If you has posed that question six months ago, the bells would have rung, and I’d go home with all the prizes because the answer would have been me. We have every age-appropriate book ever written on the subjects of sex and the human body, and I’ve always answered my 12-year-old daughter’s question with great candor and ease. Years ago, when she came to me requesting more information about her “Virginia,” I was all over it. Two days later she was explaining body parts to her bears. “Repeat after me. This is the vagina.”

Now, I have a rival, and she has an unfair advantage: she’s got street cred. Her name is Jenny, and everyday she holds court at the back of the bus. This where she practices her art of dispensing fallacious and salacious information while her acolytes whisper urgently and nod their head in agreement.

Picture a mini-Betty Davis with pink and black hair, peering through her cigarette smoke” and proclaiming in a world-weary voice, “Put out, honey, or be shut out.” Her puberty came early (of course) so she’s got plenty of curve appeal. To the sports bra set, this is all the qualification they need, but Jenny offers so much more. “Who’s doing it?” “Who wants to do it?“ “And who better do it soon?” Jenny sees and tells all. A mobile maven who is part sex therapist, part relationship coach—it’s so new millennium.

I first became aware of my nemesis when I took my daughter to see Juno. Great movie with lots of teaching moments, or so I thought until she uttered these words: “Jenny-from-the-bus said you can’t get pregnant the first time you have sex, so I think this movie was stupid.” I turned purple and through clenched teeth asked, “What else does Jenny-from-the-bus have to say.” This opened the floodgates.  Everything from “you can’t get pregnant standing up because the sperm can’t swim that fast” to “ the only way to know for sure you’re pregnant is if McDonald’s fries make you puke” to “word to the wise—don’t chew gum if you’re doing your guy. It can get caught in his pubes and make a real mess.” Gee, thanks Jenny for those tips. I so totally get your point– Love/sex isn’t for sissies and it requires some help to make it happen.

I managed to keep my cool as I calmly explained that Jenny was a stupid little so-and-so who should mind her own damn business. Since then I’ve tried to right my enemy’s wrongs. Now, like a soldier on the eve of battle, I’m stockpiling ammunition. I completely reorganized my Tivo line-up so that The Secret Life of an American Teenager and I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant are feature presentations. We’re starting with the basics, but this time I’m injecting them with extra awesomeness!

I’m not sure who’s winning, but at least I’m in the game. Yesterday, my daughter came home with news from her source. The headline was that Mark broke up with Serena because she wouldn’t give him a blow-dryer for his birthday. I asked if those were Jenny’s exact words. “I’m not sure. I mean why would Mark get so upset? He doesn’t even comb his hair?” So we sat down for a delightful conversation on oral sex, and I felt so much better. As long as she keeps asking, I’ll be there with the answers.

Product Review: The One Vibrator I Would Save if My House was on Fire

After I used the Eroscillator for the first time, I actually called the owners of my favorite sex shop to thank them for recommending it. I wasn’t in the market for a new toy, especially one that costs $140, but they kept raving about its virtues.  Not technically a vibrator, this device produces a side-to-side oscillating motion as opposed to the up-and-down movements of a vibrator. Now I normally don’t turn to Dr. Ruth for sex advice (make that never), but the Eroscillator® is the only sex toy that she recommends and sponsors.

A university study asked 30 women (age range 24-47) to test the Prelude III, the Hitachi Magic Wand and the Eroscillator.  Admittedly, this is a pretty small sample size but their data support my own conclusions, i.e., the Eroscillator was most likely to 1) produce the high intensity orgasms; and 2) result in multiple orgasms.  I also give it props for the different pop off attachments with such adorable names as The French Legionaire’s Mustache.

Here are the top 6 reasons why I love it:

1. It’s so quiet that every other toy you use will sound like a jackhammer in comparison.
2. The flexibility of a 12-foot cord.
3. It’s waterproof so you can clean the entire device (minus the power converter, of course) with soap and water.
4. Three speeds and several attachments so you can vary the intensity and sensations with ease.
5. Very lightweight and streamlined design.
6. The company has a 30-day return policy that allows you to try it out, and if you are not satisfied, you can return it and get a 50% refund.

7.   Ability to use it for clitoral, vaginal and anal stimulation depending on which attachment you choose.

I’m working on a new book, and I’m hoping my readers will help me out.  Specifically I’m looking for your list of  10 things that turn you on and off sexually.  I’m also looking for people (all genders) to interview, so email me at athenaiwg@gmail.com if you are interested.  To get the conversation rolling, here’s my list.

TEN THINGS THAT TURN ME ON

1. Men who make me laugh
2. Someone who makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world.
3. Someone who, when we’re out for dinner, slips me a hotel key because he can’t wait to have me
4. Intelligent, curious, articulate men who know when to speak and when to be silent
5. Someone who understands my intense need for solitude
6. A man with a rich fantasy life who is eager to act on it
7. A man who asks me to look at him when I come
8. Generosity
9. The preparations of slipping on fishnets, securing them with a garter belt, and lacing up a corset for a man who appreciates the effort
10. The juxtaposition of male and female bodies

TEN THINGS THAT TURN ME OFF

1. Hypochondria
2. A man who collects disappointments instead of discoveries
3. Poor hygiene
4. Narcissists
5. Someone who says, Oh, we couldn’t” instead of “Why not?”
6. Lederhosen and knee socks
7. Anyone who continuously talks about the girl who got away
8. Lying
9. Physical awkwardness and sexual timidity
10. Slurpy, sloppy eaters

]]> http://intelligentwomansguide.com/2009/07/need-your-help-what-is-sexy/feed/ 0 http://intelligentwomansguide.com/2009/07/a-sirens-call-to-arms/ http://intelligentwomansguide.com/2009/07/a-sirens-call-to-arms/#comments Sat, 11 Jul 2009 16:28:01 +0000 iwguide http://intelligentwomansguide.com/?p=321

Be forewarned, I’m in a snarky snit over an author and I hate, hate, hate to stuff-her in silence.  I’m not going to name names, but I am going to seethe a bit.

I love writing about sex and sensuality, and so I’m naturally curious to see what other women have to say on these subjects.  Stumbling on a “sensuality test” last night made me positively gleeful.  I was certain my score would put me in the firecracker category, reserved for those rare few whose incorrect handling could lead to loss of limbs, lives and property.  Sharpened pencil in hand, I opened the page.   This is a just a small sampling of the true or false questions that awaited me:

• I like to watch cloud shapes and changes in the sky.
• I can be deeply moved by a sunset.
• I find that different odors have different colors.
• When listening to organ music or other powerful music I feel as I am being lifted into the air.
• I often take delight in small things (like the five point star you get when you cut an apple across the core.)

WTF? These are questions that will lead to “Extraordinary Sex?” Sounds more like a kindergarten curriculum. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. Just because I don’t have a penis doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in mastering the hokey pokey. (NOTE: You may want to have the mute button handy since this is the official commencement of my caterwauling.)

Why are we so afraid of shining the spotlight on women’s true sexuality?  Are women such sexual naifs that we have to start the conversation with “If you were a color, what color would you be?” Looking for diamonds in the sky can be nice, but let’s focus on the jewel box between our legs. If we truly want to unleash the power within, that’s what should move and delight us.  Forget the scenic spectacles and pass me the speculum.

What’s really behind our ambivalence towards owning our eroticism and seizing it with both hands? Sensuality is not listening to Yanni and ignoring our own yawning desires. It’s a potent elixir of heat, electricity, and self-knowledge that we carry with us always.  It’s wanting, not wanton, behavior where every climax signals a Morse code of one’s innermost inferno.  It’s a command:  pay attention to me!

Of course, that’s really the point, isn’t it?  Sexual women are powerful women.  For us, sex and rest of our lives are not autonomous spheres where sex inserts itself through sneak attacks.  The evacuation of sensuality leaves us high and dry. and so we actively seek the mysterious within the mundane.  Failure to balance the heat with the heart is more than an aesthetic transgression; it throws our equilibrium off kilter. So we defy conventions and accept both the attention and admonitions that true sensuality brings.

Instead of sunsets and suncatchers, let’s talk about the awe of primal orgasms that tug at your ovaries like a torrent.  Let’s discuss the power of sexual prowess, and steer the conversation away from body issues to body tissue.  And instead of maintaining appearances, let’s speak of the glorious feelings of transformation that eroticism bestows and the combustible power of self-knowledge coupled with desire.

You’re breathing heavily, buttons are coming undone, and the temperature is definitely rising when he asks, “So, how many other guys have you “been” with?” What is about men wanting to quantify everything from the number of tools in their garage to sex partners? I avoid this question for the obvious reason:  any answer I give will be wrong. It will also open the door for them to give me their statistics, which is the last thing I care about unless it signals a risk to my health.

If he’s really into numbers, you need to apply the principles of new math before uttering a sound. Here’s the formula that will give you the true answer.

X = S (People you’ve had sex with) – P (pity fucks + stuffies +penises smaller than a cat’s paw)

N = X – ½ W (everyone for whom you can only recall a first or last name.) Subtract 10 for vagrants.)

M = N – A (anarchy sex, i.e., sex you engaged in just to spite “The Man”)

Z= M divided by G (partners who bore an uncanny likeness to Emma Goldman)

If Z  is still longer than your credit card number, higher order concepts are definitely required.

Q = Z divided by H (Holiday sex, which usually involves lots of drinking, despair and generalized loneliness)

R = Q – L (any man who suggested a spit and lard slurry as an appropriate lubricant.)

H = R divided by I (% of men who referred to themselves and/or their penises in the third person, e.g., The Buckmeister is going to make sure that Mr. Grease Monkey shows you a real good time.)

D= H – C ( Clowns). Now this may seem discriminatory, but clowns have a tendency to pull quarters out of your pussy and typically refuse to take off their shoes.)

Round D off to the closest prime number and you’ve got a reasonable answer.

Or, you could just use my response: “Enough to know what I like and have every right to expect.”

Dear Athena.

I’m currently wrestling with some severe jealousy about my husband’s desire  to open our relationship so that he can have other partners. I told him that it was better off for the both of us if he explored that need of his, and then I could see if I could deal with it or not… He has his first date tomorrow. Oy.

I guess I’ll be getting more in touch with my self-love more now than ever, huh? RB

Sweet RB, you are trying so hard to accommodate his wishes, yet your pain is palpable.  Open relationships require boundaries, ethical negotiations and trust. These need to be mutually agreed upon, and both parties need to accept this core value as a part of their lives.  It sounds as if your husband made his decision and then you reluctantly agreed. I would ask you to contemplate if your seal of approval arose primarily from love or from fear.  If you are committed to walking down this path with him,  I highly recommend you read tThe Ethical Slut, by D. Easton and C. Liszt.   It will help you gain insight into your husband’s decision to reject a monogamous lifestyle and help you clarify your own position.  Hugs,

as you move to sweep me off my feet.

But I’m not made of air tonight.

I’m armed and dangerous

looking for a worthy gladiator

to mount the swells of passion.

Leave your refinements at the door.

and sweep away the debris of crimson petals.

Savage my lips until they are as vivid as redwings.

Scavenge my flushed thighs glistening beneath you.

Do not speak of tenderness—in fact

do not speak at all.

Show me your passport singed with carnal musk

so that we can enter a room where our bed

burns blue as an anvil’s edge.

Splay me on the table against the azure wainscoting.

Our language is tongue and groove,

which I learn with each stroke of your cock.

We are both raw and fearless and cruel;

both taken and used.

I am an acrobat seeking a tight wire act.

I wrap my ages around you like swaddling strips

unjointed and unhemmed.  Rise up to meet me and I

will be there waiting at the arc’s pinnacle seeking release.

No light caresses tonight.

No sweet embraces.

Take your scalpel and undress my flesh

so I can close my eyes and own you.

Be a little afraid, as one hand drips with sweat and sperm,

the other knuckled fist is hidden in lava.

Listen closely and you’ll hear friction’s passion

frisson rising from electrified nerve endings.

And do not speak at all

While phone sex comes naturally to some women, others find it to be worst kind of aural exam. “Will I sound silly?”  “Am I doing it right?”  “What if he starts laughing instead of panting?”  Only you can determine if this is the spice your relationship needs, but if done properly, it can spark a sexual revolution.  Here is my best advice:

1. Do your homework.  This is essential If you a true crude prude, and seldom are heard any x-rated words from your mouth. How do you get comfortable with the mainstays of all dirty conversations?  I recommend that you go to see a David Mamet play, tune in to Howard Stern, and/or study George Carlin’s “The 7 Words You Can’t Say on Television.”  Remember that you need to feel passionate when you say them, so insert them into your everyday thoughts,” e.g.,  “Time to get that asshole Jimmy out of his crib.”

2.Think outside the box and expand your focus group beyond your vagina.  There are dozens of sweet spots and each one is crying out for attention.  Start with the parts furthest from your home plate—nibbling toes, tonguing ears, fondling breasts and work toward the jackpot.  When you feel comfortable, consider adding combo-moves, e.g.” I love it when you squeeze my tits while you suck on me.”  This one comes with my personal guarantee.

3. Practice.  Schedule your annual physical and mammogram NOW.  During your appointments, engage in a lively inner conversation.  “Grind that speculum, Baby.” “You think that hurts? I like it that way.  Squeeze those puppies harder.”  You call that a rectal exam?  Try three finger and then we’re talking.”

4. A picture can be worth 1000 words.  If you’re still feeling shy and awkward, consider this.  Take a photo of yourself holding a vibrator.  Send it to his phone along with the text message. “Don’t make me use this,” and wait for his call.

5. Avoid cute phrases.  “My honey pot wants a visit from Mr. Bojangles” might be adorable in the bedroom but you’re trying to scorch the airways. Your goal is to get royally laid, so call a spade a spade. Try whispering “I want you to screw me so hard that I’ll scream,” and see what happens.  I promise you that, “I want you to put a finger up my ass and my pussy the next time we have sex” will win out over “let’s do that double thumbs-up thingie” every time.

6.Remember your motivation. You’re not trying to get elected into the canon of great works; you want to fire a cannon of trash talk.  Start out using an old standby, i.e., “ I want you to ram your _____ in my _____.”

Phrases to Avoid

Salami; lunchbox

Tongue; tonsils

Fingers; kidneys

Penis; neocortex

7. Use as many adjectives as possible. Remember you want to build the tension, and you want to make the call last longer than 15 seconds.  Instead of telling him, “I love your penis,” try this:  “I love your hot, throbbing, big (don’t ever forget this), amazing, hard dick. Now what are you going to do with it?” Note the difference? So will he.

8. Never say in 2 words what you can say in 20. This is called building the tension.  Don’t just tell him you want to straddle him—add some filthy flair.  Expand your repertoire by focusing on adjectives that end in “est” and verbs ending in “ck.”  Need some inspiration, rent 9 ½ weeks and take notes.

9. Avoid all food references, unless you’re planning on dripping chocolate and whipped cream on his body and licking them off.  Leave food analogies to the doctors.  “The tumor was a big as a cantaloupe,” just doesn’t bode well for wild monkey sex. “ My God, your balls are as big as grapefruits,” or “ I want you so much that my clit is as big as a chicken nugget,” are best left unsaid.

10. Use some judgment.  Which would you partner prefer? “ I can’t wait for you to get lost in my human hair farm” or “The heat from your breath on my pussy makes me so horny for you.”  Similarly, ” I love when you massage your flea stick in my face” is unlikely to win out over  “I want you to come all over my face and hair”.

11. Stick to the subject. You’re after one thing—wild, crazy, rip your clothes off with your teeth kind of sex.  Do not conflate this with a heart-to-heart about sharing and caring and renewing a long-term commitment ala Dr. Phil. Nothing like hearing “I’d like to bear your pigeon-footed children,” to shrink a man faster than cashmere in a dryer.  You’re creating a spontaneous passion play, so leave the spooning, crooning and honeymooning for another call.

12. Get in the mood. Before you call, put on something sexy and stretch out like the sex kitten you are.   When he asks what you’re wearing (and he will) you don’t want to admit you’re clad in sweats and those awful carrot slippers your mother gave you as a joke.  Set the stage with candles, soft music and dim lighting.  Avoid all distractions and please make sure your phone is completely charged.

13.  Have fun. This is a perfect opportunity to act out your fantasies. It’s just two voices teasing and tantalizing so make the most of it.  Russian spy? (Get out the trench coat, Mata Hari), or maybe you’ve always wanted to slip on the ruffled panties of a schoolgirl who keeps dropping her damn pencil.  Oops, I’m so clumsy Mr. ____.  For those 15-20 minutes, you’re a seductress. Period. No reminders about errands, no complaints about kids, no nagging about life’s irritations.  It’s about getting what you want and giving him what he craves—a brazen admission of how much you love sex with him.  Who could resist that?

Put me in a stationery store, and I’m ecstatic.  I finger thick vellum cards and imagine brown ink flowing like caramel toffee. I long to decorate the pages with wandering strokes, fine-tuned flourishes, and well-mannered spacing.  My mouth waters at the cursive possibilities.

In elementary school, I adored the perfect blues line dividing my practice sheets with dotted red lines perfectly bisecting the horizontal parameters. Even now, whenever I encounter tracing paper, I conjure up the directional arrows that provided specific instructions for every stroke of my no. 2 sharpened pencil.  Mastering that troublesome “q”, savoring the forward flow of “v” and “w”, and feeling just a little naughty whenever I lifted my pen off the page to cross my “t.”  Marvelous.

Unfortunately, my penmanship, once so proper and carefully crafted, deteriorated dramatically. One look at my signature and you’d swear that I should be scrawling pharmaceutical prescriptions instead of sex proscriptions.  Still I refused to let go of my cursive crush.  But then something happened, which brought it all to a crashing halt.

I wrote a very sexy note.

I was living with a man and we were in a serious holding pattern.  Intimacy and sex were at the bottom of his priority list, and I was getting desperate.  It was Florida in the summer so the saran wrap trick (always a favorite with the culinary crowd) was out.  I had already paraded around in my FM pumps and my best fishnets and garter belt, but the flag stubbornly remained at half-mast.  I was contemplating a pole dance on the curtain rod in the shower, and then dismissed that idea. Although I’m an agile climber, my 5’11” frame didn’t leave much room for splits and scissor kicks.

I had just about called it quits when an unexpected opportunity presented itself. He was traveling to interview for a job, and he asked me to pack his bag. I wrote a sizzling note of licks and strokes and how I would gladly choke upon his return. Slipping it between the creases of his shirts, I was confident that this was a message no proud peacock could ignore.

I saw him off and waited for his call.  And waited.  When the phone finally rang, it was 2 a.m., and I fumbled for the receiver.  “Sweetie,” I said hopefully, “Did you get my note?” Dead silence followed by a terse, “I read it and, quite frankly, I’m shocked.”  I was stunned and wondered aloud how this could be. ”But we’ve done that plenty of times.”  Sure,” he said, “But never upon my rectum!”

Ah, the slip of a pen turned an “r” and an “n” into an “m.”  At that moment, I gave up my cursive career and started packing.

Let’s be honest–women are complicated.  It’s as true for our eroticism as it is for

our emotions.  Sometimes no matter what men do, the thrill flickers and then it’s

gone. They take the familiar route, but inexplicably, this time the clitoris is the

ridge to nowhere.

Bringing a woman to orgasm can be a lot like putting together an Ikea cabinet.  You start out with lots of pieces and minimal instructions. It’s all supposed to work, but often you end up with some leftover mystery parts and a wobbly surface. If you want sex that’s mutually satisfying, be prepared to mute the male pride button and ASK FOR DIRECTIONS.

1.  You hold the key but every lock is different.

It would be lovely if women came equipped with a sophisticated navigation system, but sorry fellas, you’re on your own.  We’ve got pretty complicated niche marketing down there that’s influenced by a host of hormones. Sometimes our little baton stands at attention and other times it’s an erotic illusionist. Now you see it, now you don’t. And unless you’re into role-playing Captain Ahab and Moby Dick, echolocation is really not a viable option. That’s why questioning and listening are the two most underrated components of sex.  Put away your blunt objects for a bit and pay attention.  I’m not talking about the patter of an overly enthusiastic sports commentator (Joe comes up the middle, OH God, it’s the pick and roll, Yes, Yes, YESSS!)  A simple, Does this feel good?” will suffice.

2.  Gentlemen, start your engines.

Just when you think that the embers have died and you’re at risk for carpal tunnel syndrome, something shifts.  Lust resurfaces and demands to fed. Pretty soon the stifled yawn turns into a swooning moan.  The flicker of interest morphs into fizzling scarlet that blurs everything but the white heat of the moment.  It can happen, so eavesdrop on a woman’s pulse and be at the ready.

3. Feel first; think later.

I know that this is counterintuitive to most men, but to be a great lover you need to put aside the reasoning and add some seasoning.  The clitoris is a complete universe where sensations and desires stream.  Trying to “penetrate” it with the spike of logic is pointless.  Our pleasure dome is too mutable an empire for that.  If you mentally try to untangle our erotic aqueduct, you’ll get dizzy from the effort.  Relax, focus on sensory clues and cues, and give in to the mystery.

4. Embrace the detours.

If you’re lost and she suggests an alternate route, take it.  You could just be surprised by the results of your newfound talents.  Embrace them and remember, you can insert yourself into a vagina, but sometimes all you get for your efforts is a dial tone.  Follow her lead. Novelty can ignite the senses and waken sensuality from its slumber.

Now for enlightened  readers, this will all seem obvious. But trust me.  There are plenty of men who hear the sound of wet laundry flapping in the wind and think, “Now that’s what great sex sounds like.”  These are same men who take a few laps around the track and declare victory.  Who want more Punch and less Moody, and who belittle an honest outpouring of words caring only about their own geyser.  More’s the pity.