Question: How can you tell the size of a woman’s vagina?
Answer: I want to start out by saying that I don’t like this question, not with all the procedures abound encouraging women to tighten up their va-jay-jay’s so they can appear more youthful than their wildest pre-sex and baby dreams. This type of procedure implies that vagina size is an issue that women can control, while penis size, which can also be an issue, is never the guy’s fault and is what it is. That we discuss size at all gets to me on some level, not that I don’t get why, but at the same time, I don’t get why we have to make one size feel off for being the size that it is. If someone’s vagina, or penis, size doesn’t work for you where it’s at, then work on it, or work on finding what works for you.
The Kama Sutra uses this animal visualization to help us think about the various sizes of both penis (there’s the hare, bull and horse man) as well as to describe the pairings between the three equal unions and the six unequal ones, like elephant woman with hare man.
In the same vain that you wouldn’t be able to tell if Andre the Giant - rest in peace - had a large member to go with his ginormous feet (there’s no correlation), you can’t tell vagina size from the size of a woman’s boobs, heart or hands. Besides, you also don’t know how tight her pelvic floor is, how many children she’s had or what her vagina type is in the first place. That being said, if you don’t feel like you’re a fit when you fit together, there are options, but before you get too serious, if you test out the sex and it doesn’t test out,think about getting too serious. We don’t all fit together, and if we’re not sure if we’re fit enough, why go down that road from the start? I’m just being honest.
There are certain expectations when you come to a swinging resort, and one big one that you must prepare yourselves for in advance. Because a hedonistic club on the western tip of Jamaica isn’t all about gorging on the free food and alcohol and dancing to the always predictable hot 97 type hip-hop I blast every day in my car in LA. No, at this resort, at this time, there’s only one topic that everyone wants to talk about, negotiate, get into, get out of, and that’s sex.
Like the poly couple at a friends party who recently changed the vibe in the room when they came in discussing the sexual habits of their other partners, while trying to turn our small get together into an orgy, when the world of swingers intersects, there’s much ado about who to do.
Where, in the real world, most of us don’t walk around looking at each other like potential meat on a platter with extra grease for even more tender, juicy goodness, it doesn’t seem to always be the case in a place like Hedonism II, where couples come to get naked and come and come and come. Not all couples come for coming, and as for being someone who primarily prefers to look but not come in front of others, I find it amazing how thick the sexual tension is and how easy it is to cave in or run.
I walk through the dining hall at an odd hour and notice that an attractive older man is staring back at me, and as I go to make myself one of those bad-for-you-out-of-a-button-french-vanilla-potentially-caffeinated drinks, he follows. He just stands there, making water (hot water, not to be confused with the version of “making water” discussed in Driving Miss Daisy). He looks my way so I look away, and walk away. It’s not about playing it cool for me, no, it’s about not giving the wrong idea. A friendly smile is often misinterpreted in a place like this. Later on he re-approaches, introduces himself as Fernando and tells me he’s disappointed that there are no single ladies here. I understand, and tell him maybe there are, since there’s an LA Burlesque troupe here right now, but still I do doubt that he’ll get laid (I don’t tell him that part though).
Is he trying to get me to cave in and have sex because he expected sex here?
Doesn’t matter, I won’t.
The sex conversation comes up all the time here. “Do you like women?” “Do you do single guys?” and “Can I suck on your penis?” Couples get together with couples they’ve banged at home, or the previous year abroad, or they get together with people they’ve never seen before but want to bang right now. My advice in a place like this is come with a life partner, or a lover in secure standing, but don’t come alone or in a relationship that is teetering on the brink of break up. You will not teeter, and you will break up. That and protect yourself. With words and friends and latex or another good barrier.
I know it’s Tuesday and you’re used to seeing video of me, shot in one take, on my iPhone, in my private studio nestled away in my mansion in the Hollywood Hills. But since 1/2 of that first sentence is a lie (you decide which half), I’ll stop now, and start telling the truth. I’m in Jamaica, it’s warm, and everybody else is drinking all day and partying all night (I can’t) and I have a load of sex toys in my bag, in my room, and at least one partner to play with, or actually many people if I so choose. Generally, I choose a more monogamous lifestyle for my personal pleasure because I like it less complicated and believe it or not, I’m shy, really shy sometimes, especially in all out situations where sex is available and, in some cases, expectantly anticipated.
The truth is, I’m enjoying the beauty of a tropical place without cell service (and yeah, I still have my internet) and so the last thing I want is to get the iPhone all set up (so you know that part ain’t the lie) and talk about a toy I haven’t tested yet, because in the last few days I’ve been busy with the sex part (and TMI it’s been fun) but not with the toy part. For my neurotic Jewish self (which isn’t as big a part of me as it once was), the dilemma grows even stronger because I’m all about reliability this year, and now I’m not giving you what I promised to deliver, oy vey, but still, I’m giving you something to add something, something to your sexy time.
It’s a tea bag. Stay with me for a second.
Preferably one with a little zing, zest or tingle.
Isn’t it time to find new ways to drink your tea? When’s the last time you dipped a peppermint tea bag in warm water, then gently drizzled down your lovers chest, belly and thighs? Or when’s the last time you took that warm, juicy tea bag and use it to draw wet, happy thoughts on your lover’s tummy? Have you ever given much thought to how it feels when it dangles from the tab, the one up-top that reveals what kind of tea it is (those allow more options than tea bags without tabs, since those are like flat bags that you can rub along the body, or put in your mouth during oral sex, albeit it gets quite large and distracting, and then tease your lover using your tongue and the bag).
Try it once. Make yourself a cup of tea, then re-use the bag for other things. It’s one way to recycle, right? Let the tea bag linger over the head of his penis or the tips of her nipples. Smack your lover with the bag-o-tea for silly, sexy times. Lube him up with tea bag or two, and then take him down with your mouth. Suck on her tea-stained nipples until she can’t take it anymore. Whatever you do, think of teabagging as more than just his balls anchored in another person’s mouth or a third party with strong political intentions. Think of the tea bag, plain and simple, as something simple and plain that you can use, in lieu of a sex toy, one time, sometimes, or all the time.
In this week’s So Last Week, Sex News Your May Have Missed, MTV’s Skins gets under it. Plus, the clitoris as a more accurate measure for female sexual arousal research, and the Little Red Riding Hood trailer you must watch.
I host this event called Sexy Tales and Other Intimate Acts, it’s an erotic reading and performance series at El Cid in Los Angeles (save the date, the next one is on 2.22.11). Since the second one was held on 1.11.11, I decided the theme had to be “the one.” That could mean a story about “this one time,” or a dance number about one crazy love. That night, Ian Denchasy of Freddy and Eddy told a story, in three acts, about meeting “the one.” (read it here and see a few photos of the event here).
Ian says, people, mainly women, ran up to him after the reading, to swoon over his big heart-on for his wife. Guys liked it too, and while I believe that Ian found his one, truth is, I’m a skeptic. I mean, do you really think there’s only one person out there for you? How would you know when you met them? Do you really find the one, or more likely make the one? Questions and conversations abound (like how many people are needed for an orgy?) on this week’s Hot Sox Podcast, but when it gets down to it, it all goes back to the one. Do you believe?
Question: What can happen to you when you make porn for a living?
Answer: Erotic entertainment happens to be a question I get asked about a lot, and somehow it always seems timely or relevant. Especially after what happened yesterday to fellow sex educator and feminist pornographer Tristan Taormino, when she got uninvited to keynote Oregon State University’s student run “Sex Week” event. Their reasoning had to do both with the porn that she makes, and with Tristan’s website, but WTF is TBD (the big deal, I just like using letters instead of words on occasion) when lots of people consume porn and visit Tristan’s site? The big deal is that even well-intentioned people, making well-intentioned and well-made erotica, get banned, and censored, at home and abroad (read about Tony Comstock’s Damon and Hunter being banned here).
Allow me to delve even deeper into porn world for a moment….
John Stagliano just got taken to federal court last year for porn his company produced. That was serious too. And it’s serious that Max Hardcore is in jail for making porn, (I’m not saying his porn is all right, or necessarily alright, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think he should be able to do it. He doesn’t have a choice now though).
Even when you’re not Max Hardcore, and you’re trying to make ethical porn, you’re still making porn, and for some people that will always be an issue. You may lose a few friends, a few jobs, have problems with the law, your love life and the PTA. To avoid some of this, might I suggest using a nom de plume so you can at least try to have some non-porn identity. Making erotica won’t make you The Greatest American Hero, but it will get you attention.
Like the kind it got Tristan. which while not bad press, just abhorrent censorship, still made me feel for those people afraid of hearing sex positive messages. It must be difficult to be so afraid to even talk about something like sex, something that’s wired in us like breathing, eating and sleeping. I know we’re all a tad bit curious about some aspect of our own, or someone else’s, sexuality, even if we’re more interested in thinking about why we choose to abstain, rather then partake. No matter what, we all all deserve the chance to watch and learn.
I don’t like to talk poorly about public people, not in public, and I feel blessed that I’m a sex educator who gets to work with, write about and talk to the top people in my field. But the negativity amongst us, and the expectation that we all “should” be poly, or naked or anti-AVN, it’s too much. Over the past few months I’ve been confronted with at least two examples of negative behavior from sex positive people.
The first instance happened in October with well educated woman and local celebrity, invited me to be a guest (actually she had very little idea that I was to be a guest, but her Producer knew) on her weekly, raunchy radio show. I wasn’t actually even a guest, I was part of her “party” type panel, and while I’d been a fan of this (long ago) Yale educated sex activist, and had always enjoyed her odd humor and big brains, it wasn’t working for me. Things took a bad turn.
It was such a weird night, I sat next to a woman calling herself Misogyny. She couldn’t have weighed more than 90 lbs. wet, and she was drunk off her ass, letting her “man”friend sit in on the show so she could be really drunk everywhere else (she eventually passed out on a bed later that night). She liked attention, and carried a golden pet snake around with her to get it. At one point, when I was on air and therefore getting her attention time, she placed the snake on me. I didn’t care. I wasn’t nervous. This upset her, I think she wanted me to freak. She screamed, “Give me my snake back,” as it slithered between my legs, and hooked itself up and around my left thigh. She was so drunk and so mean and I was so sad to see this Misogyny so sad. I think the snake liked me better.
As all this was happening, this particular radio host was trying to find a way to sexy me up, since talking about sex isn’t sexy enough. I found myself challenging her questions. Answering tersely. I didn’t like that she only heard herself, she wasn’t really listening at all to what anyone else had to say. Eventually, she was bored, so she asked me to take my top off, because, hey, I guess that’s part of being sex positive. I have body image issues, around MY OWN body, and I own them, and I work on them, and I have no desire to show my breasts to a room barely full of her fans. So I don’t and she asks me how I can be a sex educator and not be down with the top off, and I tell her I can because I am. And it reminds me of another time, years ago, when at a sex party at a bar in NYC, I was forced to take my top off and place pasties over my large areola or leave (the pasties didn’t quite cover them fully, but duct tape did). I felt objectified, rather unhappy and insecure, the rest of that party. What this radio host was asking brought me right back there, and this time, when it didn’t feel right to me, I said no. That made me a party pooper. In all fairness, I don’t think she likes me much either.
The second event happened just a few days ago. In a now seemingly defunct twitter discourse (if you can call twitter discourse) a filmmaker I truly admire labeled me sex negative (if I were to follow twitter logic and our timeline) because he doesn’t consider anyone that supports anything AVN sex positive. I’ve known this filmmaker peripherally for years, and while I understand he can get a bit heated, his attack on my sex positivity via attendance at AVN was low. Lots of sex positive people have supported, or less than that, gone to AVN, and they’re still sex positive.
I’m not saying I don’t get heated too, oh, if you were at the Circle Bar at the Venetian on Saturday night after the awards show, at around 3:12AM you may have actually seen me get overheated, but still, when it comes to support of the sex industry, I’ll try to find that double rainbow above the sea of urine, or whatever thing AVN is promoting that I don’t necessarily enjoy watching performers get paid to do.
I don’t want to split the good people in this industry who use various parts of it for business, education, entertainment, to spread a message from the bad on all levels. The bad can only get better when they learn from the good and see that being good works. What I want is to know why a sex positive network of educators, entrepreneurs and filmmakers bring up such negative feelings sometimes when it comes to sex and the work we do, and how and where we do it? For those of us legitimately and passionately making a career out of this, don’t we already have enough of a challenge from the outside? Can we all find ways to listen and respect each other and stay positive on the inside?
Yes, today is supposed to be a sex toy video review, but I’m menstruating (not that you need to know that, but I feel blessed that I get to menstruate so I’m sharing it with you anyway) and the truth is I haven’t tested out enough product this past week to feel good about pulling up a new review (there will be a new one up next week on the Little Deeper).
Instead, enjoy the below brand-spanking new, but not ass-spanking, videos of interviews with three of the top male porn stars (thanks xcritic). In the first video AVN‘s 2011 performer of the year, Evan Stone, channels his inner (and outer) Robin Williams. That could be a good movie. Robin Williams winds up a porn star and Evan Stone zaps into life as a famous comedian (in real life Evan really is very funny). It could be called From Cock to Cocky, or Being Robin Williams, Being Evan Stone.
Next, Tom Byron, who won best actor for his work as the Big Lebowski, talks about the first porn he saw (Barbara Broadcast) and his embarrassing SBD moment.
In this last video I practically come all over Manuel Ferrara. Celebrating 14 years as a bang up lover, he took home half of the award for best couples sex scene. Manuel talks about his love of oral, his lack of practice and his poop face.
This week’s so last week feels like a ping pong game between straight and gay. Whether it’s James Franco’s sexuality or the UK’s new diversity monitoring forms, whichever team you play for, (and maybe you too go back and forth!), it’s time to serve you this week’s sex news you may have missed. Did you know that men can be allergic to their own semen?…
Sexuality blurred, or more on why James Franco matters. (care2)
Post Orgasm Illness Syndrome. It’s a semen allergy. (straitstimes)