The G-spot ‘doesn’t appear to exist’, say researchers
Some are firm believers
The elusive erogenous zone said to exist in some women may be a myth, say researchers who have hunted for it.
Their study in the Journal of Sexual Medicine is the biggest yet, involving 1,800 women, and it found no proof.
The King’s College London team believe the G-spot may be a figment of women’s imagination, encouraged by magazines and sex therapists.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8439000.stm
Did she quit for the Right or Wrong reasons?I am not sure.
Sixteen naked young women stared at me from a contact sheet of photographs. Some stood tall; others cocked their hips in a coy slouch. One girl with short, curly hair smiled broadly. The rest seemed to be searching for something in the camera.
I scanned through each photo, noting hair color and style. I looked for tattoos and piercings, for stretch marks and scars. I searched for the right one.
Each girl held a paper with a name scrawled on it—not in front of her, but to the side.
They didn’t want to hide their tits.
When I found the one, I circled her stage name with a red marker. Sharon. Sharon glowed with a light tan. Her hair shimmered with natural blond highlights. She smiled with her big blue eyes while her full lips curled in a faint grin. And her pale pink nipples stood pert—like perfect little gumdrops. She looked like a cheerleader. Athletic. Clean-cut. Shaved.
“Does she do anal?” I asked.
My boss rustled through some papers, and then shook his head. “No, but she does boy/girl.”
“Perfect.”
http://www.alternet.org/sex/144819/why_i_quit_working_in_porn/?page=entire
Well, the media is ablaze with stories about a new teen phenomenon known as “sexting.” Apparently, kids today are using their cell phones to take sexy pictures of themselves and then sending them to friends–sometimes with sexy text messages. I have to confess, as someone who went to high school in the 90s, I was a little taken aback by today’s technologically advanced and sexually retarded teens. But as I read these sexting stories (over and over again) I kept thinking one thing: Why just sassy teens? Surely, grown-ups can get on this sexting bandwagon.
So for the last month, I’ve been learning all I can about sexting from today’s youth in the hopes of applying what I call my “Sexting Technique”™ to every aspect of life. I couldn’t have done it without the help of my young and nubile Facebook friends who were a huge help. For example, did you know that you don’t need to type the word “breasts” or even “boobs” because you can substitute “(.)(.)” Isn’t that sexy? Sure it is, and the world of sexting is filled with fun and wonderful surprises just like that!
But for those of you brave enough, sexting offers more than mere graphic, written and photographic titillation. And it doesn’t have to be limited to high school buddies or significant others, either. As I will show you, there is hardly an interaction in our daily lives that could not be made better with the addition of sexting.
JOB INTERVIEWS
In today’s economy, job applicants need every advantage they can get to secure a job. That means learning everything you can about your interviewer: his experiences with the company, his accomplishments and, of course, his cell phone number. An applicant serious about securing a job through my Sexting Technique™ will do whatever necessary–including going through the interviewer’s old discarded billing statements–to get this vital information. Only then can you have experiences such as these:
INTERVIEWER
So I see you’ve freelanced at Cracked.com for almost three years. Tell me, what part of that qualifies you to work here at Union Carbide?
GLADSTONE
Well, hmm… I wrote an article about Jessica Simpson being fat that got a lot of Diggs.
INTERVIEWER
Yeah, that’s not really what we’re looking for in an industrial chemist. I’m sorry, I just-
Interviewer’s cell phone vibrates
INTERVIEWER
Excuse me, I’m expecting a call from the EPA. Hello? Oh, it’s not a phone call. It’s just a text. That’s odd.
GLADSTONE
What is?
INTERVIEWER
Oh nothing. Just a weird emoticon type thing from some unknown caller.
GLADSTONE
Is it breasts?
INTERVIEWER
Excuse me?
GLADSTONE
The text. Is it breasts? I bet it’s breasts, isn’t it?
Interviewer looks at cell phone.
INTERVIEWER
Well, it’s an open paren, period, closed paren, and then the series of symbols is repeated again. Oh hey! I guess that does look like breasts. Neat… But how did you know that?
GLADSTONE
Perhaps, I could answer you best in this way….
Gladstone pushes a few buttons on his cell phone. Interviewer’s cell phone vibrates.
INTERVIEWER
Why did you just forward me a picture of a dude in a shower? Wait. Is that you? And if so, you might want to consider waxing….
GLADSTONE
(coyly)
I don’t know. Is it me? It could be….
INTERVIEWER
You realize I’m not gay, right? And even if I were, what you’re doing is wildly inappropriate.
GLADSTONE
Sir, I assure you. I’m not gay either. But that’s how serious I am about working here at Union Carbide.
INTERVIEWER
So serious that you’d pretend to be gay to straight man in a way that is unacceptable regardless of sexual orientation?
GLADSTONE
That’s one way to say it. Here’s another.
Gladstone sexts furiously on his cell. Interviewer’s phone vibrates again.
INTERVIEWER
(reading)
U R Hawt? What does that even mean?
GLADSTONE
It’s text-speak or sext-speak. All the kids are doing it, old timer! So do I get the job?
INTERVIEWER
Mr. Gladstone, I want you to listen closely. I’m going to do two things: First I’m going to drop my phone into the vat of hydrochloric acid we keep in Sector C. And then, I’m going to call security.
GLADSTONE
Security? I would think my job orientation would start with Human Resources?
INTERVIEWER
I didn’t offer you the job.
GLADSTONE
OK. Not yet. But call me. I know you have the number. . .
Gladstone texts. Interviewer’s phone buzzes.
INTERVIEWER
(reading text)
A semi colon followed by a closed parenthetical? You’re standing right there. Why didn’t you just wink at me for real?!
GLADSTONE
Would you like me to wink at you, sir? Is that what you’re saying? Sssh. Don’t answer. I’ll go. I’ll wait for your offer… by text message.
ORDERING AT McDONALD’S
Ever notice how hard it is to get good service at a McDonald’s drive-thru? To the minimum wage employee inside, you’re just another faceless customer, soliciting the fast food conglomerate’s pre-molded culinary wares. A cold impersonal experience. But it doesn’t have to be. After all, a drive-thru menu is actually a lot like a cell phone! I mean, it has a camera, a microphone for talking and a speaker for listening. And when Apple unrolls its Big Mac application in 2010, there will hardly be any difference between the devices at all. So why not apply my Sexting Technique™ to your advantage?
EMPLOYEE
Welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order?
GLADSTONE
Can you see me?
EMPLOYEE
What?
GLADSTONE
Can you see me?
EMPLOYEE
Yes?
GLADSTONE
Good then let me open my car door and ask you a question: What kind of pants am I wearing?
EMPLOYEE
What kind of pants? I don’t- oh, dear God! You’re not wearing pants.
GLADSTONE
That’s right, baby. Why don’t you take off that headset and come supersize me?
EMPLOYEE
Please sir, I’ll be forced to get my manager.
GLADSTONE
Oh, no can do, baby. I want you all to myself… unless–how sexist of me–is your manager… a lady?
EMPLOYEE
Please just order something, sir. You must see something you want.
GLADSTONE
Oh, I do. What’s your cell phone number?
EMPLOYEE
Look, if I just give you a Big Mac, will you please go away?
GLADSTONE
I think you’ve already given me a Big Mac, if you know what I mean.
EMPLOYEE
Ugh. Gross.
GLADSTONE
I mean my penis.
EMPLOYEE
I know what you mean. Please, just drive up, take your free food and get out of here.
AT CONFESSION
If you’re anything like me, you’re surely going to Hell. Yes, fire and brimstone await you for a lifetime of sins all of which have only increased exponentially in this technological age. That’s why the need for Catholicism and its “get out of eternal damnation free” cards are more important than ever. But as about half the congregants in those confessionals are likely owning up to sins they committed online–from illegal downloads, to eBay scams, to harassing old flames on Facebook even after being defriended–it occurred to me that the confessional could use a 21st century update. That’s right, you’re way ahead of me: sexting!
GLADSTONE
Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been forever since my last confession.
PRIEST
Why is that my son?
GLADSTONE
I’m not a Catholic.
PRIEST
I see. Well, would you like a personal relationship with Jesus?
GLADSTONE
I would, but I don’t have his cell.
Priest’s cell vibrates.
PRIEST
I’m sorry, son. I forgot to shut off my phone
GLADSTONE
No, that’s OK, Father. Please. Answer it.
PRIEST
No, now is not the time.
GLADSTONE
It’s from me. I’m shy. Please read it.
PRIEST
Oh very well. (reading) “I’ve been a naughty boy?”
GLADSTONE
Very.
PRIEST
How, my son?
Priest’s cell vibrates.
PRIEST
Again with the text? Very well. (looks at cell) Why did you just send me a picture of a man in a shower? Wait. Is that you? And if so, you might want to consider waxing….
GLADSTONE
I think I’m addicted to sexting, Father. Ya see, sexting is…
PRIEST
I know what sexting is, my son. And no good can come from it.
GLADSTONE
Well, I did just get a free Big Mac on the way over here so…
PRIEST
What do you say in your sexts?
GLADSTONE
Well sometimes, I do sexts like this:
Priest’s phone buzzes
PRIEST
The boobs graphic? That’s not really a sext. That’s… well that’s just a retarded emoticon. Are you sure you really know what you’re doing?
GLADSTONE
Hey, how do you know so much about sexting? Aren’t you supposed to be a priest?
PRIEST
Um, they had a course… at seminary.
GLADSTONE
You sext, don’t you!
PRIEST
I do not. Stop this nonsense or-
GLADSTONE
Or what? You’ll take me to the rectory?
PRIEST
That’s kind of a long way to go for a joke, don’t you think?
GLADSTONE
Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Father. I’m kind of lost here.
PRIEST
How so?
GLADSTONE
This whole sext column seemed like a good idea, at first, and now well, I don’t really have an ending.
PRIEST
Yeah, most Internet columns are like that. Many skits too.
GLADSTONE
Yeah.
PRIEST
Wanna make a joke about me being a pedophile?
GLADSTONE
Nah. Too easy. Besides, you seem like a nice enough priest. I mean, for a fictional character.
PRIEST
Thanks. I try.
GLADSTONE
I should probably just do some penance or something.
PRIEST
For the sexting?
GLADSTONE
No. For starting a column I couldn’t finish.
PRIEST
OK, tell you what. For penance, why don’t you send me the other half of that shower pic and we’ll call it a day?
GLADSTONE
I thought we agreed that joke’s too easy.
PRIEST
It is, but you’re in a bind, and being compassionate is part of my job.
GLADSTONE
Gee thanks, Father!
PRIEST
Besides, you didn’t make the joke. I did.
GLADSTONE
Well, yeah, sorta, but…
PRIEST
Don’t sweat it, Gladstone. It’s just the Internet.
http://digg.com/d31C5bp
For healthy sexual life read the Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana, which is both erotic and scientific.
You’ve walked innocently past issues of Cosmopolitan magazine a thousand times, every time you’ve checked out at a grocery store. If you glanced at the covers then you know it’s all about sex, and helping girls bring out the sexual animal in their man.
Not that kind.
But littered amongst their mildly kinky and often impractical advice (“wear a wet t-shirt to bed!”) you get horrifying tips that border on genital mutilation.
Think we’re kidding? As we speak, Cosmo is advising women to…
#7.
Bite the Family Jewels
From:
Cosmo’s website.
Here’s something mankind has known about intercourse since the very, very first sexual act was performed: If in describing the act, the words “bite” and “scrotum” appear in the same sentence, something went catastrophically wrong. So wrong that your behavior should have earned you an unceremonious exit from the gene pool.
To put this in context, when kangaroos fight each other, they use the claws on their hind legs to tear at their opponent’s scrotum. Even when trying to kill each other by way of scrotal trauma, wild animals refuse to go so far as biting.
And by the way, when dealing with teeth and that area of the body, the modifier “softly” doesn’t do anything to make this better. That’s like saying to “gently” jam a lit cigarette into his eye.
#6.
Shake His Nuts
From:
Cosmopolitan Vol. 237, Issue 1, page 106.
We always knew there was something sexy about Yahtzee! and now it’s all so clear: It remind us of the time our girlfriend rattled our testicles around like a set of dice she was trying to shake a lucky roll out of.
Now, someone in the comments will point out that it’s not necessarily Cosmo giving this advice. “Curtis, 33” wrote in with it. Don’t shoot the messenger!
Bullshit. We very well can shoot the messenger if the message he’s carrying will result in someone rapidly slamming our balls against each other. That’s self-defense right there.
No, this is one of those occasions when an editor needs to think, “Sure, no other guy has said this yet, so it’s unique and would therefore be interesting to our readers. But on the other hand, no other guy has said this, so maybe the guy who wrote this is totally fucking insane, or possibly a jilted woman looking to get back at the opposite sex.”
For instance, we don’t think a men’s magazine would print a letter from a “woman” saying, “You know what really turns us ladies on? When you jab us in the ribs with a sharp stick.” The editor would immediately guess that behind the letter was a balding man in his basement, with a wall covered in photos of his mother with WHORE scrawled over them in blood.
#5.
Yank His Crotch Hair
From:
Cosmo’s website.
Well, at least this one doesn’t involve outright genital trauma. This little nugget recommends you pull on some dude’s treasure trail hairs. You know, to turn him on.
Hey, ladies, have you ever heard a guy use the expression, “He’s got me by the short hairs”? Was the guy using it in a positive way?
No, because it is meant to convey the image of somebody grabbing your pubic hair and causing so much pain that they can make you do anything. Nobody unwraps a gift at Christmas and says, “Thanks, Grandma! This Xbox 360 will really get me by the short hairs!”
All right, so now what you need to understand about that strip of fur Cosmo is referencing is that it’s basically pubes. It’s like a pubic escape route from your pants. No one’s going to publish “yank on his pubes” in a sex advice column because no one outside of a few fetish scenes would want to do it, because it’s horrible.
What’s especially diabolical about this advice is that it sounds fine leading up to it. We’re all for licking and tickling. It’s like they intentionally buried the painful tip under the good ones, like a landmine.
#4.
Give Him a Sneezegasm
From:
Cosmo’s website.
This seems to derive from the retarded sex myth that, physiologically, a sneeze is somehow “1/7th of an orgasm,” which you may have heard in high school or from the brain trust at Yahoo! Answers. You may be tempted to ask how in the shit you would quantify 1/7th of an orgasm, but Yahoo! isn’t giving up the goods on that one.
That aside, have you ever enjoyed sneezing? Have you ever looked forward to getting a cold for the pant staining pleasure of it? Sure, there are a few sneeze fetishists out there, but that’s probably a relatively small proportion of the population and odds are even they think this tip is stupid.
You may think this one is tame compared to the others, but you’re not fully picturing the scenario. One wrong move and you either have an eye or a sphincter full of pepper, both of which are going to create that non-sexy crying and panicked flushing of the area with water.
http://digg.com/d31C5bp
Height of Depravity.
Story:
A British woman lost her appeal Tuesday against a ban on her noisy sex sessions, after a court heard how her marathon romps that kept neighbours awake sounded like someone being murdered.
Caroline and Steve Cartwright’s “howling” lovemaking sounded “unnatural”, “hysterical” and “like they are both in considerable pain”, Newcastle Crown Court in northeast England heard.
A 10-minute recording of their sex sessions was played out in court, which also heard how she tried covering her face with a pillow to muffle her cries of passion.
Neighbours at their home in Washington, south of Newcastle, complained about the noise — as did passers-by and the postman.
The couple were banned from “shouting, screaming or vocalisation at such a level as to be a statutory nuisance”, but Caroline Cartwright, 48, appealed under human rights laws against her conviction for breaching the ban.
However, a judge on Tuesday upheld the original conviction and ordered that the banning order should stay.
Caroline Cartwright said she was unable to stop the din. “I tried to control it. I even tried to use a pillow (over her own face) to try and lessen the noise,” she said.
The judge, Recorder Jeremy Freedman, rejected her claim.
The friggin’ postman complained? That is some serious noise. Imagine having people play the sounds of your lovemaking in court. That must have been quite a scene. But at least it only lasted ten minutes. Thank god for small favors, I guess. I had some experience with loud dorm-mates in college, but nothing that could compare with this.
http://www.alternet.org/blogs/sex/144224/court_bars_couple_from_having_%22unnatural,%22_%22hysterical,%22_%22howling%22_sex
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