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All the reasons to masturbate — that have nothing to do with sex

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By WHIMN

Masturbation has so many health benefits, it should come with a certified AMA tick of approval. It increases blood flow, flushes your body with lovely endorphins, alleviates stress, boosts your self-confidence and keeps you in tune with your body and your sexuality. In short, it makes you feel great, and here at whimn, we’re all about that.

Real talk: Any time of day is a good time to masturbate. But some times are, well, more good than others.

Right before you go to work

Everyone has their morning checklist. Ours goes something like this. Shower, breakfast, coffee, brush teeth, rush out the door like a whirling devil to make the next bus to the office. But if you set aside a little more time in the morning, you could add an extra item to your to-do list: yourself.

Sure, masturbating in the morning won’t have the same languid sense of ease as a Sunday afternoon session, but it has plenty of health benefits that could improve your performance at work. You’ll be less stressed by office politics, will have more energy to tackle a big day at the desk and you’ll cut your beauty routine in half, courtesy of your natural, post-orgasm flush.

When you’re lacking in focus

If you feel yourself losing your concentration, it might be time to masturbate. Speaking to Bustle, Kit Maloney, the founder of O’actually, a feminist porn production company, said that “masturbation [and] orgasm is like meditation. It allows the space for the brain to quiet and that means you’ll be more focused and effective with your to-do list afterwards.”

When your mood is low

Think about a time of day when your energy levels and mood are running near-empty. It could be because you’re hung over, or because you’ve hit the mid-afternoon slump, or for a myriad of other reasons pertaining to you.

Whenever you feel your mood slipping is a great time to masturbate, thanks to all the nice dopamine that is released when you have an orgasm. Dopamine is a chemical that leads your body to feel pleasure, satisfaction and happiness, all things that help elevate your mood.

When you have your period

Though there’s been no specific scientific examination of this, in theory masturbation is a fantastic way to soothe menstrual cramps. That’s because when you have an orgasm, your uterine muscles contract and release naturally analgesic chemicals. Period pain, begone!

Before you go to sleep

There is a school of thought that says that since orgasms leave you in a state of heightened, pillowy relaxation bordering on bone-tiredness, you shouldn’t have one before anything that requires your brain to do heavy lifting.

Which means that one of the best times to have an orgasm is in bed, right before you go to sleep. There have been no studies explicitly examining the correlation between sleepiness and orgasms, but research by Kinsey found that participants noted that nightly masturbation helped them fall asleep, quickly and more smoothly. That might be because during climax, your body releases our old friend dopamine and then oxytocin, a nice little hormone cocktail that makes you feel very happy and then very tired all at once. Have an orgasm before bedtime and you might have the best sleep of your life.

Complete Article HERE!

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Well If That Don’t Beat All

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Name: MissK
Gender:
Age: 43
Location: Everett
My longtime male sub wants Me to try something on him that he saw on a web site. I’m not sure at all that it would be safe for him. It’s infusing saline into his scrotum, until they are very heavy. Any advice?

OMG, there are perverts in Everett WA? Holy cow! Who knew?

I am of the mind, as probably are you, that needle play and blood sports are best left to trained professional doms. I have no way of knowing your level of proficiency in this area, but that’s not to say that one can’t learn to infuse if one really wants to.

I once watched a scrotal infusion demonstration with utter amazement. I don’t know how to do this myself, so I won’t offer you a tutorial. However, I did notice that there are a couple “How To” videos for this fetish online. But I can’t recommend them either, since I haven’t had an opportunity to review any of them.

But since you raised the question…and, like I always say, if there’s one pervert out there who gets off on somethin’, there’s a good chance there will be a shit load of other pervs out there who share that interest. So I asked around among my more sexually adventurous friends for their advice. The predominant message was that infusing sterile saline solution into a guy’s scrotum requires a lot of time, because it’s a drip process. And that it must be done in a sterile environment to avoid complications. A mishap can cause a serious infection, which is awfully painful and it can lead to the loss of the guy’s cajones.

First, ya gotta shave the dude’s family jewels. If you nick his sack; stop right there. Ya gotta wait, until the nick heals before you try again. The infusion bag or bottle must be warmed before the infusion begins. You’ll also want the environment to be warm too, otherwise his scrotum will get all pruney, don’t cha know.

The infusion bag needs to be hung approximately three and a half feet, or one meter, higher than his nuts. You’ll need to know how to set up the infusion apparatus and bleed the infusion tube of air. If you don’t know how to do this, then you are in over your head. Don’t attempt this on your own.

Of course, you have to disinfect his scrotum with an alcohol-free Betaisodona solution. There is some disagreement on how best, or where best to sting the needle into the nut sack. But one thing for certain, be sure the guy’s dick is out of the way. Two of my experts suggest stinging between the testicles.

YIKES!! I know; I’m such a big baby. But I really hate needles. I got to tell you, all of this is giving me the willies. But hey, let’s not worry about my feelings, this is all about you and your stinkin’ fetish, right? So, by all means, let’s press on…no pun intended.

I am told that you can sting just about anywhere on the scrotum, but if you sting into a blood vessel, the dude will have a burse. Probably if he’s into this particular fetish, a little bruising ain’t gonna bother him. But, ya absolutely got to make sure you don’t puncture one of his balls accidentally. This, I understand is very painful.

It’s recommended that the first time you infuse, you ought not use a whole liter of saline. Once he’s full, so to speak, remove the needle; firmly press your gloved finger on the puncture for a few minutes, then apply a little band aide. If you really loaded him up, don’t be surprised if he leaks a little. …Now there’s a pleasant thought!

Never reuse the needle and don’t just leave the infusion bag or bottle hanging around, this will only invite germs.

Finally, you’ll be happy to know that your man’s nut sack will return to normal in 48-72 hours, as the saline is absorbed into the body.

Good luck

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A Very Useful Guide to Sexy Spanking

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Spanking is fun and sexy, but you’re still hitting someone. Here’s how to do it right.

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Spanking must have a terrific PR person. Though frowned upon as a punishment for children, spanking is currently a super-popular, super-sexy method of “punishment” between two consenting adults. The spanking spectrum covers a lot of ground. At one end are the playful taps you do every now and then, and at the other end is “impact play” (when one person—the top/dominant—strikes another—the bottom/submissive—for sexual gratification). But whether you’re a beginner spanker or a powerful dominant who wants to leave a handprint on your submissive, let’s be real: While spanking is totally normal and fun, it’s still hitting someone. Here’s how to do it respectfully…and sexily.

Lesson 1: Spank inside the lines.

It’s safe to spank someone in your bedroom, but unsafe to spank someone at Buffalo Wild Wings because you’ll freak out the other diners. But where on the body is it safe to spank someone? Anywhere with muscle and fat, like the booty, is safe. David Ortmann, a San Francisco– and Manhattan-based psychotherapist and sex therapist, says his trick is to have the woman he’s spanking put on her sexiest pair of panties (that covers the butt—not a thong). Then, he says, you spank just the clothed area—you can take off her panties later. Stay away from the sides of the body, because it’s more painful. You should also avoid spanking areas that are not protected by fat or muscle. That includes the kidney area, neck, joints, and the tailbone and hip bones.

Lesson 2: Talk about intensity.

Along with spanking, common forms of impact play are slapping, paddling, caning, and whipping. (Please note that single-tailed whips are ill-advised for newbies because they can wrap around the body like a python.) Before adding any of the above to your sex life, pick a safe word. “Safe words are mandatory for anything that involves striking or hitting. You should come up with one that’s not ‘No, please stop,’ ” says Ortmann. With BDSM play such as spanking, begging and whining can be dirty talk that’s part of the action, so Ortmann recommends selecting a word that’s completely out of context. Pick something that you know will snap you out of an Inception-ish sex fugue, like “hedgehog,” “Ralph Lauren,” or “La Croix.”

While choosing a safe word is super-fun (like naming a puppy!), with impact play you also need to communicate with your partner before, during, and afterward. Use touch to get a feel for the spankee’s preferred intensity. Ask your partner, “So what’s your pain threshold like? How hard do you like to be spanked?” while running your hand down their back. Move your hand down to their ass and try a few practice rounds to learn what their comfort level is. And even after you’ve laid out ground rules and established a safe word, pay attention: “Consent can change. If I’m spanking someone and we agreed on a certain level of intensity, but they change their mind, I have to know. It’s okay for them to change their mind,” Ortmann says.

Lesson 3: Level up with non-hands.

If you’re new to impact play, start with your hands, because they’re easily accessible/attached to you and won’t hurt your wallet. “They also allow for skin-to-skin contact, which is a great way to connect to each other,” says Goddess Aviva, a New York City–based dominatrix. But if you do want to level up and spank someone with an object, simply waltz through your kitchen. If you don’t want to spend on expensive kink toys, Aviva recommends a wooden spoon. Unless you’re an impact-play expert, stick with tools that make a “thuddy” sound, like a paddle. I’m a snob, so when I want to be spanked with something other than a hand, I love a BDSM-black paddle.

Complete Article HERE!

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What does kink really mean?

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All your NSFW questions answered

If you want to get kinky, sex isn’t even necessary.

Looking to leave your vanilla sex life behind and break into the exciting world of kink? You’ve probably heard the term thrown around on the internet or mentioned mysteriously on popular TV shows. But what does kink mean? What does being kinky entail? How do you discover your kinks and find out what works for you and your partner?

We suggest putting aside your Fifty Shades of Grey and Twilight kink fanfiction for a much more interesting and inclusive look into what it really means to be kinky—and how kink can change sex and intimacy.

What does kink mean?

There are a lot of different ways to define “kink” that range from extraordinarily broad to super specific. But put very simply, a kink is anything that falls under non-traditional sexual and intimate desires, practices, or fantasies. The word non-traditional will mean different things to different people based on cultural backgrounds, but in most contexts, the definition encompasses anything that falls outside or romantic, intercourse-based sex between two people. This can include things that range from light bondage like handcuffs, ropes, or tape, to practices like public humiliation, foot-worship, domination/submission, and group sex.

What’s the difference between having a kink and being kinky? 

Let’s say you like being choked and occasionally have group sex with your partner, but other than that, you mostly subscribe to the standard sexual and romantic practices your parents could barely bring themselves to educate you about. A few kinks or kinky habits don’t brand you as a kinkster if that’s not how you identify. Conversely, there’s absolutely no rule telling you that you can’t identify as kinky on the basis of one or two kinks. Identity is largely helpful in finding community and for you to define yourself—you get to make that choice over whether you identify as kinky or not.

I’m kinky. Does that automatically make me queer?

If you’re a cisgender, heterosexual kinky person, the short answer is no.

Earlier this year HuffPo’s “Queer Voices” made the argument that non-normative sex and fetishes fall under the umbrella of queer. There are several problems with the argument, one of them that the crux of it lies in the author reducing the lives of queer/non-binary/LGBTQ folks to fetishes. Calling all kink inherently queer also diminishes the experiences of folks who have been dehumanized, banned from using the correct bathroom, denied public services, or murdered because of they are gay, lesbian, bisexual, trans, or nonbinary.

As a writer on Huck Magazine puts it:

Queerness is an all-encompassing thing—an act of political resistance through its very existence—not just a rejection of what’s considered “normal” through alternative sexual practices. To reduce the queer identity to that is an over-simplification and an insult. Queerness steps outside these norms, and defies the gender and sexual binary. Being queer is about identity, and that is more powerful and goes far beyond the sex we do (or don’t) have.

How do my partner(s) and I get kinky? 

Before all else, make sure to honor the two most important rules of kink: communication and consent.

If you’re thinking of trying something kinky in bed (or elsewhere, since beds are pretty traditional places to have sex, after all) have an open and honest conversation with anyone who will be involved and outline your desires—but not without asking them about theirs, too. A kinky desire alone doesn’t give you a free pass to enact it; as with all sex and romantic activity, there must be explicit consent to move forward and that consent is not written in stone. You or your partner can change your mind at any time about what’s comfortable and what’s not OK.

Now onto the fun stuff: One of the best ways to get started on your kink journey is research. The internet is a bottomless resource hub for all your kink questions, which includes kink education videos, kink communities, step-by-step guides, kink and feminism/racial identity blogs, equipment guides for beginners, resources for specific kinks, and lots more videos.

How do I learn about my own kink(s)?

Both kink beginners and veterans can use the “Yes, No, Maybe So” checklist as a tool to learn about their own kinks and, if they’re comfortable, share the list with a partner. Scarleteen recommends filling it out by hand or reading it through before discussing with a partner, but it all depends on your individual comfort level. As the authors point out, “Lists like this are not finish lines but starting points: for evaluating your own sexuality and/or for deeper conversations with someone else. This is so you can start thinking about things for yourself, or start having conversations with a partner.” There are many different versions of the “Yes, No, Maybe So” checklist, like this visual guide from Autostraddle, this polyamory checklist, and this kink rating system to also peruse through.

Many people also use this online BDSM quiz, which lets you answer questions on a spectrum rather than a simple “yes” or “no.” But the quiz doesn’t explicitly include space for queer, trans, or nonbinary folks—though you can mark “bicurious,” “bisexual,” “heteroflexible,” or “strictly lesbian/gay” in the “Sexual Orientation” section.

What’s the difference between BDSM and kink?

For many people, BDSM—an acronym for bondage/discipline, dominance/submission, sadism/masochism—is a subcategory of kink. The desires and practices that fall under BDSM can be classified as non-traditional sexual, intimate, or romantic behaviors—pain, domination, submission, and being tied up can all be considered kinky things.

For others, there are important or notable differences between kink and BDSM. A post on Kink Weekly states: “As I see it—and this is simply my opinion—the difference [between kink and BDSM] is that BDSM has an implied power exchange; kink does not. It is really that simple. BDSM has a lot more structure—and thus it has greater ‘staying power.’”

Whether you see BDSM as a way to have kinky sex or believe that the two exist outside one another is largely up to you. Plus, if you ever hear a partner using the two together, you can always ask how or why they conflate or differentiate (though asking doesn’t always entitle you to an answer). Such a conversation can give you a better idea of their boundaries and desires.

Is forcing someone to do something they don’t want to kinky?

Any kinky activity done without consent is abuse, plain and simple.

Does kink always have to involve sex?

Definitely not. You can be kinky during foreplay, kinky over the phone, use kinky language, or simply create a kinky scenario. You don’t have to touch, or even orgasm, to get kinky.

Ready to get started and want more kink resources? Check out Whiplr, Kinkly, any book or movie other than Fifty Shades of Grey, and read these facts about kink.

Complete Article HERE!

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What it’s like to talk to your doctor about sexual health when you’re bisexual

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There’s a misconception that bi people are just going through a phase — but what if our doctors believe it too?

“Are you sexually active?”

I’d been dreading this question since losing my virginity to a female friend a few weeks earlier, not long after my 16th birthday. Somehow, the harsh fluorescent lights in my doctor’s examination room made this query seem even more menacing.

“Yes,” I said, but there was an ellipsis in my voice. A hesitation. An unspoken “but . . . ”

“You’re using condoms, right? So you don’t get pregnant?” she prompted, and I didn’t know what to say, because we weren’t. We didn’t need to. It was the wrong question.

“Uh, I’m not having sex with a guy,” I managed to stammer.

My doctor peered at me over her wire-rim glasses, “Oh,” she replied.

There are a lot of things a teenager might be nervous to disclose to their doctor — a marijuana habit, some worrying mental health symptoms, a secret relationship their parents don’t know about. While we should all feel free to tell our doctors what’s really going on with us, it’s particularly egregious that so many of them are still in the dark about something so basic as sexual orientation, making these already-difficult situations even more challenging.

The day of my first difficult conversation about my sexual health, my doctor didn’t give me any medical advice on the sex I was having. She didn’t suggest my partner and I use dental dams or latex gloves. She didn’t suggest we get tested for sexually transmitted infections (STIs). She didn’t ask whether my partner was cis or trans. She didn’t ask what sexual orientation I identified as (bisexual, for the record). She didn’t even ask me if I had any questions for her. She just moved on to the next part of our checkup.

I didn’t recognize these as problems at the time; I was too young and nervous to question the approach of my all-knowing doctor. Everything I later learned about safer sex — with the other cis girl I was seeing at that time, and with other partners later on — I learned from the internet. And while the internet can be a great resource for such information, doctors should be a better one.

Bisexuals are told all the time — both implicitly and explicitly — that we’re not queer enough to align ourselves with queerness, or that we’re too queer to align ourselves with straightness. I still find it hard to push back against these stereotypes today, at 25.

These presumptions are particularly upsetting in medical situations, where many of us already feel nervous and unempowered and, for many queers, apprehensive. The medical system has oftentimes failed us and our queer foreparents: inequitable health care access due to poverty, doctors’ lack of knowledge about LGBT identities and sexuality and the pathologization of queerness are just a few examples.

Two years later, in a different relationship with a person of a different gender, I returned to my doctor. I was a girl on a mission.

“I’m seeing someone new and I’d like to get an IUD,” I told my doc, with all the bravery and resolve I could muster as a meek 18-year-old still coming to terms with her sexuality.

“I thought you were a lesbian?” she replied coolly, barely looking up from her computer screen.

“No, I’m bisexual,” I clarified, my voice only shaking a little.

Medically speaking, it shouldn’t actually matter what word(s) I use to define my sexual orientation; my doctor should want to know, instead, what sexual activities I am participating in. I could’ve been a lesbian having sex with a man (they do exist!). I could’ve been having sex with a trans woman or a nonbinary person who had the ability to get me pregnant. There was no reason for my doctor to assume I was a lesbian in the first place, nor that a risk of pregnancy during sex meant my existing sexual orientation was being challenged.

I was reminded of a story I had read online. An American photographer I followed, Brigid Marz, wrote on Flickr that she and her girlfriend went to a hospital to get treatment for her flu symptoms. A staff member asked Brigid if there was any chance she might be pregnant, and she laughed, indicated her girlfriend, and said no. She’d dated and had sex with men before, but not recently enough that she could be pregnant. Months later, she received a $700 medical bill, $300 of which was for a pregnancy test she’d neither authorized nor needed.

“I am so sick of being treated differently just because I have boobs,” she wrote, but I would argue she was treated differently because she is non-monosexual – she is neither completely straight nor completely gay. Our medical system seems to assume everyone is one or the other, sometimes even when we’re loudly asserting otherwise.

In the end, my doctor refused to prescribe me an IUD on the basis that I was “just casually dating” and should wait until I was “in a serious relationship” before committing to a long-term birth control method that reflected my relationship status. She prescribed me the pill instead — the hormonal content of which exacerbated my mental health conditions for years, something the non-hormonal copper IUD may not have done.

What rankled me was that I was in a serious relationship at the time. My doctor may have assumed my relationship was casual because I was now with a man and I was previously with a woman, or she may have simply thought I was too young for the IUD — but I think it was because of negative stereotypes about bisexual people.

Bi folks’ relationships and attractions are often written off as “just a phase” or “just for fun.” We’re told we don’t know what we really want or who we really like — or, worse, that we’re intentionally playing with partners’ hearts, never intending to pursue commitment or depth in our relationships.

In my experience, this is about as true for bisexual people as it is for straight or gay people — some folks are looking for serious relationships and some just aren’t — but this assumption weighs most heavily on bisexuals. Whether or not my doctor was consciously aware of the stereotypes she was affirming that day, it’s clear to me that my relationship would not have been written off as “casual” if I identified as straight or gay.

If I could go back and talk to myself when I was a shy and shaking 16-year-old in my doctor’s office, I’d tell her to advocate for herself. I’d tell her to ask the questions she wanted answered, and double-check the answers on Scarleteen later. I’d tell her it was okay if she didn’t even know what questions to ask.

I’d tell her to be unashamed of her burgeoning bisexual identity, because it’s nothing to feel shifty about. But mostly, I’d wish I didn’t have to tell her all these things. Her doctor shouldn’t have made her doubt all this in the first place.

Complete Article HERE!

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