Hello! This week’s TMI Tuesday questions were adapted from the Newlywed Game. Enjoy!

5. What is it that you do daily that you would like to stop doing?

I would like to stop my annoying habit of sometimes not fucking my wife.  Has anyone ever had daily partnered sex (i.e. not masturbation) for a prolonged period of time, i.e. a month or more?  Jill and I have talked about doing this, but we’ve never actually managed it, certainly not for a month or more.  And as our schedules become increasingly jam-packed with various social obligations, that seems unlikely to change.  Still, I’d love for us to be able to make time for daily sex.

6. What is the biggest lie you ever told to get someone into bed or the biggest lie you ever told in bed?

Biggest lie I ever told to get someone into bed?  Probably that I was a staffer for Bill Clinton, and yes you can totally meet him!  Biggest lie I ever told in bed?  Definitely something along the lines of “No, it’s fine!  You didn’t bite me.  It didn’t hurt at all.”

It was a little bit like this.

Bonus: If married, who was interested in marriage first, you or your spouse?

I want to say that Jill was interested in marriage first, but I think that we both came to it at around the same time.  That is, unless she was already thinking marriage in the very early stages of our dating relationship, and considering what a good lay I am, that’s not unfathomable.

Jill’s Answers

1. What is the nickname a lover had for you that made you cringe?

I’d have to go with “Babe”, though I don’t have a problem with the word itself.  After all, Jack addresses me as “Babe” sometimes, and I’m fine with it.  But one former lover of mine used to say it to me, and for some reason it just made my skin crawl.  He was a complete asshole and, at the risk of sounding shallow or full of myself, totally beneath me.  Needless to say, calling me “Babe” was probably the least of his offenses, and we didn’t stay together very long.

Still, it could’ve been worse.

2. Where do you most often toss or keep your excess change (coins)?

Any change I receive from a purchase goes in a coin purse that I carry, except for quarters.  Quarters go into a plastic film canister that I keep in my car for when I park at a parking meter.

Apparently I’m not the first person to think of this.  Found in Google Image Search.

3. If someone wrote a book about your past lovers and past sex life, which category fits best:

a. Abnormal psychology book

b. Steamy romance novel

c. Sad sad story

It would probably be a combination of (b) steamy romance and (c) sad story.  Fortunately the sad parts would only account for a small portion of the overall narrative (at most twenty percent) while the remaining eighty percent would be loaded with the sort of eroticism some only dream about.  

4. Some say sex is like driving. Pretend you are a car. Are you: rear, front or all-wheel drive?

I’m definitely all-wheel drive.  I am versatile in bed, and can be dominant or submissive as the situation dictates.  Also, going with either rear-wheel drive or front-wheel drive sounds like it would be limiting.  I like it from the front just as much as I do from behind.

5.  What is it that you do daily that you would like to stop doing?

I’d like to stop hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock.  Rather than giving me a few more minutes of much-needed sleep as I hope it will, hitting snooze just makes me tired and sometimes late for work.

This probably doesn’t help either.

6. What is the biggest lie you ever told to get someone into bed or the biggest lie you ever told in bed?

That I loved the other person.  [Editor’s Note:  I hope “the other person” does not refer to me.]

Bonus: If married, who was interested in marriage first, you or your spouse?

I was interested in marriage before Jack was.  That is not necessarily to say that we each decided we would like to marry the other at different points in our relationship.  It’s more about the fact that I was raised to some extent to believe that marriage was the only correct path for a young woman, and therefore it was something I wanted to do from a very early age.  However, I’m also relatively sure that in the context of Jack’s and my relationship, I was the one who was interested in marriage first.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

“The app automatically searches your contact list for people, who are already using Viber and lists them so you can easily find them.”

For now I think I’ll stick to Kik, Twitter, and all the other media I mentioned in the second paragraph.  What about all of you?  Do I have it wrong?  Am I overestimating the threat to my own privacy posed by Viber?  Or am I underestimating the threat posed by Kik, et al.?  Let me know.

– Jack

*Not that I use any of these usernames.

Her only motion is the slow rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, though if air escapes her lips it does so in complete silence.  Her widely-splayed legs do not twitch or tremble, and her hands stay locked in place as well.  Her eyes are closed, her mind focused, and were it not for the loud and steady thrum of the toy in her hand one would be forgiven for thinking her fast asleep.  All at once her body tenses, her head falls back, and the moans that issue from her throat are so powerful that for an instant they drown out the rumbling motor of the toy.  She bends her knees, drawing her legs up to her body, pressing the toy against her as she rides wave after wave of ecstasy.  And then she relaxes and lies still.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

We’ve been quiet the last couple months owing to a busier autumn than is typical for us.  We hope that 2015 brings a bit of a slowdown, and with it an increase in blogging.  Until then, we wish you all the happiest of holidays and a happy, sexy New Year.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Is she putting on makeup and getting herself ready for a night on the town?  Or is she waiting for somebody to mount her from behind, one hand on her hip and the other tangled up in her hair?  Either one is exciting to consider, but she doesn’t arch her back so seductively when she’s primping.

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Imagine that you’re returning to your room from the ice machine when you happen upon an open door and this wanton sight within.  Do you take her seductive pose atop the bed for an invitation, or do you merely admire her beauty and continue on?

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

One thing I love about Jill is the way she doesn’t stop until I cum.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

The matter is complicated further by society’s attempted conditioning of women to be sexually reactive rather than proactive, and to derive little or no pleasure from the act. Such an attitude brings with it shame, and can prevent women from feeling comfortable giving proper consent. While some may conceivably mean yes but say no for fear of looking like a slut, for the vast majority of human beings the word “no” is not an invitation to take things further.

It is this wholesale misunderstanding of sexual politics that gave birth to “No means no”, a long-lived anti-rape slogan intended to raise awareness and turn the tide on the rising number of sexual assaults. I remember seeing public service announcements on television in the early 1990s decrying rape, in particular acquaintance rape on college campuses. Obviously I’m wholeheartedly opposed to any form of sexual assault, but it never occurred to me that such a thing might be the result of the perpetrator or even the victim not understanding the meaning of a two-letter word. That adults need the meaning of “no” explained to them is upsetting, and seems to point to our collective lack of evolution.

Unwillingness to accept a firm “no” is not limited to the sexual realm. When a parent refuses to give a child a cookie before dinner, the child doesn’t actually believe that the parent means yes. The child may keep asking in the hopes that he or she will receive a different answer, or even simply take a cookie despite the refusal. The difference is that at worst, an unauthorized cookie will spoil the child’s appetite for dinner. Failing to heed a refusal for sex from one’s date has much more serious, long-lasting ramifications.

I’ve always understood that no means no, and that despite any societally-imposed shame she might feel, if a woman wants sex she should be mature enough to say so. While I was aware that she might be concerned over how she would be perceived, I am neither a mind-reader nor am I the sort of man who disregards a refusal; I don’t play guessing games and I value honesty.  Additionally I was never one to judge a woman negatively for her sexual agency, and I always did my best to convey that before sex occurred so that any woman with whom I had sex would feel comfortable.

Last week the California State Senate unanimously passed a bill requiring all state universities to agree upon a standard of affirmative consent and include verbiage pertaining thereto in their definitions of consensual sex. Termed the Yes-Means-Yes bill, its intention is to reduce the number of sexual assaults on the state’s college campuses, much like the aforementioned “no means no” campaign.

However, whereas the purpose of “no means no” was to teach respect for a woman’s right of refusal, Yes-Means-Yes is about teaching consent as an “affirmative, conscious and voluntary agreement to engage in sexual activity” (per the just-passed bill). If California Governor Jerry Brown signs the bill into law, implied or nonverbal consent will no longer count. Which means that if you’re a Solo-cup-wielding douchebag frat bro and you’re dragging some blackout-drunk or ecstasy-laden sorority chick back to your USC dorm for the purposes of a little “she can’t say no” action, guess what? You’re a rapist now.

Well, you always were. But now the State of California agrees with me.

I hate that I have to actually explain this. I hate that there exists a subset of “humanity” (note the quotes; I don’t consider them human beings, but they have Social Security numbers and a pulse if not a heart to stimulate said pulse) who consider such a thing acceptable.  Of course she can’t give consent, you dime-store Casanovas. Learn the meaning of the fucking word.

And while you’re learning, realize that your need to ply a woman with mind-altering substances both legal and illegal doesn’t make you a good catch. It makes you the kind of jerkoff who couldn’t convince a woman in her right mind to let you put your dick in her. Think about that for a second. Even the most socially awkward dweebs can get laid without getting their partners fucked up.  I’m living proof of that.

As a guy who’s always required express consent from his bedmates, I find it infuriating that we have to resort to legislation to fix this epidemic. We couldn’t just police ourselves, couldn’t take a second to ask ourselves “Could what I’m doing here possibly be wrong? Is this the kind of thing that, if I believed in Hell, could lead me down such a path?” Or, since I’m no proponent of religion or even spirituality, perhaps “Does having sex with a woman under these circumstances make me a shitty human being?”

Please don’t misunderstand: I’m not necessarily opposed to the bill. I just wish it wasn’t necessary. I wish that decades of rampant rape culture, victim-blaming, and entitlement hadn’t set us on this course. I wish that unrepentant misogyny didn’t permeate virtually every single aspect of American culture from sports to business to the arts to comics and gaming.

I’m not trying to pretend that I’m some awesome guy, but I don’t believe I’ve ever had sex without being absolutely sure that my partner wanted to. No false modesty here; I’ve had more partners than I can easily count, and generally-speaking the words “Is it okay if” are as much a part of my sexual bag of tricks as, say, finding the G-spot. That includes my most frequent sex partner, myself. Every time I’ve had sex with me, there was no ambiguity. I made sure that I wanted it as much as I did.

All joking aside, for every woman who was annoyed by my frequent check-ins, I hope there was at least one who was reassured by them.  In fact, I hope that most of them were reassured. I hope that these women felt no fear that I, a man who they may not have known very well or in some cases had only just met, wouldn’t disregard their safety. I may not have asked for permission every time my hand drifted an inch or two, but I did my best to foster an environment wherein the woman I was with felt confident asking me to slow it down a bit, or simply telling me no outright.

This is why I don’t watch much mainstream porn. For me to find a scene arousing, I need to believe that the woman or women involved are as into it as the men. These days mainstream porn studios all seem to be stuck in the same rut of degradation and humiliation. I’m not judging anyone who gets off on this sort of thing; I’m simply pointing out that I do not. Even when merely simulated, degradation doesn’t do it for me, because it carries with it an implied lack of consent.  At best it gives the impression that the female performer is only there because she needs quick cash or because some control freak suitcase pimp of a significant other has pressured her to do it.

I understand that there are women who get off on the degradation, and I absolutely respect that. But I’m guessing that if some semi-anonymous nineteen-year-old porn starlet looks fearful when surrounded by a quartet of leering naked men, she’s probably not channeling Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo. It isn’t a turn-on for me, whether we’re talking about men spitting on a woman, or forcing open her mouth and pinching her nose shut while she gives them head, or making her rim them when it’s clear she’d rather be anywhere else and then throwing handfuls of cash at her as they kick her out of their vehicle.

As you might expect, there is resistance to the Yes-Means-Yes bill. Critics argue that it is overreaching and draconian, and claim that even if the granting of consent was provable after the fact the law would ultimately still be unenforceable.

I remember my college days in the mid-1990s, when women didn’t seem quite as marginalized as they do today.  In this much more politically-correct time, it was drummed into the collective brain of my generation that getting explicit consent was vital, so much so that the phenomenon was frequently satirized in the form of crude cartoons and comedy sketches depicting amorous couples stopping just long enough to have a formal contract notarized allowing sex to take place without legal or criminal ramifications.

I’m not saying that misogyny didn’t exist during the 1990s, nor am I suggesting that rape didn’t occur; far from it. But I am saying that there didn’t seem to be quite as much victim-blaming as there is today. Sexual assault appeared to be, at least to my idealistic eyes, a crime that was likely to be taken more seriously than, say, feeding a parking meter.

So to everyone who’s up in arms over this bill and worried about government overreach, I guess maybe don’t rape anybody?  Seriously, be absolutely sure you have express consent from your intended bedmate before you make any overt sexual advances. It’s not hard, guys. Common courtesy.  Forget about the whole “staying out of jail” thing and obtain consent because it’s the right thing to do.  Besides, if you’re not sufficiently confident in yourself to ask her to her face whether she’d like to have sex, maybe you’re not responsible enough to have sex.

I know, I know, it’s not that simple.  What if a woman lies and says she never consented when she really did?  I suppose that is a fair point, so I’ll go a step further:  Don’t act like a raging misogynist.  Don’t make or laugh at rape jokes.  Don’t post photos you took of your girlfriend or even some random lay on the internet unless she asks you to.  In fact, if she does ask you to, consider getting the request in writing so that there are no misunderstandings later.  And further, treat women in general as though they matter to you.  I’d say don’t slut-shame them, whether they have sex with you or with everybody but you, but by this point that should be obvious.  What I really suggest is that you absolutely revere them, from the middle-aged coffee shop waitress to the young woman who tears your ticket at the movies to your mother’s cleaning lady.  And definitely revere your mother, though I hope that goes without saying.

That way, in the event that the nightmare of every man who stands in opposition to this bill actually comes to pass, i.e. a woman you’ve taken to bed accuses you of not obtaining her consent afterwards, you can simply lie back and let your character speak for you.  Everyone who knows you will rush to your defense and tell anyone who’ll listen, from the media to the police to the prosecutor, that you have nothing but respect for women.  Because you do.

I do not in any way believe that two wrongs make a right.  However, if you’re a man who’s now afraid to make yourself vulnerable by having sex with a woman because of the possibility that you’ll be victimized, congratulations.  Now you know how women feel when they have sex with men.

Earlier this week I read that the House Judiciary Committee held hearings on a bill that would force victims of rape amd incest to submit proof of their victimization.  When someone suggests that California’s Yes-Means-Yes bill goes too far, such reminders that the U.S. government is made up of the same brand of misogynist strengthens my position.

Cross your ankles, darling, until you feel me behind you. Then uncross them, and arch your back just a little higher.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

The sight of my wife in heels and nothing else always excites me.  Of course, the sight of my wife in any state of dress or undress excites me.  We hope it excites you as well.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!