled back the more they seemed to bite. it was divine. I was brushing them away from my face and at the same time twisting my nipples really hard. After a few minutes I had to masturbate and came all over the ants. After I had brushed off the ants and replaced the sheet I found my scrotum and foreskin were very red with small spots of blood over them. They swelled up over the next hour or so but not too much. Probably the acid in the bites. I rubbed some antispectic cream on and in a day or so I was reasonably back to normal. 

Needless to say this became an almost daily experience and sometimes up to three times a day."

******
"Needless to say" (!)  Exactly. Who wouldn't be right back out there the very next day (and sometimes up to three times a day)?

Anyway, is this a book?  "Fucking the Ant Hill"? Or maybe "Ants in My Pants: Literally. I mean there are seriously ants in my pants, biting my cock and balls, and I'll be back out there tomorrow. Needless to say"? Too wordy?

At the bottom of the ant page, I saw some promising links to "Fun with crickets" and "Slug fetish" which--needless to say--I clicked on immediately.

Under "fun with crickets," some guy named Don wrote this about some photos of him fucking (getting fucked by? making love to/with?) a couple bags of crickets.

I went out to the local pet store, and picked up a bag of 36 medium crickets, and another bag of 60 small cricket. I started out with putting cooked hot dog juice on the cock to be eaten, and started out with the small crix. I wasn't to please with the amount of munching that I received. So, I pulled the old tool out, cleaned it off, and applied a nice thin coat of peanut butter. Then I added all of the crickets to the container. The feeding frenzy was in full swing, and I was receiving a good bang for the buck. 

I think I may try meal worm, next, since I have yet to use them. 

One more thing about the crickets, I tend to swell up after a good feeding frenzy, and end up looking a bit like franken cock, if you know what I mean.

I actually don't know what he means about "franken cock" and I am evenly split over whether I actually want to know. However I do love how unerotic his story is, like Don's some guy hanging around the hardware store talking which tools he used patching up the old fence. I also love that Don decided that others would want to see pictures of the crickets eating (oh God) hot dog juice off his wiener. And the best part is, others did want to see the pix!

Like commenter David who had nothing to say about the hot dog juice, the wiener or the crickets, but commented: "Great job! Nice clarity on the container. What is the container, and where did you get it?" 

Which leaves me confused. To write for a market, you must understand it and I'm not yet there. I think I would be focusing on the slow erotic slathering of hot dog juice over my swollen hard cock, or maybe the smoldering lascivious look one of the crickets gave me as it started feeding on my balls, which were pulled tight to my body, as I tried desperately not to come all over those slutty, slutty crickets (medium-sized).

But clearly, I would need to focus on...the container.  And its clarity. And the fact that it's from Target, as Don later reports.

So, for now, my day job stays.

xoxo
jill

*Not judging as much as being completely completely fascinated.

Okay, ONE more thing about vaginas. Then I'm done. Possibly.

I was recently dog sitting at a friend's house and, to my credit/surprise, I didn't swim naked in her pool, find her dog using my favorite vibrator as a chew toy or have an inadvertent fellatio experience with her dog (on me, it was...complicated).  

However I did tart up her Apple TV by putting THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES on her "recently watched" queue, there for anyone to see.  

(In related news, I am available for dog sitting! I don't charge much, but on the other hand, I am not that good at it.)  

It was actually the first time I'd seen The Vagina Monologues performed, but it reminded me of this post on the book from waaaaay back in 2012, a time when young, innocent us knew little of what complete assholes some of our fellow humans were.  

Take my hand, will you, and travel back to that sweeter time when we could just hang out and talk vaginas.  

(And if you're wondering, I still have a weird prudishness with the word "vagina."  It's okay. I don't feel that bad about it. Even Eve Ensler, Little Miss Vagina Monologues, wrote "Doesn't matter how many times you say it, it never sounds like a word you want to say." Which, yeah.  I'm tentatively testing out "pussy" but it feels weird and obvious every time I say it, like "I am saying 'pussy' and we are all uncomfortable now.")

*******

Today I'll tell you a quick story from the book I just read which is--this will come as no surprise to you--The Vagina Monologues.

I'm telling you the story because it's just so fucking heartbreaking but also to remind us (me) why it's important to talk about this $%$# even though some people (well, this one dude on reddit who said I'm like a 12 year old boy) think it's unladylike. (Motherfucker calling me unladylike! What the fuckity fuck?....oh...yeah...I see.)

In the story, Eve Ensler interviews an old lady from Queens who was extremely hesitant about talking about her "down-there." "What's a smart girl like you talking to old ladies about their down-theres for?" she barks. After much prodding, she finally tells about the last time she ventured down there, in 1953. The woman--let's call her, oh, Agnes--tells about a date she had with Andy Leftkov, a real catch, a cute tall boy who asked her to take a drive in his new Chevy.

She and Andy were sitting in the car, recalled Agnes when "he just kissed me in this surprisingly 'Take me by control like they do in the movies' kind of way. And I got excited, so excited, and, well, there was a flood down there. I couldn't control it. It was like this force of passion, this river of life just flooded out of me, right through my panties, right onto the car seat of his new white Chevy BelAir."

Instead of realizing he'd found himself one hot little number, Andy was horrified. He said she'd stained the car seat and that she was a "weird, smelly girl." Agnes tried to explain that the kiss had caught her off guard and that she normally wasn't like this, but Andy drove her home in silence and never spoke to her again. "When I got out and closed his car door, I closed the whole store. Locked it. Never opened for business again. I dated some after that, but the idea of flooding made me too nervous. I never even got close again," said Agnes.

Years later Agnes got cancer and the surgeons pretty much cleared out her reproductive system, thus ending any worries about flooding ever again.

When Ensler asks Agnes a typically squirm-inducing Vagina Monologues-esque question, "If your vagina wore something, what would it wear?" Agnes replies, "It would wear a big sign: 'Closed Due to Flooding.'"

As the interview ends, Agnes says, "You happy? You made me talk--you got it out of me. You got an old lady to talk about her down-there. You feel better now?" [Turns away; turns back.] "You know, actually, you're the first person I ever talked to about this, and I feel a little better."

Knowledge is power, brothers and sisters.

xoxox
jill

(photo source)

The Sex Toy Fairy redux, and reader books all over the damn place

Your situation may vary

Hey there gorgeous. Lots to cover, so let's just get to it.

Sex toys up the whatever: So my stash of sex toys have been going off to seek their respective fortunes in/on/around some of y'all's highly personal orifices and...damn, I LOVE being a sex toy fairy godmother wielding my sometimes literal Magic Wands.

Besides the new widow (a toy virgin!), the sex toys have gone out to a married person whose sex partner has been their own hand (still true, but at least they've got something else going on down there), a person who is embarking on a sexual adventure in midlife and a couple who asked me to curate a box for them.  "What I'm going to do is set it up as 'we take turns' one night at a time, one item at a time, pulling one thing out and let the good times roll, then have something to look forward to the next night," wrote B, because people tell me things. I haven't heard back from either of them since so I'm assuming they're too chafed to get to the computer.

Money people paid me money (good money, too--thank you!), some of them didn't (okay, too. I know well the world of Poor.)

But my favorite story was when one among you, dear C who lives abroad like a bad-ass, offered to be a co-fairy Godmother and sponsor someone who couldn't afford it. That turned out to be new couple R and T who sent a message that read, in part: 

"I'm going to get really personal and tell you that both T and I are recovering heroin addicts. So neither one of us are working at the time because we don't feel ready to have money on hand quite yet. Sex is a huge distraction for us when we have cravings to use. We do get creative and use pillow cases to tie each other up but if we had a toy(s) to use it would really be amazing!!"

So on C's dime, I filled up a big priority box with all kinds of naughtiness and sent it off in a test run of our unconventional rehab program. Wrote C:  "I love their story and I am so happy to help out. I got divorced in my mid 40s and finally discovered a myself again - with an even richer sexual life. Because of the horror of the divorce, I am finally getting back on my financial feet and can do things like this. It makes me so happy!!! Sex and feeling good and healthy and sexy and wanting a full wonderful experience is the incredible and wonderful and necessary."

I still have a ton of some stuff waiting and willing to sexxx you up.  Among the items are:

--vibrators galore
--various bullet vibes
--a thrusting vibrator
--a prostate stimulator (non-vibrating)
--prostate stimulator, totally vibrating
--a penis-shaped hollow strap-on (to be worn over a penis for a little extra somethin')
--various lube, cbd oil for the groin

If you'd like a specific thing, or want me to throw a few things in a box, write me at jillhamilton001@gmail.com. I can also send you photos or more info, if you're the cautious type.  You'll need to pay postage (medium priority box is $14.35, large is $19.95), plus some amount of extra money for handling/bravery because mailing sex toys is occasionally harrowing.

Readers' Books
Two (2!)  among you have put out absolutely killer books recently.

The Uncomfortable Confessions of a Preacher's Kid by Ronna Russell is a wonderfully honest memoir about growing up in an extremely religious household, marrying a not-so great closeted man and, discovering later in life, that her narcissistic, controlling father was dying from AIDS. Just thinking about it, I am now ashamed that I used the word "harrowing" for going to the stinking post office, when this is the real harrowing business of life. But it's also a hopeful story.  Ronna is strong as hell and finding her way just fine. The Uncomfortable Confessions of a Preacher's Kid is definitely in the genre of jacked-up childhood/eccentric parent reads like The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls and Educated by Tara Westover.


On Blossoming: Frank and Practical Advice on Our Bodies, Sexual Health, Sensuality, Pleasure, Orgasm and More by Gia Lynne is wonderful, shame-free Sex Ed book geared towards teens, young adults and parents. It's exactly what you'd want such a book to be--smart, frank and sex positive. Unlike regular sex ed (if your kids are lucky enough to even get any), On Blossoming has way less talk of Fallopian tubes and way more about the interesting bits like orgasms, consent and finding pleasure.
  
Later, man.  I'm off to re-hide a bunch of sex toys that are all over my bed so I could take photos for you.

Above the call of duty,
xoxo
jill

Sex Toys! Get Your Sex Toys!

I can show you the world

Due to my inability to say no to free things, I have amassed an embarrassingly large collection of brand new sex toys for both men and women--especially, for no reason in particular, butt stuff for men. There are only so many things I can put in, on or around my own parts, and I'd absolutely love to get them into the orifices of people who really want them.

The thing is, I can't afford to pay for shipping to send you all this stuff just free, especially those of you who live in other countries and don't tell me 'til the last minute.

Ideas? Should I create a Google doc of what I have and you can peruse my wares? Silent auction? Weird online garage sale? Should I only make you pay for shipping? Or should I charge a little extra for my Travel To Europe To Engage the Services of Parker Marx fund, which is on the secret bucket list in my head and presently contains zero dollars (which according to today's currency exchange rate is equivalent to zero Euros)?

I do want to get these toys in, on and/or under you, somehow. I have a deep love of giving out sex toys, especially when I feel like I'm really helping someone. Like, I gave some really great high-end toys to a non-rich new widow in Michigan the other week and honestly, I felt like a fucking fairy godmother, one who hands out literal Magic Wands.

So think on it, will you?

xoxo
jill

~~Disappearing magically into a cloud of fairy dust, or maybe it's just shimmery lube~~

P.S. I did sell the non-joy sparking Sex Machine and when I went to the local postal store to mail it, a mother at my daughter's school was working at the counter. I don't know her but I know she is a member of a religion that is not known for sexual tolerance.

On the advice of someone I shall not name, I lied and said the really really heavy package contained "books" because it was gonna cost over 90 bucks to mail as "non books." I thought I'd pulled it off and was emailing the buyer to tell her of our good fortune, and at the same time the school mom--perhaps guided by wisdom not of this world--OPENED THE PACKAGE.

Which is simply not done, but that's exactly what she did.

This is what she saw:

basically an onslaught of panties and a big pink dildo

Our eyes met for 4 million years while the box still sat wide open and radiating its pink shame, and even though I am 53 fucking years old and write a sex blog, I could feel my face go hot and red. She finally said, "I didn't see anything."

But she saw it all.

I will never go there again, but I did get the way cheaper book rate which, yes, is mail fraud, but I don't care because rules don't matter in our country anymore and anyway I felt I'd earned that money.

RIP Critique My Dick Pic

(Since Tumblr has made ridiculous new "anti-pornography" rules that make zero sense at all, I'm re-running this to memorialize the work of my favorite Tumblriste ever, Ms. Maddie Holden, whose labors (oh, you'll see) might soon disappear forever.  You can read her own eulogy of the brief shining moment that was her righteous blog, Critique My Dick Pic here.  

And for the record, fuck this shit. Facebook is cracking down, or whatever, too. I was just banned from Facebook for a month for the very photo that is, ironically, still running as the photo for IBWMW's Facebook page and has been there for years. (I suspect I was reported by a stranger who took offense at some political thing I wrote. It will not surprise you that I'm kinda outspoken on social media. And yes, I'm working on it.) 

This insane prudery isn't helping any of us. We need to be able to talk to each other about sex and our orientations and share what's really going on. Shoving it down, banning it--all that stuff takes away access to real, decent, information, connection and so much art and beauty. 

This doesn't help "the children" either.  When they can't see a sex educator showing them what a vulva is, then their most easily accessible sex ed is gonna be porn.  Which, porn is fine and you know I love it, but there is a whole lot of really crappy porn with dudes spitting on women or even just not fucking them in a decent manner. That's not helping the kids, my friends.

For the rest of us, we should be allowed to freely talk about so-called adult matters.  Because we are fucking adults.   

Anyway. We were talking dick pics. Let's do it WHILE WE CAN, shall we?

xo
jill 



Consider the courtship practice of the Sending of the Dick Picture.

Men like sending them, but few women -- and only under very specific circumstances -- like getting them. (I think they're sexy, but I get that impression that I'm unusual in that regard.) In any case, it seems like a bit of messed up evolutionary mating economics--all supply, little demand.

Supply's not going down any time soon, so it seems the best solution is to create more demand. In this case, creating a better quality--hence possibly better-received--dick pic.

This is the mission of Critique My Dick Pic.  Writes site creator/judger of peni, Madeleine Holden:

this is a tumblr with a simple premise: send me your dick pics, & i’ll critique them with love.
'with love' is an important addendum. i'm never going to shame you about the size of your dick or what it looks like; i'm not about that life. i will, however, be ruthlessly honest when it comes to things like angles, lighting & general tone. i'm trying to help you improve, because in all likelihood your dick pics are artless & dull.

The girl is ruthlessly honestly and is against "Porky Pigging," that is, wearing a shirt but no pants, and photos featuring "the log," (says she: "the log" is when you take a bird’s eye view, close-up shot of your enormous dick, with your dick taking up most of the frame & with very little surrounding detail. dudes, they’re boring. they’re ~so~ boring. they say "look at my fat cock" & fuck all else.") She ends each review with a letter grade. In bold.

Consider this poor guy who sent in an uninspired shot of his dick hanging over the edge of a kitchen sink. (You'll have to look yourself b/c as Holden puts it, this site is "Not! Safe! For! Work!")

um no this is definitely not very good.
your dick is unceremoniously flopped out of your pants & you look like you’re about to piss in the sink. your right arm is hanging limply & the top right hand corner of your pic is straight blur. sender, this is very bad? you didn’t try very much here? it is extremely unlikely that this picture would arouse anyone?
if i were you, sender, i would scrap this entirely & start again, with 100% less sink, 100% less blur, & 1000% more effort.
thank you for submitting to critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com. your dick pic gets a C-.

I am completely in love with this site and wish I could just run a bunch of the pix here so you don't have to be clicking around, but Google gets a little peevish when I get too racy.  Do hop over, then tell me what you think. I welcome any and all dick pic stories you might send me as well.

xoxox
jill

ps yes I do appreciate the absurdity of kowtowing to Google's prudery while running afoul of Porky Pig's copyright holder.  Though I give part of the blame to him for not wearing pants.

Hey. Been drinking?  Leave a little tip today. 

Overthinking the Magic Bra

Sandra and I were shopping for bras in what is still called--in this day and age!-- the "Intimates" department when I saw it: the Maidenform Women's Ultimate Push Up Bra

Have you seen this thing? "Add two cup sizes!" it promises, as well it should, since it seems to contain a small throw pillow's worth of padding in each cup. The bra was pretty ridiculous, really, so we gave it its proper mockery then continued with the special hell that is bra-shopping. [Oh, men, you don't even know! The egregious misstocking, the deciphering of strange terms (is "demi" good or bad?) and the hideous also-rans (I'm talking to you, green pin-striped push-up bra.) It's enough to drive you to the smelling salts, quite honestly.]

After some time (hours? days?) I had gathered a few bras that appeared that they might work (though "gathered" is not nearly a strong enough term for the savage, skillful foraging it took.) Though oddly, as though guided by some sort of unseen force, I kept finding myself circling back to the Ultimate bra. "Oh look," I thought to myself, with a forced casualness that didn't fool me one bit. "It's that ridiculous bra again." In a jump of logic that remains unclear to me even now, I concluded, "Well, may as well try it on."

I did, and well....DAMN! I had huge boobs, insanely inflated porno boobs, boobs that could not be tamed by man nor bra. My bosom, as they say in the romance novels, was swollen. My cups runnethed over. I was like the chick in this photo modeling the bra in question, but...more. Way more. My boobs were so huge, I was unclear on which side of the sexy/comically large divide they fell. "Sandra!" I called to the other dressing rooms. "You must come in here and behold my giant boobs." She looked. "Damn!" she said (as well she should.)

"I don't know...I look...different," I said, hoping Sandra, who knows about such feminine matters, would tell me whether to get it or not. Sandra took charge immediately. "Well, girl, I look different when I'm not wearing make-up--that doesn't mean I don't wear it, " she said definitively. "You Are Getting That Bra."

So I got it. And it sat, unused, in its preternatural perkiness on my dresser. I put it on only two times. Once to show Leah and once to show my husband. "Look at my boobs!" I said. Leah looked. My husband looked. "Damn!" they said.

I liked it. Kind of. I think. I don't know. The bra was becoming... problematic. I just couldn't bring myself to wear it. Was it indeed sexy, or was it just too damn big, borderline silly? Would I feel comfortable showing up to my usual haunts with my suddenly gigantic rack? (It should be noted that I already have a pretty smokin' D cup, but the difference with the magic bra was noticeable, way noticeable.) What if someone started flirting with me just because of my big fake boobs? Would I be irked that they were into something I didn't actually possess? Hey, my eyes are up here, Mr. Big Boob Lover.

And what if you were still dating and wearing this bra? The padding was so flippin' thick--would you even notice when things had gone to, as we used to say, second base? And what about a "home run"? As you flung your bra to the floor, so would go your boobs, piled there on the carpet, still waiting perkily at attention. (Warning: never do your real boobs look so dreadfully inadequate than after taking off the magic bra.)

The magic bra was causing me to overthink. I mean, not that I control the direction of society with my bra choices, but did I really want to be promoting this as what a women's chest should look like? By wearing the bra, in some small--albeit, incredibly busty--way, I would be raising the bar of what a woman's chest was supposed to look like. If my D-cup needed enhancement, what about my C, B and A-cup sisters? Would they be forced to don a completely fabricated chest, similar to those boys' superhero costumes with the build-in foam muscles? Would we one day just all don our blonde-haired, big-boobed, sweetly smiling full-body foam costumes, completely covering our unworthy, misshaped, shameful selves? No, by jingo! I would not be a part of it!

I found the tags and the receipt for the bra. I had to return it--for the Good of Society.

But first I tried it on one more time.

Damn.

xoxo
jill

Addendum: Btw, if you, like some of the commenters below, wish to play your part in bringing down society, you can get the thing--it's full of lies, I tell you!--at a department store like Kohl's or order it via In Bed With Married Women through the link above:

"Don't You Fucking Move," Letter from a Feminist Submissive

Didn't I tell you not to strive for
equality in the workplace?

(Hey gorgeous, found this in the backwaters of the blog today and I loved it all over again. Just ignore the highly untimely Fifty Shades of Grey tie-in, and you'll be good.)

Today's letter came in response to a Newsweek cover story on Fifty Shades of Grey, the insanely popular S&M-y mommy porn, unpromisingly spawned by, of all things, Twilight fan fiction.

Reader Submissive and Truly Fine With That was but one of the people pissed off by the article, which tied (yes, and I'm too lazy to think of a better word) working women and feminism to S&M. You can read her response below.

If you are unfamiliar with Fifty Shades of Grey, see this Daily Beast article on the book's 14 Naughtiest Bits (a genius idea!) Here, you can witness Perfectly Good Smut being ruined by a few ill-chosen words. For example, when heroine/virgin Anastasia (she would so be named that) watches Christian's (same deal) "erection spring free" (so far so good), she thinks--unlike a young woman would, but exactly like a middle-aged fan fiction-writing author might--"Holy cow!"

Later, when she takes him in her mouth (again, a good start...) it's described thusly: "He's my very own Christian Grey-flavored popsicle. I suck harder and harder...Hmmm...My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves."

By the time Anastasia's "inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils," my own inner goddess is "confused, slightly icked out and ready to go to the kitchen and get a cup of coffee."

But I digress. Please give a warm welcome to Submissive and Truly Fine With That:

Dear IBWMW;
God bless you for being the one place I can send this email. I just finished reading an article in Newsweek about how (or why) today’s feminists have a more-than-passing interest in S&M, or more to the point, being sexually submissive. Now I feel the need to rant because of all the sources they consulted, they neglected to ask one of us, ie. a feminist who craves domination. (To be fair, they did quote Simone de Beauvoir, but, last time I checked, she’s dead.) I thought, what better venue to rant to than this column? (Actually, there is no other option. I really don’t want to disgust any of my friends with details of my sex life beyond relative wang dimensions or whether a guy was “orally efficacious” or not.)

For starters, I have to admit I believe I was born into this desire. My first sexual fantasies all involved bondage; usually, some guy I hated or found grossly unattractive would tie me up and have his way with me. In retrospect, I think it had to be someone I didn’t like for the submission to feel “honest”.  

If I go backwards in my life to my first physical sexual feeling, it was this: a happy little tingle between my legs while watching a TV episode of "Batman and Robin." The boys were tied up in a hot air balloon that was continuously ascending and their ultimate demise was imminent. I didn’t recognize it as sexual excitement at the time, but I do now. The numerous episodes of “Electra Woman and Dyna Girl” that followed elicited the same phenomenon. And they were tied up or trapped at least once per episode. No wonder that was my favorite show.

Reader's New Dude Has Too Much Stamina. What Should She Do?

"Marjorie, hold all my calls. Gonna be a long night."

One among us has a problem! Quick! Grab your rescue bag* and let's go help!

This urgent query has come in over the wires: 

Jill, my favorite sex writer, who knows all the good shit. I have a question that I simply refuse to google or tweet. So I'm going to throw it your way... I've recently taken a lover who has stamina like I've never experienced. So much so, it is almost a turn off. Despite hours of hot sex, full of variety, it's nearly impossible to get him to orgasm. In fact, it's taken him manually handling business. This is a blow to my fragile ego. I've pulled muscles I didn't even know I had. What's a girl to do?

NAP 

So. Besides bowing in admiration for the phrase "I've recently taken a lover" (~swoon~), here's what I've got:

 --My friend had this identical problem with some dude she was dating from Tinder. Meaning, you are not alone, this is a thing that happens, and actually, I'm not even going to call it a "problem," I'm gonna say "situation."

--Maybe he's watching "too much" porn (whatever that means) and now needs that kind of hyper-stimulation to get off. So a). a l'il porn diet. Yes, tragic, but perhaps necessary. Or b.) bring whatever porn he may be into (or may not--I'm already accusing this unknown dude of overwatching porn) into your fuckery. Imitate it, fetishize it, watch it during, whatever. If something super turns someone on and it's not actively horrible to you, I say take advantage of that passion and explore the sordidness together.

--See if he'd be willing to switch up his jerk off habits. Dan Savage, who knows things, says everyone should change up how they jerk off (other hand, new positions, lighter touch) so they'd don't become over-accustomed to it and only able to come in that one specific way. I personally never follow this advice, but it's something I know I should do, and intend to...someday, like going vegan. (I just read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer and holy fuck.)

--Work within this framework.  He needs a hand to come, so do a lot of us. Maybe you can go with the amount of P-in-V fucking that seems good to you both, and y'all just accept that a handy is gonna be how it ends for him. This is not failure. This is kind of a more queered attitude to hetero sex and is super cool and progressive of you. Celebrate that shit. Let him come all over your tits or something spectacular.

That's my part. This chafed reader also wants to hear your advice, dear Internet stranger. Whatcha got?

xoxo

jill 

*Rescue bag suggested contents:

And yes, I did just see Isle of Dogs last night. How did you know?

Sedes Libidinus, if you know what I mean

Name this body part. Go on, take a guess!

That, my friends, is the full structure of the female clitoris*--including the extensive internal parts. Yes, the clitoris has internal parts! Extensive ones! Am I the only one who didn't know this? I thought a clit was a tiny button there on the outside--the end. For 46-friggin'-years (many of them, to be fair, non-friggin' years), I've been walking around ignorant of my own damn anatomy.

I could choose to wallow in shame over this, but I'm not gonna be too hard on myself because a) I generally cut myself way too much a lot of slack and b) practically no one knows this stuff. 

We should have been learning about our extensive clititude way back in 1844 when Georg Ludwig Kobelt published his seminal (though that is undoubtedly the wrong word) clit research in Die männlichen und weiblichen Wollust-Organe des Menschen und einiger Säugetiere (The Male and Female Organs of Sexual Arousal in Man and some other Mammals). 

Kobelt discovered a bunch of highly useful info--that, ahem, science, would have been NICE TO KNOW--like: clitorises (the whole extensive lot) become erect when aroused, and have all sorts of parts that you (and by "you," I mean "me") never even heard of like crura, bulbs and other clitorally-related new words I will probably not be incorporating into my sexy talk. "Oh my God! My clitoral vestibule is sooo hot for you."

Although maybe I should be talking vestibules and such. If you're a guy and plan to be sliding your manhood into her sweet feminine folds, you actually do want her clitoral vestibule, as well as her two corpora cavernosa, to be hot for you. When these parts are erect, they'll tighten quite nicely around you.

According to the anatomical explanation in this article on the Museum of Sex blog which I could barely understand without consulting the drawing frequently:

Most of the clitoris is subterranean. The glans is connected to the body or shaft of the internal clitoris, which is made up of two corpora cavernosa. When erect, the corpora cavernosa encompass the vagina on either side, as if they were wrapping around it giving it a big hug! Near each of the crura on either side of the vaginal opening are the clitoral vestibules. These are internally under the labia majora. When they become engorged with blood they actually cuff the vaginal opening causing the vulva to expand outward. Get these puppies excited, and you’ve got a hungrier, tighter-feeling vaginal opening in which to explore!

If you're feeling sciencey, I highly recommend you have a look at Helen E. O'Connell's Anatomy of the Clitoris in the Journal of Urology. (Important caveat: article contains photos with such labels as "Fig. 2. Lateral view of dissected clitoris in fresh cadaver of 57 year-old post menopausal woman." Which, as a sentence, contains a surprisingly high amount of unpleasant imagery.)

"The tale of the clitoris is a parable of culture, of how the body is forged into a shape valuable to civilization despite and not because of itself," writes O'Connell.

In the oddly enjoyable article (Journal of Urology, who knew you were such a good read?), O'Donnell rails against the medical establishment for not providing decent diagrams and accurate info on clits--a "blinkered approach," she writes. (A blinkered approach that still exists.) She also describes the history of clitorical research with its ever-changing ideas about what goes on between a woman's legs, and the comical regularly that men throughout history have claimed to "discover" the clit, each one giving it names, culumella (little pillar), sedes libidinis (seat of lust) and landica (shhh, Latin profanity!)

In the 1500's, Flemish anatomist Andreas Vesalius disagreed with Falloppia (yes, he of the tubes) that "healthy women" had a clitoris and wrote: "It is unreasonable to blame others for incompetence on the basics of some sport of nature you have observed in some women and you can hardly ascribe this new and useless part, as if it were an organ, to healthy women." (On a related note: I can find no mention of a Mrs. Vesalius.)

So why isn't anyone bothering to tell us this stuff? It sure would explain a whole fuck of a lot and clear up the vaginal vs. clitoral orgasm debates, what a G-spot is, etc...  I mean, it seems like it's all just stimulation of various parts of the clitoris. Right? That said, I do think that orgasms feel different depending on what spot is being stimulated. An orgasm from the G-spot area, or cruca or whatever the fuck we're calling it today, really does seem deeper and richer to me than the more tinny, shallow feel of a clit only orgasm.

And...I can't believe I just wrote that sentence. I am writing to complete strangers (and worse, people I know) and describing the color and tenor of my orgasms. That, my friends, means it is so time for me to go today.

However, if you want to weigh in on matters orgasmic, bring it on. You know I like it when you talk like that to me.

xoxo
jill

* Is it CLIToris or CliTORis? According to Wikipedia, which offers audio pronunciations so you can hear the words, each is correct. So use them both as you please! Wikipedia also offers a pronunciation guide for the UK version, /ˈklaɪtɒrɨs/, which is completely non-helpful gibberish to me, and sadly, does not come with a corresponding audio version. Because my inner 5th grader would really really like to hear a crisp British voice intoning patiently, /ˈklaɪtɒrɨs/.

For more IBWMW info on orgasms (or, in light of new developments, possible misinformation):   

How to Have A G-Spot Orgasm

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

In Search of the Elusive Third Type of Orgasm 

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