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Perhaps it was the total porn immersion and the resulting heady delirium, but when I finally emerged, bleary-eyed and shaken, I'd had a porn epiphany. It was mostly due to the discovery of Parker Marx , a fucking genius, a genius of fucking.
Parker Marx is an English porn performer based in Prague. He is lovely to look at, but that's not what it is about him. When he performs, Parker is absolutely in the moment-- or at least does an incredible simulation of that--and clearly relishes a good fuck, completely conveying all that is sublime and intense and connected and primal and hungry about your best sexual encounters ever.
So yes, there's humanity and depth and connection and--holy hell--and the eye gazing alone could wreck you, but his work is also very sexual, primitive and animalistic. Marx, like, luxuriates in whatever bodily fluids happen--sweat, tears, a newly soaked pair of panties. In a recent, uncharacteristically conventional-seeming scene, his partner squirted what to me looked like a possibly alarming amount of whatever women squirt , and he burst out laughing, delighted.
And, dear god, the man cums spectacularly. Posted by jill Hamilton at Thursday, September 13, Overthinking the Magic Bra. Posted by jill Hamilton at 5: 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.
You can read her response below. Here, you can witness Perfectly Good Smut being ruined by a few ill-chosen words. I suck harder and harder My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves. Now I feel the need to rant because of all the sources they consulted, they neglected to ask one of us, ie. I thought, what better venue to rant to than this column? Actually, there is no other option. 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.
If I go backwards in my life to my first physical sexual feeling, it was this: And they were tied up or trapped at least once per episode. No wonder that was my favorite show. What Should She Do? Gonna be a long night. 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? 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. Yes, tragic, but perhaps necessary. 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.
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 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. Let him come all over your tits or something spectacular. This chafed reader also wants to hear your advice, dear Internet stranger.
And yes, I did just see Isle of Dogs last night. How did you know? Posted by jill Hamilton at 1: Tuesday, May 15, Sedes Libidinus, if you know what I mean. Name this body part. Go on, take a guess! Yes, the clitoris has internal parts! 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 friggin'-years many of them, to be fair, non-friggin' years , I've been walking around ignorant of my own damn anatomy. 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.
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. If you're feeling sciencey, I highly recommend you have a look at Helen E. Lateral view of dissected clitoris in fresh cadaver of 57 year-old post menopausal woman.
In the oddly enjoyable article Journal of Urology , who knew you were such a good read? 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 's, Flemish anatomist Andreas Vesalius disagreed with Falloppia yes, he of the tubes that "healthy women" had a clitoris and wrote: I can find no mention of a Mrs. 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.
I mean, it seems like it's all just stimulation of various parts of the clitoris. 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. 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. So use them both as you please! This is a rerun. Please direct further concerns to our customer service number. Monday, April 23, My New Dick.
I had absolutely no success. It was more than two years later before I learned the reason why some women consistently come through penetrative sex is due to their anatomy — their clitoris is physically closer to their vaginal opening. Pansexuality — attraction not limited by gender or sex — and gender fluidity might be the future: More of my female friends are coming out as gay, queer, bi or trans, too.
But although sex in your 20s can be wild and fun, with little judgment from your friends if you — like me — decide to sleep with your weird Tinder date who had a major problem with eye contact, or, in fact, decide to not have sex with anyone at all, insecurities are still rife. Sexism is pervasive, and as a black woman it can double up — somewhere between fetishisation and racism when, as people have said to me before: I have hope for the sex life of my generation.
And figures show that rates of STIs among women begin to fall sharply between the ages of 25 and 29 while men, who have far lower rates between the ages of 15 and 19, overtake women at this age.
Maybe in my 30s. When I began my 30s, I did not watch porn and had no interest in it. I internet dated, but I never made overt references to sex on the platforms I used. I ignored sexually explicit overtures and presented myself as looking for a serious relationship rather than sex. My goal for my sexual life was long-term monogamous commitment. During the time that such a relationship eluded me, I settled for shorter liaisons. They would end, usually not by statements but by signals: I occasionally went home with friends after nights out.
I had an IUD and was lax about condoms. I was not much into sexting. I sometimes masturbated with a vibrator, never while watching porn. I was hung up on an ex-boyfriend. I went to many weddings. When I did not envy the professions of love I doubted them. I made fun of post-religious wedding rituals, but felt the warmth of participation.
I thought couples in sexually open relationships were either naive or self-destructive. I read about the time limits of my fertility. I had sexual freedom, and I did not value it. How much perfunctory sex between half-interested people could one life contain?
I began this inquiry as a journalist, which was convenient as I could continue to think of myself as a sexually unadventurous person who longed for monogamy at the same time as I sought out people who had pursued the maximum possibilities of the contemporary sexual paradigm. I met with BDSM pornographers and a group that practised a clitoris-centred technique called orgasmic meditation.
I interviewed a group of polyamorists who worked at Google. Within the first year of this research, the journalism project began to affect me. I learned from the orgasmic meditators about how I received sexual overtures with anxiety, and I practised acknowledging the presence of sexuality in everyday interactions, which in turn made it easier to meet people who I wanted to have sex with.
Watching the pornographers made me more proud of my body. I understood it was the mere fact of bodies and their exposure that was stimulating, that the bodies did not need to look like those in magazines. I began to value the sexual freedom I had lamented before, to feel fortunate to have it. I felt an opening-up as I learned more about possibilities that I had naively assumed were not for me. I am no longer scared of ending up alone. Sex in my 30s has been better than the sex that preceded it.
I feel certain of my body. It is easier to meet people because I am no longer shy about expressing sexual interest in the people I like, although I was lucky, this year, to meet someone I love. We are together with long-term plans, and both interested in how to live as a couple and as two people who value sexual inquiry, honesty and authenticity. I am not as young as I was, but I feel young still, and I look forward to the sexual experiences still available for discovery.
Sex in my 40s is unquestionably the best of my life. I am strong and hungry. I knew my sexual power as a year-old — how funny and how silly it was to watch grown-up men shake with a shrug of my adolescent shoulder. That power sometimes felt great, but suddenly realising it as a teenage girl is like putting a child in a car and expecting that child to drive along a motorway.
It can be lethal. That pressure to appear sexy was monumental, and meant being, at the very least, orgasmic. Never mind that I very rarely got there. I was adept at faking as that made the man I was having sex with happy. The subterfuge I went through, making myself come, alone, in the bathroom after his main event was over, now seems insane. A shrink helped me unravel the muddle in my head that I had got into around always hoping to please while also being in control.
Then I finally understood that when really I let go, my pleasure and power would increase. I met the man who is now my second husband when I was 34, and I knew instantly there was something different about how desire could feel and sex might be with him, because of my overriding desire to listen to his voice. Of course, I also wanted to lick every drop of sweat from his body, but it started when we talked. Performance and looking sexy was irrelevant when my mind, in his hands, had become sex itself.
Seven years later I am now 41 and, oh, the sex is still fantastic. Fidelity and commitment feel like the ultimate ride when these orgasms are the spoils of that labour! But there is a rub.
Our feet are pressed hard on the accelerators of work. And we have five children — two teenagers from my first marriage, then three more, who are now four, two and six months. I have never really planned any pregnancy, but none of this was accidental, either. And sex when conception is a possibility is different from regular shagging.
Getting back to it after another baby is born sometimes feels like clearing out the attic. It seems exhausting and messy and unnecessary when you contemplate it, but then you get started and suddenly you want to move into the attic and lock the door and just lie there naked all the time.
This makes me happier, and generally when I am happy, sex is better, more generous, more uninhibited. Of course, through all this conception and pregnancy, my body does not always work as I want it to. I have had three miscarriages among my pregnancies, and two horrible bouts of postnatal depression that were far more agonising than childbirth was and lasted months, not a few hours.
When sex is about reproduction rather than purely recreation, the loving and hurting are bound very close together; few people have a completely easy ride through conception. Most of us who want children at this age will have had to manage some degree of disappointment or sadness.
Miscarriage and postnatal depression hurt a lot, but so does the uncertainty of IVF or traumatic childbirth, for example. The consolation is love, if you can hold on to it. The demands of our life also mean there is absolutely no slack. I know about the theory of date nights and scheduling sex. But achieving those things is often impossible, because when the unholy trinity of a work deadline, the school play and having sex are all vying for my attention, then sex will always be — has to be — the thing that falls to the bottom of the list.
Sometimes I sit on the sofa as the kids come in, each with their own version of breaking news that needs my absolute attention, and feel as flat as a piece of paper. My elder children are 13 and 16 so I know that all these things do finally pass. But my fear is that by then another life test will rear up oh menopause I hear you galloping up behind me and right now I want more sex.
I don't want to blend and fit in. That is why I love selling vintage through my business IndigoStyle Vintage. It is the ultimate in personal style and expression. Sexiness exudes from my confidence, smile and acceptance of myself. Not being fearful of exploring, I know I am perfectly imperfect, flaws and all. Anne Rosenberg, 59 "For me now, sexy is alluring and creative. I was focused on academics and the rest of my time was filled with riding my horse and doing barn work.
My standard attire was a flannel shirt, overalls and boots. It seemed as though sexuality was for others. I was sort of a 'neuter' and whatever feelings burned deep within had to stay there. For me now, sexy is alluring and creative. Mary Ann Holand, 58 -- "No one but me dictates my sexiness. After turning 50 I felt much sexier than I did in my 20s. That's a lot of pressure! With maturity comes confidence and the knowledge that our brain is our sexiest organ, not our body!
No one but me dictates my sexiness. The journey in getting here shaped how I feel. I am a wife, mother, grandmother and breast cancer survivor including a mastectomy.
This self-awareness of being sexy in my 50s is a gift and one I will cherish in every decade going forward! Wheeeeee -- I'm free to be me!!! Shannon Bradley-Colleary, 50 -- "I just say 'yes' more. I also felt I should've been better at orgasms. Barbara Rabin, 67 -- "I'm so much stronger now. And strength is sexy. It's being comfortable in your own skin. It's looking in the mirror and liking what I see. Someone once told me that older women can't have long hair.
And most women don't at my age. But I like long and flowing hair and, to me, it's sexy. You must have a feeling that says 'I like what I see and I'm doing great. Now I've lost my husband and had cancer. I'm so much stronger now. Pamela Madsen, 52 -- "Sexuality has become my friend. I was scared to be seen.
Now that I am in my 50s, I dare you not to look! I'm not frightened of being seen as sexy anymore, because sexy has gone from fear to empowerment and delight! In my 50s I trust my own 'yes' and my own 'no. Sandra LaMorgese, 59 -- "I can now focus on what makes me feel happy. I had a clear idea of what a sexy woman would do, say, look, and feel, and I spent so much of my energy trying to project that image to others. But now, in my 50s, I have a whole different perspective; namely, I don't feel like I need to act likable and sexy and desirable and free because I know that I already am all of those things.
Romantic and sexual partners come and go. It's just how life works.
Hentai, Anime, Manga free porn forum!: Our users have made a total of posts. A warm welcome to our newest user: isamu In total there are users online pornBB including online fetishBB, 78 online hentaiBB and 79 online www.siliconirelandnewswire.com users ever online is on August 28, am CEST. A few months ago, I spent an entire week watching porn for a magazine www.siliconirelandnewswire.coms it was the total porn immersion and the resulting heady delirium, but when I finally emerged, bleary-eyed and shaken, I'd had a porn epiphany. Our users have made a total of posts. A warm welcome to our newest user: isamu In total there are users online pornBB including online fetishBB, 71 online hentaiBB and online www.siliconirelandnewswire.com users ever online is on August 28, am CEST.