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65 million Americans are currently living with an STD.* And Women are twice as likely as men to contract an STD.* Find out how you can make a difference. Join the Cause. Visit elexabytrojan.com.

*Source: American Social Health Association

Have Sex & Save Money!

I’m an armchair psychologist.

Seriously, it was close to being my major in college and to this day I still enjoy the mechanics of how the human mind works. In fact, the more I study and read and people-watch, the more I’m convinced that there are actually very few human motivations and that these motivations – fear being the most common, directly affect your sex life.

Take cheap people for example. I’ve been certain for many years that people who huddle around a nickel like its the second coming are only sublimating for something else they’re not getting. To illustrate, one of my ex-boyfriends, Dan, was so cheap (cue: “How Cheap Was He?”) that he’d saved every receipt for everything he’d ever bought in case it would need to be taken back to the store. The man makes six figures, but when I asked him how he could take a vacuum cleaner that Hoover doesn’t even make anymore back to the store for a refund, it was crystal clear that this had nothing to do with saving money. This was sexual frustration masked as frugality. Was it any surprise that this “man” couldn’t keep it up for more than 30 seconds?

Same goes for people who separate the two-ply toilet paper, horde spare change, drive ten miles out of the way rather than pay tolls and/or mooch off their friends. I would never crack on anyone who actually needs to pinch pennies or clip coupons because they’re struggling; I’m talking about those who have cash who’d rather die than to let a few dollars go for the sake of pleasure or comfort.

But there is a remedy. Women’s Health just published an article called “The Cost…Of Not Having Enough Sex.” This article calculates down to the penny, how much you can save this year by getting laid instead of buying some of the more commonly used household staples like Advil, Movies OnDemand, even your regularly scheduled therapy appointment.

Let me know what you’re hording. Perhaps I can be of help. You’re welcome on my couch anytime. Well until my next boy toy arrives anyway.

You’d Better Behave Yourself!

I’ve always believed that everyone seems just a little too proper. I think we can all benefit from loosening the restrictions and letting it all hang out, so to speak. You get to know people faster that way. Take dating, for example. If it takes weeks to get all the formality out of the way so you can really get to know the other person, then you realize that person really wasn’t worth your time, what was the purpose of all the preliminary posturing?

Well, my freelance writing peer and style expert Caroline Tiger disagrees. She’s recently released another installment in her How to Behave book series called How To Behave: Dating and Sex. It appeared in my inbox through a Daily Candy article. Caroline believes some of us need a little help when faced with the conundrums of online dating, kicking someone out of your bed (or life) the morning after and hearing the L-word when not feeling it yourself (I recently lived through this one).

Perhaps you need a little guidance when navigating through murky dating waters. Following ones instincts doesn’t work for everybody, I guess. Some people get off on following the rules just like I get off on nice hands, a great kiss and a well-formed penis. What I think this really is about is not having the confidence to do what you want. Everyone’s looking for tips. We all want a map to follow.

What will we do when we finally learn that no map is correct? Well, until then, mind your manners and learn from Ms. Tiger how to behave.

Nudism Revisited! 10 Questions with Tom Mulhall, Owner of the Terra Cotta Inn, Clothing Optional Resort in Palm Springs, CA

Since I wrote my nudism blog back on January 10th I’ve gotten some replies from those who are curious, those who know and those who want me to spend some more time on the subject. Well, I spoke with the owner of a nudist resort recently, Tom Mulhall, who shed some light on this industry, its history and its future:

How Would You Introduce Yourself?
I own a nudist resort and we also belong to the Trade Association for Nude Recreation (TANR). I’m also a past president of the Palms Springs Chamber of Commerce, so I’m not just involved with nudism, but the entire tourism industry.

How Popular Is Nudism?
Well, one in seven people in Europe will visit a nude resort each year. Europeans are much more comfortable with nudity than we are in America. Nudism actually began in Europe (Europe the continent, not Great Brittain) in the late 1800’s as a medical treatment for Ricketts and the black sky effects of coal burning during the winter.

What’s Your Personal Nudism Story?
My wife, Mary Claire, and I were maybe 23 or 24 years old and were really poor recent college graduates looking to visit the original Jamaican Hedonism resort, which wasn’t like it is now. It cost only $300, round trip, including airfare, to go. We never realized they had a nude beach there. Since it was the 70s, the hippie culture was still dominant, but it took us a while to work up the nerve to try it. But once we did, we thought it was really cool, and we’ve been into it ever since.

How Has This Industry Evolved?
Now, nudism is no longer family/kid-oriented. There’s something now called “couples vacation packages.” People, especially when traveling to the Caribbean, tend to not take the kids so now there’s a huge market for resorts that can offer a different type of vacation experience. First, topless sunbathing, like at Hedonism and then at places like Club Med and Sandals became popular. This progressed to nude sunbathing becoming more popular.

What About Your Resort?
We lived in Chicago until 1994 when we moved to Palm Springs. We started buying rental buildings. I’m a CPA by background, my wife is a home economist. We’d vacationed a lot in the Caribbean and in Europe and talked about possibly opening our own clothing-optional resort at some point. We were the very first couples-oriented nude resort in the United States. We’re called the Terra Cotta Inn. We’ve now been open 12 years.

What’s the Personality Type of a Nude Sunbather?
This is for very outgoing people. And when you take your clothes off at a nude resort, you are so much better behaved. Its like bearing your body also accompanies bearing your soul. If you go and stay at a Hyatt or Hilton hotel, you never, ever make friends with people. Whereas at a nudist resorts you’re likely to make lifelong friends because you’ve really gotten to know other people.

Has Nude Sunbathing Grown In Popularity In the U.S.?
Nude recreation is really getting major press these days. I always say that once you get a major A-list celebrity who says they enjoy visiting nudist resorts, then you’ll blow the lid right off. You’ve got people like Tom Hanks, Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston who enjoy nude sunbathing or who say they enjoy going nude at home like Shakira, who gardens nude at her home in the Bahamas. Those things will always make the press. Then, everyone will want to do it.

And Personal Highlights?
When Newsweek did their article a few years ago on the best small business in America, they came here. How many people can say they’ve had their bare butt in Newsweek Magazine?


Where Should We Go for More Information?
I would suggest the American Association of Nude Recreation (AANR) for basic information, and, of course my site and blog: www.sunnyfun.com and www.terracottainn.blogspot.com

What The Hell Is Speed Dating?

I won’t clog the blog waves with yet another Valentine’s Day snore as, I’m sure, so many bloggers are wont to do today. Instead, I’ll tell you how I was invited, by a networking and social group I’m a member of, to a Valentine’s Day Speed Dating event. What the…?

The e-vite read like this:

Everyday is the 14th!

When: Valentine's Day 2007
Where: The African American Museum in Philadelphia
Time: Happy Hour (6pm to 9pm)
Price: $10 in Advance ~ $15 at the Door ~ $5 for YFS members
Why settle for 1 date on Valentine's Day when you can have 10?
Strongly Suggested Pre-Requisites for Participation:
• Ladies Must Bring A Guy Friend
• Fellas Must Bring A Lady Friend (that you're not dating…YFS is a Drama Free Organization People!)

Come Prepared to Have Fun (no uptight people allowed!)

Needless to say, I won’t be attending. As curious as I am about meeting new people and especially about watching people who are curious aim their arrows at the wrong people, I just can’t seem to wrap my brain around the concept of “dating” someone for six minutes and waiting to see if he also thought me interesting enough to see again. Because as my many years of experience with six-hour dating have taught me, about the only thing I can learn about a person in six minutes, is NOT whether I’d want a second date with them, but only if I’d want to sleep with them. Have the clubs and bars all closed?

According to New York EasyDates, “Why waste time with internet dating or blind dates? Know you like each other before you go out. New York EasyDates meet 'em before you date 'em.”

Well, duh! Isn’t the point of meeting people that you like what you see, and then move on to the phone call, then go out on a date? Remember that? Have we forgotten? What the hell is going on?


This crap even has a page on Wikipedia, the place for everything that’s anything in our culture, proof that its legit.

I even put a call out on my MySpace.com page telling the first 10 people who could relay to me their experiences on a speed date that they’d get a shot at reading their reply in this blog. No takers.

Get a life!

What to Expect When You're A Valentine

Tomorrow morning I will be appearing on the Today Show to talk about Valentine's Day Expectations. When I was first asked, "How should women manage their expectations on Valentine's?", I wanted to blurt out (humorously of course), "Don't have any!"

Continue reading "What to Expect When You're A Valentine" »

Why Some Nice Guys are Creepy

Scared Bunny wrote a really great post on his thoughts on nice guys and why a huge population of them usually end up getting screwed. I tend to stay away from nice guys---not because of the 'Bad Boy' syndrome but because I'm too opinionated for my own damn good and end up walking all over the garden variety of nice guys. I'm not saying that nice guy = wuss but I'm saying that if a nice guy had an edge to him, and some cajones then he would have a better chance with the average girl.

Continue reading "Why Some Nice Guys are Creepy" »

National Singles Awareness Day

Valentine's Day is right around the corner...a day reserved for nauseatingly sweet romantic gestures, wedding proposals and expensive over-the-top gifts in red, pink and white. Even though I'm a huge romantic, I'm not really big on commercialized holidays and Valentine's day is no exception. Every year, whether I'm in a relationship or out of one, I make it a point not to do anything special that day--just in protestation for all the 120,384,839 gazillion couples who will be filling up restaurants, clubs, bars and hotels to the point of insanity.

You have 356 days in the year to show your significant other that you love them...why not take advantage of any or all of those? Why not choose a day that is truly special to the both of you, say an anniversary of your first kiss, first date, first time making love, etc.--and not a day that some old monk got executed? Since when did Hallmark dictate to us all the holidays in the year?

One of my dearest bloggettes, the Overeducated Nympho has similar thoughts as well. She calls it the National Singles Awareness Day (NSAD) and it seems that there are alot of Singletons who have pretty much the same mindset.

One week from tomorrow is N.S.A.D. That means all the married/coupled women in my office will receive huge bouquets of flowers and singing heart telegrams (one can only hope for such embarrassment to rain down on their big fat freakin ray of sunshine), and all the men will look hopeful in anticipation of getting some that night.

Me? I have a soccer game. And that is all. It’s co-ed soccer… maybe I can kick some cute guy in the crotch and then take him home with me under the promise of “I’ll make it all better.” Ha! I almost choked on my own evil brilliance.

If you are a huge V-day fan, more power to you. Just remember that there are 8736 more hours in a year to show your darling love that he/she is truly your hearts joy.

Winning Is An Aphrodisiac

Who cares about the Super Bowl anymore?

I watch every year. I’m a huge sports fan, I’m a football fan, and I like to check out the major sporting events because I am a fan and also because I’m a pop culture junkie who can’t help but make connections between what’s happening in the news and how it shapes us as a society.

For example, we’re still making racial history through sport. This Super Bowl was the first in American history to feature a Black head coach. Two, in fact. I also thought it interesting that most sports reporters who elaborated on this fact also seemed to need to apologize for approaching the subject by suggesting there will be a day when this topic won’t be relevant (no, there won’t).

But another subject that intrigues me about the big game and all the hoopla and pageantry surrounding it is the heightened sense of urgency, all the anticipation of the “big” moment and how sexually charged that all is.

Now, I’m not one of those women who get all gooey and orgasmic over chocolate. I also gossip very little, which many women use like lifeblood to stay connected to the world. I do like my shoes and I believe a quality massage never hurt anybody, but for me, one of my passion pursuits will always be pro sports. And I’m not the only one. Football wives and locker room groupies have a different agenda than I, who will always hold the game in higher esteem than the players’ marital status, however, the groupies and the “scope queens” have their place, and the Super Bowl is their biggest arena.

I remember back in the late 80s when I was still a teenager, The San Francisco 49ers won one of their Super Bowls with Joe Montana, their quarterback, being lifted ever higher into the ranks of studliness. I was working at a video store with lots of people my ages, and as we sports fans relived each great play of the game and debated where this one placed on the list of the greatest sports moments in history, most of the girls could only comment on how they wanted to be married to Joe Montana.

Okay. Whatever.

But it does make an interesting point. Where do you think all these paternity suits come from? Why are all those silicone-enhanced, sport-knowledge-deficient hoochies hanging around during and after games? How come the Super Bowl is just as much about hookers and “flesh and flash” parties as it is about the final score? And why do blogs, like the NFL Wives Club, exist?

I’ll tell you why. Because winning is an aphrodisiac!

Sex Toy of the Month February: Super Stretch!

How many of us have nearly sprained our wrists trying to give a quality hand job to a guy who takes forever? Or better yet, how many of us have guys who we don’t live with or see every day that we’d like to give the gift of a quality hand job when we can’t necessarily be there? That would be great, right?

Well this month’s toy solves that dilemma. Its more your wrist saver than a sex toy. Its called Super Stretch.

Its a cute silicone cylindrical sleeve that’s like a mitten over his erection and promises to feel just like the real thing. Its stretchy and tacky, has slight ribbing on the inside and is perfect for those couples who like to play with toys but hate the buzzing of the robotic, mechanical stuff. There are no batteries required for the Super Stretch.

And as the demonstrator explained, the effect is so immediate with Super Stretch, that the usual 10 minute mutual masturbation sessions that strengthened your wrists to those of pro tennis players would now be cut down to half the time! Know what this is? Its the sex aid for busy working women!

Lube is a definite requirement with the Super Stretch and its neatest feature? When you pinch the top of the Super Stretch as he orgasms, there will be no mess to clean up!

And no…the Super Stretch was not manufactured by the company that makes the Swiffer products.

The Incredible, Dangerous, Big Money Sex Rush!

Ever buy a very expensive pair of stiletto sandals? Remember the rush you got as you gently picked them up, smelled the leather, held them out in front of you, gently smiled as you imagined the outfits you’d wear them with, then flipped one shoe over to reveal the price tag positioned perfectly on the ball of the sole, realizing you could actually afford them without forfeiting this month’s mortgage and promptly whipped out the Visa card? If all your answers were yes, you’re also recalling the near orgasm it brought you.

I know this is a cheat, for many women enjoy shoes for the sake of shoes, whether they’re the Payless variety or the Manolo Blahnik variety, but you must admit that having a penchant for something hugely expensive and being able to occasionally treat yourself to it does provide a perverse thrill. Its not the same as being the “Belle of the Ball” like a blogged about last month, which is more about the whole of the experience; a sexy event. This is about particular and specific status items, that for whatever reason, turn us on so much that they invoke very real, very sexual feelings.

But…

But, there is a very real danger here. Have some plastic surgery. Buy the LaPerla lingerie. Buy the fancy strand of pearls. Get your blinged out Mercedes. Order the Tod’s bag for your toy dog. And after you have all those things, what will turn you on after that?

“Spend-a-holics” Anonymous, HERE YOU COME!

The Snow In/Love In

The forecast called for snow today. It was supposed to begin snowing yesterday evening and continue into today with some accumulation and the promise of a hellish morning commute.

I work at home so I don’t ever need to worry about the commute unless I have a meeting, which would usually be scheduled for late morning or early afternoon anyway. The real reason I always check the snow forecasts is because I’m anxious to check something off my varied and interesting sexual to do list: the snow/love in.

I’m always envious of those women who brag about spending entire weekends in bed with their boyfriends doing nothing but eating, reading (and writing) erotic fiction and, of course, sexing each other into oblivion. I’ve never done this. And I’m waiting patiently. I mean, I’d been snowed in with someone before. It was a couple years ago and he was absolutely gorgeous. But by the time I was settled in a comfortable groove and we were assuredly snowed completely in, he was already thoroughly ordinary to me. Well, it didn’t help that he was several years younger than I and spent almost the entire time trying to impress me instead of relaxing and just being natural. I remember him drowning himself in cologne one night because he thought it’d turn me on. He said this trick worked like a charm when his dad used it on his mom. But after I began sneezing and ordered him to go shower before I got a headache, I deemed the evening a no-go and turned over to go to sleep. Besides a few lingering kisses and a couple unfulfilling mutual masturbation sessions that weekend, I had no interest.

I think it may be the calmness of a snowstorm, of how it seems warm and still, that makes me feel sexy and amorous. Perhaps its the excitement of knowing that, at least for a day or so, I can turn off the computer, put the work away and not answer the phone, because I have this unexpected, yet much welcomed break to do precisely as I please. And when those moments arise, I’m usually looking to either spend money or do something decidedly sexual.

Alas, there wasn’t that much snow. Not enough for a legitimate snow/love in. And even if there were, my boyfriend was in Philly until late last night directing a last minute video shoot, meaning I’d need to wait for another time.

Oh well. I’ll wait for the next storm.

Give Up Masturbation? Are You Serious?

I’ve been covering my Elexa Sexy Smart beat faithfully and looking up sex toys and making my friends and acquaintances spill their dirt and nastiness for you guys and I am overlooking one of the greatest sex stimulators I’ve come across in my life and its one that will (barring any run-ins with the mafia) be with me until the very day that I die: my right hand!

Oh my goodness!

I mean, I’ve certainly mentioned masturbation in this blog, but its usually part of introducing a vibrator, describing an erotic fantasy or some manifesto on movies, music or tingling lube.

But what about rubbing yourself silly just for its own sake? No frills. No fantasies. Just for the sheer “get off” factor alone. I’ve lost whole afternoons masturbating. I’ll only allow my fingernails to get so long. Being in love (or lust) helps, but sometimes its purely a physical thing. Its like getting high.

I’m a chronic insomniac. Sometimes, I’ll be tired as hell, but I will not be able to get to sleep for the life of me. I’ll be tired, physically tired, but my mind will still be going like gangbusters. For whatever reason, one that I choose not to analyze, this is a sexual trigger for me. It doesn’t make me feel sexy, you see, but I must whack off in situations like that or I cannot shut down for the night. Sometimes I even need to come over and over and over before I’m spent. I know, weird, right?

So, I’ve been thinking: what would take masturbation’s place as my sleep method if I had to give it up? Girly herbal tea and Enya? Would I be hooked on sleeping pills? No way. I like my method. Because sincerely, who in the world, Dumb Josh Hartnett movies aside, would try to give up masturbation?

I’ve tried to see how many days I could go without it, you know, just as an experiment to see if my orgasms would be more intense after waiting a while (results proved inconclusive), or if it would make sex better with a new guy I was seeing (who cares?).

Tell me. What would you give up masturbation for?

What’s Your “Number”?

Why do women lie about the number of men they’ve had sex with?

I know there’s still a social stigma around even the idea of a woman being in complete control of her sexuality and not giving a damn about what other people think. And I know that what gives men a studly image makes women into pariahs. But now, in the new year 2007, can’t we move past that archaic crap and into a phase where we celebrate women’s sexual prowess, something that can only be attained through confidence and experience?

I read recently that the thing women lie about the most is not their age nor their dress size, but the number of men they’ve bedded. What is that? Do women believe that their vaginas are these delicate vessels that cannot be used unless in case of an extreme emergency? Give me a break. A real man would never judge a woman by these antiquated standards and would even consider it a privilege to experience a woman who so obviously knows what she wants and how to get it.

So, here’s my proposition. Call it a New Year’s Resolution if you want. But I’d like to see the tables turn so much so that the mere mention of a woman’s number makes a man want to devour her, not run for the hills. And I’d like to see women excited to add to their sexual roster instead of feeling like dirty, diseased whores when they add another tick mark to their bed posts. We could even throw our “number” out there, like a sexual lure, a worm on the end of our hook, to give men a teaser about what’s in store and that we wouldn’t just lie there like a dead fish.

C’mon ladies, sow your oats. Tell me your wild stories. I’ll post them right here on this blog.

Oh, my number? 26.

Now Introducing…The Vagina!

Remember 5th grade? Well, that was the year that we girls were separated from the boys in our school and corralled together and told that we, for the rest of our lives, would be different and special and weaker and that there were things we’d need to learn to cope with all this.

We were handed little workbooks on our anatomy that showed pictures and diagrams of our little feminine parts and introduced us to sex ed. in the most basic and elemental way our elementary school would allow at the time.

This really tickled me.

It tickled me so much so that I even shared it with my best friend and the person who sat right next to me in class. I wanted to show him the ridiculous “lesson” we girls had just endured while he was out playing football like I wanted to be doing. His name was Bobby Smith and he and his sister Wendy went all the way through grade school with me. Whenever I think about him, even to this day, I think about the startled and horrified look on his face when I handed him my vagina book, a look that, I’m sure, expressed his shock at seeing something that even grown men are grossed out by AND his acknowledgement that, although we were best friends and did everything together, I was a girl and he was a boy. And that difference permanently changed our relationship.

I kept my girly workbook, however, and studied it and tried to incorporate what I could into my tomboyish repertoire. Now I want to share with you, my loyal blog readers, the updated version of this girly workbook. Its from the latest issue Women’s Health magazine and is called The Ultimate Guide to Your…Vagina (Gasp). It’s the grown-up’s version, and Nicole Beland does a fabulous job at giving a comprehensive look into (and around) our vaginas. And in case you were wondering, it comes complete with pretty pictures HERE.

Show it to your best male friend. I need to find Bob’s address so I can send it to him too.

Hi Tech - Lo Sex

I have a friend who sleeps with his Blackberry Crackberry on his nightstand so that he can communicate all night long. Needless to say, his girlfriend is not thrilled by this behavior...because they no longer have sex and because he's becoming a big tech geek (not that that's always a bad thing).

Continue reading "Hi Tech - Lo Sex" »

Sex For Help: How Many Blowjobs Do I Owe You?

My toilet broke a while back. Well, the rubber flapper inside the tank stopped “flapping” and I needed to ask my boyfriend to help me fix it because I couldn’t hold the flashlight and unscrew the damned thing at the same time. I know, real sexy, right?

So anyway, he comes to the rescue and I spend three or so hours stressed and cursing while he very patiently helps me pick out new parts at Home Depot and also helps me install everything, even going as far as convincing me to change the flapper on my other toilet too because as he put it, “If one’s broken its just a matter of time before the other breaks too.” He’s really very sweet.

But at least 57 times during this ordeal, I mentioned to him that I owed him a blowjob for helping me. That’s 57 blowjobs! Not that I can’t perform 57 blowjobs, its that I say this a lot when a man helps me with something that I can’t do alone, because contrary to what I’d like people to think about me, I am not superwoman. My boyfriend and I laugh about it and even have rated some things according a sliding blowjob scale.

He had a great new stereo installed in my car for my birthday. That was worth 10 blowjobs.

He helped me sell that car after my accident in November. That was worth 25 blowjobs.

The car I bought to replace it needed a new shift boot and still needs the automatic mechanism for the convertible top fixed. I’m willing to get the kneepads out for that too!

It started as a cute and funny joke, but has now escalated to something close to the edge of disturbing. I’m addicted to it. Can a man not help me without my offering him sexual favors? I just love to see his face light up, like he’s thanking me for asking him for help. Is it some testament to my feeling like I don’t deserve help from someone? I need to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible since I haven’t actually had to make due on any of these offers yet.

The last thing I want is to fall further in arrears.

The Truth About Men, Love & Sex

I'm reading this book, The Truth About Men, Love & Sex right now by David Zinczenko, the editor-in-chief of Men's Health magazine. The book analyses a survey done on 5,000 people on what their views are on men, love, relationships and sex.

In addition, the questions focused on are from a woman's perspective because they also interviewed women as well to ask them the same questions from the other point of view. This book is for both genders and successfully crosses the great divide. The answers are quite candid, totally eye-opening and for me this book has successfully shattered all those dumb myths about men.

Continue reading "The Truth About Men, Love & Sex" »

Nudist Resorts

I’ve had a very stressful few months. I had the car accident the day after Thanksgiving. I’d just got another car and resolved all my issues with insurance and selling my wrecked car when the holidays rained down. Both these events happened in the midst of a real work upswing. Needless to say, I need to get away and relax.

I started searching for the perfect girly spa retreat. I want to lie around and do yoga, eating nothing but fruit and drinking nothing but sparkling water, in between sessions with a raindrop therapy masseuse. I want two or three days away from civilization, my civilization, to clear my head and get my groove back. But naturally, since I’m a warm weather person, this led to fantasies of lying on a beach letting the warm sun and balmy air nurse me back to perfect psychological and emotional health.

And during my search for nice, warm, girly resorts to bring me out of my winter funk, I came across a site promoting a nude resort.

As a teenager, my friends and I heard about a nude beach here in New Jersey, which I thought was silly since Jersey is still a part of the United States and there would be no state in the union that would allow such a place, right? We palmed it off as a myth and rolled our eyes whenever anyone brought the subject up. But indeed, there is a nude beach in Jersey called Gunnison’s Beach at Sandy Hook and there are listings for it all over the internet. Just type “beach resort.”

Then, I got distracted by all the sites and postings about nudism. There are nudist clubs all over the world. The internet boasts hundreds of forums and chat rooms devoted to “the lifestyle.” Who knew there was still this large a following for something that I believed was pretty rare since the days of free love and the “age of aquarius.” Problem is, nobody wants to post a mission statement or mantra for what this “lifestyle,” consists of. One website, PureNudism.com, can’t even give a consensus of what the term nudism means. They offer a quasi disclaimer instead stating “that no person or organization speaks for nudism” and “there can't be any ‘official’ answer.”

But it got me thinking. If there’s no longer a thrill in taking clothes off, and you walk around nude the same as you do when you’re dressed, then doesn’t the phrase “undressing him with your eyes” lose all meaning? And what fun is that?

I still plan on finding a spa.

Threesomes

How do threesomes happen?

I hear stories, both exciting and nerve wracking, from people who’ve decided to share the person they’ve made a commitment to with a total stranger or mere acquaintance for only a few minutes of fun.

I also hear stories about threesomes that “just happen,” when three people are drunk or overly stimulated or on vacation or temporarily insane.

I once received a message from a woman while I was listed on Match.com that asked if I’d like to be the third party in her “first bi experience.” I got the sneaky suspicion her husband was the svengali of the whole deal and if I were interested, which I was not, I’d surely have been completely turned off when she sent a photo of the two of them without cropping out their five-year-old daughter. Big mistake.

I believe that most people who seek a three-way are emotionally immature commitment-phobes who get off on the control they may be able to wield over their partners who have yet to wake up. I think women in these situations, more often than not, are afraid of losing their husbands or boyfriends to infidelity and will humiliate themselves in any way possible to keep that from coming to pass.

However, whether the act is planned or spontaneous, this is a subject that’s become quite the phenomenon during the last several years. So I did what any blogger would do when researching this post: I googled “threesome.”

Damn!

There are threesome personals at Passion.com, some good threesome advice at The Site.org, and of course, no shortage of threesome porn.

But my favorite article was written by a crazy, yet highly intelligent man, Don Pitts, who understands, like I do, that threesomes and most other sex swapping situations make great fantasies, but the fantasy is always better than the reality and if you want to prove that axiom wrong, you’ll regret it. Read his story HERE, and beware!

Sex Toy of the Month: The Sugar Spoon!

Okay everyone. Attention please. I need you to try and hold your oohs and ahhs until the very end of this post. This is serious business. I’m going to now introduce the most complex and ridiculous of all the vibrators I’ve seen to date: The Sugar Spoon.

This contraption is not for the faint of heart or for beginners. This is the toy tailor-made for no-nonsense businesswomen. For cynics. For efficiency freaks. For multi-taskers. Its the smartphone of vibrators. What I mean is, if you don’t go anywhere without your TREO because you need to be able to send e-mail, take calls and photos, play MP3s plus open Word documents, then your vibrator may as well do just as much for you.

Picture this: the Sugar Spoon has duel rotation capability, meaning that the outer labia stimulator is set to a different track than the spoon, which gets inserted, therefore, you could set the outer affect to a fast pace while the inner affect goes very slowly. I’m talking about more than 300 different speed and rotation combinations! Its got a spiral shaft with a tip that is actually shaped like a spoon, so when its turned on, it moves not just in a swirl, but it scoops too. Party at your G-spot! There is also the obligatory clitoris stimulator, which to my relief, isn’t shaped anything like a dolphin or elephant or rabbit. And of course its waterproof, making bath time lots of fun.

No word yet on whether it can also do your taxes.

Femme or Butch: Which Do You Prefer?

I tend to not like watching men do feminine things. I’m researching a story on strip clubs in my area and I know that eventually, I’ll need to explore male exotic dancing. I don’t want to. Men stripping is about as much of a turn-on to me as getting my teeth cleaned. And its not because I think sexual objectification is woman’s work. Its because I like to objectify men doing masculine things, like playing football, not taking their t-bars off while dancing to Olivia Newton-John songs. That makes me laugh, not swoon.

The same goes for women. I do get turned on by watching women gyrate to the floor from the top of the pole and by how they smell while I’m getting a lap dance. But I do not, under any circumstances, want to watch women mud wrestle, box or get drunk and fight another woman over some man who ain’t even worth the beer they’re throwing at each other. It isn’t ladylike and what’s more, its impractical.

For example, as much as I love Laila Ali, I never realized how attractive and appealing she was until she made a guest appearance on the TV show “Girlfriends” a few seasons ago as Toni’s new and demanding real estate client. She’s incredibly beautiful. Perhaps she just loves boxing and following in her famous dad’s footsteps (Muhammad Ali had six daughters, no sons), which I cannot begrudge her, but sexy? Nope. Never saw it. And with as much of an athlete as I am, and as good at certain sports as I was, I’ll never argue that I ever looked sexy while playing.

There’s something about high heels and lip gloss and satin panties. That’s sexy. Not weak, and not necessarily submissive, but feminine.

And there’s something to be said about broad shoulders and facial hair and a warm, deep voice. I love seeing the kind of swagger in a man that can only come from high doses of testosterone.

I happen to like them over six feet tall and more than 200 pounds, so that if I’m wearing my highest heels and tip over, he’s still a little taller than me and can catch me before I hit the ground. I’m a strong woman and I like a big, strong man. Call it modern Darwinism, but can anybody argue?

An Oasis on the Horizon, Or A Mirage?

Ever been through a drought? I don’t mean a few weeks where you’re both super busy and exhausted and having sex is just for the physical release and to put you to sleep. I mean a DROUGHT…a serious, months-long anti-sex pattern that only you, not your adoring, attentive partner, are going through. Well, its happening to me.

It began during late summer. The combination of money worry and intense heat. Then I got a new client, but developed my patented “Six-Month Commitment Phobic Wandering Eye” disease. Its worse than glaucoma. Then, on Thanksgiving night, during a rain storm and driving home from my mother’s house, I was in a horrific car accident that totaled my car and sent the tension/worry meter scurrying back up to 1000. Its only now, after several months of this, that I’m beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

My boyfriend has been so great through all of this. He’ll lie next to me, rub my back, and tell me that everything’s going to be okay. Even if its a lie, its still comforting to hear. He’s been schlepping me around and giving me his expert advice on buying and selling cars, he’s a great and loyal friend. But what if I don’t get the sex thing back?

I’ve always prided myself on being a potent sexual being. The fact that I’m a woman has never stopped me from putting my sexuality right out there, aggressively, for anyone I was attracted to (and some I wasn’t) to see. It’s a healthy part of who I am and damn it, I’ll use it! Plus, I’m supposed to be at my sexual peak. What’s going on?

I’ve had some intense urges to have sex during the past few weeks. I’ve had those daydreams that start as mere passing thoughts, become languid and relaxing fantasies, then turn into hard driving, imaginative, spine-tingling masturbation sessions. Too bad nobody’s around while they’re happening as my Waterpik shower sprayer is getting a serious workout.

Its obvious that my head needs to be totally clear for more than a few hours and that a man needs to be present, but damn! Have I officially become an old maid?

Holiday Vacation and the Yearly Need for Grooming

There is quite a debate out there about Brazilian bikini waxing...just ask Suzanne Reisman, whose blog, CUSS and other rants, is devoted to the subject. I for one, am all for waxing (at least for adult women deciding to take it off)...and when it's time for vacation, especially those where bathing suits are an evil necessity, waxing becomes essential.

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An AuPair for Christmas! The Perfect Gift?

Here’s a true story and yet another reason why the thought of marriage, of lifelong commitment to just one person, terrifies me:

I worked with a woman many years ago that had the awful habit of bringing her personal business to work and unloading it on all the rest of us because she had nobody else to talk to about her issues. I’ll call her M.J.

M.J. was in her late thirties at the time and was pregnant with the second of two sons. She and her husband got married in the early seventies, joined the Peace Corps and did the whole hippie, non-capitalist thing for a while before settling down and getting “regular” jobs. He was a state social worker and she was a high school English teacher. She quit teaching while she was still relatively young, and took the corporate job we knew her from that tripled her income now making her three times as wealthy as her husband. According to her daily reports, this, plus the fact that she never took his surname sent him into quite a state on top of his early midlife crisis. But M.J. was pregnant again and looking for advice on what she should do because once the new baby came, she’d be exhausted with nursing plus all the responsibilities of coming back to work. We already knew from her daily rants that her husband never helped with the first baby, never changed a diaper, and never got up for a feeding. And in addition to this, he “made her” have sex with him, every single night, whether she felt like it or not, because, as she put it, “He’s Italian and Italian men are very needy in that way.”

Yes, you read that right.

Now here’s the interesting part. M.J. seriously considered, out loud, hiring an overseas au pair to move into her home and help her care for her new son AND her demanding husband. In other words, her gift to him and to her newborn baby would be a Swedish nanny that would take up the slack around the house and, eventually, in the bedroom. This life, that was her choice, became just work for her, and her newfound corporate status could afford her this sick and ridiculous solution.

Her actual solution? I heard later that she did eventually leave the Italian stallion, but got remarried to someone else that same year. Some women never learn.

Hey Baby…What’s Your Sign?

Using astrology to size up potential partners is nothing new. During the 70s, “what’s your sign?” came right after “what’s your name?” Something about free love and the dominant hippie spirituality of our 70s culture made knowing whether someone was particularly star-sign compatible especially relevant, even if your relationship landed just through the next outdoor concert.

I got into astrology early in college. Something about having my chart done and discovering that after all the years of believing I was a chaste, exacting Virgo, I was actually, to my excitement and approval, a fiery, sexual Leo. (It has to do with knowing my birth time, not just my day and year, and that in 1970, when I was born, the sun decided to hang around in Leo until about 10:05 a.m. Lucky me!) And I was fascinated by this. I then understood why my horoscope never made any sense and why people I knew, who were the same sign, would be totally different from each other, even if they had the same birthday. Its about a complex combination of planetary positions that, if in agreement, would produce a really well-balanced person, and if not, well…would produce Adolf Hitler (He was a Taurus with many planets in Aries, which most experts say is a very dangerous combination). Anyway, I loved it. And I began a quest that isn’t that serious (I am NOT one of those weird, Miss Cleo ladies who’ll read your tea leaves), but it sure is interesting and a whole lot of fun. I got so good that at one point, I could watch someone for a few minutes and tell the sign they were born under, and with uncanny accuracy. I also can tell which guys are best in bed.

Sexual astrology is very, very interesting. Get the book Sextrology, by Starsky & Cox. If you get into this, you can actually pinpoint exactly how good a guy will be in bed and whether he’s likely the stick around afterward. I can dispel all the rumors and stereotypes (Scorpio is NOT the best in bed!) and gloat because I love to be right. I recently got into studying Venus and Mars signs: Venus is the planet that rules love and relationships and Mars determines a person’s sexual style and their tendency toward aggression. Having these planets in compatible signs can make your love and sex life incredible (He’s Just Not in the Stars, by Jenni Kosarin, is a new and hilarious new book modeled after Greg Behrendt’s best-selling “He’s Just Not That Into You” and will explain the Venus-sign phenomenon).

Some examples:

For high style and a damned good time in bed, get yourself a Libra. He’ll take you to the best places and shower you with affection. If he also has Venus in Libra, he may also be faithful to you for five minutes. Lucky you!

If its high adventure you’re after, go to the nearest race track and look for a Sagittarius. You’ll be one notch on a very long list, but if you get one with Venus in Capricorn, at least you’ll get a baby and a nice house out of the deal.

Aries is the all-time sexual champion of the entire astrological universe and I know this from personal experience: they love me! Yay me! But the trick to landing one is to act like you hate them and to never return their calls. You can also get one whose loyal too if you check for mommy issues and a Venus in Taurus position.

Don’t ever go near a Virgo.

And only date a Scorpio if you’ve given up on life and on making your own decisions. You’ll spend the rest of your days chained to the stove.

Tag, You’re It!

Learn to be elusive. You’ll have better sex! I promise!

Well, I can’t actually promise it, but I am absolutely in LOVE with the idea of using my own personal mystery to lure a man in, seduce him, and have my way with him only to have him following me around like a lovesick puppy while I lose nothing but a few extra hours. Yes, I know, its my sexy, sadistic side.

Problem is, I suck at it…

The need to be the queen of quicksilver is trumped a million times over by my enjoyment of the chase: that is, me chasing him! I love a good challenge. Its gotten me where I am in business, its why I’m the best on the basketball court and its created some very interesting dating and sex experiences: some good, some bad, but always interesting and always putting me in a great position to learn and apply the lesson to the next situation.

Its just that those challenges never change. Its always a new face, but the same scenario. And now I’m beginning to think that the problem isn’t finding a man who is the ultimate challenge, but that it is I who am the biggest challenge. It began innocently enough. When I was young, I was always the friend girl, the sidekick, the first picked by the boys for dodge ball. And I hated it. When the other girls got breasts, I stayed flat and remained “the friend.” I wanted so badly to be the one they lusted for, cat called, whistled at, but it wasn’t happening. I didn’t get any serious male attention until I was in my early 20s and I was so beside myself with glee that I felt I couldn’t turn down any invitations, ignore any calls or be the one who ended things. That got real old, real fast. I put some notches on my belt pretty quickly, but also endured a bunch of crap I would never take today. Thing is, I won’t start taking guy’s crap anytime soon, but I didn’t reinforce the other end, meaning that I still won’t turn down many invitations, ignore many calls or be the one who ends things. I still believe if I don’t answer that phone, he’ll forget about me and take up with some other, bustier girl and I’ll be relegated to sidekick status again. But if I could just master it, I know he’d stay around longer and I’d have better sex.

So, I’m not a “Rules” girl. I know some of those women who waited six months or until they were wearing the engagement ring to have sex…and they’re DIVORCED now! So who says they’re right? I have no hard and fast rules, no pun intended. I cannot stand even abiding the three-date rule. How about a three-hour rule? That’s more like it! I’m a hunter, a wild animal who chases it down, devours it, but maybe stays a bit too long to bask in the afterglow. There’s just got to be some balance.

I’ve been a proponent of Greg Behrendt’s “He’s Just Not That Into You” mantra since before the book was published and save for a few isolated incidents, I can move on without too many tears. But what about my challenge? Can I be the aggressor and be elusive at the same time?

Real Lesbians Show Yourselves!

No woman is ashamed anymore of admitting to her college dorm fling with the girl down the hall. It seems everyone’s “try-sexual” and threesomes, swapping, sex on ex and girl on girl are as ordinary now as the missionary position was for our parents. There’s no harm in that, I’ve partaken myself, but where does that leave the gay girls? Real lesbians need a venue to find their true loves too and the current atmosphere of “everybody kiss no matter who the bottle points to” can’t possibly make it easier for our lesbian sisters.

I’ll elaborate.

Ever wake up in the middle of the night, toss and turn a little, then realize the inevitable, find the remote and start clicking? Its pretty scary. Not the waking up part, but what passes for late night television these days. How much film needs to be wasted on any more episodes of Girls Gone Wild for us to realize that something is terribly wrong and there’s a trend toward women, incredibly young and impressionable women, turning themselves into playthings and sex toys just because they’ve had a little (or a lot) to drink and there’s a camera rolling. What’s more, girl on girl action seems obligatory and as these tramps are all in college, where do actual young lesbians go to meet the women with whom they may possibly find something in common?

On a recent posting for Dan Savage’s Savage Love column, a young college student lamented that she was having trouble finding someone who fit the bill as truly lesbian or bisexual. He agreed with her that most of these experimenters do give true, “out” lesbians and bisexual women a very bad name, because they’re mostly “drunk, straight chicks.”

How do we experiment and have some sexy fun without making fools of ourselves and disgracing an entire group of people?

The Good Life

Does the good life ensure a better sex life?

No, I don’t mean the good lives of the old, blue-blooded, moneyed tight-asses who marry for pedigree and only have sex to produce the mandatory heirs to their mandatory corporate thrones. And I’m not talking about the trampy lives of those gold-digging, hip hop queen wannabes whose panties will tumble down as soon as they see you throw that hundred-dollar bill on the table or pop a bottle of Cristal, even if the wine and the flash money was donated to the video shoot by your record label.

I’m referring to the sex high I’ve gotten on numerous occasions when I’ve chosen to mix it up a little and have gotten fancy when the situation didn’t call for it – and even sometimes when it did. I’ll just do it a little better, and fancier than anyone else. This turns me on. I use it sparingly, for fear it’ll lose its flavor, but its got such a powerful impact. These are the nights silk G-strings and Nicole Miller sandals were made for!

For example, I have a 20-year-old fantasy about going to the opera with someone special: arriving in a limo wearing a fancy gown and blowing a kiss to the driver as I’m escorted into the Met. I have no lasting interest in the opera, mind you, so what, besides the pure luxury of the act, would make me want to get all dolled up and sit through three hours of depressing drama sung in Italian? I can pretend my date is an important foreign diplomat and I can tell him to meet me in the ladies room for a little impromptu world peace negotiation.

Of course I wouldn’t want to do this all the time (I couldn’t afford to!), for this option is for the every-once-in-a-while, for rut eradication, for spice. Just like your G-spot vibrator isn’t what you reach for every night you sleep alone, but you sure are glad you have it in your arsenal.

If you’re out of your element, on a mini-vacation so to speak, you won’t help but feel a little tingle you wouldn’t necessarily feel at home in your old ratty sweats and tee shirt, right? And for some people, I think the act of playing dress up, G-string notwithstanding, isn’t worth the time or the trouble unless sex completes the scenario. Coatroom sex. Back alley sex. Limousine sex.

Wouldn’t you agree?

Sex Toy of the Month! Rubba Duckie, You’re The One!

Ever tried it in the bathtub? Water can be the greatest aphrodisiac. I remember how ecstatic I was when I discovered all the sexy things I could do with a detachable shower head. I suddenly needed three showers a day!

I try all sorts of new body wash gels, loofah sponges, and bath beads. I love the idea of waterproof vibrators and have fun with all the different textures, temperatures, pressure settings, the works. I think the mere sensation of the water can be enough to turn me on some days. I’m curious about those “rub-a-dub” dice cubes that float and have sexy instructions on each side. I know how much guys hate baths and consider them a waste of time and water, but even the most shower-friendly man won’t be able to resist those! One of the funnier Sex & The City episodes had me consider buying an automatic toothbrush –set aside especially for sex of course, and using the very gentle brush attachment: I can’t mess around with the firm brush! What would I tell my gynecologist? A couple weeks ago I wrote about using kids toys as sex toys just so long as your kids don’t catch you in the act. Well, the sex toy of the month fits that bill as well as being suitable in and out of the water. Its called the Rubba Duckie!

Remember that song Ernie sang on Sesame Street about the rubber friend he was awfully fond of? Well, I guarantee you’ll be awfully fond of this toy too because it does much more than keep you company. Sure, that’s what your kids may think, but this baby vibrates, and at a really powerful rate, and of course floats and is completely waterproof. It even comes in a smaller, travel size!

So try it in the bathtub. Bring new meaning to lather, rinse, repeat.

He Loves You When You’re Mad

Back when I was flirting with becoming a feminist, I bought a subscription to Marie Claire magazine. I know that Marie Claire is no rival for Ms. Magazine and won’t put any other hard-core feminist publication out of business any time soon, but as an energetic college student about to take on the world, it was refreshing to read a magazine that not only gave great fashion and beauty tips, but also cared about women’s rights and sought to bring my attention to what was happening with young women around the globe.

One article I remember in particular – one of the lighter, funnier ones – asked the question, “Why do bitches get the best men?” It referenced all the usual Hollywood suspects: Madonna, Courtney Love, Sharon Stone, Shannen Doherty, and explored the connection between being a very powerful, driven woman who takes no crap from anyone and the likelihood for errant sex tape scandals, sexy affairs with married men, cat fights over soon-to-be ex-boyfriends and the like.

I never got it out of my head. You must admit there is some validity to it. Many an affair and fantasy can be attributed to the sexual power of the bitchy woman. There are women who men want to have their hot, exciting fling with: a sexy vacation to take between long-term relationships with the girls next door. Its romantic, its fast-paced, its hot-tempered. Then, its over, and they’re back with someone named Barbie or Christie or Susie. I’m analyzing my own love life. I didn’t have much for a comparative study back then, but now, I have 15 solid years of dating and relationship experience and I must confess to being in just one situation in my love life that I can define as long-term, and that doesn’t count because it took a year and a half to get to know the guy and when I got to know him I realized I didn’t like what I got to know! So my point is that most of my experience has turned out to be the temporary kind and I now believe its because I am seen as this sexy, powerful, Amazon bitch woman who’ll take control and has no feelings. In other words, nobody wants to form a lifelong relationship with a woman they’re convinced only belongs in their fantasies.

Perception is reality for most people and they’ve always perceived me a certain way. Men and women alike don’t ever assume I can be a decent person. Because of my looks and with very few exceptions, people believe that I never have a bad day, never make a mistake, never sleep, eat, catch cold or cry. In their eyes, I am insufferable and impossible to please so what’s the point of getting to know me? I’m that exotic resort men want to visit in order to rest up for their next round with Barbie, that nice girl with less ambition and more patience for their crap. And that brings me to an inevitable question.

Could I be a sex toy?

"I Hate Your Boyfriend": Do You Tell A Friend?

The holidays typically stress me out. Though this year I didn't have time to be stressed seeing that I never saw the holidays coming. Time has flown by, and now I think that I best be living each day to the fullest, and encouraging my friends to do the same too.

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Kids Toys As Sex Toys: Co-Ed Naked Twister Anyone?

I’ve been thinking. I blogged earlier about how I like sex toys to look and seem like play toys, not like clinical, sterile torture tools, you know, something fun that makes you giggle, makes you orgasm, but isn’t necessarily meant to take the place of a real penis.

But what about actual play toys becoming sex toys?

Let’s explore this. Remember Nerf, those balls and projectiles that couldn’t hurt you because they’re made from that spongy, collapsible material? Well they’ve got something now called Nerf Dart Tag. Its like laser tag or paint ball only with Nerf darts that don’t sting. I say, play it naked around the house. Reenact that scene from the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Work out your aggressions and make up afterward. Do the same with Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. Yes, they still make that one! And when’s the last time you played a game of Twister? You know Twister, that silly game with the spinner and the colors and positions of your hands and feet? Not until recently did the sexual possibilities of this one occur to me. Yes, I bought one. I haven’t played it with a guy yet, but its in my arsenal now nonetheless.

Board games create unlimited sex options. Think about playing Scrabble with the rule that only sexy words and terms can be used or Trivial Pursuit with the caveat of having to remove an article of clothing every time you answer incorrectly. I’d lose every time, which means I’d actually win.

Note to parents: just keep in mind you’ll need to concoct a very creative story if the kids go looking for Twister’s spinner and find it in your bedroom.

Fetishistic!

Merriam-Webster defines a fetish as “an object believed to have magical powers, an object of unreasoning devotion or concern or an object whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification.” Dr. Drew Pinsky used to elaborate on LoveLine that fetishes were perfectly healthy and normal, and usually developed before the age of five, so most people with fetishes don’t have any solid memory of how it began.

I’ve known very few stone cold fetishists in my life, but the few I did come across certainly made an impression. John had a hard-core foot fetish. During spring and summer he’d obviously stare at our toe-painted, sandal-clad feet and volunteer to pedicure and pamper said feet. I immediately put him to work. Dave, a guy I worked with, had a thing for women in white stockings. I had this outfit back then – a white, heavy cable sweater number – that I wore with white tights and boots. I told him to get a job in a hospital where he’d have his pick of any of the white-legged and white-shoed nurses he wanted, but in the meantime, to leave me alone. And I guess its common knowledge that cross dressers aren’t necessarily confused about their sexuality, they just became fixated at a young age with women’s clothing and need to work it out through playing dress-up in mama’s pearls as grown men.

I won’t encourage anybody to get involved with a man who wants to wear your panties, but nurturing a harmless fetish can be fun. We just need to be clear about the difference between a fetish and something that compromises self-esteem. In other words, toenail painting is a harmless fetish that will please him and save you some time at the salon, but his need to have sex on a crowded subway train to check one more bullet point off his juvenile “must do before I die” list is not. His thing for stiletto pumps? Check. But tell him “nice try” to the idea of a threesome with your best friend while he films it.

Oh, and speaking of foot fetishes, check out this cool Foot Fantasy kit I found online. Then, when you run across the next foot-fixated guy, like a Girl Scout, you’ll be prepared.

The Sex Toy Party! Details Here!

It was 75 degrees outside and I’d just played in two recreation football playoff games where I scored a touchdown and caught another 20-yard pass that led to a touchdown, but all I could think about was the sex toy party I was invited to later that day. Would I have fun? Was it worth the energy? What products would I see that I haven’t seen before? I was about to find out.

I drove literally through the woods and across a lake to bring you details from the sex toy party I’d been eagerly anticipating. Good thing I could put my convertible to good use, probably for the last time this year, and enjoy the ride. Mapquest sucks, so when I arrived, the ladies were already onto their second drinks and Stephanie Taylor, the doyenne of Slumber Parties By Steph, had already begun the break-the-ice exercises. She had all the guests list household chores they hated, then pass the lists to the person next to them. Then, she read aloud the answers, but matched to a different question: “I hate sex because…” The answers were then hilarious! “Because its disgusting,” and “because its too small,” drew the biggest laughs.

She gave a key for our reference: anything for anal sex she’d refer to as for the “back door,” anything for vaginal sex she’d refer to as for the “front door,” and anything for clitoral stimulation (my personal favorite), she’d refer to as for the “doorbell.” Now, isn’t that cute? Then Stephanie began the show.

The beginning was harmless enough. When we were passed the naked playing cards, someone asked, “Do these come in Pinochle cards?” We wondered aloud if it took all night to finish a game of Poker for Lovers. The chocolate soy body massage candle smelled delicious, and about the love swing the hostess pointed out that, “This is one hook your husband won’t complain about installing around the house!” We all cracked up, but this stuff was just your basic innocent fare.

Next we got to sample all the jams and jellies that promise to enhance sex in some pretty odd and amazing ways. There was nipple-warming cream (Steph says she’s working on a beer flavor), and an anal analgesic that also works on bee stings! There was a cream called Like a Virgin that can make you tighter and works for up to 24 hours! We tried something called Good Head (I can’t make this stuff up!) that actually suppresses the gag reflex for non-stop oral favors and Just Like Me, which is a 24-hour lubricant that will actually dry inside you, but activate when you’re aroused again. Wow.

Next came the toy store portion of the program. Stephanie calls them “bedroom accessories.” There was the “7th Heaven” for beginners, which was pretty basic but has 7 different types of vibrations. We saw the G-Wiz, designed by a female doctor specifically for finding the G spot. And we saw the Krystal Wabbit, the Butterfly and the Hummer, which are all pretty advanced and high-tech what with bullets, rotating beads, escalation and ticklers!

So, it was a great party and I had fun, but I must say that the highlight of this shindig was at halftime, when Stephanie asked for 2 volunteers before she showed toys, but didn’t say why. Turns out she gave two women two different q-tips dipped in arousal balm, one cool, one warm, and instructed them to “grease their doorbells.” Yowee!

So, here’s a tip: Attend a Slumber Parties by Steph Party! But don’t, DO NOT volunteer for anything at these parties if you’re not prepared to be completely turned on!

Joining the Harem

Definition: A harem is a group of women that provide sexual favors for One man. Usually the number of females in a harem is 2 or more. This could be knowingly/unknowingly on the females part. A modern day harem includes any woman that is his mistress, the lover on the side, the booty call, the ex, the baby mama, the wifey, the friends with benefit and any other lady who sleeps with this guy.

Now culturally or religiously, if a harem is something that your heritage and tradition accepts, then bear in mind that this is not knocking you.

However, I refuse to be part of a harem. Why? Because I'm utterly selfish. See, I want my man all to myself, I want all his attention, all his affection, all his devotion, all his sexual prowess, all his everything... and I don't share period.

Sometimes, the sucky part is that you might not even know that you are part of a harem. He might be one of those guys that has a girl in every zip code, a dame in every city--one of those guys that being a consummate liar/player is second nature to him. He might be able to pull the wool over your eyes for a hot second, but eventually, you sixth sense is going to start screaming that something is awry.
 

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The Handsome Stranger

One thing that fascinates me about being 36 years old is that I’m still having first-time experiences.

My ex-boyfriend Dan gave me my first experience with someone utterly mentally flawed. I didn’t need the Ph.D. in psychology to understand that he was/is a repressed, anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, cheap, asexual momma’s boy. And when I finally realized that the situation wouldn’t ever get any better, I had absolutely no feeling about walking away. That was a first. A fling I had after that was my first experience with someone more than ten years my junior. Shortly afterward, I met a man with three children. What a completely forgettable human being he was, but his kids were delightful and precious, and needed a mother like nobody’s business. I got so attached and truly believed I could help them, which of course I couldn’t. I had a hell of a time prying myself away. Yet another scenario I hadn’t experienced: the handsome stranger.

Have you sat through this one?

Perhaps you met while on a business trip, at a dance club on vacation, over the internet. Whatever. You catch his eye. He introduces himself. There’s that “spark.” You laugh. You exchange numbers. “What harm can it do?” you ask yourself. You could always use a new friend, right? Networking takes on various forms. He leaves a message asking about your trip, then keeps asking about your days, your friends, your life. He tells you how beautiful you are and that there aren’t any women in his town like you.

He begins dropping hints about how nice it would be to have you come and visit. He sends pictures and asks for some pictures of you. The conversations turn romantic. He tells you he wanted you the second he first saw you. Details fly around about what he’d do to every inch of your body if he were there with you. You may return the favor. Your mind opens to the possibility of taking it to another level. Flirting is one thing, but maybe this could be something else. Maybe this can be something really strong; maybe it can be forever seeing that the long distance is the only obstacle. But what’s really making your heart pound? Is it that you feel something honest and authentic with this person, or is it that he’s a stranger, someone exotic to you who came out of left field?

And then you get the voice mail. “Hey. I just wanted to tell you that my friend from Atlanta is in town. She says she wants to give it another try. I need to at least see. You have been very nice to me. I’m so sorry.”

Sex Camels

I don’t know if you guys remember this, but in the months preceding Angelina Jolie’s first lip lock with her Mr. Smith co-star, she was causing a stir over the fact that her life was a wee bit sexless. Jaws dropped as the news spread. How could this gorgeous babe voluntarily go without? How could any woman who exudes that much sex seemingly shun it? How could anyone who could have it all, at any time, with practically anyone, sex included, voluntarily turn into… a sex camel?!

For those few months Jolie was busy making “more of a saint than sinner” headlines, a number of my female friends and students were breathing a sigh of relief. Finally, they were not alone – and, not only that, Angelina had just made their long-term, voluntary bout with secondary abstinence hip and empowering! Suddenly, there was nothing wrong or taboo with deciding not to get a little sumpin’ sumpin’ and, instead, hold out for something more, and with someone special at that. Sex camels loved the fact that Jolie had just become the posterchild of women empowered enough to choose to refuse.

Now, few would fault Angie, or any gal for that matter, for trading in her abstinent ways for some action with heartthrob Brad Pitt. But given no star has stood at attention for a lack of such in her love life, since Jolie’s rendezvous with abstinence, a lot of women have, once again, been left wondering if they’re the only ones not seeing some action.

It seems that increasingly, at least in my social circle, more and more young, attractive, intelligent women (who aren’t virgins) are holding out on sex for extended periods of time. These sex camels have a number of reasons for this secondary abstinence, ranging from being picky about their partners to looking for love to being fed up with players to just wanting to focus on themselves...  With headlines always sensationalizing those having more sex or better sex, rarely does the media mention and reaffirm those who aren’t having sex, unless it involves a virginity pledge. Even the recently released National College Health Assessment Survey for 2005 gave us very little insight on who’s having sex and how much, simply confirming that college students aren’t as promiscuous as thought. (FYI, men and women both reported having had an average of 1-2 sexual partners in the last year.)

So given we no longer have Jolie under an affairs of the abstinent microscope, inquiring minds want to know: who is this sex camel woman? How does she cope with her sexless stint? What makes her so attractive to men and women alike? What or who will it take to break her sexless streak? And when she finally does, is she better about making sure it’s with protection? Is she likelier to use forms of protection that are meant to empower her, like the sponge, female condom, or line of Elexa condoms by Trojan?

These are questions to ponder as one of the most important dates of the calendar approaches. World AIDS Day is practically the only day of the year that makes it super cool to use a condom or other form of protection if you’re sexually active. It’s also a day that supports sex camels worldwide – because there are lots of them! I promise you.

National College Health Assessment 2005 Survey results:

http://www.acha.org/projects_programs/SEXF05.cfm

http://www.worldaidsday.org/default.asp

Sex Toy of the Month! The Vibrating Inchworm!

If you google “The History of the Vibrator,” an interesting story from Slate.com will pop up retelling the story from summer 2005 in South Carolina, where a suspicious package needed to be investigated, but turned out to be a vibrator. It was hilarious, especially since mail order is the only method of supplying sexy toys to many southern states, including our brilliant new Elexa vibrating rings. Then, the piece goes on to give a pictorial history of the vibrator, starting in the late 1880’s with “vulvular massage” techniques used to soothe the nerves of more “difficult” female psychiatry patients and alleviate the amount of time it took to bring a woman to climax by hand.

The tour makes stops in the early 20th century, through the 50s, where vibrators were sold in the Sears Roebuck catalog and looked curiously like vacuum cleaners. Hmmmm. But now, we’re having fun with our sex goodies and they no longer require clinical, mechanical names or need to look like medieval torture contraptions. Now, they’re sleek, pliable and waterproof and come with names like Rabbit, Rubba Ducky, Dolphin and my new cheeky favorite: the Inchworm.

I don’t own one of these (yet), but the concept is as cute as a button: its a six-inch or so green silicone toy, that is so soft, stretchy and expansive, it can and will lengthen and smooth out once it gets where its going, all the while gently pulsating and teasing until its victim can no longer stand it. Wow. But the thing I like the most about it is how harmless and non-sinister it looks and feels. It really does seem like a child’s bath toy.

No comment on how moms with young children would respond if their kids get a hold of it.

Good vibrations!

The Miseducation of An Ex-Boy Toy

While I was working late one night last week, I logged onto iChat just to see if anyone was around. Well, just so happened that a guy, a very young guy, that I spent a fun month with last summer was logged on too. We caught up for a few minutes, exchanged updates about work, friends and family and then, he filled me in on his new single status. After a while, he opened up to me that, for lack of a better way of putting it, I completely “turned him out.”

No, not like that. He was by no means a virgin when I had him. And he has absolutely zero gay tendencies. However, at 22 years old he had very little experience with a woman who knew her way around a man’s body like a woman of 34 years, as I was at the time, did. I gave him some pretty spectacular experiences and a few choice “firsts.”

He admitted to now having some very intense dominance/submission fantasies because of me. Really? Then he said he had done some research on a few anal toys, like vibrating balls and paddles, and plans to investigate this more, also because of me. Interesting. Well, I did give him that extended lap dance that night wearing my tallest heels and looking very Amazon-ish. If my not letting him touch me during that 20-minute episode could trigger his inner submissiveness, I’m more than happy to have helped. I gave him his first prostate massage as well, and you should have seen him respond! But I warned him he was about to have the orgasm of his life, so if he wants to play with his own prostate gland to try and recapture that pleasure, well then I’m two for two. “I always thought that it would be exciting and fun for a woman to take control, but few women seem to do it though,” he said. “Once I'd like to be helpless and out of control, a woman’s plaything for a change lol. I think you created a monster.”

Damn, I’m good.

The Sex Toy Party: The Date Is Set!

On September 20th I blogged about getting a tip about a woman in my area who throws sex toy parties for women who want an alternative to waxy, yawn-inducing candle parties. I’m still not a firm believer, but it sounds like fun and the investigative reporter in me must go. So, I signed up.

Her name is Stephanie Taylor, a single mom from Bensalem, PA and she’s a contractor for a company called slumberparties.com. “Its sort of like what you’d find at a Home Interiors or The Pampered Chef parties, but a lot more fun. Our products include everything from lingerie, lotions, creams, toys, books…the works. We pass everything around. We have a really good time – you’ll be cracking up the whole time,” Taylor says.

She’s been doing these parties for more than two years. She got started harmlessly enough: she was invited to a party and had a great time. Then, she hosted her own party and the ball started rolling. She was in college getting a Public Relations degree and decided to supplement her income. A contact gave her the information to set herself up as a contractor and she’s been throwing parties ever since. In fact, the money is so great doing this, says Taylor, that in no time, she was making more part-time, than in her full-time career. “This business has doubled in the length of time that I’ve been with it,” Taylor says. “I have a team of girls that work under me. And there are more than 10,000 employees in my company alone.”

But during a Slumber Parties by Steph party, the hostess, you, gets assigned one special party sales rep that makes sure you and your guests sample and sniff loads of fun stuff! The hostess receives many, many free goodies, gift certificates, a veritable sex den shopping spree. There’s even confidential ordering for those women, shy types (read: not me), who need to replace their vibrating clitoris stimulators in private.

The date of my party is November 7th in Philadelphia.

So, what would you like me to test out? Vixen wants some market analysis on The Dolphin vs. The Rabbit. Send me your requests. I’ll see what I can do.

Stay tuned.

Mars vs. Venus: The Debate Continues!

The Washington Post recently reported a story about how a study from McGill University in Montreal is challenging the accepted vernacular of the last 10 years about how women are sexually and emotionally oriented differently then men. Yes, I’m referring to that Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus junk that polarized us and put us into very tight, uncomfortable (for me) categories like a straight jacket. So, now that I have a platform, I can’t resist posting my thoughts.

The study, conducted by Irv Binik, psychology professor and director of the Sex and Couple Therapy Service at Royal Victoria Hospital serves to confront that age-old standard, the one that maintains that women take longer to become sexually aroused than men or may not want it as much. Total nonsense. Binik had men and women watch some skin flicks and then tested them for arousal with thermographic cameras. Binik discovered that both men and women became aroused within 30 seconds. Take that! Men reached maximum arousal in about 10 minutes (women in about 12), but what’s two minutes when we’re well on our way to maximum thigh warmth and nipple hardness? Binik’s even quoted saying, “There is no difference in the amount of time it takes healthy young men and women to reach peak arousal."

Now will everybody just shut up??

I believe we need to think hard about how much these cultural and societal norms affect how we see ourselves sexually and definitely encourage our behavior toward “acceptable” standards. We all know it ain’t biological! Books like Men Are From Mars… and The Rules give women an excuse to be passive when we should take control of our relationships, our sex lives and our sexual health. We don’t need a study to tell us that we want sex just as much and as badly as men and that we get just as aroused and in just as short a period of time, do we?

Of course we don’t.

We need to realize how dangerous this is. The same passivity that leads women (and men) to believe that a woman’s place is in the home is the same passivity that leads to women being less educated, making less money, being the one who works a full day AND does hours and hours of housework when she comes home, that makes women irresponsible about their sex lives and likely to remain in romantic and sexual situations that are unhealthy. See the connection? We need to acknowledge this and work to combat it.

Coquettish games are a thing of the past and the coyness about sex and the power of female sexuality is quickly becoming obsolete out of dire necessity. When we’ve become a society where women contract an STD at twice the rate as men, we should expect nothing less. Leave the passive/aggressive game in the bedroom because that’s the only place that its acceptable. Who has a whip?

Findings from the Binik study are expected to be published in the January edition of the Journal of Sexual Medicine.

Vibrating Panties on the Greg Behrendt Show!

Should fashion really be used as sex toys? Last week on The Greg Behrendt Show, a new daytime relationship talk show airing nationwide, Greg, who penned the women’s must-read He’s Just Not That Into You, interviewed a “sexpert” who arrived with a trunk full of the latest sex goodies in tow. Beside all the obligatory lotions and potions was something very interesting, something that could spark a huge sexual trend, if used with just the perfect amount of slyness and naughtiness: vibrating panties.

I love to use Elexa's relatively new vibrating rings. They’re efficient, effective and just interactive enough where your man won’t feel banished to the ranks of mere spectator. But vibrating panties? This takes the idea of interactive sex play one step further. Forget about the issue of the toy taking the place of real skill in your man’s repertoire, but what of the notion of being able to (literally) turn a woman on and off, with the touch of a switch?

Here’s how it works: a small transmitter is sewn into the fabric of the panty’s crotch, which you could feel on its own, but then can be further activated by electrical charge when a second party (your partner) presses a button on a remote control device up to 20 feet away. And the extras include both an acceleration button and a “circling” button. WHAT??? You mean I can be standing in the kitchen getting my freak on, at my man’s urgency, while he’s on a conference call in the home office?

What’s happening to us? We already don’t get up to turn the television channel, we don’t use a key to get into the car anymore and remote vacuums are cleaning our carpets. Those are mundane things that we should be happy to automate so we can have more sex! Now sex is by remote control??

But its not my place to judge how people have their freaky fun. Perhaps a deal can be brokered between ESPN and the manufacturers of these fun pants. At least non-sport wives and girlfriends would have something to do before half-time.

Hot Boys in Hot Cars

I’m working on a story for one of the magazines I write for about the street racing scene in Philadelphia. Imagine scores of young boys and their friends and girlfriends with goofy, orgasmic gazes, lining the curbs while illegal, quarter-mile drag races happen late weekend nights along discreet stretches of smooth, Southwest or Northeast Philly asphalt. I know it well. I’ve been one of them for a while now.

Speed has always been an aphrodisiac. I’m sure even June Cleaver had a hot fantasy of Ward on the back of a pulsating bike going zero-to-sixty faster than either of them could say “Beaver.” So, I knew what I was getting into when I pitched the idea to my editor. Looking back, I think I was looking for a little extra, ahem, “stimulation.”

Well, I found it. And I also found many, many hot boys more than eager to appease my curiosity about how fast they could go, why their whips were superior to any others and what was hiding under their hoods. You know: V-Tec engines, cams, Audi blocks for VWs, potato guns and what not. And although I know much more about cars than the average female, I’d be lying if I said I was more interested in the cars than in the guys themselves. Revving their engines and giving each other’s rides the approving or disapproving once over, my interest in the automotive arts gave way to my even greater passion for studying and admiring pure, unmitigated testosterone.

It reminds me of what Randy, my escort during my visits to Southwest Philly, told me. “My car is like one big vibrator. Get in and you’ll see what I mean.”

The Many Benefits of Sexercise

A popular question I get asked by lots of women is what the real deal is on sexercise – can it really help gals to get in shape? And while a roll in the hay can result in a luscious lover burning 100-150 calories, the true benefits of sexercise don’t lie in whether or not you can work up a good sweat, but in how it can boost the way you feel about yourself.  After all, getting in shape, whether in the sack or at the gym, can make you feel more attractive, increase your self-esteem, and ultimately charge your sex life even more!  Feeling energized and confident, and, in turn, more sexually attractive, are all factors that contribute to your sexual vitality, desire and satisfaction.  And of course, once you feel super sexy, others see you that way too. 

In general, being physically fit makes for better sex in that your libido and sexual functioning are primed for action. When you exercise, endorphins - mood-elevating compounds - are released, creating the deep relaxation needed for amazing sex.  Even better, these endorphins also help minimize pre-menstrual syndrome (PMS), menstrual cramps, and the discomforts of menopause in women, making for a hotter love life.

As long as it’s regular and moderate, almost any type of exercise, sexercise included, improves sex.   This is because our nervous and cardiovascular systems, which are utilized when we workout, contribute to our sexual functioning.  A healthy nervous system is what helps you to enjoy all sorts of erotic stimulation, e.g., your lover’s scent.  It does this partly through the release of certain hormones, with a relaxed body being more sexually responsive to arousal.  Your nervous system is also what increases blood flow to your genitals when stimulated by relaxing the smooth muscle tissues of the pudendal arteries, which carry blood flow to the genitals.  The result: you experience more sexual excitement and vaginal lubrication. 

A healthy cardiovascular system also results in better bodily response to your sexual wants, including your sex drive.  A healthy heart and blood vessels allow for improved blood flow throughout your entire body, filling your tissues, genitals included, with rich oxygen. 

While you can benefit from practically any kind of exercise, being able to have sex for better sex and a more shapely body is definitely a great way to go for many, partners willing.  For the best results, adorn his pride and joy with a Trojan Elexa condom before climbing on top of him for the ride of his life.  A little bit of rodeo action on a regular basis should definitely help to keep you, and your relationship, in shape.

A Whirlwind Saturday: The Ultimate Sex Rush!

Let me tell you about last Saturday! This day will go down in my history as one of the Top 10 All Time Best Kellie Days!

I usually take the weekend to just chill. If I have to do much more than go outside to retrieve the mail, I will be upset about it. Because of my work and the networking events I attend – and there’s always two or three to attend during the week – I use my weekends to recoup, relax and regenerate. But last Saturday was a little different, and I never once complained about it.

My boyfriend had a stereo installed in my car. He got it for my birthday. I was so surprised and excited. Music moves me in a way nothing else does and just the idea of more bass and treble made me want to sing. We went from Best Buy to our Saturday afternoon football game for the Philadelphia Sport & Social Club league (I can’t believe I let him talk me into that!). I played the entire game and we won! Winning is such a turn-on! I was high for the rest of the day. A quick nap and car pick-up found us at a trendy Olde City Philadelphia Spanish tapas restaurant for some of the best food we’d had since we met. Neither of us had ever been there and mingling with the city’s beautiful people is always sexy and fun. The weather was breezy, the sidewalks were crammed and the spices and sangria had us feeling content and stimulated. We topped the night off with some good old-fashioned city street racing (more on this next week), which heightened every sense – senses that were highly piqued before we even arrived. Whew!

Well, needless to say, we were in no mood for sleeping when we got back home just after 2:00 a.m. Yes, I love to chill on my weekends but the occasional whirlwind Saturday can throw a nice monkey wrench, a sexy monkey wrench, into my plans!

NEWSFLASH! Elexa by Trojan™ Condoms Are BIGGER Than Magnum!

Ever see the box for the Trojan™ Magnum condom? Dark and no-nonsense, masculine and straightforward, they’re obviously an alternative to the fun and games candy-colored concoctions being passed around at parties and in dorms. No-frills Magnums are for those guys not interested in cutesy gimmicks and, yes, for another reason: Magnum’s are larger condoms for LARGER guys. After all, being with a very well-endowed man is serious business!

I remember all those late nights giggling with other girls about how big, how wide, how long and how smooth, but it would be years before I was with a guy who was an actual member of the Magnum club. Lo and behold, my current boyfriend and love of my life, is a card-carrying member! Yay me!

When I began this blog, he was so excited. I thought he was simply excited for me as I’ve wanted a platform for either a sex or a fitness column for some time. But he was beside himself for another reason: he wanted me to blog about him! Now most men would run or the hills at the thought of their girlfriend divulging intimate secrets of their sex life together or, God forbid, relive sexual events from seasons past, pre-him. But not my man. He keeps asking, “When will you blog about me?”

So here goes: my boyfriend sings a ringing endorsement of Elexa by Trojan™ condoms. He loves that they smell normal, not so annoyingly like latex. He loves that they’re comfortable, very comfortable, which somehow surprised him. But the piece de resistance is that, in his words, “I think these condoms are even bigger than Magnums!” He was like a kid on Christmas tearing through each new wrapper for each of the three Elexa condom types: stimulating, ultra-sensitive and natural feel (his favorite is natural feel). He was so curious and wide-eyed. It was like we’d discovered the latest sex toy and couldn’t wait to try it out, not simply doing the routine prep work before going to work. He never complained once about the pastel-colored boxes nor the presumption that they must only be for women. Now, in fact, he doesn’t want to use anything else!

Now how’s THAT for a ringing male endorsement?

Kellie’s Going Undercover (At a Local Sex Toy Party)!

I’d been hearing about them for a while. These private parties run identically to Tupperware or candle parties, except these parties feature the latest designer vibrators, lubricants and other aids to erotica. Whatever. Anything to make money, right?

I read about it most recently in a Women’s Health article. Scads of women across the country, some single, some not, are clamoring to attend these soirees and snatch up the latest and hottest cinnamon-flavored penis hardener or magic, silk tickler. But it all seemed very contrived and cheesy to me. Call me a cynic, but after a glass of wine and a few obligatory “oohs” and “ahhs,” the thrill would probably be gone.

But now I’m an Elexa Sexy Smart blogger, which means its become my job, duty and obligation to put in some hard core research and sniff all the jams and jellies I can sniff to bring the most up-to-date and accurate information directly to my posts and to my readers. Man, the things I go through for you guys! Just so happened, not long ago, a journalist friend of mine forwarded me the number of a woman in my area who hosts these same types of parties. I came across it today. So I’ll sign up and go.

Undercover will be fun. The role of investigative reporter suits me so I’ll be poking, prodding and sniffing. I’ll also be making comparisons to what’s already in the stores and making sure all these products pass all safety and usability tests.

If you guys have any questions or requests, send them to me here. I’ll be your voice at this party!

Condoms as Fashion Statement?

Remember Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes, the quirky, outspoken member of R&B/pop group TLC? Well, at the group’s inception, she had a habit of wearing huge glasses onstage with a brightly colored condom taped to one of the lenses. She looked ridiculous, but she made a great point.

Young people have always been notoriously reticent about buying condoms and displaying them prominently. In some stores, the condoms are kept only behind the counter because they’d suddenly grow feet if kept anywhere else in the store. Why? I suppose so kids won’t have to be seen at the register with them.

I propose an easy solution to this problem. Let’s get Trojan and Elexa by Trojan to fashion a line of condom holders, akin to the cell phone cozy, to help those in need of camouflaging their latex protection stay on the sly. I don’t get why a healthy, sexually active person needs to be on the down low, but I won’t begrudge them their privacy. I can see why someone with a moral, cultural or religious issue would need to keep the secret. In a recent Reuters article by Natalie Armstrong, 30,000 plus pins and brooches were made from condoms during the International AIDS Conference in Toronto. The goal of “The Condom Project” is to help de-stigmatize the use of condoms throughout the world, especially in high-risk regions like Africa. But don’t think we don’t still have huge issues with the condom stigma here in America.

I can think of things that should be hidden. Who has one of those pink plastic tampon holders? I do. That’s understandable. Nobody needs to know all my monthly business. Remember that episode of The Facts of Life, when Blair found a marijuana joint hiding in a lipstick tube that was really a sneaky secret drug compartment?? Fine, hide the weed. It is illegal. But condoms? Why not be proud of practicing safer sex?

Okay, okay. Still want to keep it secret? Fine. Let’s get you that condom cozy.

From Om to Oh! Do Yoga. Then, Do Him!

Yep, I’m a yoga nut. I’ll sing its praises to anyone. I’ve been practicing for about five years, but it took a while to make me a true believer. My sex life thanks me too.

I’m an athlete from way back, not a prissy cheerleader or gymnast, an A-T-H-L-E-T-E! I believe in sweat. I believe in soreness. I believe in not asking a man to twist open any jars for me: I’m for doing it myself, even if it breaks my hand. I once played in a summer-league basketball game so delirious from the heat I didn’t even know my name, and I was sick for a week afterward, but I never asked to sit on the bench. So convincing me to try yoga was no easy feat. I can’t knock nobody into next week while in a downward-facing-dog pose! I thought it was some trendy gimmick that would fade from our collective consciousness as soon as Madonna’s last tour ended. But then it got serious. And so I tried it. I was in love! But yoga and I could have sped through the courtship phase if I’d only known how much it would do for my libido!

Not only did I sweat in big bunches, and feel soreness I never thought possible, my workouts got better and better. I now know that chaturanga pose is what has strengthened my lower back when lifting weights wasn’t working, that pigeon pose opens the hips and releases bad energy and that I’m generally more relaxed because, among other things, yoga has taught me how to breathe more efficiently. AND…I have consistent and more intense orgasms.

Yes, I went there.

Its well documented, to us workout nuts anyway, that yoga and Pilates strengthen our “core” muscles: abs, lower back, inner thighs and the pelvic floor. These pelvic floor muscles are foreign until identified and really put to use. This, along with the breathing and the relaxation, is what takes yoga from the studio into the bedroom. My most recent ex used to get so turned on when I told him that some contorted, animalistic position was actually a yogic pose that he couldn’t shut up about it. It became a cyclical thing. I wouldn’t miss a class. I’d be distracted during every practice either for reliving our last sex session in my mind or for trying to find a way to make the week’s new pose more sexual. And we weren’t the only ones who caught on. One of Amy Sohn’s Naked City columns a couple years ago for New York Magazine referenced yoga as not only a new sex craze, but also a place to hook up, because men had caught on to its sexual benefits.

It may never be a mainstream, aerobics-like workout option, but yoga studios should find a way to use these findings to help ramp up attendance. Every class will be packed!

Boy Toys Revenge: The Double Standard…Part 2

I pride myself on my common sense and focus. Precise, mind-like-a-steel-trap, professional, calculating, independent, these are all adjectives used to describe me. I can recall everything with pinpoint accuracy. I type everything into my PDA. Organized, driven, no-nonsense.

But I am human.

I’ve indeed slipped in the past. I’m sure it will happen again. Perhaps many more times before its all over. Like the off chance that I forget to mark something on my calendar, there were times that I lost my boy toy focus and tried to make a relationship out of a few iffy encounters over drinks and canoodling. That’s bad enough. But why does it always happen with the other type of boy toy, the type you don’t want to make mistakes with?

Boy Toy(s), noun: 2. That guy nobody else will have, not even on a dare. The stray puppy that no matter how perfectly you scratch behind his ear, will snarl at and bite you if you get too close. Devastatingly raw sex appeal, completely intellectually deficient, embarrassingly immature, uncanny ability to target your frailties, huge penis. See: damaged goods, slumming or selling self short.

Trouble is, the boy toy fantasy is always better than the reality. Strong women in the movies don’t have to give those awkward lectures about “wanting more” or “its just not working out and could we just leave it where it is?” In real life, we have some explaining to do. Ever want to leave on the understanding that it was just sex, only to have him not understand? Or worse, ever give your power totally away staying a little too long at the spring fling motel when check out time was so obviously long ago?

No discipline, lonely, embarrassed, drunk dialing in the ladies room, fixated, just once more, lose my number, headache, you ain’t the “happily-ever-after guy,” bored, I can’t ease your pain, hungry, guilty, live and learn, stalker, no orgasm is worth this, desperate, what did I ever see?, loser, move on, if you didn’t have that beautiful penis you’d have a bounty on your head.

I am human.

Boy Toys Revenge: The Double Standard…Part 1

Ever have a boy toy?

Boy Toy(s), noun: 1. That fun guy you just like to hang loose and have electrifying sex with but know nothing serious will ever happen because he’s 10 years younger/got an I.Q of 35/destined for prison. And that’s all right.

Sure you have.

Either it was a boy in high school or college that you can barely remember or something on the side while you were engaged to that nerdy, boring accountant with the nervous tic, or its somebody you’re with now, but you’ve had one. I’ve had them too.

Instant animal attraction, hot car, zero obligations, late-night rendezvous, passion, spontaneity, mystery, who cares if he’s uneducated, fun, fun, fun, blowjobs at the movies, never meeting the parents and if you do its all a huge joke, laughter, too many martini weeknights, irresistible pheromones still on the sheets on mornings after, breathless, hazy, perfect remedy for a horrible breakup, delicious kisses, no promises, hands through the hair, getting out of yourself, perfection.

It is an art. It takes practice. Sounds like I’m an expert, but I’ve never been particularly good at it. I have a reputation for being cool and standoffish that has nagged me since middle school, but damn if I can’t just do a hot boy and then throw him directly in the trash! I should be able to. I wish I could. I’m even willing to give up another cherished talent of the devil’s choice, to just once experience the feeling of freedom I suspect comes from having the focus to screw ‘em and be through with ‘em! I guess its akin to the envy some women feel toward those with thinner thighs or better public speaking skills, I envy the players.

I’ll probably never have the “perfect one-night-stand.” Guys have learned to love being sex objects and perhaps this is the issue. If they all wanted a girl to love and cherish them, to the very end, it may be easier to dump them immediately. My inner sadist can’t come through when deep down, I’m thinking the no-attachments arrangement is something he wants as much or more than I do. Chasing the bigger orgasm is fun unless he’s on his way to another woman’s house right after he leaves yours. Oh, well. It can be fun while it lasts.

Just don’t get too close…

Tech Toy Manifesto

My boyfriend hates to text message. He’ll ignore texts from his friends except in certain cases, (i.e., we’re out and someone needs directions to the club or party we’re all meeting at). He just thinks its stupid. I don’t mind this too much, but I think he’s missing out on another potentially passion-filled exercise that will spice up our sex life and bring us closer.

My last blog was about MySpace and how playing around on the internet is a good way to avoid getting serious. Today, I’ll explore the other side. Hey, I’m fair. I believe in toys. This blog is my ode to sex toys and to having fun and being confident in bed. Our modern technological inventions can certainly help with that.

Technology is great, its amazing in some respects, the way we can communicate with utter strangers, about anything, in a matter of seconds. We can work from home and with palm pilots, cell phones, laptops and wireless access, we can do it all without even hinting that we’re not hard at work in an office, but at the local coffee shop or on the beach. But, with all the ringing and buzzing, and with so many choices, it can also mitigate our ability to get to know each other and really connect too, hence my internet dating complaints.

What if you’re already serious with someone? Can technology help you come closer? I think its possible. We’ve all heard the horror stories of how internet porn has destroyed many a marriage and how pedophiles stalk young innocents who are none the wiser, but modern tech toys can also help nurture a relationship.

My man will sometimes send a sexy e-mail or two during the day. There’s nothing like the rush of being surprised with an “I want you so much” message when I was expecting the garden-variety “how’s your day” message. He hates text messages, but I’m trying to wean him on the occasional sexy text, you know, the “what are you wearing right now?” sort of thing. During a very busy day, a short, sweet, yet sexy text message may be just what the doctored ordered when you’re in back-to-back meetings or otherwise don’t have time to talk on the phone.

He’s an expert at film editing. What if I could get him to splice some film of 91/2 Weeks into a home movie of us doing it?

Hmmm, food for thought.

The Truth About MySpace

I finally got it. After years of trying to understand what the attraction to internet hook ups over face-to-face encounters was, I realized I needed to look at the “web-scoping” dynamic the same way I look at my vibrator: its just a toy.

Its no coincidence that now, four months after I met the man that I’ll most likely spend the rest of my life with, I can make sense of all those dating hassles that troubled me so and for so many years. I was just toying around. I may have fooled myself into believing that I’d meet the man of my dreams on CupidJunction.com, but honestly? I really wasn’t ready to stop playing.

First I tried Match.com. I thought the fact it was the most popular dating site at the time meant it was a credible place to meet the highest quality dating prospects. This is a joke. Although I know people who met by internet and later married, I think blind luck is the catalyst for the more successful dot com relationships; the more serious the relationship, the dumber the luck. I envied people who stepped into this luck, but I never saw that happening to me. I was too busy weighing options and clicking my way to one exciting hook up after another. It was fun.

MySpace is the worst and the best example of this theory. During the past year MySpace was anointed the most popular website in the country. I guess a lot of us want to play around. And what shaped my particular opinion is the fact that I became a member for other reasons than to scope and play.

I left my full-time job and started my writing and consulting business about a year ago. I created a MySpace page a few months prior to see if it would be a good place to network, find interesting subjects for articles and meet clients. It was! I connected to so many folks in the media business, people that I wouldn’t otherwise have known of, and it indeed led to much work, party invitations and paychecks. But damn if I didn’t need to weed out several messages every day from guys applying the A.B.C. rule of sales to scoping: Always Be Closing. It didn’t matter to them that my profile didn’t include any bikini shots or the not-so-subtle pleas for “a nice guy,” they saw an attractive woman and gave it a try.

So I started asking around. I studied the sites of guys casting their lines out to me when I make it clear that I’m swimming in a different pond. They seem to spend several hours a day on MySpace, put much energy into improving their total “friends” count and send the same comments to the every woman. Women are doing the same.

Isn’t this the same energy we put into emailing, pix and text messaging and music downloading? We do love our toys don’t we?

My First Time Buying Condoms

I totally am stumped as to what to write for today, so, for your reading pleasure, I'm going to attempt to talk about the first time I actually bought condoms.

When I was in college, of course you could just pick up condoms quite easily by going to the medical clinic with complaints of a *cough* and while the nurse is pulling up your information, you swipe a few from the basket right on top of her desk. I found it quite easy to visit the clinic, mainly because my major was nursing and we did practicals there, so I was one of the main condom suppliers back in college (could have started a racket and made big bucks but I didn't think that far!) All the ladies in my dorm would come to my room and swipe them from my nightstand the way I swiped them from the clinic. Being that I never needed them, I didn't really care, just kept swiping and giving them away. I had condoms everywhere, my backpack, my pockets, my drawers. I was the Condom Queen.

Flashback to a year after graduation when I finally decided to take the plunge and start having sex. There was no conveniently located *clinic* where I could get some condoms and I had gotten rid of all my stash post graduation when I was moving back home. (I hadn't wanted my ultra-conservative mom to find any and have a fit that I was having sex out of wedlock).

So what's a girl gonna do? For some reason, it didn't occur to me that gas stations and men's bathrooms had condoms. I went to a bonafide supermarket. I felt like everyone was looking at me, knowing what my mission was and reading my motrification as I glanced furtively through the aisles to find what I was looking for. There was no way in HELL I was going to ask one of those friendly supermarket people where the condoms where kept. I scoured the whole place, scanning shelves with supersonic vision at supersonic speeds. I wanted to get this done with and over with. Speed was a necessity!

Continue reading "My First Time Buying Condoms" »

Hey Baby, What's Your Number?

I imagine that some women like it when random men on the street hoot and holler at them or look them up and down while making kissy noises.  I do not.  At its worse, it scares me, and at its best it skeeves me out.  What makes these men think it's OK to sexually objectify me in public?  Are some men actually raised in barns?  By cavepeople?

Continue reading "Hey Baby, What's Your Number?" »

Drug Store Cowgirl

I read an article in Women’s Health recently that detailed all the ordinary, household items that can be used as sex toys. Duh! The premise was to make it easy to play off your freaky deaky around the kids and easily dodge the prying questions of nosy friends who visit. “Oh, what’s this feather duster doing sitting right here?” You get the drift. Sex toys are now taking up major space in the market, especially among women, and I won’t begrudge anyone their right to sell a specific product to make a profit. However, I’ve always believed that its the makeshift toys, harkening back to banging on a saucepan with a spoon to make music when I’d just gotten a toy guitar for my birthday, that we have the most fun with.

It got me thinking. Aren’t there other, more unidentifiable, home goods out there that just need to be looked at in a different, more sexual way?

My very first boyfriend had a thing for my lipgloss. Yep, that ultra-shiny, Maybelline stuff that came in the glass tube with the roll-on tip? He loved it so much that he requested his own tube to make his below-my-belt escapades just that much tastier. Hey, whatever keeps him down there. How about the garden-variety deck of cards? An impromptu game of strip poker is always a pleaser. Ever make a cock ring out of a latex glove or that latex tubing they sell to diabetics?

I would never suggest going the discount route for condoms or other protective measures, but we can have loads of fun with the low-cost, generic versions of many other finds around the house.

Holler back at me: who’s using clothespins and baby oil?

Happy Birthday To Me: The Evolution Of My Sex Life

Today’s my 36th birthday. I always weigh, measure and evaluate my life’s progress on my birthday. Many of us do this. Either on New Year’s Day, at Christmas or at our birthday, we’ll stack up the year’s events, our accomplishments or failures, to see where we are. As for my sexual growth over these past several years, I LOVE where I am!

I was the prototypical late bloomer. Skinny and tall, intelligent and well-rounded, I wasn’t exactly the guy’s first pick for Saturday-night dates in high school. College wasn’t much better, although I did get some experience and earned the richly deserved title of “supreme ball buster.” But as I neared my 21st birthday, I was still technically a virgin. I hated the mere idea of that. I thought I’d be forever branded “unsexual,” the pretty, yet exclusive chick you’d better not mess with. I needed to make some changes.

And change I did. At least on the outside. In a few short months, I remade myself into a new version more closely resembling girls who, I believed, got the most male attention. The word promiscuous wouldn’t be inaccurate. Damn it, I needed to make up for lost time. I ramped up my boldness quotient, wore provocative outfits, drank a little more heavily, anything I thought would get and keep a guy’s attention. I was getting my freak on, by any means necessary!

I was never terribly modest, so I started taking my clothes off with anybody who responded. I endured much nonsense that the “real” me would never even consider. But I did learn so much about sex, sexual politics and why I’m so glad to be back to the “real” me. Being a girly, girl may have gotten me some much needed bedroom experience, but its who I am now, and really always was deep down, that my current flames tend to appreciate currently. I can’t count how many times my most recent boyfriends have commented on how much they love that I can watch a football game without needing to ask what’s going on or that my strength and the fact I always know what I want is such a turn-on. They love that I’m just as sexy in a tee shirt and jeans as I am in a short skirt.

Now I’ve reached a point where I have absolutely nothing to prove. I can use my girliness like a toy, pulling it off the shelf when its necessary (or fun), then putting it back for safe keeping. My most powerful self, my most sexual self, IS the woman who takes no crap.

More Music and Sex

Music and Sex has been a hot topic this month, both here at ElexaSexySmart.com and in the national Media.  Fellow blogger, Kellie Murphy wrote about it in her article What’s your favorite Sexy Song? and Logan Levkoff referenced a new study from the Journal “Pediatrics” in her post Dirty and Degrading Lyrics Increase Teen Sex questioning our intolerance to certain song lyrics.

Last week I was quoted in an AP article about this same very study.  http://msnbc.msn.com/id/14227775/

As is usually the case for experts, a lot of points I made in the interview didn't make it to print so I’ll post them here.  One of the major points I was trying to make is that parents have a much greater influence on their teens than the music does, for example, simply by spending more time with them than the boob tube.

All too often, everybody is looking to blame everything/everybody else besides the parents when it comes to unfavorable activities their kids are up to. A collective responsibility of the teens, music, parents, media, and community is being completely overlooked in making these findings in any way useful as well.

Futhermore, music's role (videos included) in teaching young people about sexual coercion wasn't discussed in the AP article, yet certainly it would seem to be a component in the fact that these lyrics are degrading, reinforce negative gender stereotypes, and promote male machoism.

Courtney Harding dissects the study over at the Huffington Post, saying “There probably is some link between listening to music that constantly alludes to sex and actually doing it, just as there is probably a link between sex and how much TV a teenager watches, how much time they spend on MySpace, and whether or not they spend their lunchtimes practicing cheerleading or playing Magic: The Gathering.”

So let’s continue the conversation about this.  What do you think?  Is music violating our sexuality? Are teens making unwise sexual decisions and putting themselves at risk for pregnancy and STDs because of their music habits? What positives can music lyrics bring to us so we can learn something about our sexuality?

Great Weather Rocks My World!

The thing about sex and sexual stimulation is that anything can be a great igniter and the same thing, or a variation of the same thing, can be just as much of a mood-killer. Take great music: your song is the greatest thing since sliced bread, but if your man doesn’t particularly care for British drum-N-bass in the bedroom, you’re in a little trouble until you decide on something you both like. Take too long to mutually agree and, whoops, there it went! We’ll try again tomorrow night.

Its the same with summer weather. Nobody can wait until the weather breaks. Guys look forward to seeing us with our bare legs in our shorter skirts and high-heeled sandals. We girls love the shirtless fellas on the basketball court and cruising with their tops down. But when its too hot? OMG! Get away from me! It ain’t happening! Try again when I’m not about to pass out!

The past couple of weeks had been unbearable, sweltering, and its no surprise I had the sex drive of a snapping turtle. The women in my family cannot handle excess heat and I’m no exception: 10 minutes in the heat and I turn into a dishrag. But then it broke. Late last Saturday night, while out scouting a story on street racing, I marveled at how cool and gorgeous it was outside, and consequently, how much more sexual I felt. The high-speed atmosphere, the sound of revving engines and the testosterone in the air surely helped, but the cooler, delicious breeze and clearer air were the true catalysts.

Don’t believe me? Try a flowing, linen skirt with no panties on a breezy, 75-degree summer night just after a wax. Wow! Try it this weekend!

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