The most popular kinks, and what they say about you.

kinkyNot those Kinks, silly. It’s a lovely band, with catchy tunes, but I’m referring to sexual kinkiness. I do have first- and second-hand experience, which has led to certain conclusions, bound to be way off-mark because I’m oblivious. Yet, perhaps you’ve been exposed to a few of these, and can consider my impression, or kindly add some of your own.

These kinks can vary in severity from experimental to mild to “I can come without it.” Whether you’re dabbling in dirty talk or shoving produce up your butt, you’ll find this guide useful. I suggest you save a PDF version, have it laminated (probably not a good idea to have a clerk do it for you), and pin it to your headboard along with a handy clip-on light.

  1. BDSM – Obviously, from the Fifty Shades hysteria, this is the most popular one. It can range from the gentle tying of one’s wrists (easily undone) to choking the shit out of someone while calling them names. Personally, I don’t want to be tied. I can sit on my hands. Have at it, darling. Yet, others enjoy being restrained, and at the mercy of a lover. Having a helpless partner is simply too tempting for a joker like me. Heck, I’d probably shave an eyebrow or squirt honey on her and call the dog. People who are typically into BDSM either have low self-esteem or are narcissistic. Good luck figuring out which one it is.
  2. Dirty Talk – Don’t do this with me, or I promise I will laugh, and it will kill the moment. The ever-so-popular line, “Oh, God. Yes. Fuck me hard. Yes. Fuck the shit out of me,” causes my overly literal interpreting mind to wonder what would happen if I did happen to knock a fudgy squirt from her. That’s probably not going to get her (or me) to O-town (but, it will get her onto my blog). Part of dirty talk is name calling. Be careful here. Most people do not want to be called dirty whore, slut, skank, pig, twat, or an ex-girlfriend’s or mother’s name. You can build up to massive kinkery, but begin with the gentle “Yeah, you like that don’t you,” to be safe, because the recipient probably watches too much porn, and may be in the Secret Service or FBI.
  3. Feet – Some people like massaging (fine), some like tickling (what?), and some even (ew) like (omg) licking (ick) and sucking (JFC!). I say feet are best used for transportation. Yet, I know these fetishes exist. If my woman gets creamy over having her feet rubbed, a-rubbing I will go. Mostly because I’m aware of what nastiness grows beneath my toenails, I will run from the bedroom screaming if a foot reaches my lips. The person who needs to suck toes was weened of Mommy’s nipple too soon.
  4. Role Playing – Officer, Daddy, and the naughty school girl are popular ones. Or, you can go to a bar separately, use different names, and act as if you don’t know each other. Then, you can flirt, and wind up having a one-night stand, which is technically still a thirty-ninth night stand. Maybe I’m off-base here, but if my woman is turned on when I act like a stranger, I see warning flags waving. Doing this may provide short-term relief from tedium, but it doesn’t address the base issue, which is the fact that she’s over me.
  5. Food – It belongs in the mouth, sweetie pie. If you need foreign objects (and you’re not a professional wrestler), try searching Amazon for the latest adult toys. You’ll find all sizes, shapes, and colors. Some go hum, some go buzz, and some require manual dexterity. Dry pepperoni, hot Italian sausage, zucchini, and string cheese belong on pizza, which should (once cooled) enter the body through the mouth, not the anus. Just sayin’. It can be kinky fun to blindfold the lover and feed her (a la 9 1/2 Weeks). I don’t need to warn you that while this may be a good way to dispose of those nearing-expiration-date items, it hints that there may be coping with food issues beginning to rear their ugly rear.

If your partner suggests you try one or more of the above, scratch your chin, stare skyward, and consider where it’s leading. Might be fun. Might not. Guess you won’t know till you try. Go for it, then blog about it.

Sexual Olympics you should try tonight.

sexual olympicsAll right, folks, it’s time to spice up your love lives. Competition is exciting. Some of you may be too shy to have judges nearby (I am available and will work for wine), so I recommend events that can be scored objectively. I hope you learned a lesson from those evil badminton teams: no intentionally losing events or you will be punished. Speaking of punishment …

Event #1 – Spanking

  • The objective here is to cause impermanent reddening and heightened sensitivity. This is typically easier for the man to excel, especially in the doggie position. However, a skilled woman can slap an ass in missionary position as long as her ankles aren’t in the vicinity of her earlobes. Extra points are scored for the slab-grab maneuver. Deductions will be assessed for booby and testicle slapping.

Event #2 – Slicking

  • This requires props, so load up on oils and syrups. You’ll receive extra points if you use honey, whipped cream, and jelly. There are deductions for buffalo wing sauce. I’d consider throwing down a baby pool, but that’s just me and my pristine sheets.

Event #3 – Sneak Attack

  • Instead of the usual–we go to bed, you blow me some, I go down on you a bit, we hump for five minutes, squirt, and sleep–this event requires spontaneity (and the ladies likey). Sneak up on your mate in the parking lot of work, the gym, or the market. Toss your lover into the back seat and have at it. Bonus points will be given if it’s sunny. Deductions will be given if you have a convertible and you’re parked near a school.

Event #4 – Sexting

  • Search online for sexy phrases (Why reinvent the wheel?), and fire up that camera phone. Keep your face out of the pictures and always take shots from above, not below, as saggy things look less saggy that way. You’ll get bonus points if the privates in the pictures are engorged and you get deductions if they are not your privates.

Event #5 – Water Sports

  • How creative you get in this event depends on how large your tub and shower is. I advise against using the Slip-n-Slide in your backyard, as neighbors can be nosy. In a pinch you can use a hose and your garage. This event requires soap bubbles, and I insist you use “no tears” brands as bloodshot eyes, while they conceal imperfections, are not sexy. You’ll receive extra points if you wear nose plugs, can shave privates without nicks, and can massage a scalp during penetration. There are deductions for losing the soap and peeing.

 

Be thankful that you can enjoy these events without the annoying delayed broadcast, which keeps you up past your bedtime watching something while making believe you don’t know how it ends. In fact, it’s perfectly acceptable to have NBC’s Olympic coverage on during your events, especially if swimmer/diver chests and crotch bulges, or gymnast/volleyballer lower ass quadrants enhance your performance.

On your mark … get set … go!

A man’s guide to pain versus pleasure.

Some men are getting the wrong ideas from the Fifty Shades books. Best you clarify things with your man before he raises welts. In the odd chance you don’t feel comfortable giving him explicit guidelines (because he may pinch you for being bossy), you can direct him to this guide and hope he absorbs useful tidbits.

Men, your women want you to be the man in the sense that you have freedom to be sexually aggressive within reason. Such reason is established exclusively by the woman, which means it’s rarely consistent with what other women find stimulating. Use common sense, and when in doubt simply ask her. If her response is a knee to the groin, take that as a no, not a maybe.

Let’s try a few examples:

  • Joe is pounding away at Gladys missionary-style. Joe decides to muscle up with an aggresive maneuver: He withdrawals, flips Gladys over, and reinserts himself–second hole from the top, in this example. True or False: Would this be reasonable sexual aggression, likely to result in Gladys’ enjoyment combined with, perhaps, some bragging to her book club. TRUE.
  • Frank is lying on his back with arms behind his head, enjoying Lisa’s grindage. Frank allows Lisa to do all the work, similar to how he treats household chores. Frank decides to attempt a difficult maneuver by saying to Lisa–and I quote–“That’s right, you take every inch you dirty little come-bucket of a maid.” Reasonable? FALSE, and it may result in having his testicles slapped.
  • Alison is cooking dinner when Bob wanders into the kitchen to obtain beer number four. As she bends over to check the roast, Bob allows his instincts to take over. He raises her dress, drops her panties, and plows into her as the heat from the stove makes the scene resemble sauna sex. Hot? TRUE, as long a Bob does not dump the beer over her head when finished as if he won the World Series.
  • Mike has Helen pinned face-down, burying himself deep while holding her wrists together behind her back. Helen’s face is buried in a pillow, and she’s mumbling something indiscernible, which Mike assumes are muffled terms of endearment. Mike decides to take it up a notch by licking his right thumb and then burying it knuckle-deep in her fart box. Helen stops making noises. This is a good sign? FALSE. Helen is calculating when her last dump was and she’s probably going to shove an entire fist up Mike’s ass next time she blows him.
  • While doggying the pussysnot out of Joyce, Jack removes the belt from his jeans, straps it around her waist, and uses it like handlebars on a carnival ride. Then, he decides to get all rodeo on her ass as he turns his left hand under the belt, releases his right hand, and hoots and hollers “yee, ha” while smacking her on her rump. Fun for her? TRUE, just refrain from spitting any tobacco juice on your hands first.
  • Leo blindfolds his wife, Rita, and ties her to the bed. She suggested their sex life needed some spice, so he’s all in. Leo decides it would be fun to stuff various household items into her vagina, and see if she can guess what they are. Every right guess gets her a Starbucks gift card. Every wrong guess gets him a beej. Rita will appreciate this: True or False? IT DEPENDS. If the household items include sterile items such as marbles, food, and soap on a rope, he may survive it. If they include utensils, baseball bats, or re-bar, probably not.

Basically, men, if what you do to her will leave little evidence that you’ve done it (such as welts, scars, stains, and bald spots), you’re probably safe. Otherwise, wait until one of your buddies tries (oh his woman, not yours) before attempting.

How to be a little rough in the sack.

I’ve finished the informative book, Just F*ck Me! – What Women Want Men to Know About Taking Control in the Bedroom (A Guide for Couples) by Eve Kingsley. I must admit I feel slightly bruised and dirty. Ah, I kid. It is an interesting book with many concepts foreign to a nice guy like me.

Eve makes sure the goofy apemen who read her book are clear about the distinction between being aggressive in a stimulating way and causing injury. To a certain point, that’s subjective. The main lesson is there must be clear lines of communication and frequent feedback. Obviously, there’s a big difference between a rape fantasy and rape.

Nobody said this would be easy.

1. Spanking – In the odd situation where I spank (more like tap) a lover, I find myself reflexively raising my guard in case she wheels around and clocks me in the choppers. Eve recommends the spank be sandwiched by caressing. All right, but that never prevents my girlish squeal when I receive a shot (not the tasty kind served with a lime).

2. Pinning Her Arms Down – Men, when you’re on top, grab both her wrists and pin them behind her head. Make sure your legs are inside hers or you may take a knee to the jobbers. I also like to add in neck nibbling, unless she’s wearing a wool scarf; it’s itchy.

3. Dirty Talk – I work with too many words to enjoy this without giggling or correcting her grammar. I don’t like being called names, other than “The Luscious Italian Tripod.” For some odd reason, there are women who don’t mind (or rather enjoy) being called one of more the following during intercourse:
a. Slut
b. Whore (or ‘Ho in certain parts)
c. Dirty
d. Naughty
e. Slave
f. Servant
g. Filthy
h. Mommy
i. Bad
j. Evil

4. Kamimaze Sex – OK, I made this name up. Chicks get tingly when they see that stairwell quick-bang in the movie Unfaithful. This is one time when the man isn’t penalized for unloading in under a minute. When she least expects it and still wants it (good luck figuring that one out), shove her up against the wall/staircase, yank down her bottoms, and grind her into the drywall/carpet. You’ll probably cause some brush burns, so have Neosporin handy. NOTE: Please don’t do this at the office, daycare center, or in my kitchen.

5. Role Playing – Grown people do this? Really? Not just on Halloween? Reality has a way of obscuring fantasy and ruining the fun for me. Hey, whatever gets your blood pooling. You can play master/servant, maid/butler, coach/player (except in central Pennsylvania), quarterback/cheerleader, priest/confessor, officer/criminal, prom king/prom queen, or bar slut/bar player. Ooh, how about this one: author/reader? Saucy!

Could your love life use some freshening? Bring home lotions, toys, and liquor; mix in a little kink; and postpone your mate’s consideration of trading your boring ass in for a pug, hobby, or more open-minded lover.

The Rougher Sex

Never tried it; don’t have to; won’t like it. I understand that some people enjoy oysters, soccer, and Nancy Grace, but I can’t find anything good about rough sex. Sure, it depends on exactly how rough, but I’m a puppy compared with some of the animals my female friends have dated.

A petite friend was telling me about her latest man who definitely got off on tossing her 5’2″ frame around. She said he left bruises on her numerous times. I was shocked.

“I bruise easily.”

“That’s fucked up. Seriously.”

“Why?”

“A bruise is an injury, you nut. No man is entitled to leave marks except when peeing in the snow.”

“I like it rough. I had to ask him to calm down a bit because the bruises were showing when I wore my summer outfits. They’re difficult to explain.”

“What was this animal doing to you?”

“You know–the average stuff.”

“Nothing is average about leaving a lovemaking session with bruises. Perhaps a little neck rash or toe cramp would be ordinary, but bruises? No way.”

“You’ve never had a woman leave any marks on you?”

“They only hurt on the inside.”

“Stop it. Some lover must have scratched your back at least.”

“Come to think of it, I did have this PYT bite my face once when we were getting into it on my La-Z-Boy.”

“There you go. That’s hot.”

“Is not. I grabbed her by the throat and said, ‘Hey, no biting.'”

“I bet that turned her on further.”

“Indeed. She was harder to train not to bite than my cats were. I had to splash hydrogen peroxide on my face afterward.”

“I like it when my man flips me around and dominates me. His hunger is sexy. You never spanked a woman? Bit her neck or nipples firmly? Threw her onto the bed and ripped down her panties?”

“Um, no.”

“Jeez, you’re missing out there, Pussycat.”

“Guess I’ve been domesticated.”

She went on to describe how he would bite her shoulder and slam her hard when he was on top of her. Then he’d flip her over onto her belly and sometimes plow the dirt road. Ew.

I think there’s a deep seeded condition involved on both ends of this nonsense. He probably was whipped repeatedly by his overbearing father and she has been so numbed by ordinary sex, she needs a physical struggle to get off. Whatever it is, it isn’t normal. I accidentally have banged incisors, was kneed in the pecker, and had a pinky stuck in a lover’s earring loop, but I’ve never left marks. If a lover asked me to do something kinky like that I’d have to tap out.

Gentle love should be sufficient. Candlelight, soft sheets, lots of pillows, and tiny pinches are all it takes. OK, maybe a feather and some fuzzy cuffs. No biting, bruising, or scratching is required. How about a tiny pat on the cheek of the buttocks? No harm there.

“How do you feel about other kinky stuff?”

“Like?”

“Um, how about spitting?”

“Gross, not kinky.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now please untie me.”

Kinks

Sorry, but this can’t stay in Vegas. I should know better than to utter the words, “I’ve seen it all.” I haven’t. Not even close.

After playing two baseball games in the hot desert sun, three fellow players and I went to check into our hotel. I dropped off the drunks-to-be at the bar and proceeded to the registration desk. I expected to return to carnage and I wasn’t disappointed.

It doesn’t matter if the males in question are two-year-olds or fifty-year-olds; left to their own devices, a mess will be created. Infants will turn flour, pet food, markers, crayons, and cooking oil into catastrophes. Grown men will turn alcohol and cleavage into Joplin, Missouri. (Sorry. Too soon?)

After checking in, I approached my teammates and noticed silly pink drinks in front of them. Yes, I deployed the F-word (the one that rhymes with Andy Dick) while they defended the drink choice by pointing out that five shots of vodka were in each. Uh oh. ‘Twas the fuse done lit.

One of my partners discovered an unattended lady (Nelly) at the bar and made his approach.  He escorted Nelly to our table either to share or to brag, I wasn’t sure which. She was attractive, pleasant, and about four drinks behind us. As one of my mates (a sausage-fingered beast nicknamed Magnum) begged her to give him a title shot, she played along but gravitated toward me, the safe guy.

My other two teammates (Sully and Royce) were now at the hugging drunk stage. It’s not a pretty sight, even in print, so I’ll spare you.

I began interrogating Nelly. She was wearing a wedding band and texted as we spoke (both as expected, nowadays). Then she propositioned me.

“What do you say we go up to my room for about twenty minutes?”
“Hold on a second there, I thought you said you were a cop … a married one at that?”
“I am. I just needed a break from his nonsense so I came here alone.”
(I smelled something funny. Yeah, I know, the alcohol slowed my response time.)
“Understandable.”
“Then, come on.”

She pulled me away and we headed toward the elevators as my teammates cheered me on. Now, before you slap me with criticisms, please understand that I am a man who seeks freaks. Writing material finds me and I have learned to never turn away. Yes, she could have been a prostitute or someone simply planning to “roll” me, but I knew where the casino cameras were and I made sure I stayed in-range.

“So, have you ever had a threesome?” she inquired.
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Unless my two hands count.”
“Well, you’re about to.”
“Oh goody, goody, gumdrops.”

As we got into the elevator, a huge marine-looking dude climbed in behind us and smirked at her.

“You lost the bet,” he said.
“No I didn’t,” she proudly responded. “This guy said he’d do it.”
“The bet was four guys, not one guy.”
“Hold on, hold on. I’m going to take a wild stab and assume Private Mountain here is your husband …”
“Check.”
“… and he bet you that you couldn’t get four men to gang bang you?”
“Precisely.”
“All right. Might I surmise, Sir, that this is just a fantasy and you wouldn’t actually need the act to be completed to determine the winner of the bet.”
“No, she doesn’t win until all four men finish.”
“Interesting … and what would you be doing while this train left the station?”
“He likes to sit in a chair and masturbate while he watches.”
“Naturally. Well, I’ll tell you what: Why don’t you two work your shit out while I try to re-cage my circus animals?”
“Fine.”

That’s one twisted matrimony right there. *shivers*

I returned to the three amigos play-wrestling. (For those of you without testicles, this is stage two drunk: displays of retard strength.) Mr. Too-Sober (moi) tried to calm them down and use logic. Silly me.

“Hey, dickheads, you’re going to get us tossed out of the hotel. Might I remind you this is a holiday weekend and finding another room won’t be easy.”

… and, boom goes the dynamite.

Stage three drunk level was reached and breached. Sully got all crazy-eyed and tackled Magnum into the casino walkway. He streamrolled Magnum so hard that he knocked him out of his sandals. The tears of my laughter obscured my view as I scrambled to catch it all on my iPhone. Royce pulled them apart, but every time Magnum tried to get back into his sandals, Sully assumed the three-point stance and plowed him over. A crowd gathered, hoping it was a fight, but then reveled in the glory of stumbling drunks at play and on display.

Yes, security came quickly. I have to hand it to them because they didn’t tase any of us. I guess they’ve seen this act before (like, hourly). The four guards gently placed Sully into a wheelchair and escorted the parade of the inebriated up to my room. The three obliterated boobs collapsed and I stood over them like a pastor giving last rights to battle casualties. Then I realized it was only 9 p.m., I had available credit, and my liver was being underutilized, so I left them and returned to the bar.

Nothing else happened that night because I was in Vegas.