The Michael Douglas Effect

I was going to write a long rant the other day about the idiocy that is Michael Douglas's claim about the origins of his throat cancer being linked to cunnilingus. (Like dudes need ANOTHER excuse not to go downtown. Gah.) Anyways, I decided I didn't want to waste my energy, so I drew this instead . . .

Is that you I smell on me?

A few years back, I had encountered a strange side effect to being with a certain partner. After the first time we stripped down to our bare essentials, I could immediately smell that his "natural scent" was quite stronger than most men I had been with. It wasn't body odor or anything repulsive like that, but it was definitely unique. It's also not something you really bring up in conversation when you're in the midst of foreplay.

Hey, you smell weird! Oh well, let's fuck.

Umm, no.

I may be easy, but dammit, I'm polite! I powered through it. Again. And again...

It wasn't specifically contained to his scrotal area either - it permeated from every pore - like a sex panther pheromone.

Yes, that; it was quite pungent. It stung my nostrils in a good way.

The really bizarre side effect happened after a couple weeks of constant skin slapping with said suitor. It transferred on to me - and no amount of showering, bathing or masking it with body spay could get it off.

It was kind of similar to any other bodily scent that you may find mildly repulsive... but then you cannot stop smelling it (like earring jam, farts or yeast infections... wait, whut..). I loved it and completely hated it at the same time.

It was fucked up, yo!

To this day, he's still the only one that could make me climax under 30 seconds with just a simple touch, so perhaps there was some kind of connection there, but who knows. I often see photos of him and his wife on fucking Facebook and every time, I always wonder if she is... well, you know... stinky.

Perhaps it was only temporary and he was just using Date-Mate 2000 at the time:

"Become more sexually attractive 

Have an AMAZING advantage over your friends

Increase your self confidence

Improve business relationships

Guaranteed RESULTS

Get MORE Sex with Nature's own secret weapon!

Use Date Mate 2000 the ULTIMATE female attractant"

So... more importantly, do they have this in a female form?

Ahem.

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I am also guest posting over at Talk 2 Q this week! 
I'm bitching and moaning about how all of us over-educated Gen-X'ers are fucking useless, for the most part.
At least... we can barely change a light bulb without breaking a sweat of anxiety.
Agree? Disagree? Discuss...

The Great Whipped Cream Debate of 2012

Hub: Oh, you actually brought it up.
Me: Umm... yeah! Of course.
H: OK. I'm ready for it.
M: Here it comes. It might be cold...
Sssspppllluurrrgghh Ssssppllluurrrggghh Ssssssspppllurrrrrrrggghhhhhhh
(That's the sound of drawing a smiley face around his groin in spray whipped cream.)
H: Ohhh, a little bit cool, but it's OK. Nothing seems to be going into hiding because of it.

So, now you're all thinking this is going to be a run down of a kinky blow job that I gave my husband
that involved a lot of whipped cream. Sorry. No.

Long story short:

Lick. Lick. Moan. Moan.

Suck. Lick. Slurp.

Switched it up.

Whipped cream on my nips...

Sssspppllluurrrggghh Ssssppllluurrrgggghh

Lick. Lick. Suck. Moan. Moan.

Sexy times.

Kind of sticky but fairly good. An overall B+/A-

We were lying in bed afterwards, extraordinarily comfortable when the question came up...

H: Are you going to put the whipped cream away?

M: Can you do it?

H: I really don't want to get up. I will pay you 20 bucks if you do it!

M: TWENTY BUCKS? I can just let it go bad and buy a new one... or four.

H: Ugh! Fine. Let it go bad. I don't care.

M: Don't get so touchy. I know it's annoying you. I have to get up to shower anyway; I'll do it.

H: You could have led with that.

M: Where's the fun in that?

H: How old are you?

M: Old enough to lick whipped cream off your balls.

H: Classy.

M: I didn't hear you complaining, darling.

(I get up to go downstairs, putting on my robe)

I'm still holding you to that 20 bucks though. 

THIS CHANGES NOTHING, MOTHERFUCKER!

Oh, and by the way, there's still enough for another go, just saying.

H: We'll see. When's the expiry date?

M: Not for another couple weeks.

H: Then ask me again in 2 weeks.

M: Humfph.

So, did I climax? 

If, when 'climax' refers to when I filled my mouth with whipped cream directly from the bottle
before returning it to the fridge? Ohhhhh, baby! Fuck yeah, I did!

Sssssssssppppppllluurrrrrrrgggghh...

How Now, Fake Chow?

I decided to watch one of those movies where you see the preview and think, "Meh. One day, I'll watch it when it comes to TV." Well, for Hall Pass, now is that day. Over all, it was a fairly mediocre movie. If I said it was horrible, I would be lumping it in with other horrible movies such as Twilight or Spiderman 3, so I cannot in good faith say it was "horrible". I like mediocre; I'll stick with that description.

It is a Farrelly Brothers movie, so the humor is right up my alley, but only in isolated skits, rather than the movie in its entirety. I'm not going to do a full run down of the movie, but rather one bit that seriously perplexed me: Fake Chow.

Unless the woman is stoned, drunk or has otherwise been numbed from the brain down, who the fuck actually thinks that women cannot tell the difference between a tongue and a finger? Like, whhhhoa. I know it's just a movie, but... Damn right that she never let you forget it for three years! Idiot.

I further investigated this bullshit - straight to the source.

Oh, Tray dog...

Fingers with nails feel a hell of a lot different than a soft, moist tongue. I'm not saying that the finger isn't good - with the right talent driving those fingers, magic can truly happen. Why must one even "pretend"? If you're not in the mood to go down on a woman, just commit to giving her a great finger show. It's all good... BUT... it is like apples to oranges.

And I love apples.
And barely tolerate oranges.
They make my fingers smell.
Long story.
Short story? I'm weird.
Ahem.

A-N-Y-W-A-Y-S, please don't insult our intelligence, as women, and think that we won't notice the difference between the two.

Kaaaa-chow.

A Festive Parting Gift

Mark and I had been having brief encounters for the better part of a decade, off and on. Perhaps it was because there was no continuous affair as to why our 'Friends with Benefits' arrangement always worked so successfully. There was never any emotional attachment beyond our friendship, nor was there any jealously when one of us entered into a relationship with someone else. We just stopped having sex for that length of time and then when said relationship ended, it was understood that our sex would reconvene.

And so it was also understood among our other mutual friends that we had this special 'arrangement' but it was never acknowledged out loud or a part of any passing conversation, et cetera... until one Christmas. At this particular point in time, Mark and I hadn't had sex with each other for quite some time - I cannot remember if there was a particular reason or just because I lived a fair distance from him.

It was a party celebrating both my best friend's birthday and Christmas, at her parent's house. (Another sucker with a birthday too close to Christmas to separate the two) We had all been dipping into the Christmas cheer that night and things were winding down. There was about six of us remaining and it was decided to commence a card game of alcoholic Asshole.

Mark was sitting beside me, and therefore following after any card I would lay down before him. After a few rounds, I put down a hell of a cruel move (like an Ace on a Nine or something like that), to which Mark flared his nostrils, turned to me and said, "YOU'VE JUST FUCKED ME!"

Another one of our tipsy friends immediately replied, "Tell us something we don't know!"

There was about 2 long seconds of complete silence.

And then roaring laughter. From everyone, including Mark and myself. Finally it was out in the open, and it only took 7 years.

Perhaps it was that burst of comical tension release, but after another group had left, Mark and I decided we were "too drunk" to go home. My best friend crashed in her old room upstairs and Mark and I had the basement rec room to ourselves.

I need to also explain that although Mark and I had had sex on numerous occasions, I had never climaxed. As I've said before, it wasn't easy for me in the past (until this year, actually. Ahem), and most of the times were just hot quickie fucks after a party; sometimes in the forest.

OK, so this time? After carefully clearing a spot on the carpet to lay down a few layers of blankets, he went down on me like a starving animal. It was fan-fucking-tastic, and nothing like he'd done to me before. Wild. At one point, I could have sworn I felt his tongue tickling the bottom of my rib cage! The only shitty thing was the fact that my best friend's parents were asleep upstairs and I didn't exactly want them (or my friend, for that matter) to hear me screaming. He put his hand over my mouth while I proceeded to achieve a HUGE orgasm while doing my best to stay quiet.

It was the first time he'd got me to climax in 7 years. And it was the last time we would ever be together.
I met and started dating my would-be husband 3 weeks later.

Well, Mark, we'll always have Christmas. Or rather, the weekend before.

Same diff.

The Whittaker Effect

So, my first experience with the lovely 69 position was a bit of an ‘awkward situation’ and although there had been brief acrobatic occurrences of it throughout the next couple years, there was one more, umm, notable night that I feel is worthy to be regurgitated into the written word. It might possibly shed some more light on to why I have such personal animosity towards it as well.

I was well into the swing of the online dating scene; I had been out with at least half a dozen guys by this point. I had noticed that a common symptom of these ‘online suitors’ were that many were incredible on web chat, but not so great in person, and Mr. Whittaker definitely fell into that category. We had a fabulous back-and-forth online banter going on with jokes and sexual innuendoes and I managed to waste many paid work hours on MSN chat with him. After about a week, we agreed that we simply had to meet – and so we did...

BLAH! Conversation was flat and boring. I had really got my hopes up with this guy. He was tall, good-looking and artistic… and like Lurch in person. Yawn. I powered through the evening as quickly as possible and pleasantly said goodbye. I was afraid to logon to MSN the next morning as I wanted to avoid him, but not be a total bitch and block him – not just yet anyway.

Nothing. Phew!

Then a few weeks went by, which then turned into a couple months. He was almost a distant memory in online dating terms by then, but then suddenly, he sent me a wink. Weird, but OK; I wanted to see where this was going to go. He wrote that he wanted to see me again, and finished with a double “wink – wink” so I hesitantly agreed. I had pretty much gathered that this was going to be more of a booty call than anything else, which was perfectly fine with me...

I was never one to turn down a booty call!

I had made the necessary preparations and grooming for the big night – and I must say that I was particularly proud of my lady bits that evening, as I had ZERO blemishes in that surrounding area at the time. I had my trusty hand-held mirror to which its sole reason for purchase was so I could check under the hood more effectively. I was lookin’ fine under there and I couldn’t wait to put her to work.

Shortly after he arrived, we had made our way to my room. The small talk and pleasantries were abbreviated, to put it gently. It wasn’t animalistic lust or anything like that, but we definitely got down to business straight away. He had made a gesture that he was going to go down on me, but being as proud as I was of my sparkling vagina, I pushed him to lay down on the bed and I straddled his face. He seemed into it and I was enjoying myself. After a couple minutes, I turned around to assume the top spot of the 69 position. I had since learned that being on the bottom meant trying to enjoy giving an upside-down and backwards blow job – which is annoying as hell.

We were in full swing of the yin-yang and I must admit that it since I was more confident about myself this time around, I was enjoying myself… and then he stopped… abruptly.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t do this.”
“Do what? 69? We can do something else, if you don’t like that!”
“No. Sorry.”

And he grabbed his clothes like the house was on fire and he left. I didn’t even have time to see him to the door.

What the fuck just happened?

I was in a state of bewilderment and still sitting on my bed, naked. I double checked under the hood while I was sitting there – nope – still good! O well… I was already half way there, so I never even got up to chase after him; I just got out Mr. Purple and finished myself off.

Needless to say, I never heard from that guy again either.

His Nose Knows

Jake had large features - larger than the average bear anyway. Somehow they all worked together on his face and he was a fairly attractive man. I've often seen young children with features like his and thought to myself, "JESUS CHRIST! That's one ugly kid!" But 9 times out of 10, those kids grow into their features and usually turn out to be quite handsome or beautiful - it just takes time.

So, yes, Jake had big ears, a strong cleft chin as well as a large cleft nose. His nose was probably the first thing I noticed about him when we met... and as it turns out, the last thing I remember about him as well. I've seen a lot of people with cleft chins, but not the nose as well; it was pretty unique.

We got intimate fairly quickly, of course... it's how I roll... straight into bed. I don't know if it was the chemistry or something completely indescribable but Jake had total control over my senses. I attempted to take mental notes but I never once noticed anything out of the ordinary; no special twists or shakes or anything. My body is usually a little stubborn and it takes a bit of elbow grease to get me to climax - even idiot boy, however good at it that he was, still took him about 20 minutes or so to get the job done.

Jake's easiest effort (and a personal record I don't think I could possibly break) was about 10 seconds. TEN FUCKING SECONDS... and you know what he did? Rubbed that sexy cleft nose against my clitoris, probably, umm, twice? He slowly went up, then down and on his way back up again, I was D-O-N-E and slightly suffering from conflicting feelings of ecstasy and shock.

He actually gave me a dirty look and thought I was faking it. No way honey! I never give out unearned credit, and even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn't have been after only 10 seconds! PU-LEASE.

I don't think I was in love with him more than I was in love with his nose; that incredibly fabulous nose. One night while he was sleeping, I sketched his nose - and I recently found that sketchbook, which is what jogged loose this fantastic tidbit in the On-going History of My Sexography.

What more can I say? The nose knows... aaaaand then he took me back to the special café where we first met... to dump me... but that's a story I've already told. Good times, people!

Orgasm Junkie

I dated a guy when I was 19 that I had picked up at a nightclub. This never happened to me before so it was a cool experience, but not fool proof by any means. I actually liked his friend a lot more, but it was him that took interest in me that night. After last call, we went back to his place and had fantastic sex. It was more that that... it was the first time I had ever been brought to orgasm. WHAT THE HELL WAS I EVER DOING BEFORE THIS? I had thought I had had one in the past, but until you actually have one, YOU – WILL – KNOW! He was going down on me and all of a sudden, I started getting a warm, tingly feeling in my toes. Then it spread up my legs and exploded out my bellybutton like a geyser of pure ecstasy. He succeeded in giving me 3 that night! After that encounter, I wanted to gorge myself on this pleasure every chance I got.

There was 1 problem... the next morning I got the opportunity to get better acquainted with my talented suitor – he was friggin’ annoying as hell! I worked with it for a while and tried to ignore it. Luckily, his friends were all really cool and we had a fantastic time together, as a group. One other guy in their group even started dating one of my best girlfriends. The guy I was dating had a great “hang-out-friendly” house, so everyone always ended up at his place. I rarely had to deal with him on a one-on-one basis, except when we went to bed (where there was little talking anyway).

Time when by fast, and before I knew it, this guy had been my boyfriend for 7 months! 7 long months of mind-blowing multiple orgasms... from the most annoying guy I had ever met. I was completely hooked and I even became a little demanding about it, like a jonezing addict. Luckily, he LOVED performing his duty for me. It turned him on so much that sometimes he would climax on his own... while he was going down on me! How often does that happen?! I barely had to do a damn thing. I knew I was being a selfish lover but I didn’t care... up until that point.

After the 8th month, I started to feel a bit guilty, mainly because by then I could barely even stand to look at him anymore. Every time I heard him laugh it was like nails on a chalkboard. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him; I was using him for his tongue, just as long as he didn’t use it for talking! I tried to break up with him every weekend for the next 4 weeks, but it was never the right time. Finally, one afternoon I had gone over and on this rare occasion none of his friends were at his place. 2 hours of mind numbing conversation with him had sure helped me to finally muster up the nerve to initiate the “break-up” talk. He took it rather well; it went better than I thought. Then, all of a sudden I started to cry... hard! He gave me a raised-eyebrow sympathy look and rubbed my back, like he was touched that I was upset about our break-up. Yeah, right! I couldn’t care less about him. I was crying because it had just hit me that my once endless supply of orgasms-on-demand had just been cut off – COLD TURKEY! It was hell.

Going down to munch-town

I have always had an over-active libido; even as a young girl. I managed to find a boy at my school, (1 year older), who was mutually curious about sex. We weren’t a “couple” by any sense of the word– it was our secret. His parents were away a lot, so I usually went to his house to fool around. We usually got naked and did a lot of oral sex activities. Despite my eagerness to explore the opposite sex, I still managed to maintain that I didn’t want to lose my virginity that young; or to this guy!

The time I remember the most was a rare occurrence that he came to my house. My bed was positioned under a window that faced the front of the house. I straddled his face and he went down to munch-town while I watched out the window the entire time to see if my parents came home. I was 12 years old.