Faking It

Clear communication is the key to all successful relationships, be they personal, business or--dare I say it?--political.  I've been lucky enough to fail at a few relationships before finding one that really worked.  Now I know that consistent honesty is what really works.  This relates to many different aspects of relationships, but there is one lie I wish every vagina in the world would promise to never tell again: the fake orgasm.

My friend Caroline's vagina admitted to me that she has faked it in the past.  She figured that her pleasure wasn't as important a goal as her partner's.  Obviously, sex was always the same with them, and she eventually her ability to enjoy it diminished.  Her short-term goal of improving his immediate pleasure had negative consequences in the long-term, tainting their relationship with an untruth that became increasingly apparent to her while he was unaware.  The real way to maximize his pleasure is to ask for (or, depending on the penis, demand) the things that really gets a vagina going, whether it's "A little to the right," or "That angle is perfect!"  If Caroline's vagina were really into her partner, she should have expressed her interest in continuing to play with him by giving him honest feedback.  That way, he would have learned what she really wanted, and they would have both gotten much better at sex.

My friend Anne's vagina also says she faked, but only once, to make the penis she was playing with finish up faster.  Maybe he was suffering from anorgasmia, but from the sounds of it, she didn't give him any help.  All she did was lie there and wait, bored, until she decided (without consulting him at all) that he would probably finish up if he thought she had climaxed.  Unsurprisingly, neither of them had interest in having better sex the next time.  When I'm having sex and I feel satisfied before my partner, I just redouble my efforts to finish my partner off.  If I'm playing with a vagina, I ignore how tired my fingers or tongue have gotten and just dedicate myself to giving her at least one more big orgasm.  If I'm playing with a penis, I rock my hips and grind against him, maybe wrapping my legs around his body.  It also helps to literally tell my partner I want him or her to climax.

Genitals can save themselves a lot of awkwardness, disappointment and embarassment by initiating the dialogue.  They can say what makes them feel best, and ask for candid feedback on where and how they are stimulating their partners.  This level of intimacy can improve the romantic and/or sexual aspects of the relationship... whether it's love, friendship or just two bodies having fun.



Today's panties: tan under a tan skirt.  I like to match.

Sex Ed Did Not Prepare Me For This, Part 1

As a small child, when I asked where babies came from, I learned about chicken eggs, fertilization and incubation.  In middle school, my classmates and I were taught about hormones, nocturnal emissions and fallopian tubes.  Since then, I have encountered about ten million things that made me think, "Sex Ed did not prepare me for this."  I cannot possibly address them all in a single blog, so I'll consider this "Part One," and focus on three challenges that vaginas often face without any forewarning.

1.  Vaginas are not allowed to have bad moods.  If we are melancholic, disgruntled or particularly assertive about our needs or points of view, others often assume that we will get over whatever is bothering us within the next five days.

2.  Ever hear of Honeymoon Cystitis?  Young brides would go off on their honeymoons, start having sex (or have a lot more than usual), and come back with urinary tract infections.  Then, they go on antibiotics and wind up with yeast infections.  These two problems are possible--and excruciating, as I hear it--for penises, but far more common amongst vaginas.  The best part is, mothers, older sisters and sexually experienced friends generally don't mention them.  Most vaginas learn about these infections from the doctor diagnosing them.

3.  To get my yearly prescription of birth control pills, I have to undergo an Annual Exam.  First I have to strip naked in the cold office, and then I have to cover myself with a paper vest and paper sheet.  I'm not sure why.  The paper retains no warmth, and whatever modesty it claims to have goes out the window moments later.  Next, I sit on the table, reading my book and waiting, because doctors always make you wait when you're cold and wearing undignified paper.  The doctor finally comes in, realizes I'm reading Gertrude Stein, and raves about her works, because of course gynecologists love Gertrude Stein.  Finally, the poking and prodding begin.  Between the air conditioning in the office and the doctor's icy hands, my nipples instantly harden during the breast exam, and all I can do is lie back and think, "What a waste."  I prefer my nipples to be hard in fun situations.  Then comes the speculum, with another waste.  All that KY, for a circumstance that isn't even remotely enjoyable.  The doctor opens me up, wiggles it around to find my cervix, and scrapes off some cells.  Relief floods over me when the speculum comes out, but it isn't over yet.  The doctor lubes up her latex glove and says, "I'm going to insert two fingers and press on your belly, so I can feel your uterus."  Thus, I am subjected to pressure from above, and fingered by a stranger.  Besides the waiting in paper clothes part, the whole process doesn't take long.  The doctor removes her gloves, washes her hands and tells me I can get dressed.  When all that intrusion is over, I don't even get cab fare... instead, the receptionist asks for my copay.


On a side note, today's panties are polka-dotted.  Please excuse the quality of the selfie; Henry's schedule precluded his photography today.

Guest Blogger: Henry's Penis

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Grooming

One of the Vagina Monologues is all about hair, and starts with the line, "You cannot love a vagina unless you love hair."  I have nothing but sympathy for the genitals who want to keep their hair and disgust for the genitals who insist their partners must change for their own pleasure... but let's not be extreme.  I can respect an all-natural bush, male or female.  Whether it's left alone as a statement, out of laziness or apathy, or just by the preference of the genitals doesn't really matter.  Choice is choice.  And grooming is a perfectly legitimate choice as well.

In my opinion, a little trimming goes a long way.  By taming your bush, you're showing your (prospective) partner that you're self-aware, and that you make deliberate choices with the presentation of your genitals.  You're expressing that you care about their opinion of how your penis or vagina looks, and that you want your play to be as pleasant as possible for both of you.  You're encouraging exploratory touches, and promising that oral will not result in long, loose hairs stuck in the back of the throat.

I'm a big fan of selective smoothness.  On women, I love it when their labia are smooth, so their vaginas get very slick and are very pleasant to go down on.  On men, I think it's a good idea to keep the perineum smooth--that spot just under the balls.  They always seem to like stimulation there, especially during sex or oral, and that's much easier to do when there isn't a lot of hair getting in the way.

The trouble is finding the right hair removal technique.  Razors are pretty standard, but it can be difficult to navigate the tight curves or delicate skin of a vagina, and they can result in those uncomfortable red shaving bumps.  I know there are products designed specifically to reduce that, but to go through that whole process just to apply a product anyway seems a bit much.  I've tried a home waxing kit, but it didn't work well... and I don't want to employ a specialist just to have smooth labia.  I have an epilator, but that thing complicates all the same problems as a razor and it hurts like a bitch.

So, I prefer the lotions that burn off the hair.  Specifically, I use Nair, the sensitive skin kind with aloe in it.  I always leave it on longer than the instructions say to--after all, pubic hair is thick and coarse.  I clean up the spots too sensitive for Nair with a razor.  When I'm done, showered and dry, I rub myself down with more aloe and just let it dry on me.  Voila; a lovely, uniform smooth which intensifies sensation for me and feels good for the fingers, mouth or penis I'm playing with.  You don't have to love hair to love vaginas--you just have to appreciate the presentation.

My result:

Guest Appearance: Elizabeth's Breasts

The woman-as-flower metaphor is tried and true, dating back even before the Kama Sutra's composition.  Vaginas are yonis, yonis are lotuses, and lotuses are flowers.  While I appreciate the metaphor for its visual aptitude and the olfactory compliment, I have to disagree with it on the grounds of practicality.

In addition to scent, flowers use the sight of their petals--size, shape, color--to encourage the animals who pollinate them to do so.  I, however, spend almost the entire day hidden behind panties and under pants or skirts.  The panties are usually cute or sexy, and I have no qualms with the other garments, either.  Their function is to keep me warm, safe and out of sight in public, and they do this with the usual efficiency.  But, the custom of clothing does shift the job of flower petals to a more visible part of my body.

It's much more acceptable for a woman to display her cleavage in the general public.  With the right weather, a tank top or halter can show off some side-boob, too.  A bikini can even display some under-boob, but with larger cup sizes, that's a difficult look to pull off.  Obviously, the size, shape and color of women's breasts are among the first things to encourage the men who have sex with them to do so.

I'm very happy in my partnership with Elizabeth's breasts.  They're natural D-cups, perky for their size and as pale as any redhead's skin.  They've attracted a lot of fun my way, and even introduced me to my best friend, Henry's penis.  Of course, he plays with them sometimes, but usually as a precursor to playing with me.  So, it makes sense that Elizabeth's Breasts get a spread on my blog.

They're promoting me.  What pals!

Legalize

Personally, I could never have sex with a complete stranger.  Nor could I exchange sexual pleasure for money.  A few of my vagina friends have admitted to fantasies about that, but I doubt they'd follow through with it.  Still, I think prositution should be legal in every state.

I've heard it called "the oldest profession," which makes sense to me.  The fact of the matter is, people have been doing it for centuries, and they're going to keep on doing it.  Discriminating against them for being "whores" and treating them poorly is just another case of returning sin with sin.*  Punishing the prostitutes and their clients who are caught never stops those who are not.  If one is so concerned about the immorality of prositution, or so worried about the souls of escorts and their clients, one can take them into one's own heart and personally show them a "better" path.  Preaching at them or legislating against them does not stop them.

If prostitution were legal, it could be regulated for the safety of all involved.  Escorts would have better protection against rape and violence, and when such horrible things happen to them, they could seek justice without fear of being incarcerated themselves.  Of course I am not naive enough to think this would be easy to implement, and yes, people would certainly try to abuse that system; I simply posit that the pros outweigh the cons.  Besides, regulated prostitution could mean better health care for prostitutes, including mandatory testing for sexually transmitted diseases, thus stymying their spread; and affordable birth control, thus limiting the potential for unwanted pregnancies.  Safer escorts would mean safer clientele.  Legal, regulated prositution would also decimate the profession of pimps, reducing the drug addictions forced on prostitutes in order to control them, as well as violent crimes against both prostitutes and their clients.  Let us not forget the human trafficking: regulated prostitution could ensure that escorts were always willing and never minors.

Legalized prostitution would also mean taxed prostitution.  Escorts would have to pay income taxes and clients would have to pay a sales tax on every individual transaction.  You don't have to have a degree in economics or political science to know that a country, especially one as large as the United States, needs money to support itself.  There are military expenses, legislative expenses, regulatory expenses... I don't need to include the whole long list here.  My bottom line here is that the government could benefit greatly from a source of revenue that does not have any negative financial impact on the citizens who have nothing to do with prostitution.

Besides increasing governmental revenue, legalizing prostitution could also reduce state and federal spending.  Police could stop arresting consenting adults for what they do with or for their money, and have more time to focus on more harmful crimes.  Jails and prisons would not have to house, feed, guard, or provide medical attention to escorts and their clients.  Public defenders would not have to represent them, and judges would not have to deliberate on their cases.

I'll even go so far as to argue that legalizing prostitution could get it off the streets.  If the safest, easiest, most comfortable way to pay for sex was to visit a bordello or hire an escort from an agency, no one would want an unreliable hooker found on some street corner.  Prostitution, which many find socially unsavory and which would probably retain its taboo even when legalized, could be less visible to those who do not actively seek it (as well as those who want to shield their children from it).

Legalization does not have to mean the acceptance of trading money for sex, nor does it mean the government or society condones such an action.  It can simply mean tolerating the fact that it happens no matter what, and realizing that this reliable and ever-present industry can benefit the country.


*As far as I'm concerned, the word "sin" can retain its religious connotation, or simply mean abuse of oneself or others.