- Get a library card and reserve one book related to love or sex. I recommend Sex at Dawn, The Ethical Slut, The Five Love Languages
- Purchase one new sex toy that you previously did not know the use for until just now.
- Ask one question you’ve always been embarrassed to ask or have never known the answer to.
- Tell five people in your life who you are only moderately close to how you feel about them.
- Send a thank you note in the mail to someone who has done something for you lately.
- Have sex with your partner (or yourself) with the challenge of not orgasming for at least an hour.
- Make yourself a dinner that is both a guilty pleasure and makes your body feel good to eat it. For me it’s gigantic salads with lots of avocado.
- Wear something that makes you feel sexy and go out to dinner with your partner or a friend.
- Go on a solo adventure. Do something by yourself for yourself. My favorite thing to do is take myself on a coffee and book date.
- Spend one hour reading the news. I recommend reading The New York Times and The New Yorker. Local news is good too.
Finally, let me know if you do any (or all) of these challenges! Have an end of summer challenge of your own? Leave it in the comments!
The way we spend our days is the way we spend our lives. Similarly, the way we discuss something is often the way we come to see it as a whole. I was curious how some of the books on my shelves referenced the female orgasm. In particular, why is it that when I think of the female orgasm, certain things seem to come to mind? I’ve always felt as though there was a certain air of difficulty to the female orgasm. To that, I feel that much of the conversation around the orgasm is surrounded in some sort of mystery. What is it? How does it work? How does one obtain an orgasm?
I started by pulling out a stack of books from my shelf that referenced orgasms.
This is how female orgasms were listed in the indexes of the books shown.
Some of these books were required for courses, some were borrowed from friends (hello, I have your books!) and some were found on the street. Fucking Portland.
In order of how frequently they were mentioned in book indexes, these six topped the charts:
- Faking Orgasms
- G-Spot Orgasms
- Clitoral Vs. Vaginal Orgasms
- Physiological Mechanisms
- Sexual Fantasies
- Multiple Orgasms
This didn’t surprise me. A lot of functional knowledge and a lot of social interest.
The other subjects discussed were:
- orgasms in animals
- continual orgasms
- fickleness of orgasms
- prostitution and orgasms
- health and orgasms
- oxytocin and orgasms
- simultaneous orgasms
- hooking up and orgasms
- sexual dysfunction and orgasms
- difficulty achieving orgasms
- function of orgasms
- testosterone therapy and and orgasms
- orgasms in adult/child sex
- dildos and orgasms
- hormones and orgasms
- kinsey and orgasms
- orgasms during labor or childbirth
- pornography and orgasms
- infants and children and orgasms
- orgasms in lesbians
- orgasms in marital sex
- orgasms after menopause
- mutual orgasms
- phantom orgasms
- rapid orgasms
- sexual satisfaction and orgasms
- orgasms during sleep
- orgasms with vibrator
- alcohol and orgasms
- aging and orgasms
- ejaculation and orgasms
- inexperience with orgasms
- multiple orgasms
- oxytocin levels
- sexual response cycle
Obviously certain books focused on certain subjects. There wasn’t extensive information about hormones in all of the books, but there was in sexual pharmacology. Books like She Comes First focus more on what actually happens regarding pleasure during an orgasm whereas books like Sex at Dawn might talk about the purpose of an orgasm.
A lot of the information was condensed to make it easier to understand. There seems to be a lot of assumption that the female orgasm is:
1- Something that ends sexual intercourse
2 – The general purpose of sexual intercourse
3 – A failure of the body or a failure of pleasure (in not achieving)
I also found it interesting that there was a lot of focus given on the different types or orgasms women might have. G-spot, vaginal, clitoral, orgasms while we’re asleep, orgasms when we’re married, orgasms when we’re old. We want to know more more more about what exactly the orgasm is and how we can have it. No big surprise.
I think a lot of the issue with orgasms is this pressure we put on orgasms. To make them bigger and stronger and more powerful and just on time!
I didn’t see much in the books about the actual process of achieving an orgasm. The actual stimulation. The actual arousal. The actual physical act of having sex or masturbating.
There actually seemed to be a pretty big gap between “I’m aroused” and “I’m orgasming” and I found myself lingering there, wondering how we influence our orgasms between points A and B.
You know those necklaces that are broken hearts and one side says BF and the other side says FOREVER? Well, inevitably, you end up sharing those necklaces with someone you’ll only be friends with for another three years. What you really need to share with your BFF is something sexy. Something that reminds you and your best friend that forever is totally arousing.
Try these on for size:
Breast Mug – $10 (or 2 for $20)
My love for you is mammary. Add milk.
Chocolate Vagina Mold – $29 (or 2 for $58)
Your friend might not want to eat your actual vagina, but damn if she wont dig in to this. Beware of infection. Penis molds also available.
Pride Jock Straps – $16 (or 2 for $32)
His love for you is wrapped just around his wiener.
Just in Case condom case – $26 (or two for $52)
Nothing says I care about you and what happens to your genitals like a snappy condom case (with mirror.)
Moon Cup – $39 (or two for $78)
Because, well, your cycles have probably synced up by now.
Tango – $110 (two not necessary)
Bend over, lets have noncommittal sex between friends.
Pearly – $100 (or two for $200)
Pearly is a small, soft, easy to use mini-vibe. If you each have one, they can be friends.
A year ago my friends would have told me I had too many blogs. In fact, I had a small problem with creating blogs. Every couple of weeks I would come up with the best new idea ever for a blog and I would create a page, leaving it doomed to sit with one post for all eternity. Still, I was convinced that this was an important and worthy idea that simply became abandoned for the beast that is suggestivetongue.
I kept creating new blogs because I felt like I couldn’t do all of my writing here. To be true, I can’t, and I don’t. If I posted all of the things I wrote about, this blog would be a mammoth, character profiles, stream of consciousness, advice and sex talk, too-much-information personal stories, long drawn out theories about my experiences and my friendships, reflections on television and film, a book club, a coffee drinkers almanac, a drunken blur of beer recommendations, and a place where I posted photos of scones before I devoured them in a buttery whirlwind.
I feel like I am so many different parts of myself. Here we have compartmentalized just a few facets of that person. A little bit of sexuality. Some love, relationships, the littlest bit of health and psychology. But I am exploding outwards with everything else I have to say. Why do the number of Jeeps that play loud rap music increase tenfold when its sunny out? And, on that note, where does a Jeep go in the winter? What about baby strollers? Are there off road snow-tires for the baby stroller? Why don’t I ever see babies in the winter? Have I just not been looking? What makes a pizza crust so perfectly crunchy and soft on the inside? Could I have an experimental bake-off? When will fall hit? The leaves dropping all at once like, me, exhausted, throwing my sweater on the floor.
Today it was so hot I curled up to take a nap and the sun reached through the window with its barbs and sucked my moisture right out. I woke up dizzy and confused and disassociated wondering just what nutrients my body was lacking to maintain its composure. What would help me now? I am a sponge and if I get a little wet by god, I might just absorb everything around me.
Not quite so absorbent as when I was a kid, sticky and plastic, now I’m becoming myself. Mmm, that’s a thought. Becoming yourself. I thought of that the other day and my limbs felt harder and more present than they had before. I looked at my hand and thought I had earned these freckles. I had earned these scars. These arms have been with me 25 years, these same arms. That caused another round of disassociation, but a pleasant one.
My friends write blogs about other things in their life and I think I want to write about that too like a greedy child raising their hand call on me call on me call on me! I want to unzip myself and step out, unzip myself and step out, see the matryoshka doll inside.
I want to be all the parts of myself all at once and don’t know how.
This is a guest post of a readers experience with spanking.
I’ve been seeing a spanko, that’s someone with a spanking fetish, for a few months now, and when he first told me he was into spanking, I wasn’t sure what he meant. He asked me when the last time I had a proper spanking was, and I threw out a number for him. Spanking during sex? Well it had been a while. But I didn’t mind a few swats at my butt during sex. It was fun.
He asked if I knew what a proper spanking was, and I asked for a definition, “Not just a few smacks on your bottom during sex… A proper spanking means me sending you to your room, then coming in, putting you over my knee, yanking your pants down, and turning your bottom bright red like a naughty little girl deserves… ;)” I distinctly remember not being sure how I felt about that. I had been expecting a more brutal, BDSM-esque scene in my head. Paddles, whips, dungeon, the works.
But this… this was so, juvenile. He wanted to discipline me like I was a child, and it caught
me off guard. I told him I had never received a proper spanking, and he suggested that I was well overdue for one and asked me if I agreed. I told him perhaps. I wasn’t sure how I’d react mentally to it, but I was incredibly curious, and I wanted to experience it. I had just gotten out of a boring vanilla relationship, and here was a dashing young man, holding a hand out to me, re- welcoming me to the world of kink. I decided that I would give it an honest try at some point to see how I’d like it. I figured that if I enjoyed the minimal spankings during sex, I would probably enjoy a disciplinary spanking. That was my logic anyway.
The first time we ever sexted, he asked me if I owned a hair brush, and asked me spank myself with it. I, of course, didn’t. I was sitting in my jeans sexting back sexy words, pretending to be
a virtual vixen. Later, he asked me if I honestly spanked myself. I said no, because I felt a little silly.
That was just the start of things. We talked more about spanking. I began to research it more, listen to podcasts, and read literature on it. I wanted to find out all I could about spanking so that when I finally got mine I wouldn’t be a complete newb, although that is inevitable.
The first time I went to see him, he gave me 30 spankings for missing my bedtime. And it was exhilarating. I had to count each and every single one out loud for him. It was just after I said “thirty” that I knew that I wanted him to really spank me. The next few times I saw him, he spanked me again. But they were on the lighter side. None really hurt, none made me squirm. They were still fun and exciting, and exciting more so because I knew this was his fetish. I still wanted a proper spanking.
I would eventually get my lengthy spanking from him, but not without giving it to myself first.
I’d been trying to come up with interesting photos to take for him. The distance, even though it isn’t far, made it an event to go see him, so visual feasts were a requirement.
I was sitting at my desk, feet up, flipping through my phone, looking at the old photos I had taken for him before. Bum photos, mostly. He was an ass man. He loved bums, and he loved spanking them. I clicked my tongue, and stared at my desk. I could try searching how to take a sexy selfie, or look up inspiration, but I always found myself frustrated. These were only sexy because the women were paid to look good and were airbrushed to shit so any angle looked great.
It was then when I sighed, took out my hair tie, shook my hair out and grabbed a hairbrush. I sat up staring at it asking myself out loud why I hadn’t thought of this before. Phone in one hand, hairbrush in the other. Lightning struck and thunder sounded.
I nearly ran to my dresser, picked out a pair of black lace panties, a black and white skirt, and a white button up shirt. This was as close to school girl as I was going to get. I painted on some cat eye eyeliner, applied mascara and finished off the look with bright red lipstick.
I set up my phone so that it would take many photos at 1 per second. I pranced around a little bit first. Took photos of my bum in a skirt, the usually silly stuff. And then I grabbed the hair brush and took photos of myself with it, holding it against a butt cheek, swatting lightly at my bottom. I hit myself once, and hard, to see if it’d leave a mark of any sort. It kind of did. I took a photo and it didn’t show up as well as I wanted. So I spanked myself again, on the left cheek.
I kept going until it registered on the camera as a rosy pink colour. I could enhance it a little if I needed.
After goofing around a bit, I finally managed to get some photos I was happy with, from nice angles, and a variety of degree of dress. I picked out the ones I liked best and cropped them to frame the scene the way I wanted. I had changed into a comfy dress, taken most of the makeup off, and put my hair up in a bun. My work here was finished.
Just when I had a set of about 10 that I was happy with, my phone chimed. “What are you up to Miss?” he asked. His ears must have been burning.
“Naughty things.” I responded. I quickly changed the topic and asked how his night was.
He prodded at me to elaborate on “naughty things” a few times and I played coy until I sent him a photo of my unspanked bottom, thanking cycling for helping me build a better butt. He commented that my bum looked “oh-so-spankable”.
Perfect. Exactly what I wanted to read from him.
“Oh you think so do you?” I asked, and I sent another photo, this time one where I had a red mark on my left cheek. “Care to do the other side?” He told me he was speechless and couldn’t tell me how much he enjoyed that sight. I was pleased with his response. I had expected conversation to continue back along the non-sexual side, but the door had been opened.
When he began to ask questions, and I knew I had piqued his interest. Did you do it hard? Were you flinching by the end of it? I bet you didn’t have to spank yourself for long before your bum turned red.
He said that he had such a desire to drive up right away and spank me. Which was also perfect. I had just the photo for that. I sent him one where the pink mark was fading into my alabaster skin. He suggested it needed a renewed hue and then asked if I was alone.
I responded in the affirmative, my roommate was out. He asked if I agreed that it needed a renewed hue, and when I said, “Yes” he told me we would take advantage of the solitude.
“Go to your room if you are not already there. Pull your desk chair out and face the back of it.” “Ok.”
“Ok? Respond properly Miss.”
“Yes, Sir.” I typed back.
“Thank you. Place your hairbrush in the chair. Take a pillow from your bed and place it over the back of the chair.” I took a photo of the set up and sent it to him. “Perfect. Now, I want you to bend over the chair as far as you can… I want you to be double over as much as possible, bottom in the air”
I wasn’t actually planning on bending over my chair. It was too flimsy to support me. I paced slowly around my bedroom, still wearing the small dress that I had changed into after my mini photoshoot. Phone in one hand, hairbrush in the other. He asked me what my level of clothing was, and I told him. He instructed me to roll my dress up until butt was exposed and then run my fingers lightly over the skin. Squeeze firmly, lift and then let fall back into place.
I was still pacing slowly around my room, anticipating what he was going to ask me to do next and debating whether or not I was actually going to do it. He had asked me to spank myself before on skype, with just my hand, and I felt absolutely ridiculous. I looked around my room, clicked my tongue a few times and kept checking the text messages that were streaming in.
I eyed up my dresser, measured the height of my hips against it.
Hmmmm. I leaned over it.
A good height to rest on. I checked his last text. “Are you ready for your spanking, Miss?” he asked. I put the phone down in front of me, rolled up my dress and did exactly as he had told me a few messages before. Just to test the waters, and see how silly I felt. It wasn’t so bad, and it was just me alone in my room, so what would I have to be embarrassed of?
I grabbed my phone and typed back “Ready when you are, Sir.”
“Quite ready. I want you to begin by giving yourself 30 fast and solid snacks… Alternating cheeks”
I bit my lip in hesitation when I read that text. I glanced at the hair brush resting in front of me and back to the text on my phone screen. Part of me really wanted to do it but part of me was judging myself, at how silly this would look if someone walked in (a zero percent chance). I internally hum’ed and haw’ed, debating if I really was going to do this.
I went back up the message log and looked at the second photo I sent him, and his reaction to it. I wanted to please him, I wanted to experience an even more intense reaction to my spanking myself from him. It was then when most of my inhibition disappeared. I finally just thought, “Fuck it. I’m going all out. I’m sending him pictures, I’m sending him audio. Let’s do this. If he’s into it, what have I got to lose?”
I opened up an audio recording app on my phone, picked up the hairbrush, hit record and went to town for ten strikes. I stopped the recording at ten, and then gave myself twenty more. I stood up for a second, noting the sensation and my emotions. I felt… naughty? And pleased with myself that I had sucked it up. I was overcome with a sense of pride, and then, I was overcome with a sense of “How far can I take this?” What were my limits and limitations? It seemed to me that the best way for me to test my pain tolerance for spanking was on my own, and I had the perfect setup for that at the moment.
I sent him the ten second clip of my first ten spankings. He wasn’t expecting it, but he was pleased with the sounds. “Thirty more please. Harder.” I put the phone down and did as I was told. I struck my butt cheeks thirty more times as requested, harder and with no audio this time. When I finished, I let him know. He asked me how my bottom felt. Warm, tingling. “When you are ready, we will continue.” I told him I was fine.
“I want you to give yourself 12 with the brush. Record the audio, please.” I smiled. I was pleased to know he enjoyed the audio. I put my phone down in front of me, still leaning over the dresser, pressed record and hit each cheek forcefully with the brush. Each time I made contact, my skin would scream. I sent him the audio and eagerly awaited a response. It came quickly, “Very good, young lady. 12 more.” I whacked each cheek 6 times and then notified him when I was finished. “Put the brush down. And now, quickly, thirty more.” I felt a wave of confusion and embarrassment rush over me.
“With my hand?” I asked.
I bit my lip. What was it about my hand that seemed so much more ridiculous than the hair brush? Why was I so much more embarrassed using my hand? I wondered if I could just do it with the hairbrush and lie to him. It was still a spanking, right? I decided that I would do my best to ignore the humility and use my hand. If he ever found out, though it was doubtful he ever would, I would probably be in trouble. I lifted my hand up, looked at my palm and thought of his large hands. I rather these were his.
I scowled and began to count to thirty. The hits were not nearly as hard, even though I tried, especially when I was trying to hit the left cheek with my right hand. I told him when I was finished and thought to myself that if he had the ability to hear my voice or see my face I’d be in trouble. I definitely would have used a sour tone, with a facial expression to match. He instructed me to run my fingers along my bottom and then to rub it. I did as I was told, only because I really wanted to see how the skin felt against my hands.
“As it should be,” he responded. “You’re going to get 30 more with the brush and you will be finished. We’ll do 2 increments of 15. For the first set, I want them rapid and sharp… Rest for
a moment, then record the last 15. I want them harder than all the previous ones. Do them as hard as you think I would do them… Keep in mind, if I don’t think you are trying, you will receive 30 more, are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. Crystal,” I typed back to him.
“Thank you. Begin please.”
I put the phone down in front of me, picked up the hairbrush and stared at it for a moment, contemplating the events thus far. My behind was tingling and warm and so far the pain was nothing I couldn’t endure. Compared to blowing my knee out twice, and the various injuries I had received from martial arts, this was nothing. A different kind of pain though. Sharper, intense, short lived surface pain, compared to the deep, enduring, sickening pain I was sadly more familiar with. But I was beginning to like this new kind of pain. It was easy (maybe too easy) to tie pleasure to it. And knowing that he was on the other end of my phone, probably beyond excited, filled me with an intense desire to please him. Just knowing he was turned on, turned me on.
I spun the brush in my hand, leaned forward, reached back and began to count to fifteen in my head. When I had completed that, I wasted no time opening up the recording app and getting
to work on the next fifteen. I knew that I was allowed a break, but I wanted my bum as red as possible. I recalled him saying to perform them as hard as I thought he would, and I did. I played the audio back to myself before sending it to him, and it sounded a little more brutal than what actually happened. I shrugged and sent it to him anyway. If he thought it sounded hard enough, I wouldn’t have to do them again.
I waited for his response, hoping for praise. But all he said was, “Go over to your bed and lie flat on your stomach, please” I stood up straight, staring at the screen, slightly outraged. I scowled, and huffed before flopping down on the bed. Another behaviour that probably would have earned me 30 more, had he been there. I propped the phone up on my nightstand so I could still read his incoming messages. While I waited, I focused my attention on my glutes. The skin almost felt like an electric current was coursing through.
“Hands behind your back. Normally, this is how your Sir would fuck you after your spanking… Bottom glowing, hands behind your back. Lay there for a moment and savor the feeling of your warm, rosy bottom. Breathe deeply and keep your bottom relaxed. After you show your Sir what a well-spanked bottom looks like, you may play if you’d like.”
I laid there for a minute, rereading his messages. I pondered what I had just done to myself. I replayed the events in my head in quick succession, and thought about how I felt about the pain. I liked pretty much all of it, and the spectrum of emotions I felt. My butt felt stimulated, I enjoyed being told what to do to myself, I liked that he got off on it, I liked that I felt kind of naughty, and I liked the pain I felt each time that hairbrush made contact with my behind. I wondered briefly to myself if he would spank me this hard, or harder if I asked him.
I was glad that I had decided to actually spanked myself, now that he was requesting photographic evidence of it. My bum was very warm, and I figured I had better take some pictures of it before the hue disappeared. Although, I had a feeling that wouldn’t happen for a while.
I snapped a lot and sent him the best three. That’s when the praise occurred. And a lot of it. He asked me if I enjoyed my glowing red bottom and how I felt. I told him I enjoyed myself, but would prefer for him to spank me instead. He agreed. We exchanged a few raunchy texts post spanking, and I told him how much I enjoyed the entire scenario.
“I love that you had such a positive reaction to your spanking” his words read. “You and me both.”
Do you have experiences with spanking or spankos? Leave it in the comment box below!
Hi ST I’ve read/heard that when a woman is on birth control she can purposely skip her period by skipping the placebo pills and going straight to the next pack. I heard when a woman does this, there’s still spotting that occurs. Would this spotting be composed of blood? As opposed to other regular fluid spotting? Also, I understand that the period produced by the pill is artificial, or rather, a fake period. I’ve always wanted to try skipping my period (cuz really, who loves them??), but my boyfriend has reservations that I am unsure or not are true. He believes that its good to have this period (despite it being “fake”) because its keeping my body in motion of producing a period. He feels this is important reproductively, so if in the (distant) future we want to go off the pill and start trying, my body shouldn’t have too much trouble adjusting back to a normal period (note: before birth control I always had a regular period, I’ve read those irregular previous to the pill sometimes have trouble getting back into the flow of things due this). Do you know if one has to do with the other? Does having a fake period help later on when adjusting to a normal period off the pill?
Many women do take their hormonal birth control continuously to prevent getting a period. As recent as 2003, extended cycle combined oral contraceptives have been on the market to women as a way of having fewer periods every year. You may recognize names like Seasonale or Lybrel.
Many women are already on hormonal contraceptives like a 21 or 24 day cycle of a pill, or the hormonal NuvaRing. Women on monophasic (pills that are all the same dose) birth control have found that skipping their placebo pills (the pills that do not contain hormones) and continuing on to a new pack can effectively allow them to skip their period.
The periods you have when you are taking hormonal contraception are called withdrawal bleeding. That’s because the bleeding is brought on by your body not having those hormones during the placebo week. It is not the bodies natural system. Periods on the pill can be lighter and shorter than not on the pill, because the body is not building up the same materials it would (to prepare for potential childbirth) not on the pill. Having lighter bleeding is another reason women might choose to take hormonal contraceptives.
When you take the pills continuously, you may notice spotting, particularly in the first few months that you take these pills continuously. This is essentially your body adjusting to the new regimen. Spotting does refer to blood – which may appear darker in color, as darker blood tends to be older blood, blood that has turned dark from being in the uterus longer.
Another issue with taking your pills continuously is that you may not know when/if you get pregnant. As the withdrawal bleeding is a sign that you are not pregnant, skipping the bleeding removes that convenient (yet also inconvenient) signal that your pill protected you. Some women handle this by taking pregnancy tests every now and again, which I feel to be a huge pain. I would not recommend skipping your period if you do not take your birth control regularly, on time, with great responsibility.
In the past I have often encouraged women to talk to their doctors prior to making any changes with their birth control. I would still encourage that you do this. Your doctor may or may not be in support of continuous use and you may need to consider the information out there for yourself. If you do a little research on taking birth control continuously you will note that it’s still a relatively new process. Because of that, I am hesitant to say that we know absolutely everything about how it affects the body.
I have not read anything that indicates that doing so is unsafe. It seems to have the same health warnings as taking birth control in general. You may even notice some positive side-effects towards taking birth control continuously – like the cessation of the side-effects of menstruation- menstrual cramps and mood swings.
As far as getting pregnant, everything I’ve read indicates that fertility returns after you stop taking the pills. How frequently you are taking them does not seem to make a difference.
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