All I Want For Christmas Is... A Good Hard Fuck.

So in amongst his not-so-busy schedule of Christmas shopping, getting stoned, and working 37.5 hours a week, my boyfriend has completely failed on the sex front this Xmas season. Thus, I have become Scrouge. I ask you, how am I supposed to blog about sex when I myself am not getting any?! 

 Thankfully, I can still haul my sense of humour back out (it was nesting somewhere beside my bowels), and therefore bring to you the joyous combination of Christmas, sex, and the advertising industry, as well as the not quite so successful amalgamation of Christmas and sex toys.

 I must add that I was also going to include some Christmas sex positions (‘Jingle My Balls’ etc) but, to be completely honest with you, I just can’t face it right now. Excuse me, I’m off to cry into a turkey…

Here are some amusing Christmas adverts:

1) Durex Condoms

 'This Christmas, don't get anything you didn't wish for.'
So much for jolly Christmas spirit...

2) RFSU

Trust Sweden to sell sex toys in their local pharmacies. If this guy came (no pun intended) 

down my chimney, I think I'd be running for the hills. I wonder how many times the

artist vomited whilst drawing this picture.

3) Harvey Nichols  

I love this because it reminds me so much of me, Christmas 2010. 

(For more details, read my post entitled 'The Good, The Bad And The Slutty')

And some awful Christmas sex toys:

1) 'I Rub My Duckie'

So it's a Christmas bauble... with a duck inside... which vibrates?

Well that makes perfect sense...

2) Candy Cane G-String

I actually feel incredibly sorry for this guy.
I wonder how many times a week he went to the gym, only to model this monstrosity.

3) Santa Vibe

'Mrs. Claus is Cuming Tonight!' is she?

Shame no one fucking else is...

4) Ehhhh...?!

This looks offensive enough anyway, never mind the fact
that they've tried to make it look like a candy cane.

Imagine finding this in your Christmas stocking... Just imagine.

So there we have it, some prime examples of cracking Christmas commercialisation. Which one of the above would terrify you the most if you unwrapped it on Christmas day? Hopefully this blog post has cheered up those who, just like me, will be getting absolutely no sex whatsoever on Christmas day. I might just chuck on a santa hat and a pair of suspenders and pounce... Merry fucking Christmas everybody! Bah humbug. 

Paris x

The Ten Commandments (for the man seeking sexual salvation)

We are all well aware of the many bedroom errors that Man is guilty of committing in the sack, and I frequently like to use these to my advantage and post them all over the internet, for comic value. Thus, I thought it was about time I composed the ultimate list of sexual sins. Ladies, beware. Men, read religiously.

    10) Thou Shalt Not Expect Miracles

Don’t ask me if I’ve come after only 5 minutes of mediocre humping. I’m barely even wet. If you want to satisfy your woman, you must be willing to put the work in. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

9)  Thou Shalt Not Procrastinate

When you’re having sex, your focus should be purely on this, and only this. Don’t text your dealer, don’t check the time, don’t spark up a fag and especially don’t reach for a snack. (Particularly not Tangy Cheese Doritos or anything that contains onion or garlic.) You’ve spent the entire day indoors, alone, playing Xbox. This is the most exciting part of your day and I’m on the verge of an orgasm. Don’t fucking stop for a breather.

    8)  Thou Shalt Not Practice Human Planking

I get it, it’s tiring. But if you have such a lack of upper body strength that your arms fail you mid thrust, try a different position. There is nothing hot and sexy about reaching orgasm only to realise a little too late that you have suffocated your partner to death. To avoid this happening, try sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, anything to build those biceps!

7)  Thou Shalt Not Name One’s Penis

Especially if it has a human name. ‘Rodger wants to play, baby’. Neither should you term it using the third person masculine pronoun, otherwise ‘he’ will not be going in my mouth, ever again. Come on guys, it’s your penis. It may be banterous when you’re with friends, but when we’re having sex, who the fuck invited Rodger? Additionally, your love gun will never hit my target with its bullets, nor will your anaconda be entering any jungles.

6)  Thou Shalt Not Rate

‘I’d say that reached at least an 8 on the Richter scale!’ might be acceptable if you’ve actually satisfied your woman, but if you caught her yawning mid-thrust, it might be a better idea to keep your mouth shut and quietly ponder potential improvements. Furthermore, regardless of how mundane the sex might have been, never let the words ‘alright’, ‘ok’ or ‘fairly satisfactory’ pass your lips, unless you’re happy to live the rest of your life minus your testicles.

5)  Thou Shalt Not Forget To Mention One’s Erectile Dysfunction

And then act as though it’s a completely normal occurrence when it happens! Fair enough if you’ve popped a shitload of pills beforehand, or are aged over 50, but if you’re completely sober (and still in your youth) then there is no excuse for going floppy. If this does tend to happen to you, do warn the girl first, so she at least has the choice not to go through with it. Or the opportunity to pass a pharmacy on the way to your house and buy substantial quantities of Viagra.

4) Thou Shalt Not Act Like A Porn Star

There is an enormous difference between the world of pornography and the real world, but there appears to be a very thin line between the two for certain members of the male species (many of which I unfortunately seem to have encountered). Being thrown down and absolutely pounded is hot, but don’t do it dressed as a plumber, don’t go straight for the ass without a permission slip and never scream like the world is ending. That’s my job.

          3)  Thou Shalt Not Open The Ex-File

You know the type. You get two seconds of actual penetrative sex before the guilt sets in. Regardless of the fact that they split up with their ex over a year ago, they are still adamant to launch into a 3 hour long analysis of why everything went wrong the second after they’ve pulled out of you. And then are rude enough to ask for your opinion. How can it get any worse than this, I hear you ask? Two words: uncontrollable sobbing.

2)  Thou Shalt Not Injure

A cheeky bit of hair-pulling is sexy; waking up in the morning completely bald is not. A gentle boob squeeze or, hell, even a good old grab is hot but don’t attempt to tear my tits off. How would you feel if I used your testicles as a means of stress relief? In addition, always bear in mind that nipples are tender. Do not treat them like a chew toy.  You can be rough. When done correctly, rough can be a turn on, but no one should come out looking like they’ve had ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

And worst of all:

1) Thou Shalt Not Completely Ignore the Clitoris

 What the fuck do you think you’re going to achieve by stabbing the inside of my vagina in that manner? That moaning noise you can hear is by no means a sign of my pleasure; it is an indicator of both my physical and emotional pain. Have you ever even heard of the clitoris? For those of you who are guilty of this negligence, (or, to put it bluntly, undoubtedly bollocks in bed), it is located between the inner folds of the vulva, near the top. But don’t just rely on Wikipedia, their advice may confuse you: ‘While few animals urinate through the clitoris, the spotted hyena, which has a particularly well-developed clitoris, urinates, mates and gives birth via the organ’. Hunt it down, men. Oh, and while we’re at it, cut your fucking fingernails, Edward Scissorhands.

So there we have it. Cease your prayers, bin your bibles, ditch your church. Sunday shall no longer be the day of rest, but instead the day of hard, penetrative sex. Follow these Ten Commandments and you will be God… in the bedroom, anyway. After all, who doesn’t want to go to sexual heaven? Amen. 

*Disclaimer* Please do not be offended by the content of this blogpost, its intention is simply to be lighthearted and comical.

Orgasmic or Obscene (2)

How To Squirt In His Face

** To anyone who knows me personally, you may wish to stop reading now. This may be a little too much information for you...

I think it must be rather obvious by now that I rely on Google quite heavily to get me through my days here on Planet Earth. However, I was dumbfounded recently when I made the shocking discovery that it is not, in fact, as wholly reliable as it had previously led me to believe. As it turns out, typing 'Female ejaculation' into the Google search bar provides an abundance of similar results, none of which seem particularly truthful or useful. Or maybe it's just me...

The majority of websites that I have researched give exactly the same advice: Put your fingers a few inches inside her vagina and stimulate the spongy area which can be located towards the front of the pelvis. Do this ceaselessly. Do not react negatively when she ejaculates. Oh, and p.s, don't worry, it's not urine. Probably.

If what you desire is a raw and swollen g-spot, do feel free to follow the above method. For those of you who don't, however, here is how to ejaculate, Paris Talor style:

First, have sex. A penis relentlessly rubbing against your g-spot is much better than two flailing fingers, trust me. Here are a few good g-spot stimulating positions:

 
1) G-Wizz: If this is done well, you shall be screaming.



2)  Downward Dog: Lying down doggy is, for some reason, significantly better than regular doggy. Possibly because you feel a little less like man's best friend.
 
3) The Mistress: Do this, do this, do this, do this. It is, without a doubt, one of the best positions ever invented. You will come, and come, and come, and then come some more.   

Ignore the first two; go with position 3. Do this until you are thoroughly orgasmed out. Next, sit astride his face, like so:

   

He can use his tongue slightly, if you like, but what is most important of all is that you use your fingers. I've said it before and I'll say it again, no one can fuck you quite like you can. He can also put his fingers inside you now, but only if he promises that there will be no aimless prodding.

Continue like this. When you feel yourself on the verge of orgasm, you may need to push slightly. Try your best not to fart, this may kill the mood. And one last word of advice, to contradict that of the numerous aforementioned web pages: It does not feel like you are going to pee. There is a noticeable difference between the sensation before you squirt, and that before you pee. So don't worry, just let it go. My boyfriend thinks it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen. 

So there you have it. It does take a surprising amount of effort to achieve, but if you have the time (and some clean sheets), go for it. What have you got to lose, really? Think about it, how many times has he came on your bed/on your face/on your tits/in your hair? Ladies, it's high time you got your own back.

** I would like to add that this is what worked for me, therefore I felt I must share it with the women of the world. If this works for you too, please report back to me, it will make me happy! Additionally, if you have any other methods that work for you, or anything that you've read about that you would like me to attempt (!), please do comment and let me know =) 

Paris x
   

A Little Less Conversation...

Occasionally I fantasize about binding my boyfriend to the bed, moving slowly upwards towards his face, gagging him… to make him shut the fuck up. Dirty chat itself poses no problem to me whatsoever, when it is done well. Unfortunately, this is rarely the case. “I’m gonna put my big fat baby maker inside your hole!”, “I’m gonna fill your ass with my cum, baby. This is how a real man fucks!” or “Daddy’s gonna fill you up, fuck your tight little cunt! He’s gonna make you scream with his big dick!” are just a couple of ways to guarantee you will be getting no sex that night, or possibly ever again. In your life. The latter in particular, given the use of the word ‘Daddy’, in combination with the switch to the third-person narrative.

Regrettably, it is not only in the bedroom where men fail to think before they speak. When a friend of mine got into an argument with her ex-boyfriend, he shouted that one of the main reasons that he was no longer happy in their relationship was because she had never taken his career seriously. He was working full time at Nando’s. (In the lowest possible position, might I add.)

The same friend also once had a drunken argument with a different ex. Afterwards, he headed back to their flat while she chose to stay out. She eventually returned home to find him in an incredibly upset state and, when she questioned what the hell was the matter, he informed her that he’d been so grieved by their argument that he had tried to kill himself… by holding a pillow over his own face for two hours. 

But let’s get back to sex, and ask ourselves, why is it that men assume that spewing an abundance of nonsensical profanities turns us on? What makes it worse is when, sometimes, for added measure, they even attempt to throw a compliment into the mix. ‘Suck me, beautiful’ and ‘Baby, you’re sooo tight’ were two particular favourites of mine.

I must confess however that, when it comes to talking dirty, I too am truly atrocious at it. I get overwhelmed by lexical choice and I develop a stutter to rival that of Gareth Gates (circa 2002). In the end, I admit defeat, and simply smile politely and nod in agreement with whatever lengthy monologue my boyfriend is professing. ‘I’m gonna stick my big hard dick in your dripping cunt’… ‘Ah... yes… me too.’

I think, therefore, that the true problem with dirty chat lies in the linguistics of it. Perhaps, like me, there are many other people who would love to serenade their partner with a mouthful of filth, but get too caught up in the vast amount of word choice. What, for example, do I call my vagina? ‘Cunt’ is too vulgar, ‘pussy’ is unoriginal and ‘vulva’ is just downright horrendous. Men, as always, have it easy. ‘Dick’. How nice and simple and inoffensive.

Maybe, then, the solution to our unintelligible stammering is a good old dirty text message. What’s better, really, than eating your sandwiches on your work break and receiving a message telling you just how hard you’re going to get fucked that evening by your boyfriend’s humongous cock? Plus, this comes with the added bonus of giving you an extended period of time in which to reply. And if you’re really stuck for a response, just Google ‘dirty chat examples’, select one at random and hit send. He’ll like it, trust me.

So men, today’s advice to you? For my sake, please, think before you speak. Worshipping its snugness may sound sexy in your head, but I very much doubt my vagina will be flattered. I don’t spread your legs and commend how wrinkly and pubescent your scrotum is. Take a few deep breaths first, calm yourselves. Know your boundaries. Tell me you want to be inside me, tell me how hard you are for me. Hell, even tell me you want my cum dripping off your face. Just don’t start glorifying my asshole. 

Orgasmic or Obscene (1)

Using Food In Bed

In between my busy schedule (of serving people chicken, making fruitless attempts to motivate myself to go to the gym and generally drinking far too much) I was failing to find the time to write mega blog posts. But I didn’t want to seem like one of those useless bloggers who don’t post anything for months at a time. Soooo… My solution is this. I am going to start a new feature: ‘Orgasmic or Obscene’, in which I will discuss the typical things that magazines reckon are great for spicing up your sex life. I plan to try these out, and then report back to you, my dear readers, so that you can try them yourselves (or not, as the case may be).

Anchor Squirty Cream: Definitely do not attempt the 'Extra Thick' one...

Recently, my boyfriend and I got incredibly drunk and decided it would be a fantastic idea to purchase some Anchor Squirty Cream from all-night Scotmid on our walk home. On reaching our final destination, we threw off our clothes in an inebriated fit of mad passion and proceeded to wap out the squirty cream. 

However, I imagine that normal people would squirt a line or 2 onto their partner, maybe around the nipples or just above the pubic region, and then lick it off in a suggestive manner. Unfortunately, my boyfriend and I are not normal people. We decided what would be even sexier would be to completely smother ourselves in it. It was ALL OVER ME. In my eyes, in my hair, up my nose, in my ears… You name an orifice, and there was bound to be cream in there. Evidently, attempting to lap all of this up would have been far from suggestive. Instead, we just had some rather sticky sex in what had now become a wet, creamy puddle. Yum.

We woke up in the morning, with appalling hangovers, only to discover we were both completely cemented to each other, and to the bed. To make matters worse, the cream had obviously reacted overnight with the hot bedroom air, and now smelt like a combination of out-of-date milk, and vomit. And the last thing you want whilst enduring a horrendous hangover is for your hair, face, clothes, bed, bedroom and boyfriend to all reek of puke. Needless to say, I had to immediately launch myself into the shower and throw all of my underwear and bed sheets into the wash. And then scrub down my boyfriend.

However, it wasn’t a completely negative experience, as I do remember us both laughing hysterically whilst sporting squirty cream beards and moustaches. And it got him naked and into the shower in the morning. In fact, it is possible to see why this could potentially be a turn on; my boyfriend and I are obviously just not serious enough for this variety of sexual endeavour. I recommend, therefore, that if you are going to attempt this yourself, it would be preferable to use something less sticky that neither congeals nor decomposes at room temperature. (This means definitely no chocolate sauce, or seafood.) And possibly utilise it in much more sparing quantities than we did…

Overall verdict? Affordable, if you're willing to spare £1.29. But has an unfortunate tendency to venture into unwanted places. And definitely needs to be washed off afterwards.

The Good, The Bad and The Slutty.

"La femme n'est victime d'aucune mystérieuse fatalité : il ne faut pas conclure que ses ovaires la condamnent à vivre éternellement à genoux."
 Simone de Beauvoir

The label ‘slut’ is tossed around rather haphazardly and far too often these days, in my opinion. And, in the majority of contexts, it is used as a pejorative. The dictionary itself regards it as such: 

slut [slʌt]

n

1. a dirty slatternly woman

2. an immoral woman

(Note: 'immoral'! It doesn't get much more outdated than that.)

Recently, one of my boyfriend’s friends was considering asking a girl out on a date, though he couldn’t quite make up his mind. His reasoning behind this indecision? She has a ‘reputation’, and he feared he would be laughed at for dating her. We females, however, it must be added, are subject to doing the exact same thing. If we discover a man has slept with an indeterminate amount of women, we immediately become much more wary, given his newly-verified status as a ‘player’. Here, we must once again note the vast divide between the two sexes: men won’t date ‘sluts’ for fear of being mocked; women won’t date ‘players’ for fear of heartbreak. 

Now, I may sound brassy and insolent with this next remark, but my question this week is as follows: who the fuck actually cares?! When did the quantity of someone’s previous sexual partners suddenly take centre stage when it comes to assessing their character? Whatever happened to personality, or sense of humour? And most importantly of all, when did we all become so fucking shallow?

Admittedly, no-strings-attached sex isn’t for everyone. Some women are downright useless at it. You are the women who drunkenly stumble into bed with a man, attempt to snuggle up afterwards, leave your number on a post-it note on his pillow (signed with a lipstick kiss) for when he wakes up, and then spend the next evening sobbing relentlessly into a cheap bottle of Chardonnay because he hasn’t yet added you on Facebook.

On the other hand, some of you are one-night stand pros. The ‘walk of shame’ does not exist in your world. Instead, you choose to stride home with pride, regardless of the fact that you’re only wearing one false eyelash and have left your bra behind.

Indeed, there is nothing wrong with not being a casual sex expert. It's really all about getting yourself into the right mindset. If you feel him starting to worm his way into anything other than your vagina, leave immediately and don't look back. To those of you who have this sussed (the so-called 'sluts' of the world) I salute you! You are fun, you experiment, you are audacious, you are confident, you challenge gender stereotypes and, let's face it, you come out of it with some very entertaining anecdotes. Myself, for example:

Christmas Eve, 2010, in the pub. The last thing I remember is someone slamming two large glasses of wine and a shot of Sambuca down in front of me. After that, I have some feeble recollections of attempting to give a blow job, but failing miserably as I had utterly forgotten the technique. At some stage I think we had sex… Maybe… I had clearly forced him to set an alarm, as I was rudely awoken at 9am on the dot by an incredibly irritating polyphonic version of the Nokia tune. A quick getaway was necessary, I decided, as I’d promised my Mum that I’d be home for Christmas. However, in the immense confusion that had been the night before, I had forgotten how I had come to be in his bedroom. So, too drunk to be socially acceptable, with mascara all down my face and half of my hair extensions hanging out on one side, I continued down the stairs… Little did I know that, at the bottom, sat his Mum, his Dad and his 6 year old little brother, merrily opening presents under the Christmas tree! I proceeded to introduce myself (!), wish a far too enthusiastic ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL!!’, before finally cascading wildly out of the front door.

But I digress. My point is this: does telling foolish stories like this about my sexual history render me a ‘slut’? Because, trust me, I’ve got so many more where that came from. Surely, what is more important is that I am able to recount this to you, my dear readers. I am neither humiliated nor ashamed by this experience, nor did I leave his house feeling dirty or cheap. I also managed to remember my pants (having probably not taken them off in the first place.)

My conclusion therefore is this: if you are choosing to shag everything with a pulse in a futile attempt  to increase your already diminished self-esteem then stop immediately, because this is where the problems start. Casual sex can never be the cure. There are many much more simple solutions (join a gym, eat more vegetables etc). However, if you are confident within yourself and happy with what you are doing, then fuck the dictionary definition, fuck the word 'slut' and, instead, go forth and fuck whoever the hell you want. In addition, maybe we should pay less attention to how many people we’ve slept with, and instead concentrate more on actually using protection during the act itself. Get your condoms on, lads. After all, nothing says ‘not tonight, love’ quite like a potentially large and deadly bout of syphilis. 

* All pictures featured on this blog post come from this website: http://motleynews.net/2012/04/23/war-o-women-powerful-messages-written-on-womens-bodies/  Take a look, it's some pretty powerful stuff.
** I have finally succeeded in getting a 'followers' button! (It took long enough.) So if you would like to keep up to date with this fantastic blog, do feel free to follow me =) As per usual, any comments and suggestions about the blog, or any questions for me are more than welcome.

Paris x

From Ukraine, With Love...

I’m sure you’ll have guessed by now, given the tone of my previous 3 blogs, that I am nothing if not an immense pessimistic. Thus, in my snug little cynical world, the idea of soul mates and everlasting love is nothing short of ludicrous. We live in a world with a population of 6,973,738,433 (or so claims the World Bank), around 50.3% of which is made up of men. And yet I met my boyfriend because we both live in the same city and, at one time, we both worked in the same workplace. And there are an enormous amount of couples who meet like this on a daily basis. Are they each other’s soul mate?  Do I think my boyfriend is mine? Of course I fucking don’t. How could he be? And yet I stay with him, day in, day out, while the real love of my life hunts for me hopelessly and desperately throughout his office situated somewhere on the outskirts of Ukraine. ‘I’m here, Oleksandr!! Come get me!!’

So is the problem that we are not searching hard enough for our potential everlasting love? Are we simply giving up too early and choosing to settle too soon? If one day we find ourselves standing at the alter and taking our vows of til death do us part, when we say ‘I do!’, are we actually groaning ‘You’ll do.’?

We are all riddled with flaws. I cannot deny that there are aspects of boyfriend that I would like to change. He can be stubborn and selfish, and sometimes I find myself wishing he would kiss me more, or hold my hand more often. He also has the worst feet I have ever seen and some stray black hairs on his back that he refuses to let me pluck out. We’re all searching for that ‘perfect person’, but if my boyfriend changed all these aspects of himself, surely I would simply seek out more faults (and more hairs). Am I being unfair? Evidently I’m not perfect either, and (as far as I’m aware anyway) he isn't currently composing a blog depicting all of my numerous imperfections. When, then, do we stop desiring more from someone, and learn to accept them for who they are, awful feet and all? If we choose to believe the hype, and there really is only one perfect person out there for each of us, does this mean we must hunt through over 3 billion men in order to find ‘the one’?! If we consider this, in addition to taking the phrase ‘nobody’s perfect’ as a given truth, then surely our lifelong search for them is doomed to failure before it has even truly begun.

Have you ever almost given up on your relationship, so composed an incredibly drunken list of the pros and the cons of your partner? ‘Fairly wealthy? Pro. Likes to tuck penis between legs and dress up in bras? Definite con.’ Maybe this is what people do pre-marriage proposal. If the good outweighs the bad, then they settle. And if they’ve already purchased an incredibly expensive ring before composing this list? Might as well go ahead with it regardless then! No turning back now.

As it stands in my cynical little world, I’m still composing a mental list of the pros and cons of marriage, and have so far failed to find any advantages whatsoever ( though I accept that everyone has a different slant on this argument.) My boyfriend, on the other hand, despite his hideous feet and the fact that he weighs about 2 stone less than I do (!), has many more pros on his list. He is an optimist to combat my pessimism, one of the all-round happiest people I’ve ever met, easy to talk to and a lot of fun to spend time with. He also gives incredible head and is, without a doubt, the best sex I’ve ever had. And, for some completely unfathomable reason, he loves me too. My apologies, Oleksandr, but it seems that, for now, you will have to continue your search of Ukraine. I’m staying right here with him. 

This blog is dedicated to N****,

Because we have been going out for a year today.
Thank you,
I never thought it was possible to love somebody like this xxx

Why Don't You Go Fuck Yourself?

‘Hot blonde slut with massive jugs sliding her massive vibrator into her wet twat.’ The very intelligently composed description aside, so far the only amusing part of this video is that the protagonist is sporting a badly inked hash plant tattoo on her wrist. Why am I watching porn at 3pm on a Tuesday I hear you ask? Well, obviously it’s all in the name of blog research.

Now we all know men love to wank. And my boyfriend especially.  Unfortunately for me, I frequently have to be involved in this process. His argument, as I try and fail to avoid another full blast of jizz in my face?  Sperm  is great for the skin. Right…

Fortunately, it seems the 21^st century has given birth to a new breed of sexually open women, and we too like to get ourselves off. However, studies show that while 90% of the male population are wanking away regardless, only 65% of the total female population are. So I had to ask: what the hell are the other 35% doing? We successfully freed ourselves from the kitchen, but why are women still so reluctant to fuck themselves?

It amuses me to ponder how men believe we women masturbate. I imagine they think we do it in sexy lingerie, maybe watching porn or looking at ourselves seductively in the mirror. And I imagine they assume we think about them. Well, my apologies in advance, men, but you are sadly disillusioned. Here is the reality of when I participate in this particular pastime: what will I be wearing? It is highly likely that I haven’t even bothered to remove a scrap of clothing, and it is just as likely that I am wearing my most tragic pants (I do possess a particularly beautiful pair covered in bananas that would not look out of place on a campsite). And what will I be watching? I begin fully intending to simply watch something on my laptop and it’s only when I get bored that my hands start wandering south... Unfortunately, what I will have chosen to watch is not, in fact, a hot threesome with five squirting Asian babes, but rather something tragic like Glee or Grey’s Anatomy. It is only after I come that I realise that I have just masturbated over either an incredibly graphic limb amputation, or some over-enthusiastic young adults who erupt into song far more often than is really necessary in a 45 minute time slot.

I also always begin trying to picture something sexy and erotic. However, like most people’s, my mind has a habit of wandering and, in the end, I will reach climax picturing the lentil soup which I plan to have for dinner. I assume men around the country will be furiously wanking over this image of me as they read. (Those included in the 90%, that is.)

Personal sexual detour aside, I sincerely hope that the previously acknowledged 35% of non-masturbating women are simply too embarrassed to admit to it. However, I fear this is not the case.  You don’t have to trawl far through Google to find numerous accounts from women giving various reasons why they don’t do it. The main one which shocked me (probably because I’m a raging atheist) was that many women felt guilty because it is a sin in the eyes of God. My response? According to you religious folk, God designed the human body. Thus, God gave us a clitoris, which, if you haven’t yet noticed, has no other function than to give us pleasure. In addition, if Adam and Eve were the only living beings when the Earth was first created, what do we assume Eve did on the long nights when Adam had been working all day and claimed he was ‘too tired’? Ladies, God wanted you to enjoy yourselves so I suggest you go out, purchase the biggest vibrator you can find, and do what he asked.

 And if my God argument has so far failed to convince you, were you also aware of the many health benefits of masturbation? Not only does it function to relieve depression and increase self-esteem, it also lowers your blood pressure (yes, really!) and allows you to discover your own body. Because honestly, what is the point in having a PHD in Biochemistry if you don’t even know how to make yourself orgasm?

And let’s be honest here, you need to give yourself some love because, when it comes down to it, can anyone really fuck you better than you can? My fellow females, let us not allow men to have all the fun; let us raise those statistics to at least 91%! My advice to the 35% who still don’t? Put some Glee on, bore yourself senseless, and let your hands wander. Get with the times, people: it’s the 21^st century, and we’re all just a big bunch of wankers. 

**As a side note, comments about anything in this blog that you may like or despise, and suggestions of something you would like me to write about are always appreciated!

Go Big or Go Home?

So, whilst doing some online research to determine what was to be my next fascinating blog topic, I stumbled across a rather interesting article on our good old friend the penis. (When I say ‘stumbled across’, obviously I mean I typed ‘penis size’ directly into the Google search engine). This article (http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/sex_relationships/facts/penissize.htm) written by a certain Dr David Devlin, describes how previous statistics regarding penis size given in both medical books and press articles are likely to have been inaccurate, and that the average penile length is in fact significantly smaller than previously claimed.

As a result, research into this area will no longer be counting on ‘notoriously unreliable’ self-measurement, given that ‘the results tend to be skewed by people who falsely claim to be 10 or 11 inches long’ (!).  However, it is not simply these ridiculous overestimaters that are to blame, as the author, our good friend David, also raises the issue of men who are using ‘inaccurate rulers or ancient tape measures.’ Have we really all now become so money-hungry that stationers are purposefully selling us unreliable and prehistoric measuring equipment?

Let’s be serious for a moment, we are all fully aware that no two penises are the same. We've all heard the horror stories of the ‘chode’ penis. (For those of you who are blissfully ignorant of this concept, it signifies a penis which is wider than it is long). Likewise, nobody wants to be like the world famous Jonah Falcon, 13.5 inches and girlfriendless for the past 12 years. So this got me thinking: Can we honestly continue reassuring men sporting 3-inchers that it’s not the size but rather the motion in the ocean that actually counts? And how big really is too big?

Now I have a story for you. I met a guy when I was travelling China. He was 26, from London, stood at about 7ft tall and had a cock to match. The first time his monstrous penis and I became acquainted was on the top bunk of a sleeper train travelling from Xi’an to Yangzhou (classy girl that I am). I proceeded to go down on him, only to get the shock of my life when I discovered what was lurking under the covers waiting for me. I promise that I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I could barely fit it in my mouth. Unfortunately, I never got to experience what it would have been like to have that monstrosity inside me, (trust me, I tried!) as I’m entirely convinced that he had a long term girlfriend awaiting him (and it) back at home.

My friend, on the other hand, dated a guy for 3 years who was nicknamed ‘the Pringle’s tube’. I don’t think her vagina has ever fully recovered.

Fortunately for me, my boyfriend has a lovely penis. It’s big, but not so big that it becomes synonymous with terrifying. It’s also quite nice to look at (no pubes hanging out the bell end, no over-sized swollen balls etc.) I have also never been this attracted to anyone in my entire life. My ex, on the other hand, had a perfectly fine sized penis… Actually, come to think of it, maybe it was slightly smaller than your average… Either way, towards the end of our completely failing 5 year relationship, the sexual attraction had entirely disappeared and I had no desire whatsoever for that to be anywhere near my vagina.

My conclusion therefore is this: When it comes down to it, maybe it is neither the size nor the motion in the ocean that really counts, but rather how hot you both are for each other. Why does it matter if he is slightly smaller than your average, if you want him to throw you down, tear off your pants and stick it in you anyway? So Dr David, my advice to you? Stop writing articles in a futile attempt to justify your own penile insecurities, and instead go out and find a woman who makes you feel like the world will end if you don’t have her then and there. If she feels the same attraction for you, (you haven’t included a self-portrait in your article, so I’m not sure how likely this is) then you’re sorted. Unless, of course, your penis is in fact 2 inches long. In that case, I’m sorry sweetheart, but no amount of self-indulgent, ego conditioning articles can save you now.

Pain In My Ass

* Before we get started, I would just like to add that this entire post may have just been contradicted by thesaurus.com, which appears to have no existing synonyms for ‘anus’, and, when I attempted my key subject matter ‘anal’, it simply gave me ‘hemorrhoids’. Luckily, I am not yet old enough to be blogging about those.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like sex. Be it on my front, on my back, hanging upside down from the ceiling… I could go on. And I wouldn’t run screaming to the hills if I was to ever meet someone with an interest in spanking; I have no problem with a little pain for pleasure. What I fail to understand, however, is man’s new found desire to experiment by putting… no, hold on, forcing his penis into diverse areas of the body. Which led me to ask myself: who or what is to blame for contemporary society’s ever increasing obsession with anal? Why are men no longer content with some good, old fashioned vaginal intercourse?

First and foremost, before anyone presumes I am knocking it before I’ve actually even tried it, trust me, I’ve been there. I may have had just a little bit too much alcohol before the act itself took place, and may have forgotten many aspects of it, but I do remember the excruciating pain. That, in addition to the unrelenting sensation that I was going to shit myself, well… you don’t have to be a mathematician to work out that 2 + 2 did not equal earth shattering orgasms.

I guess we could attempt to blame the porn industry. However, due to my boyfriend being seemingly incapable of deleting his internet history off my laptop, I am well aware that when he is all alone in the flat he is not, unfortunately, trawling Google for images of cute kittens. (Although, to be honest, this would probably scare me more). And yet, when we go to bed, he does not attempt to piss in my mouth, nor does he fantasize about me vomiting all over the face of a 16 year old Japanese girl in crotch-less leather trousers. Why then, is it only the anal aspect that he chooses to focus on?

Personally, I blame modern manufacturers. Contemporary companies feed on the one main vice of humanity: laziness. And the majority of the products that we crave these days are designed with this in mind. Heinz Beans, for example, have recently released what they choose to call a ‘handy fridge pack’. Just look at it:

I honestly wasn’t aware that the human population had undergone such a grueling struggle with the tin opener; I must have missed all the striking...

Now, don’t worry Heinz Beans, I am not fully blaming you for modern man’s anal obsession, but it cannot be denied that you, and companies like you, are a part of the problem. Vaginal intercourse was clearly just too much effort for our century’s men. They have given up. They want to thrust 4 times and be done. In, out, in, out… victory. No need to exert themselves.

Well, modern man, here is some advice to you, from me: Pull your finger out. (Literally. Another thing no one appreciates is a cheeky finger in their ass when they are least expecting it.) And we, as women, will give you something in return, something pleasurable yet pain free. Use your imagination, or focus on a different aspect of your favourite porn film. You can cum on my face and my tits all you want, just fuck me in the vagina first.