JFB posed an interesting question to me, both in the comment section of my last post here and in private:

“…I would like to see some specifics as to why this is enjoyable for women… Will this be covered in the next part of the series?”

It took me a couple of days to sort through what direction I wanted to go in with this essay… Do I poll groups of women to find out why they like butt secks? Do I dig out the books and pile this article full of statistics and research? Do I talk about my personal preferences?

I’ll start with this video clip:

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And now, picture me with a stupid grin on my face, eyes bright and wide, nodding my head up and down,

“Yes. Yes. I would allow that to be done to me. And YES, old broad, it’s normal.”

Then imagine me assuming the position, either with my clothes on in order to get a laugh out of the crowd or with my girly bits al fresco to, well…have some butt secks.

I think it’s impossible to really outline why people like butt secks – it’s totally subjective! Popular reasons, according to Ask Men, women love anal sex because it feels good and because it’s naughty. The article, while not a bad read, bothered me because only offered up two reasons why a woman would be into butt secks. I mean sure, the nerve endings all piled up in my bum light up with electricity and send waves of pleasure through my body in an entirely different language. Yep, I really enjoy that “full” feeling, particularly when I’m manually stimulated, or (gasp!) penetrated vaginally at the same time. But I feel like these physical manifestations are not doing butt secks justice! It would be like saying, “I like kissing because of the way it feels on my lips and tongue.” What about the feelings you get? The butterflies and flippy-sensation in your stomach when you’re in serious lip-lock with your lover? Those things count just as much. The same thing applies to butt secks for me. It’s about way more than just the act. And it’s not that it’s kinky. It really isn’t about it being naughty for me. I mean, I’m writing a column about why I like butt secks… I think that sort of takes the whole naughty-factor out of the equation, right?

No, for me, it’s about submission. I really had to dig deep for the answers here and I really wasn’t comfortable with them once I sorted through them. Me? Submissive? But I’m the least submissive person you’ll ever meet! I’m never going to wear a ball gag. I’m never going to answer to a Master. This is not the kind of submission that I enjoy. For me, it’s about being so intimately close to another person that I trust them to do with me what they will…to let go of the control, even if I don’t give it up entirely.

My friend Mandy taught me a phrase earlier this year: topping from the bottom. Basically, this means you are a submissive person, but still bossy and controlling in bed. With some discussion, we decided this was the best term to describe me.

In some ways, I think of my pussy as my property but there is this shared-ownership situation between my lover and myself over my ass. There’s a woman in Atlanta, Alexyss Tylor, who used to have a cable access show and would go on and on about Vagina Power. Now, she’s mostly crazy and I wouldn’t take her too seriously, but there IS power in it, guys. I never surrender my pussy – it’s a gift I give, after an appropriate amount of teasing. But my ass? I don’t think about “giving” butt secks, I think about my lover “having” butt secks with me.

In essence, vaginal sex means I fuck him. Anal sex means he’s fucking me.

It’s the give and the take. There is a complete shift in my being when I have anal sex with my partner – the noises I make change, my orgasms are entirely different. It is the time when I most feel like an animal. And I can ride his cock and run the show and be the one that’s breaking a sweat and getting tired, but at the end of it all, he was the one that was fucking me.

I’m the girl that walks up to a group of men at a party, brazen and not shy. I’m the girl that makes eyes at that skinny bearded and bespectacled boy at the end of the bar. I’m the girl that will straight-up put her car in park and get out to yell at some road raging asshole. I’m the girl with the confidence. The gusto. I don’t demand attention, I just get it.

But you see, that’s exactly why I love butt secks. It’s the ONE time that I put all of my control on the shelf, put myself face-down in a pose that would be fit for worshiping a gilded god, and I do what I’m told.

“Lift your hips,” he’ll say.

“Come closer to the edge of the bed.”

Strong hands, pressing into my hips and then into the small of my back, causing that really great deep arch.

“Give me your hands.”

And then, because I can never totally let go, a command from me, the girl that likes to top from the bottom…

“Pull my hair!”

Okay ladies, today I’m writing with you in mind. Not because I think men have it locked when it comes to enthusiasm in the bedroom, but because I rarely hear women complain about their male partners being unenthusiastic about sex. Yes, we women complain about men’s lousy cunnilingus skills, their imperfect man parts, and go on ad nauseum if they come too fast or ride us too long. But we rarely, if ever rant about their lack of enthusiasm.

In sharp contrast, my boys come to me bawling about the lack of enthusiasm their women exhibit in the bedroom all the time – and it pains me. This seems to be the one area where we females are consistently falling down on the job. So, with that in mind I’m talking to my sisters today, ‘cause something’s got to give…

It seems a lot of you believe you need to be 21^st century courtesans to be considered good lovers – no thanks to magazines like Cosmo (Sam Sharpe’s fave) that continuously publish articles featuring ‘Tips to Drive Him Wild’. Trust me girls, that shit is misleading. You DON’T have to enter the bedroom equipped with a magic kit and a bag of tricks to please your man. Although, I’m a big advocate for doing what you can to enhance and expand your repertoire, I’d like to point out that in many cases all you really need to impress your mate is a shot of enthusiasm. Trust me girls, based on what my boys tell me, a hearty dose of enthusiasm can more than make up for what you may lack in skill.

As I hinted at via my list of questions in It’s All About Your Attitude, bringing a focused mind, being fully present (i.e. staying in the moment) and going for yours with zeal makes for better sex. A big part of batting an A-game in the bedroom is bringing the gusto and setting your mind on ‘wowing’ your guy with every stroke of your hand, flick of your tongue and thrust of your hips. Half-assin’ a situation and coppin’ out with lines like,

“I’m tired. When are you going to come already?”

is absolutely UNACCEPTABLE – and here’s why.

There isn’t a woman on the planet that wouldn’t rip on any man who ‘wimped out’ due to anything akin to tiredness during the act. We all know that no excuse short of bleeding from a severe head wound, could give a man room to cop out in the bedroom. I mean, any man who fails to drive it home for his girl knows his rep and his game will be irreparably damaged – as in FOREVER. Why? Because by the time you’ve finished telling the story of his pitiful performance to your friends, sisters, mother, cousins, female coworkers, etc. that man won’t be able to get next to a female within a 500 mile radius of your house – right?

So ladies, let’s be fair and not do unto others as we wouldn’t ever allow them to do unto us (not without punishing them for it through verbal ‘cockblockery’ anyway). Decide right now that whenever you start something in the bedroom with your man, that you’ll give it your all and see it through until the not so bitter end.

Friends…

If you’re going to bless him with a hand job, lube up and pump that forearm like nobody’s business.

If you’re going to suck a dick, get to sucking it like you mean it.

If you’re going to get on top, ride him like he’s a wild bronco.

If you’re going to peg him, strap one on and…

Well you get the picture.

For the love of God girls, stop pussyfootin’ in the bedroom and go in with enthusiasm.  Hit him hard, fast and long with everything you’ve got and he (and your coochy) will shower you with thanks for it.

As a former breeder het girl, I know a large part of the quest to get laid by a dude involves finding a good penis. I understand that a beautiful real live penis – one that is the perfect length, girth, firmness and shape for you – is hard to come by. Among the many awesome pluses of being a lesbian, is not having to deal with what I call DD or dick disenchantment. With us, when we choose to have a phallus in the bedroom (which happens way less frequently than many men seem to think) we don’t have to deal with any surprises. No flaccid, tiny, pencil thin, gargantuan, strangely curved, oddly shaped, saggy balled, prematurely ejaculating or knob cheese encrusted (YUCK!) junk for us. We lezzies get to select the size, shape, girth, and firmness. I love the fact that I get to pick the impeccably perfect dick – and I know you will too.

Too often I’m forced to listen to one of my hetero homies lament the fact that their long term partners or fuck buddies aren’t equipped with their version of a perfect penis. You know what I tell them? Go out and pick the most delectable dick you can find at your fave sex shop, then get your man to use it on you.

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A Quick Aside: Okay, if you lost your breath after reading the previous sentence consider the following: Any man who claims to be: open-minded; secure with his sexuality and what’s he’s packing; and completely confident that he’s putting in good work in the bedroom,  should be okay with pleasuring you with a toy (at least in my opinion). After all, how many men do you know who aren’t turned on by watching their girl having a good time? So ladies, exhale and grow some balls. Then go ask your man to give you what you need. If he balks at the idea maybe it’s time to get a new man or switch to my team? I’m just sayin’.

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Now shopping for the right member for your cooch is loads of fun! There are always new dildos and strap-ons coming out, so I suggest you visit the shop of your choice frequently to check them out. I bought my first cock in a box at North Bound Leather, in Toronto. There was something “delicious” about going down the laneway to the secret black door, stepping inside and being hit by the smell of leather. Perusing the cases filled with all kinds o’ cock, looking for the perfect match was a bit overwhelming at first, but I quickly got into the groove and found the one I wanted to be mine. I’m sure you’ll have a similar experience wherever you end up dick hunting. But before you do, read my tips for selecting the right “joystick”…

1. Be sure to consider all your choices carefully. Do you like a dick with a pronounced “mushroom head” and all the veins etched in it?  Do you want the balls to be defined or do you prefer none at all? Do you like it extra chubby or longer and leaner?
2. Take your time and look at everything. Don’t be shy, get right in there and feel those bad boys up. Stroke ‘em, squeeze their heads and rub it against your skin (on your forearm ladies!) to see if it feels right. Remember, once you take it home with you, it’s 100% yours. Unlike their real deal, rent-to-own counterparts, with strap-ons and dildos there are no returns or exchanges – so you need to make sure you leave the shop with the one you really want.
3. When buying a strap on, don’t forget to get the right harness to go along with your new toy. I myself LOVE the smell of leather and find it enhances the mood as my sexy lover works her magic on me with our new ‘family member’.  You should know that over time some harnesses will stretch and lose their shape, so it’s important to invest properly here unless you’re into replacing often.

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Once you’ve got your new magic stick don’t waste any time. Start using it right away, even if you have to do some self-pleasuring. But like I said before, ideally the cock of your dreams should be used by your partner to please you. Tell him to think of it as an extra a special treat he can give you when you are feeling extra naughty and want to play pillow-biting princess.

Finally, I need you all to remember it’s a good idea to use condoms, even with toys – especially if you’re going to play in the backdoor. Also, new lover, new toy – always.

So celebrate Better Sex month with us here at metanotherfrog.com by going out and buying yourself your own magic dick if you don’t already own one. Already have a strap-on or dildo tucked away in your collection of sex toys? Then pull it out of its hiding spot this month and start using it. Are you a strap-on or dildo aficionado like me? Then leave a comment telling us which model is your favourite and why.

HER: His. Cock. Must. Be. HUUUUUUGE.

ME: Why would you say that?

HER: I can tell. I’ve seen him in track pants. There’s a lot of bouncing going on.

ME: Shrugging shoulders. Maybe he’s a shower, not a grower.

HER: Shower, not a grower? What are you talking about?

The vignette you just read is based on an actual conversation I had. Not when I was 15. Not when I was 20, but last year. I thought I’d long since outgrown this kind of stuff, but it’s becoming clear that I was wrong.

More recently, another female friend said the following:

Anything less than 8 inches is not good enough for me.

There’s nothing too controversial about that statement. However, the interesting thing is that at a later date the same young lady said this:

WHOA! anything more that 7 inches is waaaaayyyy too big

Huh?!?! Confused? So was I. But I don’t think this is uncommon. See, not only do many women still harbour notions that they can predict the size of a man’s junk by some external factor, but many clearly don’t know how these things operate and don’t know the difference between “showers” and “growers”. And some, maybe most women, wouldn’t know what an eight inch cock looked like if they were using it as a toothbrush.

So, in an attempt to educate, I’m going to drop some science for you ladies. But, instead of beating you over the head with the numbers and stats you’ve heard and read many times before, I thought I would give you all the measurements of everyday items that are just sitting around my apartment (but if you want the stats, you can find some here). This way, when you’re telling your friends about the monster cock your new man has, you’ll have a practical frame of reference.

“Girl, my new man is straight packing. I’m talkin’ Guinness sized!!”

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TERMS AND DEFINITIONS:

Showers vs. Growers:

A ‘shower’ has a penis that is long when flaccid. It does not increase in length much as it gets erect.

A ‘grower’ has a penis that is short/shorter when flaccid. This penis increases a lot in length as it gets erect.

**There are some men who are showers AND growers—but that’s a conversation for another day.

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BY THE NUMBERS:

Average penis: 6 inches

Eyeglass case: 6 inches

Compact disc case: 5 7/8 inches

750 ml bottle of Appleton Estate V/X rum: 9 ¾ inches

Colgate cavity protection (carton): 9 inches

4GB iPod nano: 3 ½ inches

Uncapped Papermate pen: 5 7/8 inches

300 ml bottle Dragon stout (from LCBO): 8 1/8 inches

330 ml bottle Guinness draught (from LCBO) 9 1/8 inches

Potato peeler: 5 ¾ inches

Business card: 3 ½ inches

45 rpm (aka a 7 inch) Dennis Brown record: 6 7/8 inches

Oral B toothbrush: 7 ½ inches

Cotton swab: 3 inches

Johnson & Johnson mint waxed floss: 3 1/8 inches

My cock:

You didn’t really think I was going to put that in there did you?

“What is love anyway? From my new vantage point, I realize that love is nothing more than a messy conglomeration of need, desperation, fear of death and insecurity about penis size.” – Human Nature (2001)

So this week is witness to a small “mini-feature” on penis size; more specifically race based myths on penis size. Skye kindly linked us to some dick shots yesterday and I believe tomorrow Dr. Sam Sharpe is bringing the science on this issue. Unsurprisingly, I also have something to say on the matter of penis size, surprisingly though it isn’t “bigger is better”.

The facts in my mind are that while “size does matter” it is about being the right size for your partner. Too small and you are left wondering “is it in yet?” but too big and it is uncomfortable, even painful. In fact, I have been defeated by more than one Goliath of a cock, when penetration was just impossible. I’ve had a disappointingly high number of VSDs as well.

In my sexual life, I have been fortunate to come across exactly three perfect penises (to clarify – perfect for me). One is still a somewhat irregular feature in my bed, much to my delight. The tale of my first perfect penis, I will save for another time as I was a much younger and more impressionable rose then; and my adoring worship of that member did lead me into some rather compulsive behaviour. (There isn’t a 12 step program for an addiction to cock!)

The second perfect cock, belonged to a young man I stumbled across (literally – I was hammered) in university. He was Chinese in descent, and as I do favour a hairy bear look on a man, I probably wouldn’t have even ventured there had he not been an utter gent. The night we met he literally picked me up off the floor of the bar, and then offered to walk me home.

The absolute poppet that he was, he didn’t just walk me home; when I awoke the following morning, I found myself tucked up in bed with a glass of water and a bucket strategically placed next to me. This was not the usual practice of my flatmates and clutching my head I staggered to the lounge to find someone to thank. There I found my flatmates, both passed out on the sofa with their shoes still on, make up and drool trailing down their faces. Obviously not the quarter from which my assistance came from. The mystery was solved later that day when a text arrived asking how I was feeling and would I like to get a coffee sometime. The number was stored to a name I didn’t recognise, so I called for an explanation.  I have provided both his words and the subtext below:

Dear Ken had walked (carried) me home to see I got home safe (alive). There he found my flatmates were unable to help (speak / walk / stand up) so he put me to bed himself. He promised he didn’t take advantage (grab a quick feel) of the situation (me being so drunk Rohypnol wasn’t necessary). He stayed for a glass of water (the only sustenance found in our house) and to make sure I would be okay (didn’t choke on my own vomit). He then took my number, and left.

I was impressed. My drinking buddies at the time were mostly jocks or “blues” as they were deemed in my university. It was a night out with my boat club that had led me into such a state in the first place. I don’t doubt that had I not fallen down at Ken’s feet, I would not have woken up in my own bed. I also expect instead of a bucket and a glass of water it would have been mine and some anonymous male’s underwear on the nightstand.

So after a few days recovery, I called Ken back and asked him if I could buy him dinner to thank him. (I also was a bit hazy on how he looked). As he had a fairly non-descript accent on the phone, I was taken by surprise when an Asian dude turned up to meet me. Still this was my Good Samaritan and he was pretty cute in a clean shaven sort of way. He was also damn funny and great company. Dinner was a blast – though he was a little too good at imitating my drunken rambles and gurnings at times. Apparently I had already told him I loved him. And while he was trying to manoeuvre me into bed I’d stripped down to my knickers while he was looking for a t-shirt and asked if he liked my boobs. I think he was trying to embarrass me by retelling these stories. It worked. However, not one to be beaten, I thought it best to check the outcome.

“Well do you like my boobs?”

His eyes widened slightly and he looked at me with a very hot and mischievous grin. “I do, and you should count yourself lucky that my mother raised me not to take advantage of drunk girls.”

My response of “I’m not drunk now” was smothered by his kiss.

As we headed back to his halls of residence (that’s a dorm for you American types) I was excited from his kisses (very good technique), but since I was still living under my misconceptions of Asian men I wasn’t expecting all that much in the way of trouser snakes. Imagine my surprise and delight when he unleashed a perfectly proportioned, delightfully smooth and utterly delicious cock. Perfect penis – number two. Hallelujah and praise to whatever being you believe in!

Praise him I did. I vocally agreed with that man and his equipment all that night and a significant part of the following day too. (My boat club were about to declare me AWOL having missed a morning outing and not having been seen at my house or in the college bar for 24 hours.) He became my favourite distraction from finals revision, a wonderful stress relief! (Also partially to blame for my grades plummeting and my final award of a 2.2… few too many hours spent in his bed rather than in the library)

Ken and I fell out of touch after university; however Ken’s legacy lives on in my DVD collection. I’ve already mentioned my impressive (if somewhat intimidating) German porn collection. I also have a fairly awe-inspiring set of the finest Hong Kong cinema money can buy. While this gives me huge cool points in the eyes of many a self proclaimed movie buff – it isn’t for the cinematography / special effects / ninja moves / etc. It is because I cannot buy hard core porn with Asian guys in it. So instead having discovered Ekin Cheng had a strong resemblance to Ken, I buy legitimate films, and indulge my imagination.

As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to race and penis size it’s all about perception. Now people, your perceptions shape the way you see the world and on occasion may even make you see things that aren’t really there. Today I’m going to share two stories with you that illustrate my point…

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Story #1 – Imaginary Third Leg

A few years ago I connected with an American soul singer I’ll call Mel.  Now Mel and I met when he was visiting Canada after a whirlwind tour of Europe to promote his latest CD.  Anyway, we hung out for the duration of his stay in Toronto, and during our time together he told me many stories about his time abroad, including this one…

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Mel and his band performed in many a small town during his European tour.  In one such town (that if memory serves me correctly was in Switzerland), despite the language barrier, he hooked up with one of his female fans after his performance. When through the magic of sign language and sheer desire the lovely blond lass managed to communicate that she wanted to take him home, Mel obligingly agreed.

When they got to her place, after offering him a drink she led him to her bedroom.  Once there she pounced on him, planting kissed all over his face as he undressed her. Then when he stepped away from her to disrobe, she sat down on the edge of her bed, her whole body quivering with anticipation. First, Mel slipped out of his shirt and then as loosened his belt buckle he noticed that she had stopped breathing. She was literally waiting to see what he was packing with baited breath.

Now people, according to Mel, the moment he dropped his pants and revealed his jewels that woman was down on her knees in front of him. For a few moments all that could be heard in the room was the sound of  her raspy and erratic breathing, as she studied his johnson with wide and unblinking eyes. Then, evidently more than satisfied with her prize, she began to shout in heavily accented English (a phrase she must have learned for just such an occasion):

“It’s TRUE! It’s TRUE! It’s TRUUUUE!”

For a minute Mel said he felt real good, like his dick was the second coming of the Messiah even. But then when he remembered where he was and that none of the women before her had ever had that kind of reaction to his dick, he checked himself. To his credit he realized that this woman, who’d probably never left her village and had definitely (based on the way she was eyeballin’ his man parts) never seen a black man naked before, was seeing his dick through the filter of the myth about black men having monster cocks.

Though coming to this realization deflated his ego a bit, in that moment he made a decision. He was going to drive it home for her that night, give her the performance of a lifetime. After all, he told me, if his cock was going to become a legend in some tiny European town, he wanted “the shit to be epic”.

FYI: I want to state for the record that although Mel had a lovely and good-sized penis, IMO it wasn’t anything close to being in the ‘It’s TRUE!’ category by any stretch of the imagination.

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Story #2  - Incredible Shrinking Penis?

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a bit of news junkie – especially if the content is salacious. So, when the Edison Chen Sex Photo-Gate story broke in early 2008 I scoured the internet to find out as much as I could. That’s code for me spending many hours surfing the web to find the sexually explicit pictures that pretty much destroyed the career of this extremely popular Canadian born and Hong Kong based movie star.

You see poor Edison made the mistake of taking his laptop in to be serviced without clearing the 1300+ scandalous photos of him in compromising positions with a number of A-list Hong Kong starlets off the hard drive (oops!). The end result? The titillating pictures of he and his honies being uploaded onto the internet; for the viewing pleasure millions of people worldwide – including me.

Now, when I finally found the photos, in all there smutty glory, many things about the shots intrigued me. But it was the comments left behind by other pervs like me that really caught my attention. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find the first site I discovered the pics on so I can’t link to the comments I’m speaking of (my apologies), but I have Sam Sharpe as a witness. He and I discussed this Edison’s plight and the images at length when the story first broke, and he can verify that virtually every person who bothered to leave a response wrote something to the effect of…

“Holy Shit! LMAO. Can you believe how tiny his dick is?!?!?”

Good people, to illustrate just how ridiculous that statement/judgment is and to prove my point that it’s really all about myth-based perceptions, I’m providing you with a link to the photos (WARNING: Explicit images – NSFW. So if you’re on the grind wait ‘til you get home to check these out!) here.

Now I’ll admit Mr. Chen is a slight guy, as many Asian men are. But his dick, much like my friend Mel’s is average (according to most studies hovering around 5”) – not the miniscule penis many of the viewers of the pictures ‘saw’ simply because said penis was attached to an Asian man. If after viewing Mr. Chen’s bits you’re still not convinced that he’s packing regular sized heat, I’d like you to take a look at this (WARNING: Explicit photos – NSFW) VSD by way of comparison.

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Your thoughts good people?

Do you think I’m right about the power of myth and perception when it comes to the penis size and race? Ladies, How do you think your own perceptions/beliefs ‘colour’ the way you view the penis size of men of different ethnicities? Guys, do you worry about how you measure up relative to men of your race and/or other races?

Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times … do not exit until the car has come to a complete stop … and most importantly … sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

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Picture it folks. You’re at the amusement park, standing in line to ride favourite roller coaster. It’s your fave because you love the hills, curves and loops of the track.  You’re brimming with excitement as you wait your turn to feel the roller coaster run smoothly along the tracks the same way it always has, at the same speed that always takes your breath away. You wait patiently knowing that neither you nor any of the other riders can do a damn thing to control or change this magnificent ride – which is what makes it all so thrilling. So, when your turn finally comes, you happily hop into your seat and buckle up as necessary, all in anticipation of yet another exhilarating experience.

Now, imagine if halfway through your rousing ride, some fool in front of you tries to get up and steer the roller coaster. You know what would happen? The operator would shut the whole thing down, you (and everyone else) on the roller coaster would be pissed as hell that someone had f’ed with your enjoyment of the action. And as for the aforementioned fool responsible for the delay? Well, he would be unceremoniously thrown right out of the park – without having the chance to try out any of the other rides.

Now boys, you wouldn’t want be thrown out of the park before you’ve had your fill of fun would you? You wouldn’t want to miss out on all the chills, thrills and spills – i.e. the action – you came out to experience at the park right? I know I wouldn’t.

Well, missing out on the action is exactly what happens to men who refuse to sit back and enjoy the ‘rousing ride’ we women offer up every time we choose to give you a blow job. Although we’re (at least those of us who are smart) are open to verbal cues and pointers that let us know we’re on the right track, there’s absolutely NO need to try to steer or control the speed of your ride. Trust me, if we offered to do it, it’s because we know we’ve got it all under control. And like your fave roller coaster, when a woman decides to bless your ‘mike’ with a BJ, it’s STRICTLY a passenger ride.

Now after all that, it should be more than clear what my number one pet peeve in the bedroom is, but just in case let me spell it out for you. I and many other women out there HATE  it when men hold our heads down or otherwise try to take control when we’re giving a BJs. I’m sure you men aren’t shocked by this news, as most of you would balk at the idea of having someone hold your head down when you’re going downtown. Nevertheless I feel it is my duty to let you boys know what you need to do to make BJs a mutually satisfying experience. So here goes…

Guys, when you’re lucky enough to get a blow job from your girl you should remember to:

1. Keep your hands off the crown of her head when she has your cock in her mouth. Please note: Her head is not a stick shift.
2. Not thrust your pelvis forcefully against her lips or attempt to pound the shit out of the back of her throat. This is self-explanatory right?
3. Avoid using her hair to pull her head around as if her locks are the reins on a horse. This is an absolute no-no. Again, self-explanatory.
4. Think of her gag reflex as one of the airbags in your car deploying. It means there’s been a crash – against her tonsils and it HURTS!
5. Allow her to do what she needs to do. FYI: the person doing the blowing she is the ONLY operator of the ride. As I mentioned before verbal cues or instructions are welcome, but don’t you dare try to take the wheel.

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Trust me boys, if you follow my rules you’ll get more BJs because your girl won’t be suffering through it. And if she’s not suffering she may actually start to really enjoy them, which means there’s a good chance she’ll keep blowin’ you ‘til your done.

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Hmmm…Just think about that one for a minute..

What does it say about the state of my sex life that the following list of my sexual pet peeves was the easiest thing I’ve written for this site? Really, what does it mean? Am I too picky? Are my sexual partners clueless? Am I stuck in the bread aisle when I should be in produce? Anyway, on to the pet peeves:

1. Oral examination: A commonly held axiom in boxing is that a fighter should never lead with his chin. Similarly, a woman going down on the mighty crown should never, NEVER lead with her teeth. Sounds straight forward enough. Sounds like common sense. Then why in the name of sweet Jehovah do some of you ladies still feel the need to recklessly attack a man’s private parts as if it contains the Cadbury secret? Seriously. Why?
2. Hand Eye Coordination: Ladies, do me a favour. Take your left index finger and place into the palm of your right hand. Next, caress it or stroke it in a manner that you think might feel pleasurable. Okay. How many of you yanked vigorously on your index finger as if pulling weeds from your lawn. I’m guessing none. So what makes you think grabbing on your dude’s junk and yanking it seven ways to Sunday makes sense? I know it is hard. But it is a penis. It is a part of my body. You are not a pimp. It does not owe you money.
3. Oral examination, part 2: If you’re going downtown, go all the way. See everything. Do everything. Stick out your tongue. Work up a little lather. Pay a visit to my balls. But most importantly…do not…. be afraid…to swallow. Giving head and never being willing to swallow is equivalent to me always getting you to the point of ecstasy then stopping to say “Oh, wait it might get messy, you better get up now. I don’t want to stain my sheets”. To quote Mark Twain*, “spittin’ is quittin”. (Important programming note: This does not apply to any female relative of mine)
4. Giddy Up: The biggest double standard going isn’t women wanting equal pay but still wanting doors to be held. It isn’t even a woman earning way more money than her man but always leaving her purse at home. No, the biggest double standard is a woman getting naked, getting into bed and expecting the man to always work her over like a loan shark collecting a debt. I came across this article in Cosmo, where a young lady wanted to know how to “master” the woman on top position. Get the fuck outta here? What, is she new? Get on top, get it in and move. Simple. Seriously, this is the height of selfishness and/or laziness. Are there that many women out there who’ve never seen a porn? Or any love scene in a movie? Or talked with a friend? Or read one of those lame harlequin romances?
5. Speak Up: Do you like it hard? Let me know. Like it soft? Let me know. Want to do the “lizard lap”? Let me know. I want to have a good time. You want to have a good time. I want you to have a good time. But if there are specific things you want done in a specific way, you better speak up and let me know. (Isn’t it amazing how women like to rant and rave about how men never want to stop and ask for directions, but turn around and expect us to just know what turns them on. As if all of you are the same and the exact same things that worked on Betty Sue are going to work on you. Actually ladies think about it like this. Speak up, or I’ll fuck you the same way I fucked the last girl I had in my bed. Speaking up doesn’t seem so hard now does it?). I am not the Mighty Kreskin. A closed mouth won’t get fed.

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There you have it, five of my sexual pet peeves. I had more, but I figured I should take my time for those of you who are a little slow on the uptake.

*I cannot verify that Mark Twain actually said this. But he was a pretty perceptive fellow and I’m sure he would agree that spitters are quitters.

“I love cock” – the daily mantra of Elizabeth Rose

Sex is great. Sex is fun, funny, and awesome. I love the smell of sex. I love the noises it makes. I love the noises I make while having sex. Sex is my hobby, my pastime and my passion. If I could, I’d be constantly banging away and I’d never get anything done. I invested in a rechargeable vibrator as the cost of batteries was eating away at my shoe fund.

But I’d like to know where in the world the ridiculous assumption that guys are only after one thing and that all they want is sex comes from. If that were true (and oh how I wish it was) I’d spend every moment of each day getting shagged (ahhh…sweet bliss).

The truth is – some men do have a high sex drive. So do some women (often referred to as sluts, but I call them friends). Some men do not have a high sex drive, others let emotions rule their penis, and then there are those who will only let you play with their penis after you have engaged their emotions.

I have recently been drunkenly playing with a decent enough sort of penis. It is attached to a decent enough sort of chap who happens to spend a great deal of time in a hotel bar that I frequent. When I suggested that we arrange to meet for sex  in the future (I was hoping we might get more sober sex that way) he balked and said…

“I’m not in a place where I can be arranging regular sex.” Then he took a swig of his beer and quickly followed this up with, “But I’m not saying it’ll never happen again.”

Then he went on to explain his baggage. It was legitimate baggage and it would have been legitimate to bring up with me if I wanted a relationship. But I didn’t and I still don’t. I just want a convenient, regular midweek cock to suck on (is that really too much to ask for?). If all men are looking for is sex, then our making a ‘sexual arrangement’ would have been a simple equation for him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.  So I now have to woo a new, unknown penis in the hotel bar. A process which could actually take 30 minutes or more – precious time that could be better spent shagging.

Most inconvenient…

On the 6th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

…a constant topic of conversation.

Merry Christmas everyone!

“Did I tell you about the funny thing Finn said?”

“Have I mentioned this great guy I’m seeing – Finn?”

“Yes – there is someone in Canada, it’s early days so I don’t want to jinx it – but his name’s Finn and he’s…”

These and a plethora of others have been recent opening gambits of my conversation. What an ideal Christmas present I must be to any dinner party or social gathering. Instead of a witty and charming guest full of flirtations and tales of the Great White North – I am a Finn-bore.

This is ridiculous!

Readers, what did you get for Christmas? I apparently got a lobotomy performed by an Irish man’s (delectable) hairy cock.