me: When your butt itches does it make you want to have anal sex?
Top (amused): No.
me (embarrassed): Yeah, me neither.


On a completely different note, the Top and I have been doing a lot of age-play. He's been reading me a picture book each night before bed. I know this isn't inherently age-play, and there's not even a big difference in how he addresses me or anything. It's just . . . a feeling. I love being read to. He missed two nights this week though, it makes me very sad. I feel he owes me two more stories for this, but he is under some silly preconception that he makes the rules in this relationship or something. What madness.

Miracle of miracles, I got a new letter from a working girl: "I Said Yes." While Letters from Johns is closing in on 50 letters, letters from working girls are few and far between. Thank you to Working Girl #14 for sharing your story. Tonight, Ashley Alexandra Dupre spins Spitzergate on "20/20." (Image via Nevver.)

He told me that I was too young; I was 28 and he was 53. He said he wasn't looking for a "model type", but rather, a real woman. (Um, models are real women too, for anyone who doesn't know.) He talked about how much he missed touching and holding and looking at a woman. We kept talking about the human need for intimacy, and I could tell he did want the meeting. I asked him he was ready to go the hotel ("assuming the sale" like this is an old technique I always used to sell $250/hr Champagne Room visits at the strip clubs) and he said yes.

"I Said Yes."

This piece was originally published a couple of months ago on the Blowfish Blog. I wouldn't have thought that my Sarah Palin piece would have much shelf life after the election. But the woman just keeps coming back like a bad penny. Or like the Terminator. So I thought it would be appropriate to remind everybody of why -- exactly -- she would be such a disaster in any sort of national public office.

I just don't care that much.

About the pregnant seventeen year old, I mean.

I suppose this is an abdication of my responsibility as a lefty sex writer. But I just don't care that much that the 2008 Republican nominee for vice-president has a 17-year-old daughter who's unmarried and pregnant.

I don't even care all that much about the hypocritical double standard: how Sarah Palin and the Republicans want us to respect Bristol Palin's personal and sexual privacy but don't want to respect anyone else's. That sort of double standard isn't the most charming trait in the world, especially in an elected official... but it's also very human. We all cut slack, and make excuses, and act protectively, for the people we're close to. It's probably not morally perfect, but I'm not sure I'd want to live in a world where it wasn't true.

When it comes to Sarah Palin, here's what I do care about.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks that the war in Iraq is part of God's plan.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks religious creationism should be taught as science in public schools.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks dinosaurs and people may have lived at the same time.

I care that Sarah Palin doesn't know enough about foreign policy to know what the Bush Doctrine is... and that she seems to think she has foreign policy experience because "you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska." (Or, as Tina Fey put it, "I can see Russia from my house!")

I care that Sarah Palin thinks that Jesus Christ will -- not that he may, but that he will -- come back to Earth in her lifetime.

I could go on. And on. And on. I care that she approvingly quoted a racist, anti-Semitic nutbag who called for Robert Kennedy's assassination. I care that she lies, repeatedly, about whether she sought and accepted pork barrel money from Congress for her town and her state. I care that her only government experience is as a city councilmember of a town of less than 10,000, as mayor of said town, and as governor of Alaska for less than two years. I care that, as Matt Damon put it (yes, you heard me, Matt Damon -- it's an amazing video and you've got to watch it), the prospect of a Palin presidency is "like a really bad Disney movie." I care... oh, you get the picture.

And I care that the McCain campaign and the Republican party were so sloppy in vetting her that they keep getting ambushed with new outrages and inanities about her, every day of the campaign. I care that their thought process in picking her was apparently not, "Who might be qualified to be President if the 72- year-old McCain dies?" but, "How can we get evangelicals and disaffected female Hillary supporters to vote for McCain?" I care that Palin was nominated, in large part, because the GOP (a) wanted to get women voters, and (b) thinks women voters are idiots. I care that they view their Vice- Presidential nominee as, essentially, Dan Quayle in a dress.

Oh, and since this is a sex column:

I care that Sarah Palin is so rabidly opposed to abortion that she even opposes it in cases of rape or incest.

I care that Sarah Palin opposes birth control being made available to teenagers.

I care that Sarah Palin supports the grossly failed, grotesquely inaccurate "abstinence only" sex education policy -- which flat-out lies to children and teenagers about sex, and which completely fails to reduce teenage sex, STIs, and unwanted pregnancy.

I care that Sarah Palin reportedly tried to get a pro-gay book -- not even an erotic gay book or a gay sex information book, but a book by a pastor arguing that homosexuality and Christianity are not mutually exclusive -- banned from her town's public library.

I care that, as mayor of Wasilla, Sarah Palin was responsible for a policy in which rape victims had to pay for their own rape kits. (No, I'm not kidding. A policy that not only further victimizes the victims, but ensures that rapists of poor women will get away with it. And a policy, btw, that McCain also supports, with multiple votes in Congress.)

In other words, I care that, on issues of sex, sexual freedom, and sexual information, Sarah Palin is not only a right winger -- she is on the far, far right end of that right wing.

You know, there's something people often forget about the Presidential elections and the Vice President. And that is this: The Vice President's most important job isn't to "balance the ticket." Or to deliver their home state. Or to do a lot of stump speeches in the campaign. Or, when elected, to go to a lot of state dinners that the President doesn't have time for.

Their most important job is to be President if the President dies.

(Especially if the President has a 1 in 3 chance, statistically speaking, of dying in office.)

And this is a job that Sarah Palin is grotesquely unqualified to do.

But she's not unqualified because she has a pregnant teenage daughter.

That can happen to anyone. Liberal or conservative, Democrat or Republican, person of integrity or total hypocrite, sane member of the reality- based community or deluded religious extremist. I was about Bristol Palin's age when I started having sex, and I wasn't always careful about birth control, and it could very easily have happened to me, with my leftie, beatnik, agnostic parents. And I don't think it would have proven very much about them at all. It would have proven that (a) teenagers are often horny, and (b) teenagers are often careless and stupid.

You can argue, as Dan Savage and others have, that Sarah Palin has no right to expect privacy for her own family when she has such callous disregard for the privacy of anybody else. You can argue that, given her policies on birth control for teenagers and abstinence only sex education and such, her daughter's pregnancy is fair game. You can even argue that her mulish refusal to reconsider her positions on things like teen birth control and abstinence-only sex ed in the face of her daughter's pregnancy (in contrast to, say, the way Barry Goldwater reconsidered his position on gay rights when his granddaughter came out) shows a stubborn denial in the face of reality that makes her unfit for high office.

You can argue that. You could probably make a good case for it. But I'm not going to. There are lots of reasons why Sarah Palin is grossly unqualified to be Vice-President (as well as lots of reasons why John McCain is grossly unqualified to be President). But in my opinion, her daughter's pregnancy is not one of them.

I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about it, ever. I wouldn't say that, what with the hypocrisy and the abstinence-only sex education and all. Heck, here I am, talking about it right this minute. I'm saying that, in the scheme of things, it's just not that big a deal. I'm saying that we have much, much better reasons not to vote for this person. I'm saying that we have bigger, and better, fish to fry.

Check off the activities you've engaged in during sex (whether giving or receiving):
( surveys)

We have an article in this month's Glamour magazine called "Guys' Weird New Habits: Why? Why?" One new habit we looked into were vasectomies for the under-30 -- it seems a small but growing number of men are doing it. So we spoke with "the King of Vasectomies", urologist Dr. Douglas Stein, who performs about 2,000 a year. And he had an interesting take on how vasectomies are, in part, just the green thing to do:

"Forty percent of pregnancies are unintended. Yes, some of that is teenagers and you're not going to sterilize them, obviously. But a lot of that 40 percent are people who wouldn't mind if the wand of infertility touched them, but something fails (like their planning or their contraception) and they accidentally get pregnant and have the kid.

You have to keep in mind you can recycle every newspaper, Coke bottle, and battery until you die, but you'll never be able to recycle as much as another human being can consume in a lifetime, so preventing one more unintended human is much better for the environment. It's the same thing with your carbon footprint: you can drive a hybrid, ride a bicycle everywhere, use solar power, change your bulbs and you can't possibly reduce your footprint by a factor equivalent to that of another unintended human being. So if you can prevent that, you eliminate an entire lifetime of carbon consumption...

Sex party decorations the morning after.

This week, our intern Antonio Reis, a first-year at Wesleyan, discusses his rude awakening to campus life:

Every September, Wesleyan University's Eclectic Society -- infamous on campus for being a Mecca of musical culture and a bastion of recreational drug use -- invites students to "Get Fucked." This year was no exception.  

I had no clue what to expect from the people I had stalked on Facebook over the summer and only recently met at orientation. But there they were: 700 students of every class year in the porn-plastered foyer wearing nothing more than bras and G-strings, boxers, jockstraps, etc. I had on a new pair of black and red Aussiebums (that's 40 U.S.D. wrapped around my nether-parts) under a white hoodie. We all crowded into two large ballrooms where video porn was projected onto the bare walls. In one corner was a massive Alice-In-Wonderland-esque armchair that was so big it required a step stool to get into. I threw my sweatshirt under it.

A writhing mass of sweaty bodies danced to the tunes of uber-hipster DJs. Women painted to look like marble statues struck poses on pedestals around the room. Two kissing booths were set up: one with a set of female twins, the other with a set of male twins (all four were students). A hut adorned with lace was constructed in one corner, filled to the brim with cushions and pillows for couples in need of semi-privacy and comfort, stat. There were so many condoms in different flavors and textures scattered around the rooms that I actually slipped on a pile of them...

For those of you just now stumbling into the sexrev2.0, here’s a bit about how and why it began:

Plugged into sex & technology

The other day I came across "I Shouldn't Be So Shocked But I Am," which was written by some female ad bloggers in regards to the American Apparel ad that runs to your right. "WAIT IS THAT A NIPPLE," one blogged. In the comments, others wondered if the ad was "legal" or "European."

Meanwhile, over at Debauchette, where a similar ad runs (the model there is porn star Charlotte Stokely), one commentor whines: "I just wish you’d put up some ads with, I don’t know, normal weight women that don’t so blatantly use sex to make some guy millions... AA just makes me feel gross as a woman."

I pinged Copyranter to find out what he thinks of the ads. His response: "I just hate to see such a classic typeface as Helvetica sullied such." Oh, you ad people. So fonty.

Me? I don't really see it. I'm porn blind.

If you have something fascinating to say on the subject, email me.

Update: Adranter Steve Hall observes: "This ad is just getting back to...ahem...the natural way of things."

Update 2: Yaybia emails: "Don't get us wrong, the Yaybia ladies are no strangers to nudity. We were just surprised to see it pop out of nowhere. Offended? Nah."

Update 3: AgencySpy opines: "[N]ow, your brain will forever tie the American Apparel brand to sex (your notions of female degradation aside, sex is sex). You're screwed."

Update 4: Jezebel offers: "Personally, I just hate leggings as pants!" One commenter declares Dov Charney the Antichrist.

Update 5: American Apparel blogs: "We know people like to talk about our ads. More often, it's tongues clucking and fingers wagging in disapproval but this time, we seem to have some blogs taking to our defense about our first nude ads for the web."

So Home Secretary Jacqui Smith wants to 'tackle' prostitution.

How adorable. How naive. How certain to garner column inches. And to utterly fail in its stated intent.

Quite apart from whether it is right to criminalise the act of selling or buying sex - which you can assume I am against - there is the question of what effect, either beneficial or detrimental, attacking the sex trade may have.

I am no great fan of prohibition. In some cases, it can work on a limited basis - the handgun ban, for instance, is easy to enforce because handguns are difficult to obtain and nearly impossible to make. Alcohol prohibition, as demonstrated in the US in the early 20th century, was more difficult: it does not take a genius to make your own spirits. In short, effective banning depends on the ability to completely stem the flow of supply in the hope that demand will dry up as a result.

Following on from that, how, exactly, can one effectively police the selling of sex? We all have sex organs and (those of us not touched by the credit crisis at least) money. If I, in my home, have a verbal agreement with a man who did not meet me through any advertisement, who then offers me money, how is anyone going to know? No, what this will be doing in effect is policing not prostitution in general, but streetwalking in particular. In other words, targeting the people who are most likely to be at risk of drug abuse and other problems.

The intial idea is to 'name and shame' kerb crawlers, and to impose harsh sentences on men who use the services of trafficked women. As opposed to the more logical route of, say, imposing harsh sentences on those doing the trafficking, which would be difficult but worthwhile. In other words, what Mizz Smith is proposing is shooting at a blank wall and drawing your target around the hole.

We know where this will end, naturally - it is no secret that the real agenda of Harriet Harman and Jacqui Smith is to criminalise prostitution as a whole. By dressing up the early stages in faux-concern for exploited women, they are doing nothing more than putting lipstck on a pig.

And what would be the problem with that, you might say. Give someone time in custody, with access to the various social and mental health services, and that might get them back on their feet.

Ah, there's the rub. I have known a few streetwalkers - years before I went on the game myself. If you're familiar with my books, you will know these as the women my (misguided, optimistic) father was trying to 'help'. A fair number of them were occasional drug users to full-blown addicts and some were homeless; nearly all were single mothers. I came away with a few interesting points of knowledge:

1. If you go to prison with no intention of reforming when you get there, all it provides is a great place to meet new drug connections for when you are out again.

2. Separating a woman from her child, apart from cases of child abuse, is possibly the most detrimental thing that can happen to both of them.

3. Never get your hair dyed in prison. Never.

There are so many ways to paint my delicious cunt.

Transient: gently tongue me, painting saliva across my lips. Leave me glistening and liquid, my orgasm trickling down my thighs.





Transferred: thickly dollop chill colours on my bush. Smear them; rub them; push your fingers through the tangled mess. Press canvas against my cunt and roll the patterned markings onto it. Then do it all again, with the next colour choice...




Translated: take a photo, nice and close. Email it off to the other side of the world. Wait, anticipating. Then sigh, delighted, at the result.



Thanks to Dionysos for the first photo; Adonis for the middle two (and Aphrodite for creating art with my bush); Dionysos for the last photo and the incomparable Jackie Adshead for her amazing artwork based off my cunt.


Don't forget to have a look at my favourite HNT's from last week, featuring HypersexualGirl, Cowgirl, Britni and 13Messages!





body painting, erotic art, hnt, sex blog

Do you masturbate more or less in a relationship? ; alone; daily; daily bedpost; em & lo; frequency; fun; getting it; impertinent question; intimacy; intimate; Investment; less; masturbation; meaningful; men; more; New York; partner; same; sex; Sexuality; time; Women; Do you masturbate more or less in a relationship? // By use of this code snippet, I agree to the Brightcove Publisher T and C // found at [corp.brightcove.com] var config = new Array(); /* * feel free to edit these configurations * to modify the player experience */ config["videoId"] = null; //the default video loaded into the player config["videoRef"] = null; //the default video loaded into the player by ref id specified in console config["lineupId"] = null; //the default lineup loaded into the player config["playerTag"] = null; //player tag used for identifying this page in brightcove reporting config["autoStart"] = false; //tells the player to start playing video on load config["preloadBackColor"] = "#FFFFFF"; //background color while loading the player /* * set the player's size using the parameters below * to make this player dynamically resizable, set the width and height as a percentage */ config["width"] = 320; config["height"] = 287; /* do not edit these config items */ config["playerId"] = 2651861001; createExperience(config, 8);

This sounds so fucking stupid it makes me want to fucking shoot myself in the fucking head.

(Image via the lovely Luminol.)

Em & Lo
 
I am a 31-year-old male in California and have been married for 6 1/2 years. Back in March, my wife came to me one night and said she would like to discuss something with me...I knew it was something serious but never imagined she'd say, "What do you think about an open marriage?" She is conservative by nature so this took me by complete surprise. I have dated her since she was 18, she is now 28, and we have two kids. She says she doesn't want to leave me or the kids, but admits to feeling trapped -- like she never lived out her early 20's. We have discussed it over the last couple of months: she is persistent in wanting this. What are the positives of this and can it be healthy for a marriage?
 
Confused Husband

Dear C.H,

First, can we just say we love that you're concerned, cautious and confused about your wife's request? The cliché male response would be to immediately jump at an opportunity like this. "I can get a free pass from my wife to sleep with other women?!? Hells yes!" Of course, not all men are immune to the powerful bonds of traditional, monogamous marriage. They too can cherish the stability and intimacy that comes from dedicating your life to someone, body and soul...OR, they're so riddled with jealousy that they couldn't stand the thought of their wife sleeping with anyone else and would just prefer to secretly cheat behind her back so they can have their cake (they sleep around) and eat it too (their wives don't).

For the sake of courtesy, let's assume you fall into the former category. Though chances are, as a guy who got married at 25, you too have had the occasional thought of what it might be like to sleep with other people. (Frankly, we think these thoughts never end, whether you get married at 20 or 40, whether you're male or female). For some people, these thoughts are fleeting, and often pass with a little quality alone time spent with your fantasies or some Internet porn. For others, though, they become more persistent, niggling thoughts that begin to disrupt your relationship and happiness. It's at that point that something needs to be done: couple's counseling, a concerted joint effort to reinvigorate your sex lives together, or some kind of mutually agreed upon "arrangement"...

• Smitten tells you exactly where to rub your man to relieve his stress. And no, it's not there...
  
  
• Glamour asked seven men to reveal the quirky little things they adore the most about their partner. The answers are guaranteed to make you swoon if you're in love and puke if you're not.
  
  
• 'Tis the season to embarrass yourself on the company Xerox machine! Make an entrance at your holiday parties with these recession-friendly cheap fashion finds.
  
  
• Ryan from Single-ish reveals the romantic traditions he secretly hates, like chocolates and sending flowers to the office. He'd rather give lingerie, which normally we would poo-poo--but any man willing to wear a sequined mini dress for his gal deserves to be an exception to the rule.

Queer poly advice for students

Hi, all. Sorry for the unscheduled interruption in service. Ingrid and I had an insanely busy weekend with no time for blogging, and I am now battling a nasty cold that's left me physically unable to do anything but sleep and watch "Law and Order." I'll be back on the blog when I'm feeling better. See you soon!

So this evening as I was hanging out in Draven's Airship just hoping for him to pop on, my sister Jhai showed up. We sat and chatted, compared RL notes, talked about work a bit, what I have been writing, what she has been up to (she has a poem in a new anthology just published this month--you go girl!). I was just telling her my latest story of dancing with Draven in Steelhead in the ballroom when Jinara stomped in all upset. "Men. I hate Men! They are never there when you want them. Never around unless they want something from you!" She threw herself onto the couch between Jhai and I.













I could see Jhai rolling her eyes, but I asked what the problem was anyway and Jinara launched into a diatribe about Hawk. It seems she has been IMing Hawk again with no response. I don't know if I've told you all about Hawk. He is quite the man of mystery. Big, bad, and biker looking kind of guy, doesn't say much, but, oh my, what a hottie. Tall, dark, eye candy!

Hawk joined our little clan together with Heron, a tall leggy blonde (well to be honest we Serendipity girls are all blonde except for Wren who is in a goth phase right now) who has attitude in spades. Now Heron may be Hawk's GF, or wife, or ex-lover, or sister, or something else entirely to him. No one seems to know but those two and they aren't telling. All I know is that that they were together a lot, and they do seem to know each other in RL as well as in SL. Of late, though, Heron has been hanging out in Club Vicious and Hawk has been taking Jinara out. Well, when he is inworld that is, which isn't often at all. Hence Jinara's pique.

Jhai, as usual, launched into her Mommy-mode and immediately began telling Jinara how she didn't need a man to make her complete. How the world doesn't revolve around sex, not what Jinara wanted to hear at all. "I love him," she wailed, "I want him so much, but he is never here when I am! I don't think he loves me as much as I love him!"

Now I have been through several men already with my friend Jinara. First it was Malcolm, but she doesn't talk about him much anymore, and in fact none of us have seen him on in months. Then it was my own Draven she had a crush on, but he treated her like a kid sister. And there were brief flirtations with a guy named Jordan, and the DJ, Hotflash, at Blue Noise. Now it is Hawk. But is it really true love this time for her?

"You have to have some faith in your man, Sweetie," I told her, "I am sure Hawk cares for you." I tried to explain that the thing about SL is that it really is--and it has to be--secondary to our various realities. I paused to look at the clock and realized how late it had gotten and that I would not be seeing my Draven either that evening. Still I wanted to be supportive of Jinara so I said, "I am sure Hawk has just been really busy. I am sure he'd be here for you if he could be."

"No! That's just it! He was here. I've been messaging him and messaging him. And then he came on when I was AFK and when I didn't answer he left again! It is just not fair," she cried, "Why don't I ever get a break in love!"

Jhai laughed out loud at that one and I shot her a look hoping she'd get the clue that this was not funny to Jinara. "Kid," Jhai said, "It is all just the turn of the wheel. One day the universe spins all your way, the next it smacks you in the face and dumps you on your ass. You just gotta pick yourself up and move on. Send him another message. If he gets it and if he feels the same way about you that you do about him, he'll be back . . . eventually." Jhai stood up and left then, telling us she had to get out of this den of raging hormones and that we should both try to "focus for once on something other than men, for heaven's sake!"

I just shook my head. I was thinking of all the couples in SL who think that they have found true love, but then give up on it in a matter of weeks, or even days. I thought about Draven and I who have been together almost 18 months now. Will we last? Can an SL only relationship really stand the test of time. I heard Jinara say it again, "I love him so much! I really, really need him!" I know just how she feels. But I told her I was calling it a night, and I left her there. To be honest I didn't want to think about how often our connections in the virtual world are messed up by the real world getting in our way. I left her sitting in the growing dark. Waiting and hoping that the man she wants so much to be with will return to her if she is just patient enough, for long enough. I sure hope he does. I hope it for both of us.

For those of you who voted in favor of one-night stands yesterday, here's a little refresher course on how to make said one-night stands as nice as possible, in every sense of the word. Just because you're never going to see someone again, doesn't mean you can treat them unkindly. Because if today we're rude to our one-night stands, tomorrow we'll stop holding elevators for strangers in a hurry, and by the weekend we'll be answering our cellphones in church. So here are ten good rules to follow:
 
1. Always lay your cards on the table before the strip poker begins--we like to call this the "pre-nook." Confirm that your date for the evening has no delusions of grandeur about a future together. Too many people out there--including, yes, some men--think that when you sleep with them, it means you care. The responsible cad or cadette weeds these persons out of the mix by being up front about his or her intentions.*
 
2. That said, it's just plain rude to beat off a dead horse. Let's say you have a one-night stand and the conversation is stimulating and the sex even more so. Let's say your bedmate suggests doing it again sometime as they head for the door. It would be a bit of a slap in the face to begin hyperventilating and gasp, between breaths, "I...am...not...looking...for...a relationship." Plus, they might make a good booty call!

My morning shower is my lover. I keep the water very warm, so it feels like tongues running up and down the backs of my calves and over the rounded part of my belly. I love how it wraps around my waist like soft arms and curls over my shoulders like tendrils of sun-kissed hair. Like a lover, the water embraces me, accepts my shivers, my moans and my breath. It fills the hollow spaces where

I hear that spectacular flame-out and tabloid TV producer turned online video entrepreneur Stephen Chao is developing a reality TV show about high-end call girls for Showtime. They're pitching the documentary series as "Sex and the City" meets "Cathouse." The plan is to install upper-echelon escorts in a Hollywood Hills mansion, where they'll expose their lives for the cameras.

But the show's producers and director are having a hard time finding call girls willing to go public. Trolling the web, in search of "intelligent," "high-end," "classy Ivy League types," they're wooing courtesans with promises of future talk show appearances and potential Playboy offers. The show won't be demeaning or exploitative because, as the director explained it, they're looking to cast working girls without implants.

Once upon a time, Chao was a notorious Big Media player. A Harvard grad turned National Enquirer reporter, he helped create tabloid TV ("Cops," "America's Most Wanted," the esteemed "Studs," and more recently "Monk") and was infamously fired by News Corp. Chairman and CEO Rupert Murdoch when Chao hired a male stripper to perform at a management conference attended by Murdoch and Dick Cheney. On another occasion, he so enraged Barry Diller that Diller threw a videocassette at Chao that dented the wall (Chao framed the dent). During this election year, he called for a more energetic use of the "N-word" on his one-entry Huffington Post blog.

The former Fox TV and USA Network prexy now runs a wannabe YouTube called WonderHowTo, where you can learn how to hypnotize a chicken, teach your cat to take a dump on the toilet, or make people naked in Photoshop -- that is, when he's not devoting his spare time to explaining how that stripper was really a prop used to make a point about how standards and practices sucks. Then there's the fake baby poop diaper story. "I’m not into gratuitous and sleazy stuff," he once told the LA Times.

Unfortunately, Chao and his team aren't having much luck getting call girls to sign on for full exposure. In reality, high-profile exposure is not exactly what most high-end escorts are looking for. After all, what these sex workers do is illegal. So, good luck on that, Chao! Plus, the call girl crop is getting crowded, from Steven Soderbergh's "The Girlfriend Experience" to Showtime's UK call girl drama "Secret Diary of a Call Girl" to Darren Star's in the works call girl dramatic series for HBO. Chao has his work cut out for him on his call girl procuring quest. In the meantime, you'll have to settle for Ashley Dupre and Diane Sawyer.

Updated: I'm now getting conflicting reports as to whether or not this story is true. I feel like a bit of an asshat. But I guess that's the internet for you.

Madness, sadness, and general lameness online...

• We're all for equality, but it just makes us plain sad to read that two-thirds of straight men wish they had less back or buttock hair and a bigger penis, and 82 percent wish they were more muscular. (In better news, we can report that 50 percent of Em & Lo appreciate men on the woolly side, and 50 percent lust after elfin boy-types with no bulk.)

• We're the first to admit that a good bowel movement can be the closest bodily experience to an orgasm there is (sneeze, schmeeze), but a vibrating toilet seat just crosses the line. (We didn't even know that line existed until now, but this Mississippi inventor just crossed it.)

• Feminism may have launched Playgirl magazine, but it couldn't save it.

• Not everyone believes in the diagnosis "sex addiction," but whatever you call it, sleeping with your mom's oncologist in the hopes of getting preferential treatment makes us sad.

• Teen sex stats continue to depress the shit out of us.

• When we read that Joe Jonas is dating an "older woman," we were ready to forgive him for everything. But then it turns out that the so-called older woman is twenty-freakin'-two years old. Shoot us now.

• In Australia (Down Under, heh), a beaver is the spokesanimal for Kotex tampons, pads, and liners. It's like having Beavis and Butthead remind you that it's that time of month.

Adult product reviews from the last seven days from all around the sex blogosphere. Did you miss Pleasurists #3? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists #5? Submit it here before Sunday November 23rd at 11:59pm PST.

Want to win some free swag? All you’ve got to do is enter.
Betty’s Blog-A-Versary Swag Contest deadline November 19th.
Swag Contest: Crave Ankle and Wrist Restraints deadline November 21st 11:59pm MST.
Why I Heart Yes Contest! deadline November 24th at 12 midnight AST.
Bondage Photo Contest deadline November 25th.

On to the reviews…

Editor’s Pick
Tantus Ripple (small) by Epiphora
“The sensation was what I predicted—it certainly felt like bulbs popping in and out—but it was super pleasurable, much more so than the sensation of leaving a butt plug in my ass. This, I thought, is what they mean when they say anal play feels amazing.”

Madame Editrix
Scarlet Lotus Sexgeek

Vibrators
Cadillac of Vibrators by Ansley Agnello
Sweet G by Ansley Agnello
Rabbit Pearl Vibrator Review by Shasta
A Wand in Hand is Worth… by Natt Nightly
Mia: by Lelo by Scarlet Lotus Sexgeek
Buzz Bunny by Adriana
Oh! Magnificent Vibrating Glove by Domina Doll
If You Desire a Petite Rabbit by Beautiful Dreamer
Briana Wicked Curves by Beautiful Dreamer
Babeland Slimline Vibrator by Radical Vixen
Fun Factory Paul and Paulina by Ellie Lumpesse
Vibropod by Ellie Lumpesse
Hitachi Magic Wand by Epiphora

Dildos
Wild Angel Harness and Dildo by J.D. Bauchery
The Champ by David
Cyberglass Felicity by Ellie Lumpesse

Toys for Boys
Great toy to use on a cock by Lolita Wolf
A Real Man’s Cock Ring by Beautiful Dreamer
A Sex Toy Named Bob by Em & Lo

Lube/Massage Oil
Kama Sutra Massage Therapy Kit by Essin’ Em
Wet Body Glide Original Gel Lubricant by Shasta
Warming Lubes for A Cold Winter’s Night? by Domina Doll on Viviane’s Sex Carnival
Universal Lube by Catalina Loves

BDSM/Fetish
Leather Leash by Scarlet Lotus Sexgeek
Under the Bed Restraints by Betty Rocket

Erotic Books
Raunchy Review: Hydrophidian by Curvaceous Dee

Adult DVDs
Real Butch Lesbian Dykes by J.D. Bauchery
Porn 4 Pussies: Crash Pad Series, Volume 1 by Domina Doll
Femme Film Fridays-Superfreak by Domina Doll
Playgirl: Indulging in Lust by Beautiful Dreamer

Miscellaneous
For Your Nymphomation XL Adult Toybox by Ang
Silver Handcuff Nipple Rings by Betty Rocket

Okay, so we know that you can't believe everything that a celebrity (or a celebrity magazine or a celebrity flack) says, and we know that it's hard enough to figure out how and why your own relationship ended, let alone that of Joe Jonas and Taylor Swift. (Or, say, Matt Damon and Minnie Driver: We once believed that Matt actually dumped Minnie on The Oprah Winfrey Show--but looking back, we now find ourselves squarely on Team Matt.) Also, we know that teenagers can't always be expected to act maturely when even fully grown adults screw up breakups on a daily basis. Hell, even yours truly have been breakup biotches in our time, and we literally wrote the book on how to do it nicely.

That all said, we feel it's our responsibility--being that we, you know, wrote the book on it--to speak out on how Joe Jonas may or may not have dumped Taylor Swift. As Taylor told Ellen DeGeneres (and really, who wouldn't want to get a little empathy and a big hug from Ellen after getting dumped?) Joe did the deed during a 27-second phone call. Um, sorry, no: The only dumping that should ever be done over the phone is when you're calling Dominos to cancel that pizza because it's taking too long. If the relationship is serious enough to make it into Us Weekly, then it's definitely serious enough to require an in-person breakup.

Call them whatever you like - party flats, evening pumps - but every euphemism for non-heeled shoes sounds like coded swinging terminology to me. Slip a sexy Ferragamo on my foot? Are you certain I don't need a license for that?

Very rarely are other people's dreams interesting...except when they're about sex. This week, dream analyst Lauri Loewenberg tackles a mysterious reappearing ex.

I have been having dreams about my ex-husband lately. I am kind of confused because I keep wondering if leaving him was the right choice and now I have these intense dreams that are so real it scares me. All the dreams I have about him are different but they all involve sex or heavy petting. And sometimes we do crazy things during sex that we never did while we were married. I would really love to know what is going on here because I am in a relationship now that I have been in over a year and it just all of a sudden started happening.

Should she go back to the well, or is she just dreaming in rose-tinted glasses? Find out after the jump (right after you send us your own dreams!):

I saw Vince Gill, Winona Judd, and Bebe and Cece Winans perform this together live on Oprah last week. The song put to the images here is even more moving - enjoy!

I am going to take a moment to explain in better detail how this journal works, in the hopes that more people will comment as a result.

Hello all, I am the Top. I am a male, dominant (formerly switch) type. I've been involved in the BDSM lifestyle for a while, now. I am in my mid-30s. I am heavyset and employed in the Tech Field. I live somewhere in the US.

In mid-june of 1997, I started playing with, and then entered into a long-term relationship with my full-time submissive/slavegirl/slaveboy, who in this journal is referred to as "The Monkey". She is biologically female, but identifies as genderqueer. Thus, both sets of pronouns are used interchangably to describe him. See what I did there? It happens often. Most times, if I'm talking about someone, it's the monkey. Most other people are mentioned by name or reference.

The name "The Monkey" comes from a fight club reference, as one of our first scenes involved shaving all the hair from her head, as when I first met her, it was a nasty, crunchy, been-dyed-and-bleached-too-many times mess of pink, brown, and a few other shades in there. For those of you that have not seen Fight Club, the reference is "shaved like a monkey ready to be shot into space".

On the mechanics of this journal -- it is a shared journal, where we both post as the same user. Livejournal lacks the ability to have multiple users "masked" on a journal, so the easiest way to tell who's writing it, if the tone can't imply it, is to look at the tags, which we endeavor to keep up to date, i.e. "entries written by the monkey, entries written by the top".

You may notice from time to time that we actually will cross-comment on our own entries (within the text of the entry), conversationally -- if that happens, the inline comments are thus that I always comment in bold, and the monkey always comments in italic.

On OUR anonymity -- we do not use our real names. Places we visit are kept reasonably vague. People we know are always referred to in pronouns.

On YOUR anonymity: Comments are always screened. If we reply to a comment (which causes it to be unscreened -- I hate this feature), we rescreen it immediately. The journal's "friends of" list is hidden, so you cannot tell by looking at this journal's profile page which freaks are reading it.
(Of course, people can find YOUR profile page and find it, or use things like google searches, but it's still a much harder problem) -- and it's difficult to cull the full member list.

Additionally, if even THAT bothers you -- we post publicly, all the time. Which means you could bookmark the journal and just read from time to time, or you could plug the journal's RSS feed into something like google reader.

We love comments, we really do -- to be honest, we do what we do for US, to chronicle the time -- but we both enjoy imparting knowledge as well. So don't be afraid of letting us know what you think!

I'll leave it to the monkey to integrate this info into the journal's bio, as well as some kind of "first post" that always shows.

Our inbox is overflowing and we'll never get to all the lonely hearts, so each week, one reader's fate will be left up to the masses. Answer this reader's question by filling out the poll after the jump:

Is a one-night stand really worth it? I mean, yeah I WANT it. But will I feel bad about myself in the end?
--Casual Sex Confusion

Friday, before I came home, the monkey expressed an interest (over IM) in playing that night. In fact she begged. Which I love.

We did...rather a lot of impact play friday night. Crop, Flogger, Paddle, bare-hand. I mainly tried to focus on the ass, although a lot got done over the back and lower thighs. She built up rather nicely, and while she squirmed a bit, and yelped a bit, she was trying rather hard to work through it and did well.

Saturday was spent just lounging around the house, watching some classic Kubrick movies, A Clockwork Orange and Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, cuddling and spending time...we got to bed surprisingly early.

She's been looking at toys a lot online. It's my version of window shopping. I do this a lot in general. This upsets me, because I want to buy them -- but money is a bit tight now. She wants a new set of cuffs, preferably vegan, like these or these, but I don't like a good portion of what's on the market -- perhaps this requires a separate post, with some reference pictures. Personally, if I were to get her anything, I'd like to get her a nice set of gorean shackles, and just have them worn full-time. How about a link to some examples for all the readers who aren't familiar with Gor? Sleepable, showerable...and easily attachable to a set of chains I'd just keep permanently attached to the bed-sides.

Sunday...I woke the monkey up at about 8am, feeling a bit randy, and told her I was going to be piercing her nipples. I clipped her paws behind her back, snapped another clasp on her ankles, and put a blindfold on her. She begged me not to -- quite a lot, and yelped when the needle finally poked into her. So I stopped.

((An aside: I should mention that I'm about to talk about someone new: Potential Slavegirl. I talked about her in my last post. She knows who she is. If any other of my readers (who I've been flirty with in the past) think I'm talking about you, I'm not.))

I sat, upset for a moment and growing worse. Upset at the fact that she has another friend who has...less personal barriers against agression. Less filters, who doesn't have a problem hurting her. I wrote about him here. I was becoming upset at the fact that I have another potential submissive (I'm sure you'll hear more about her as time goes on) who I felt would accept this piercing willingly, heck, would do anything to have this piercing done. I grew upset at the fact that as many times as the monkey has told me that she is mine to do with as I please, that this is such an issue. Sir, you encourage me to vocalize any hesitations I have. And I vocalized all this.

And then I told her "this is a problem, pull your shirt up, and look away. Okay, take a breath, little pinch now...and...done." The needle slid in, effortlessly, behind her nipple. I let it sit for a moment, checking her for any signs of shock -- but there were none. She was fine. No crying, no bleeding...no anything. Just my monkey, with a long hypodermic needle through her nipple. We spoke about it for a few moments, and then the other one was pierced as well, just as easily.

I joked, pondered a bit about also piercing her clit hood, but, well, one day at a time. Anyway, once that was done, there was some really decent sec, then I held her, rubbed her nipples up against the needles from the inside -- fucked her some more after she sucked on my nipples. She tells me the endorphin rush was amazing. I love getting pierced professionally. I just have to remember to have the same attitude with play piercing and HOLD STILL. The needles came out just as easily, and we showered and did the usual sorts of things.

I mentioned sometime during that interlude that I really want to get my hands on the real piercing needles (which do hurt more) and pierce her nipples with jewelery for a day or so -- make her wear something tight so the rings show. Which kind of feels like a waste to me. Why not just pierce them permenantly? Because you like binding? Maybe pierce her tongue temporarily if she misuses it ie: is sassy (although doing the tongue requires specialty hardware). If I'm going to be doing a lot of this, I'll probably make the investment in an autoclave for the jewelery (we'll always, ALWAYS use single-use needles). If not, a pressure cooker is a good substitute. A worthwhile investment anyway -- sadly I won't trust a thrift-store pressure cooker. I don't think we have one of those.

It turned out to be a regular day -- more lazy weekend lounging -- a lot of good talking about a lot of things...and a lot of feeling so proud of her for getting past this.

Her second orgasm of the night, before dinner, was had while I gripped her by the hair and the collar, and she humped against my leg, like "a good little puppy", barking and growling the whole time, telling her of all the things I'll have her do with Potential Slavegirl, how they'll interact together...how I'll have them play with each other for my amusement...how I'll have girl A plow girl B, while girl B goes down on me...how I'll fit them with nice, matching shock collars...how I will train her to be the absolute comeslut (cumslut?), not allowed to get off until everyone else has. It was nice, dirty talk. But...dirty talk that could be realized, if things work out.

Dinner, another movie. Mundane stuff. She had some ice cream that she had to lick off a plate on the floor (no hands). She's had to do that twice this weekend...it puts out her butt so nicely for croppage. And I really love eating off the floor or from the Top's hand.

Oh yes, did I mention? Yes, you did. Okay, so I like mentioning itWe acquired a crop from one of my favorite little places. It's been...my favorite toy. Useful for all sorts of things...waking the monkey up...motivating the monkey around the house...whacking things to startle the monkey...gently slapping the monkey's cheeks (pick a set) when she's being just a little difficult...turning off the light switch without getting out of bed...tenderizing the monkey's ass before starting in with bare-hand.

Once we got to bed, around ten (with my new work schedule, that's later than I'd like), she got me off nicely.

When I woke her up at 4(!!) in the morning, she got up quickly and laid out my clothes, and we cuddled for a bit. I loved holding her. She tells me that that particular hour was too early to take her meds (which I guess is okay -- but if she doesn't IM me by about 10 and tell me she's done so I'll be upset). I did so at 11:30. Eep.

I stopped off for coffee and a donut on the way in. I don't feel it's out of the question to have part of her routine be to get that stuff, but I might just invest in a Keurig system (just for the commute -- I don't generally like Keurig because it's so wasteful, but it's so effortless that the tradeoff and cost might be worthwhile). How about a link for the readers who don't know what a Keurig is? I had to look it up myself.

And so, tragically, my guestblogging stint on Boing Boing comes to an end. Thank you to Cory, Mark, David, and especially Xeni for inviting me and letting me blog unfetteredly, as I am wont to do. My entire life is going to be downhill from here, I'm pretty sure. You can peruse my guestblog archives here.

Here’s that piece I kept Twittering about, finally finished after a month that included a death, a wedding, and the beginning of my move back to northern California.

My Computer Made Me Gay
A computer game introduces one woman to bisexual experimentation—and a girlfriend. By Regina Lynn.

“I see an exciting adventure in your future, a new sexual experience that forever changes you,” she said, tracing the sole of my foot with one soft fingertip. Her husband grinned at me from the bed. I sat half-naked in the overstuffed armchair and trembled with nerves.

This is not how I’d imagined my first — or any — threesome. I’m not bisexual, and I can count the number of times I’ve been physically attracted to a woman on one hand, with two fingers left over.

Yet here I was in a cute little southern California inn with a couple who have been married for 25 years, playing an adults-only computer game that would have us girls riding double before dinnertime. [Continued at Tango...]

aries (Mar. 21st-Apr. 20th)
You will think you have found love--or at least really good sex--this week, but it won't last, because they're lying to you. Hate to make you feel like you've been kicked in the nuts now, but it's better than feeling like your heart's been ripped out through your esophagus later, right?

taurus (Apr. 21st-May 20th)
We have one word of relationship advice for you: Google. It's not nosy--we all do it. And in your case, you might just be very glad you did. Just remember: don't believe everything you read...unless it's written by us.

gemini (May 21st-June 21st)
Easy come, easy go. Who knows what the hell is going on with your love life--the revolving door to your bedroom is spinning so fast, everything's a blur. You might want to consider changing your sheets.

For those of you who may have been under the impression I've seen and done it all, here is a list of things I've never done. Note that not all of them are likely, or even advisable, to do. I have never...

• eaten a pork pie, coronation chicken, or a scampi (whatever that is). I don't remember ever having had a banger, though it's possible I did and have since purged the experience from my memory banks.
  
• had a threesome with two men (preferably bi). Definitely have not accidentally done so and purged the memory of the experience afterwards. This upsets me probably more than it should.
  
• tried drugs, apart from:
  a. the time in book 1 when a client was using poppers, and I'm not sure that counts, and
  b. alcohol. Obviously.
  
• been to Liverpool. And until a fortnight ago, Wales would also have been on that list.
  
• been able to remember my mother's birthday. I am usually good with dates, so this is particularly unusual.
  
• found negligees exciting. Let me see, you want me to take off my clothes, put on clothes, then take those clothes off straightaway? And what was the problem with good old knickers, stockings, and bra again?
  
• imagined what my wedding dress might look like, or what my children's names would be, or what my first name would look like next to someone else's surname. (That said, in the last 24 hours I have identified an ale that should be served at my wedding, should such event ever occur. Priorities, people.)
  
• chosen mayonnaise when salad cream was an option. Ever.
  
• caught my parents having sex. And now they're divorced, never will. Whew.
  
• been attracted to a man who didn't, at least in some small way, remind me of my father. In its most basic incarnation this usually translates as significantly taller than me.
  

It can be difficult to find the time to check out everyone's HNT photos. In this regular feature, I showcase my favourite pics of the week. If you like them, please visit the blogger in question and let them know - I certainly have.

It's not all about the pictures. HNT, that is. I mean, pictures make up a good deal of it, but often the images that impress themselves on me the most are also ones where the writing has also appealed to me. Here, then, are some words with pictures.


HypersexualGirl: I remember the first time my sweetie saw me wearing this. His mouth actually dropped open a bit. He embraced me, ran his hand over the slightly nubbly fabric, and declared it the hottest thing he'd ever seen.


Cowgirl: Baby, take off your coat...real slow / Baby, take off your shoes...here, I'll take your shoes / Baby, take off your dress / Yes, yes, yes / You can leave your hat on. (no, Cowgirl didn't write anything to go with her image - but I could hear this in my head!)


Britni: When I was 6 years old, my best friend told me it was "funny looking." When I was a teenager, my mother told me she asked a doctor when I was younger if mine "looked normal." These statements always stuck with me, and I thought that I had an abnormal, ugly vagina. The normalized image of the cookie cutter vaginas in porn did nothing to make me feel better about how I looked.


13Messages: If there is success to the plan, then my HNT submissions will be a bit braver in how much I reveal of my belly. People refer to blogging as naval-gazing; in my case, it quite literally is. (from his previous post)

If you missed them, here's your chance to visit earlier favourites:
All the way down
Artistic Nekkidness
Connected
Breasts to imagine

hnt, photography, sex blog

Is a "happy ending" cheating--what is your definition? Email cunningminx@gmail.com, call 206-202-POLY, Twitter cunningminx or visit the blog at www.polyweekly.com

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #153? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Sugarbutch Star: Maze - The Girl in the Red Dress
“She’s the kind of girl who brings out the worst in me.”

treat or … fuck
“He looked like I had just given him a car for Christmas and he gently took my hand and led me upstairs. ”

A Life Exposed and Amplified
“We were breaking the rules and being dirty.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
I told him I loved him. He gave me a pen.

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Break On Through
Eiffel Tower
Fast Jenny
A Few Orgasms Before Bed
Geisha
Goodbye, my Love
lustlustlust
Mexican Girlfriend
Mixing business and pleasure
Mistaken Identity
Unblemished

Sex Advice
How to Have Anal Sex with a Big Penis
Is Fantasizing Wrong?
Is Sex Without Oral a Dealbreaker? You Decide.
Lasting Longer in Bed

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Georgia Jones wants to go for a ride
HNT. Forest Nymph
HNT! (One more cherry, popped.)
Kamila - The Restoration
More from the knee socks series
PSA: Breast Cancer Awareness
Seductor

Sex Work
Dating Civilians 101

Sex News, Reviews, & Interviews
A New Twist on an Anal Sex Toy
On Tuesday, Vote for Equality

BDSM & Fetish
-3 Days
Bad Girl
The big dodge
Blind date: Impressions of a Dom
Dirty Boy
egg scissors
Do you want to cum? How bad?
Jake gets Punished in Spanking Movie
Kneeling In Style
Long Night in Thee Cow Shed
Marked: An Open Letter
Mistress by Proxy, part 2 : the slut
The New Bath Brush
Pimping him out
Pondering Piercings
Quickie

Sex Humour
Friday Poem: Achy Achy Cunt

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
HNT-Time
Hubby’s Halloween Hit. Confession #167
The Space Between