I Can Be Pretty Clueless When It Comes to Women

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Seen on Etsy.

I know what you’re thinking:  Really?  Jack, the guy who comes across like he’s got all the game in the world, doesn’t get women?

First off, slow down.  I never said I don’t get women.  (But sometimes I don’t; they’re extraordinarily complex.)  What I’m referring to specifically is my occasional inability to read a signal.  This deficiency doesn’t affect me as much now as it did when I was single.  Being happily married, I don’t find myself on the receiving end of signals from available, interested women every day.  I notice them when they do occur, and I am generally intrigued, though given the nature of my relationship it’s not something of which I am generally able to take advantage.  The irony, of course, is that being married affords me the clarity that allows me to read signals – something I didn’t always have in my single days.

I’m a pretty straightforward guy.  I always have been.  I value honestly, and I never cared much for the games society requires one to play when dating.  If I liked someone, I would tell them so.  If I had a good time on a date, I would probably call the other person the next day, rather than allowing for some arbitrary post-date waiting period.  Maybe that eagerness killed off promising relationships before they had the chance to get off the ground, but if being in a relationship required me to change who I am as a person so as to better conform to what was expected of me, I was usually content to hold off until I found a more suitable partner.

It is this straightforwardness that is partially to blame for my occasional inability to read a romantic or sexual signal.  If someone thought I was attractive, it would have been a lot more expedient for them to simply say so, rather than perform some manner of complicated interpretive dance.  I understand that some people – for the purposes of this post I’m talking about women, though I am not implying that this does not apply to men – are afraid to take a risk lest they be rejected, or are unwilling to be completely honest about their sexual desires for fear that they will be judged.  But the fact is, not every man knows what to do with a signal of interest when one is thrown their way. This has certainly been true of me at various points in my past.

I’d actually forgotten about this phenomenon, this wealth of missed opportunities, until I was chatting with our friend Nastassja Kinky, and she mentioned having “a huge blindspot” when it comes to reading signals from flirty people.  Suddenly I was reminded of several instances, most of them during my college years, in which I missed a signal, and with it the opportunity for relatively effortless sex.

Don’t get me wrong, even then I was more than capable of reading a signal under the right conditions.  But in my younger days – think age eighteen, newly arrived at an institution of higher learning, surrounded by attractive, sexually-available women, and completely at the mercy of my overacting hormones – asking me to focus on body language and other subtle cues was like asking me to stay awake during my 8:00 AM class.  Simply put, it wasn’t happening.
During my first semester in college, I found myself participating in a group project with three other students.  One was a fairly attractive blonde woman of nineteen.  We knew each other from high school where she was a year ahead of me, though I don’t believe we spoke to each other more than twice.  Our desks grouped into informal circles, this young lady was seated across from me, and I noticed that when we spoke she maintained eye contact.  Her face was warm, more than friendly.  She didn’t hold eye contact with the other two students in our group as long as she did with me, and I found that promising.  
I also noticed that she got very fidgety everytime we spoke.  She would play with the hair scrunchie she kept around her wrist.  She would drum her fingers on the top of her desk.  She would touch her face or rock slowly in her seat.  These subtle movements seemed to betray the confidence she demonstrated in holding my gaze, but at the time I did not understand their significance.  
A few weeks after the project had wrapped up, one of the other students in our group asked me if there was anything going on between her and I.  When I told him no, he posited that she liked me, as she was throwing off very obvious indicators of interest.  It turns out that fidgeting is a common means of releasing tension, including sexual tension that occurs during flirting.  Unfortunately, when I failed to follow through, she’d lost interest and presumably found some other guy to date or just fuck who knew how to read a signal.  Lesson learned.
When I was twenty years old, an old friend of mine returned home during her summer break from school.  She and I had known each other since we were seven years old, and while high school didn’t find us as close as we were during elementary school, we still considered ourselves good friends.  During her visit, we hung out and got caught up on the previous couple years.  Remember, this was the mid-nineties, and social networking was in its infancy.   Myspace, Facebook, and Twitter were years away.  Although we both used email, for some reason we weren’t regularly emailing each other.
We also went out several times.  I say “went out” to indicate that we turned off the television and actually left whichever house served as our meeting place.  We went to the movies.  We hung out at the mall.  We went to the beach.  I must state for the record that at no time did any of our outings take on the connotation of a date.  We each paid our own way.  There was no romance, nor was there any intimacy or closeness beyond that of two friends.  Sometimes we would call mutual friends to join us.  There was no good night kiss at the end of an evening out.  There was no pressure; we were simply two individuals spending time together, one of us male and the other female.
She also mentioned her tongue stud several times.  The first time, it was just the usual mindless, boring, getting-to-know you chit-chat: 

So what have you been up to so far this summer?

Oh, not much.  Sold my books back, booked my flight home, got my tongue pierced, put my car in storage and flew home.

With each increasing mention, she was a bit more forward, and it was obvious that she was coming onto me.  Sorry, let me rephrase that.  It’s obvious now.  At the time, not so much.  This is easily the case of missed-signal obliviousness of which I am the most sheepish, even some sixteen years later.  In fact, when she and I ran into each other at a party in 1999, I was embarrassed at my earlier failure to get a clue.  She didn’t mention it.

You know that a tongue stud is really good for oral sex, right?

Yeah, I saw Pulp Fiction.  So what?

So why did I miss this particular signal?  I’m guessing that a major reason was our long-standing platonic friendship.  Because of the fact that, while we were in elementary school, we attended each other’s birthday parties, had dinner at each other’s houses at least once a week, and played Transformers in her enormous backyard, I assumed that she didn’t view me as a possible sexual partner.  I knew that sex was a potential friendship-killer, and it didn’t occur to me that she could have been as capable of emotionless sex as I was.  
As I mentioned above, when it occurred to me that I missed out on the chance for some head (at the very least), I was stunned.  Oh, and she eventually told me.  She eventually said outright that she was giving me signals.  She wasn’t upset; she was more amused that I didn’t reciprocate.  I pleaded ignorance, and told her that, due in part to our friendship, I wouldn’t in a million years have thought that she was scoping me out in that fashion.  Lesson learned.  I’m just going to say it, guys:  If a woman makes repeated mention of her tongue piercing, she may be willing to suck your cock.
Oh, and she had a boyfriend at the time.  So there was also that.
Some years later, there was a grad student with whom I was friendly.  I’d known her for a year or so, as she had been a T.A. in one of my classes.  She was a couple years older than me, which probably made her twenty-four or twenty-five.  She was pretty, bespectacled with black hair usually tied back in a pony tail.  We’d talked on several occasions, and we seemed to have a lot in common, notably comics and movies.  At the time, I was content to consider her a friend, especially given that I was dating someone semi-seriously.
That’s part of the reason why I missed her signals.  They weren’t overt signals, really; sometimes I’d be hanging out in the cafeteria or on the quad with a few friends.  She’d come up and say hi, and despite the fact that she knew some of my friends it was clear that she was saying hi just to me.  I didn’t realize this was a sign of interest, and in fact I’m not sure I even noticed that she was only addressing me.  But my friends noticed, and once again it took an unbiased male to bring to my attention exactly what was happening.  
As previously stated, I was technically unavailable.  Though you might not believe it, I wasn’t the sort of guy who was constantly on the prowl for other women.  Therefore, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to realize that she was interested in me.  This actually happened a lot while I was in a relationship; actively dating someone usually boosts one’s confidence, and regular sex takes away some of the urgent “I need to get laid” desperation.  Both of these factors increase a man’s sex appeal.  Therefore, attached men are frequently flirted with, whether they realize it or not.
After my friend brought to my attention the grad student’s behavior, I observed for a couple weeks, and came to the conclusion that he was right.  She and I hooked up a couple times when I was single.  Unlike my old elementary school friend, however, she was most definitely not capable of separating love and sex.  Which sucks.
I’m not clueless solely when it comes to reading signals sent by single women.  In my mid-twenties I missed an opportunity to have a threesome with a married couple.  I’ve blogged about this incident in greater depth, but suffice it to say that the same social constraints that caused me to overlook opportunities with the aforementioned single women also led to my being a spectator while two of my friends had sex, even though they were open to more.  Look, they didn’t make an actual verbal invitation, and I didn’t want to get my ass kicked.
In conclusion, misinterpreting or overlooking a sexual or romantic signal is something that happens to most of us at one time or another.  There’s a very fine line between being so clueless that you miss an obvious overture, and being so clueless that you see one when it has not been made.

Sinful Sunday: Diamond Jubilee

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As this week marks the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II, the theme of Sinful Sunday is Rude Britannia.  In keeping with the theme, we visited a British-themed inn and pub here in Northern California.

 They’ve got not one but two double decker buses parked outside.
Apparently one is the pub’s designated smoking section, while the other is for…video games? 

 Jack wishes they had the TARDIS instead of this telephone box.
It’s not a mailbox, it’s a postbox.

 Jack points out that you can see the reflection of my legs in the hubcap of this taxi.
See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Peeping

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My heart pounds with excitement and anticipation as I crouch beside the door.  I’ve been waiting for this a very long time.
I peer into the keyhole, feeling cold metal against my face.  I see the shower curtain pulled shut, and I imagine Ginger behind it.  I picture her shampooing her hair, and soaping up her body.  I imagine that her full breasts are covered with bubbly lather and in desperate need of a warm hand.  I imagine standing behind her, my hardness right up against her as my hand settles into the warmth at the junction of her thighs.  
I imagine Ginger standing before me, her full, pleasing breasts pressing against my chest like vine-ripened tomatoes.  I picture her hand closing around my erection, stroking it in a tight fist.  I fancy that I can taste her lips and tongue against my own, that I am aware of our hearts beating in unison.  Speaking of heartbeats, my own continues to pound.  Mentally I will it to slow down, to hush, lest my voyeuristic tendencies are discovered.  
I imagine Ginger kissing down my neck, along my shoulder, and down my chest.  I picture her pausing long enough to draw my sensitive nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue all around it before continuing on her way.  In my mind she drops to her knees, kissing down my stomach and finally wrapping her lips around my throbbing, eager cock.  For a moment, I lose myself in that little fantasy, wishing desperately that it is reality.
At last the water is shut off.  My heartbeat thunders in my chest.  The anticipation is almost too great to bear until at long last the shower curtain slides open, revealing Ginger in all her radiant glory.  Naked, she is truly a sight to behold.  Her curves are exquisite, the sum total of her every beautiful inch no less than a masterpiece of feminine beauty.
She reaches for a towel and begins to dry herself.  As well as the sight, I enjoy the voyeuristic thrill of observing her in a vulnerable moment.  My cock pulses and palpitates in my jeans, straining at the material as though threatening to bore its way free.  I lower a hand to it in the hopes of calming it down.
Ginger turns to face the door.  Her eyes focus on the doorknob.  I freeze, my heart leaping in my chest.  She can’t possibly know I’m there, can she?  She can’t possibly see my eye through that tiny hole.  I can’t tell whether she’s caught me.
“All right,” she says at last.  “You’ve had your little thrill.  Now are you going to come in here and fuck me or not?”
She’s so accommodating. (451/500)
Behind the Scenes
There was no new Flash Fiction Friday prompt this week.  When I complained on Twitter that I was having trouble coming up with something spontaneous to post in its place, GingerBlackfox suggested that I take inspiration from a recent photo she posted.

@jackandjillcpl write something inspired by my latest image and the word “Hush” please?
— GingerBlackfox (@GingerBlackfox) June 1, 2012

In addition to the required word designated above, she suggested a word limit of 500 or 1,000 words, whichever I found more suitable.  As you know if you participate in Flash Fiction Friday or if you read my Flash Fiction Friday posts, the maximum word count is usually less than 150.  Thus, even 500 was relatively extravagant, though it did present its own unique challenges.
In particular, after months of working with a much smaller word limit, I had to push myself to write something that suited 500 words.  I had to consciously remind myself that I wasn’t likely to run out of words, and that if I did I could always extend the count to 1,000.  
Deleted Scenes
Given the high word limit, there were no elements of this story that had to be excised for lack of space.  However, while I knew from the beginning that this story would involve voyeurism, there were a couple different concepts I considered.  One was that the narrator observes and leaves the scene without Ginger noticing.  In another, Ginger notices.  To the surprise of the narrator she is excited by being observed, and invites him in.  Ultimately I decided to write a story wherein the voyeurism was planned by both participants.
If space allowed, I planned to include a sex scene following Ginger’s “discovery” of the narrator’s voyeurism.  While writing the story, however, I decided that the twist – that Ginger is aware of her observer – made for a better ending.  Therefore I included the sex scene as a figment of the narrator’s hopeful imagination.
Soundtrack
Something slow and sensual would probably work here.  How about “Feelin’ Love” by Paula Cole?

Formspring Friday: Ethics

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Two questions in one: if you’re sleeping with someone who’s partner doesn’t know are YOU also cheating, or is the cheating only on your lover’s part? ALSO… can you be ethically non-monogamous if you’re sleeping with someone who is unethically so?
If you are engaged in a sexual relationship with someone whose primary partner is unaware, you are not cheating unless you yourself also have an unwitting primary partner.  Given that this was not mentioned in the question, we will assume that this is not the case, and that for all intents and purposes you are unattached.
That being the case, while you are complicit in your lover’s deceit, as a single individual you are not cheating.  Our definition of cheating as it pertains to this question is a violation, whether clandestine or otherwise, of any boundaries that govern a relationship.  Even in sexually non-monogamous relationships, such boundaries exist; possible boundaries may include but are not limited to emotional fidelity, kissing on the lips, or certain sexual acts reserved only for the primary partner.  
Returning to our assumption that you are an unattached individual, no rules or boundaries have been agreed upon as there is no primary relationship; there is only the sexual relationship with the already-attached partner.  There are no rules to break or boundaries to be violated.  Therefore cheating, based on our aforementioned definition, is impossible.  
That is not to say that you are necessarily blameless if you knowingly help your lover violate the boundaries of his or her primary relationship.  Obviously everybody has their own set of morals and ethics; we realize that what is acceptable for one individual will not be for another.  For some, it is completely ethical to sleep with someone who is attached.  After all, the other person is the only one violating a partner’s trust.  Additionally, if the other person is determined to cheat, he or she will do so whether with you or with someone else.
For others, however, sleeping with someone whose partner is unaware is just as unethical as actually cheating.  It is likely that such a viewpoint stems from society’s tendency to blame an extramarital dalliance on the “other woman” or “other man”, when at least half of the blame – if not more than half – should be placed on the cheating partner.  Actually, scratch that last bit.  Society should actually get its head out of its ass, realize that someone else’s affair is none of its concern, and quit throwing blame.  
Our feeling is that you cannot be ethically non-monogamous if you knowingly sleep with someone who is in a closed relationship, or who is otherwise violating pre-existing boundaries.  That is not to say that we have never cheated on a partner, nor that we have never been with someone who we knew was cheating.  We can’t even promise that we would never sleep with someone – presumably together – whose partner was unaware.  This is not our ideal scenario, however, as we prefer bedmates who are free of attachment.  However, we acknowledge that were such a lapse to occur it would constitute unethical behavior on our part.  We accept that.
As always, we do not judge, nor do we necessarily condone.  We do not wish to pass our feelings off as some manner of sweeping societal norm.  Neither do we suggest that our way is the only right way.  This is simply our two cents.
If you want to ask us anything, drop us a line on Formspring, or use the handy Formspring widget on the right-hand side of our blog.  We like sexy questions!  To see who else participated this week, visit Twitter and search for #FormspringFriday!

The Naughty Hangout: Summer Fun

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This week, the sole theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Vacation”.  My summer vacation starts very soon, and I plan to spend as much of it as possible lounging by the pool, showing off my pretty pink toes, and my pretty pink nipples.

Go see who else is being naughty this week!

-Jill

Finale

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I hear the curtain slide along the rod.  Once you’re in, it slides back.
Your breath is hot.  You kiss me, sucking softly on the back of my neck even as I lather up my hair.  The shampoo forms a thick foam beneath my fingers as I dig down to my scalp.  
“Let me help you with that.”  You move close to me, your breasts pressing against my back.  You put your hands over my own, twenty digits moving in concert through my hair.  When my hair is flocked with soft, bubbly lather, you turn me around and we kiss.

I can taste your hunger, your urgency.  Your mouth presses against mine, our lips melding as though we are of the same flesh.  Our tongues swim back and forth from one mouth to the other as the hot spray cascades over us.  The water agitates the shampoo in my hair, washing it over my shoulders and down my chest.  You gently push me back into the water, rinsing me clean.

Now it’s my turn.  I pick up the bottle of body wash and squeeze some of the blue liquid onto my hands.  I return the bottle to the edge of the tub and soap up your full-round breasts.  My touch stiffens your nipples, leaving them flecked with lather.  From there, my hands travel over your stomach, seeking warmth between your thighs.

You open to my touch.  I kiss your neck softly as my fingers find your engorged bud.  You moan with delight as I trace circles around it, feeling it throb eagerly.  You sway your hips, your legs undulating around my hand.  I return my other hand to your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple as the first waves of your orgasm overcome you.  As I tug, you writhe against the heel of my hand, bracing yourself against me for a very intense climax.

When your moans subside, you drop slowly to your knees.  Your fingers  stroke my chest even as you take my hardness deep into your mouth.  While you focus on me, I shampoo your hair.  I know how much excitement you get from feeling my fingers – or anyone’s – moving along your scalp, and I imagine that you are pleasuring yourself.

I continue to work my soapy hands through your hair, knowing it turns you on.  I picture your fingers parting your pretty lips just as my own did earlier.  I picture you slipping two and then three fingers inside, while rubbing your needy clit with an able thumb.  Between the thoughts in my head, and your lips wrapped around my cock, the stimulation is too much.  I take your hair in my fist, gripping tightly, and pull your mouth further onto me as I ejaculate.  The sounds of my pleasure echo off the cold tile walls.
You stand up, swallowing heartily, and step under the spray to rinse the soap and shampoo from your body.  We kiss, and then we wrap ourselves in towels and dry off.
***
This marks the final installment of the Wanton Wednesday meme.  We have enjoyed participating over the past few months, as the relatively unstructured format of Wanton Wednesday inspired us to blog a bit more than we might have otherwise.  Thanks to Dangerous Lilly for hosting Wanton Wednesday, and through it, for introducing us to a plethora of exciting bloggers.
It is our intention to continue to post something vaguely erotic every Wednesday in addition to our weekly Retro HNT picture.  But now it’ll be without the Wanton Wednesday label.  We will likely continue these posts as part of Rebel‘s Wicked Wednesday meme.

Retro HNT: Washed Out

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“Washed Out”, posted July 1, 2010

In 2010, we posted fifty-two consecutive weeks of pictures at OHNT.  We’re posting them on our blog, one per week.  They can be found here, along with background information and all the comments they received.

TMI Tuesday: May 29, 2012 – It’s just a fantasy

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Jack’s Answers
1. If your lover was turned on by forced feminization would you participate (giving or receiving)?
*forced feminization is the practice of enforcing activities on a male, which are typically associated with women, to make him submissive. For example: wearing lingerie, heels, make-up.
Of course I would.  A big part of any relationship, whether sexual or otherwise, is compromise.  I believe in give and take, and understand that sometimes one must (or at least should) indulge his or her partner’s sexual kinks, provided that they are reasonable.  (The parameters of “reasonable” may vary.)  I’m not turned on by forced feminization – as far as I know Jill isn’t either – but I am seriously turned on by the idea of having a partner who is completely satisfied in every possible way.  So if this was Jill’s thing, yes, I would participate.

It worked out pretty well for this guy.

2. When you have sexual dreams or fantasies that are aggressive or cruel, does it worry you?
I don’t really have sexual dreams or fantasies that are cruel.  I tend to be dominant, so my dreams and fantasies – as well as my reality – often involve me taking control.  While I might classify this as aggressive, it’s never cruel, and in fact the notion of non-consent as part of sex play is something that doesn’t really appeal to me; I am hard-pressed to take the aggression to that level even when it’s requested.  However, even if my sexual fantasies were full of the sort of belligerence and hostility that would make a psychiatrist see dollar signs, I doubt it would worry me as I have no trouble separating fantasy and reality.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.

3. Tell us your hottest filthiest fantasy, right now, in 100 words or less. This is the fantasy about your desires that you probably never share, maybe they even go against your morals, or are societal taboos.
Jill.  Two of her sisters.  (She knows which ones.)  Lube.  Three vibrators.  Two dildos.  One harness.  Me.  Camera.  And then I fuck all three of them.

4. Which super hero would you like to have sex with? Why?
a. Aquaman
b. Superman
c. Wonder Woman
d. She-Ra
None.  As a lifelong Marvel Comics fan I take umbrage over the fact that no Marvel superheroes are represented here.  I mean, seriously – three DC characters, two of them male; and a He-Man ripoff designed to sell toys to little girls in the 1980s?  I’m no DC fan, but at least include Catwoman; fanboys always gravitate to the leather-clad bad girl.  Given that The Avengers, a film based on a Marvel Comics property, spent three weeks at the top of the box office this month, you’d think they’d throw in Thor and Black Widow.  As for my answer, I’m definitely going outside the box here.  Once upon a time I would have been inclined to pick the X-Men’s Rogue, who was my superhero crush back in my hardcore comic geek days.  Unfortunately, the fact that you can’t physically touch her without getting your shit fucked up would be a big deterrent for me.  These days, I’d be inclined to pick Storm, particularly as drawn by Dave Cockrum in her debut in Giant-Size X-Men #1; or by Jim Lee in 1991’s X-Men #1.  Though I’ll admit it’s an iconic look, I was never particularly wowed by Paul Smith’s interpretation of the character, which saw her clad in black leather and sporting a mohawk.  That said, I wouldn’t kick Mohawk Storm out of bed.  Were I forced to choose a character from the above list, I suppose I would go with She-Ra, if only because she carries a weapon called the Sword of Protection.  Presumably this means we wouldn’t have to use condoms or birth control.  Anyway, apologies for the geek-out.  I presume Jill’s answer won’t be so obsessive-compulsive and reflexively irate.
5. Knowing there’s a hot young couple in the adjoining hotel room, would you press your ear against the wall to hear the action on the other side?
I hope that I wouldn’t have to!  One of the things that really turns us on is listening (or watching) someone without their knowledge.  I’m not talking about peeping through a window, as we would never deliberately invade someone’s privacy.  But were we in a hotel room and there was some manner of noisy sex occurring on the other side of the wall, we would definitely use it as fuel for our own lovemaking.  (Well, provided the baby wasn’t with us.)  Actually, last month when Jill and I spent a couple days alone in a hotel, we found ourselves having very vigorous, very noisy sex at around 9:30 AM.  Apparently we were so loud that our neighbors didn’t need to press their ears against the wall.  And judging by the (non-sexual) pounding coming from their room, they weren’t pleased.

We, on the other hand, most definitely were.
6. Do you think the lure to live out sexual fantasies or have sex frequently is amplified by technology? Briefly explain.
Yes I do.  I think that technology, especially in the form of social networking, is a good way of sharing information.  We have been told that our blog, and some of the things we’ve tweeted, have inspired others to follow our lead.  Likewise, some of the things that we have read on the blogs of others have helped us broaden our own horizons.
Bonus: Describe your fantasy life in three (3) words.
Really fucking active.

As opposed to my real life.
Jill’s Answers
1. If your lover was turned on by forced feminization would you participate (giving or receiving)?
*forced feminization is the practice of enforcing activities on a male, which are typically associated with women, to make him submissive. For example: wearing lingerie, heels, make-up.
Forced feminization isn’t something I’m interested in.  But if Jack was into it, I would gladly indulge his fantasy.  After all, I have indulged many of his fantasies (and he has indulged many of my own).  For all I know I might be turned on by such a scenario, especially if he got a lot of pleasure from it.  It might become a regular thing, and who knows?  Maybe he looks amazing in one of my lacy thongs.

What do you know? I was right.

2. When you have sexual dreams or fantasies that are aggressive or cruel, does it worry you?
I can’t recall any dreams or fantasies that I’ve had that have been cruel.  I’ve had some sexual dreams that have involved BDSM, and some of them were very aggressive, but I was always the recipient of the aggression and not the aggressor.  In these dreams I was blindfolded and restrained, and the sex was rough though it wasn’t quite a rape scenario.  I remember being totally unafraid and even excited.  I knew that I wasn’t going to be seriously harmed in any way.  If my dreams or fantasies involved cruelty I don’t think it would worry me.  These are not scenarios in which Jack and I actively participate.  I love being restrained and spanked, but right now that is the extent of my BDSM interests.
3. Tell us your hottest filthiest fantasy, right now, in 100 words or less. 
This is the fantasy about your desires that you probably never share, maybe they even go against your morals, or are societal taboos.
Having sex with Jack, my college roommate’s husband, and my sister-in-law.  Sucking both guys’ cocks while she eats my pussy.  Fingering her G-spot while she fingers mine.  Both of us cumming and lapping up the other’s juices.  Sixty-nining with her while the guys fuck us.  Being double-penetrated by the guys while my sister-in-law and I make out.  Having her sit on my face so I can eat her pussy and ass while they fuck me.  All four of us climaxing simultaneously in a glorious cacophony of moans, grunts and “oh fuck”s.

Either that or D.V.D.A. 

4. Which super hero would you like to have sex with? Why?
a. Aquaman
b. Superman
c. Wonder Woman
d. She-Ra
When Super Friends was big in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I thought Aquaman was hot.  I know that I always go for tall, dark and handsome, but for some reason Aquaman turned me on.  When they redesigned him to look like a crazy mountain man with a scraggly beard and a nasty spear thing for a hand, that killed my girl boner.  To this day, though, I love having sex in water, whether it’s a pool, the shower, a hot tub, a lake, or other body of water.  I’ve never had sex in the ocean, but I bet it’s fabulous.

I bet Superman would be a pretty fun fuck, because he’s the Man of Steel and that would probably apply to his cock.  On the other hand, the guy can fly around the entire planet in seconds, so I’m guessing he doesn’t take his time.  Also, Jack reminds me of this discussion from Mallrats:

Wonder Woman is pretty sexy, and I bet her golden lasso would really come in handy.  I’ve never tried rope bondage before, but if she wanted to tie my arms behind my back and fuck me with a strap-on, I’m not going to tell her no.  Plus, having sex in her invisible plane would be a lot of fun.  I always wondered what good an invisible plane was if it didn’t render the people flying in it invisible also.  Basically it just looks like she can fly, but in a sitting position.

She-Ra?  She’s He-Man’s sister or something, right?

Okay, I’d fuck her.  Image courtesy of Johnny Haradrim 

 5. Knowing there’s a hot young couple in the adjoining hotel room, would you press your ear against the wall to hear the action on the other side?
I don’t think I would put my ear to the wall, but if I happened to overhear what they were doing, I’m going to enjoy it, not bury my head under the pillows.  I’d like to think, however, that I would be having even louder, more amazing sex than the people on the other side of the wall, so we might drown them out.  Actually, I like the idea of having a little contest to see which of us is louder.  Or better still, how about if we each move to our respective balconies so we can watch each other too?

6. Do you think the lure to live out sexual fantasies or have sex frequently is amplified by technology? Briefly explain.
I do believe that technology has expanded my sexual knowledge base.  Reading blogs regularly has introduced me to and familiarized me with all sorts of new sexual practices.  By reading about what other people enjoy we can decide whether these practices are suitable for us.  Also our blog has given us a place to discuss and explore our sexual selves.  Sex isn’t something that we can discuss candidly in a social setting with friends and relatives, so we appreciate the opportunity that blogging affords us.  Although I feel that people would be having sex without much of the technology that faciliates it nowadays, I do like the fact that the internet enables us to share this side of ourselves with people half a world away.

And let’s not forget about sex robots.

Bonus: Describe your fantasy life in three (3) words.
Sensual, erotic, passionate.

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!

Jill’s Look Back at Masturbation Month

jackandjillcpl20 Comments
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Although it isn’t over yet, we thought this would be an appropriate place to reflect on Masturbation Month, as well as masturbation in general.

For those not in the know, Masturbation Month began in San Francisco in 1995 as a response to the dismissal of Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders following controversial comments she made, namely that masturbation should be part of sex education.  Seventeen years later, the only thing about Dr. Elders’ statement that seems even remotely controversial is the bit about sex education.  Didn’t the religious right kill that off?

Created by renowned San Francisco, California adult retailer Good Vibrations, Masturbation Month is an event promoting masturbation as a healthy part of human development.  Masturbation isn’t something about which one should feel ashamed, nor is it merely a consolation prize when partnered sex isn’t an option.  Setting aside an entire month to celebrate the most gratifying activity in which one person can engage alone raises awareness and removes the stigma from self-love.

Though we have long been aware of Masturbation Month, this may have been the first year that we made a conscious effort to masturbate at least once every single day.  So far we have been successful.  Generally our daily masturbation has occurred when we were alone, though we’ve counted solo masturbation that occurs as part of our sex play and leads to orgasm as well.  We did not count any instances of Jack fingering or fisting me, nor did we count any handjobs that I gave him.  (Actually I didn’t give him any.  When my hand is on his cock, my mouth usually follows.)

As I’ve stated elsewhere on this blog, I try to masturbate in the shower every weekday morning before work, as I find that it puts me in a good frame of mind and makes me better able to tackle what is lately a difficult and stressful day.  Jack generally masturbates immediately before or immediately following his morning shower, as having a baby constantly underfoot can be a real boner-killer, and when Jack takes a shower the baby is usually in her playpen or otherwise occupied.  She’s still noisy, constantly singing or talking, but Jack is very proud of the fact that when he’s in a heightened state of arousal he can almost completely tune her out.

We’re both very open about masturbation.  I masturbated for Jack fairly early into our sexual relationship.  It wasn’t always so easy for me to be that honest with the men I slept with, certainly not early on, but Jack made it very easy for me to relax and not worry about judgment.  As for Jack, he doesn’t masturbate for me as often as I’d like him to, but that’s probably because I’m usually way too occupied with having him inside me to worry about getting a show.  But I do love to watch.

When I was young I masturbated primarily using my fingers.  I always enjoyed the slow, steady touch, gradually increasing in speed and pressure as my orgasm built.  I would usually draw circles around my clit, and just before orgasm hit I would move my fingers to my clit.  This became my favorite way to cum, and to this day direct pressure during climax never disappoints me.

I got my first vibrator when I was twenty-three.    It was a bullet with a cord attached to a control box.  I remember driving into San Francisco to go to Good Vibrations since I was worried about someone I knew seeing me walk into the seedy local porn shop in my neighborhood.  I made sure to hit the ATM on the way to Good Vibrations so that I could pay for my purchase without using a credit card.  I even bought the expensive batteries they sell so that I could try my toy out on the way home.  I stopped at a gas station and slipped the bullet into my panties.  I ran the cord out of my shorts and placed the control box into my pocket.  I was very glad that the top I was wearing was long enough to hide the cord completely.  I placed the control on the lowest setting and was on my way.

It was a very fun ride home, obviously.  I managed to keep the toy buzzing inside me for the entire ride without climaxing, which was probably a good idea considering that I was driving a car.  My orgasms tend to be very intense, eyes-roll-back-in-my-head kinds of things, and the last thing my parents would have wanted to hear was that their oldest daughter crashed her car because she was masturbating behind the wheel.

By the time I got home my panties were thoroughly soaked.  I should point out that “home” was my parents’ house, where I was staying for the weekend.  As soon as I got in, I ran upstairs to finish what I had started.  I turned the remote up to its highest level, closed my eyes, and lost myself in a fantasy.  At some point during my exploration my mom walked in to ask me a question.  On its highest setting, the toy was very loud, so I fumbled to turn the toy off and answer her question so she’d get the hell out of my room.  I don’t think she ever realized what I was doing.  After she left, it took me forever to get back on track and finally cum.

Pictured: About a third of the toys I own, and the ones I use most frequently.

Over the years, I have owned numerous rabbits, bullets, G-spot vibrators, regular vibrators, and even a Fuji massager that you would wear on your finger.  My favorite toy out of the many I own is the Eroscillator Jack bought me for Christmas the year before we got married.  It includes numerous attachments for a variety of sensations.  A close second is my current rabbit, which is a favorite when I want to get off while sucking Jack’s cock.  I don’t own a dildo, so it’s the toy that feels most like an actual cock, and when it’s inside me it feels like someone’s actually fucking me.  It’s probably the closest I’ll get to my MFM fantasy without actually doing two guys.

Before I owned an actual vibrator, I used an electric toothbrush and a cucumber.  Possibly strangest of all, I used a Popsicle while soaking in a tepid bath.  It felt good, and my rationale was that if I was going to put something sticky into my pussy, I might as well be in the bathtub in order to help with cleanup.  I later found out that introducing sugar into the vagina can lead to a yeast infection, though fortunately I didn’t get one.

Once I discovered Yahoo! Messenger, I quickly learned to type with one hand and pleasure myself with the other.  I really loved phone sex as well.  Sometimes I would find myself growing so aroused that all I had to do was grind my pelvis against my seat.  The circular movements I would make while gyrating against a chair or a couch cushion had the desired effect and I would climax almost instantly.  I didn’t even have to use my hand, let alone a toy.

I enjoyed webcamming when I was single.  (For the record, I still enjoy it now that I am married.)  On rare occasions I have even performed in front of a live audience.  One thing I have never done that I would really like to do is watch a woman masturbate while she watches me do the same.  That’s actually one of my favorite fantasies lately, and several times this month while masturbating I have imagined another woman on the bed beside me, or maybe sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, enjoying the sights and sounds of my performance and giving me one of her own.  I get wet just thinking about it.

Although my orgasms range from mild shocks to tingling, toe-curling whole body orgasms, the intensity usually depends on how much buildup I experience before climaxing.  If I’m in a rush and I just want to get off, the orgasm may be quicker, more shallow, and less intense.  But if I have half an hour or more in which to spoil myself, the orgasm, or more frequently the orgasms, will be much more enjoyable, with intense waves of pleasure radiating from my core out to my extremities.  Sometimes I can feel it in my fingertips.

I didn’t know how to find my G-spot until I met Jack.  I knew about the G-spot, I believed it existed, and I sure hoped that I had one, but I’d never been able to find my own, and none of my previous lovers had bothered to look.  The first time Jack and I talked about it, I was so excited to learn that he had found the G-spots of many of the women he’d been with.  I hoped he’d find mine!  He didn’t make me wait very long.  The first time I squirted, with his fingers pressing against my G-spot and his tongue lapping at my clit, I was equally excited and embarrassed.  I completely soaked him.  My worry was short-lived, as he was just as excited as I was.

Once I knew what a G-spot orgasm felt like, I began to try and achieve them on my own.  Riding my rabbit worked very well, and after I’d had a few orgasms my clit would be much more sensitive, I’d be more relaxed, and squirting would come easier.  Owning a Liberator Throe also helped relax me.  Before we got ours, if I didn’t have a towel under me I would hold back so I wouldn’t leave a wet spot.  I get very turned on when I know I won’t have to change the bedsheets.

Yesterday, Center for Sex & Culture held its annual Masturbate-a-Thon.  Much like any other event with a similar name (think marathon, walk-a-thon, bike-a-thon, swim-a-thon, or whatever), participants seek financial sponsorship and “come for a cause”.  As the Center for Sex & Culture is a mere half hour from our home, Jack and I planned to attend, and even declared our intention to do so in a recent TMI Tuesday post.  After all, what better way to simultaneously indulge our voyeuristic and exhibitionistic sides?

While researching the event, we came across photos from past Masturbate-a-Thons.  On the one hand, the photos made it clear that the event was a fun, low-key event attracting masturbators of all persuasions, shapes, sizes, races, and ages.  That’s definitely something we’d like to be a part of.  On the other hand, the fact that photos of the event exist were, to us, quite troubling as discretion is always at the forefront of our minds.  Sex is a huge part of our lives, and we enjoy thumbing our noses at the inexplicable taboo that surrounds it.  But given my profession, we have to seriously consider the possible consequences when planning something that is outside the boundaries of monogamous vanilla sex.

We inquired without response as to whether we could expect any kind of guarantee of privacy, though given the fact that everyone has a camera on their person at all times we were not optimistic.  As the event was divided into areas for males only, females only, and mixed-gender, we considered that perhaps there was an area where photography was specifically allowed and an area where it was prohibited.  We would have been okay with that, and would have stayed out of any part of the venue where our privacy might have been compromised.  Friends suggested donning masks, wigs, and/or dark glasses, and while this sounded like a feasible solution it also seemed to go against the spirit of the event.

We understand that the purpose of the Masturbate-a-Thon, as well as Masturbation Month, is to remove the shame and the stigma from something that is normal, positive, and even healthy.  We are one hundred percent in favor of changing society’s outlook on self-pleasure, of making it something that people can and do talk about candidly, without needing to whisper or giggle.  We hope that someday attitudes will be such that we don’t care whether we’re photographed masturbating in a group setting.  But until that day, we probably won’t be able to participate in such an event.

However, in the spirit of Masturbation Month, and because I was really looking forward to masturbating for an audience this weekend, I thought I would share a particularly intense orgasm.  Unlike many of our fellow bloggers, we’ve never posted an audio clip of me climaxing, as I’m kind of self-conscious about the sounds I make.  Yet now we’re posting video.  We hope you enjoy it.

(The “running water” sound you hear starting at around the thirty-five-second mark is me ejaculating.  This video will not play on iPhone.  If it doesn’t show up, you can view it here.)

-Jill