Search Results: Food

You are browsing the search results for food

Finger Food

We’re back with Part 2 of Jada’s show and tell of the Emotional Bliss massagers from the UK.

Did you some how miss last week’s presentation?  Not to worry!  Look for it HERE!

Chandra $49.95

Jada

This little lovely is the Chandra by Emotional Bliss.   Where last week’s offering, Femblossom, was a powerful, multi-speed handful; Chandra is a cute, discreet, single-speed vibe that you wear on your finger.  It’s so adorable and petite; at first I thought it was some kind of novelty item.  I soon discovered that the Chandra is decidedly not that.  This is a fully functional personal massager that has been shrunk down to the size of your thumb (2.75 X .75 in).  It is designed to direct stimulation directly to those yummy places on your body, like nipples, clit and labia.Chandra-Emotional-Bliss-558733---Emotional-Bliss-558733-MEDIUM_IMAGE

When I masturbate, I use my fingers; as I assume most women do.  I’m not one for vaginal insertions when I pleasure myself.  But rather I concentrate on my clitoris.  The Chandra is absolutely perfect for this purpose.  You simply attach the massager to one of the three finger clips (each clip is a different size), and that’s it.  Since it’s rechargeable, there are no cords to fuss with.  I absolutely love it.

I can direct as much stimulation I like to the precise area I want.  The Chandra certainly can be used in conjunction with a dildo if that’s what you’re into, but it’s perfect on its own.

My husband loves the Chandra, not only what it does for me but what it does for him.  To be perfectly frank, I’m only orgasmic with clitoral stimulation.  So even in intercourse, I must stimulate myself.  Sometimes this can get tiring.  Introducing a regular sized vibe can be intrusive to the intimate moment.  But there’s nothing invasive with the Chandra.  You see, wherever my finger goes, so goes my Chandra.  I can easily move from my clit to my nipples, to my husband’s nipples and then to his scrotum, then back to my clit.  My orgasms are amazingly strong, yet effortless.  It’s like I now have a bionic finger.

Chandra

The Chandra is surprisingly quiet for as powerful as it is.  You can immediately tell this is a quality vibe.  Like it’s big sister, the Femblossom, the Chandra is made of non-porous medical grade TPE plastic.  It also has the same antibacterial agent incorporated in it during the manufacturing process.

The Chandra come with:

  • 3 Finger Clips
  • AC Adapter
  • Water-based lube sample
  • Silicone-based lube sample
  • Instruction Booklet


Full Review HERE!

A handy history

Condemned, celebrated, shunned: masturbation has long been an uncomfortable fact of life. Why?

by Barry Reay

A handy history

The anonymous author of the pamphlet Onania (1716) was very worried about masturbation. The ‘shameful vice’, the ‘solitary act of pleasure’, was something too terrible to even be described. The writer agreed with those ‘who are of the opinion, that… it never ought to be spoken of, or hinted at, because the bare mentioning of it may be dangerous to some’. There was, however, little reticence in cataloguing ‘the frightful consequences of self-pollution’. Gonorrhoea, fits, epilepsy, consumption, impotence, headaches, weakness of intellect, backache, pimples, blisters, glandular swelling, trembling, dizziness, heart palpitations, urinary discharge, ‘wandering pains’, and incontinence – were all attributed to the scourge of onanism.

The fear was not confined to men. The full title of the pamphlet was Onania: Or the Heinous Sin of Self-Pollution, and all its Frightful Consequences (in Both Sexes). Its author was aware that the sin of Onan referred to the spilling of male seed (and divine retribution for the act) but reiterated that he treated ‘of this crime in relation to women as well as men’. ‘[W]hilst the offence is Self-Pollution in both, I could not think of any other word which would so well put the reader in mind both of the sin and its punishment’. Women who indulged could expect disease of the womb, hysteria, infertility and deflowering (the loss of ‘that valuable badge of their chastity and innocence’).

Another bestselling pamphlet was published later in the century: L’onanisme (1760) by Samuel Auguste Tissot. He was critical of Onania, ‘a real chaos … all the author’s reflections are nothing but theological and moral puerilities’, but nevertheless listed ‘the ills of which the English patients complain’. Tissot was likewise fixated on ‘the physical disorders produced by masturbation’, and provided his own case study, a watchmaker who had self-pleasured himself into ‘insensibility’ on a daily basis, sometimes three times a day; ‘I found a being that less resembled a living creature than a corpse, lying upon straw, meagre, pale, and filthy, casting forth an infectious stench; almost incapable of motion.’ The fear these pamphlets promoted soon spread.

The strange thing is that masturbation was never before the object of such horror. In ancient times, masturbation was either not much mentioned or treated as something a little vulgar, not in good taste, a bad joke. In the Middle Ages and for much of the early modern period too, masturbation, while sinful and unnatural, was not invested with such significance. What changed?

Religion and medicine combined powerfully to create a new and hostile discourse. The idea that the soul was present in semen led to thinking that it was very important to retain the vital fluid. Its spilling became, then, both immoral and dangerous (medicine believed in female semen at the time). ‘Sin, vice, and self-destruction’ were the ‘trinity of ideas’ that would dominate from the 18th into the 19th century, as the historians Jean Stengers and Anne Van Neck put it in Masturbation: The Great Terror (2001).

There were exceptions. Sometimes masturbation was opposed for more ‘enlightened’ reasons. In the 1830s and 1840s, for instance, female moral campaign societies in the United States condemned masturbation, not out of hostility to sex, but as a means to self-control. What would now be termed ‘greater sexual agency’ – the historian April Haynes refers to ‘sexual virtue’ and ‘virtuous restraint’ – was central to their message.

Yet it is difficult to escape the intensity of the fear. J H Kellogg’s Plain Facts for Old and Young (1877) contained both exaggerated horror stories and grand claims: ‘neither the plague, nor war, nor smallpox, nor similar diseases, have produced results so disastrous to humanity as the pernicious habit of Onanism; it is the destroying element of civilised societies’. Kellogg suggested remedies for the scourge, such as exercise, strict bathing and sleeping regimes, compresses, douching, enemas and electrical treatment. Diet was vital: this rabid anti-masturbator was co-inventor of the breakfast cereal that still bears his name. ‘Few of today’s eaters of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes know that he invented them, almost literally, as anti-masturbation food,’ as the psychologist John Money once pointed out.

The traces are still with us in other ways. Male circumcision, for instance, originated in part with the 19th-century obsession with the role of the foreskin in encouraging masturbatory practices. Consciously or not, many US males are faced with this bodily reminder every time they masturbate. And the general disquiet unleashed in the 18th century similarly lingers on today. We seem to have a confusing and conflicting relationship with masturbation. On one hand it is accepted, even celebrated – on the other, there remains an unmistakable element of taboo.

When the sociologist Anthony Giddens in The Transformation of Intimacy (1992) attempted to identify what made modern sex modern, one of the characteristics he identified was the acceptance of masturbation. It was, as he said, masturbation’s ‘coming out’. Now it was ‘widely recommended as a major source of sexual pleasure, and actively encouraged as a mode of improving sexual responsiveness on the part of both sexes’. It had indeed come to signify female sexual freedom with Betty Dodson’s Liberating Masturbation (1974) (renamed and republished as Sex for One in 1996), which has sold more than a million copies, and her Bodysex Workshops in Manhattan with their ‘all-women masturbation circles’. The Boston Women’s Health Collective’s classic feminist text Our Bodies, Ourselves (1973) included a section called ‘Learning to Masturbate’.

Alfred Kinsey and his team are mainly remembered for the sex surveys that publicised the pervasiveness of same-sex desires and experiences in the US, but they also recognised the prevalence of masturbation. It was, for both men and women, one of the nation’s principal sexual outlets. In the US National Survey (2009–10), 94 per cent of men aged 25-29 and 85 per cent of women in the same age group said that they had masturbated alone in the course of their lifetime. (All surveys indicate lower reported rates for women.) In the just-published results of the 2012 US National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior, 92 per cent of straight men and a full 100 per cent of gay men recorded lifetime masturbation.

There has certainly been little silence about the activity. Several generations of German university students were questioned by a Hamburg research team about their masturbatory habits to chart changing attitudes and practices from 1966 to 1996; their results were published in 2003. Did they reach orgasm? Were they sexually satisfied? Was it fun? In another study, US women were contacted on Craigslist and asked about their masturbatory experiences, including clitoral stimulation and vaginal penetration. An older, somewhat self-referential study from 1977 of sexual arousal to films of masturbation asked psychology students at the University of Connecticut to report their ‘genital sensations’ while watching those films. Erection? Ejaculation? Breast sensations? Vaginal lubrication? Orgasm? And doctors have written up studies of the failed experiments of unfortunate patients: ‘Masturbation Injury Resulting from Intraurethral Introduction of Spaghetti’ (1986); ‘Penile Incarceration Secondary to Masturbation with A Steel Pipe’ (2013), with illustrations.

‘We are a profoundly self-pleasuring society at both a metaphorical and material level’

Self-stimulation has been employed in sexual research, though not always to great import. Kinsey and his team wanted to measure how far, if at all, semen was projected during ejaculation: Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy, Kinsey’s biographer, refers to queues of men in Greenwich Village waiting to be filmed at $3 an ejaculation. William Masters and Virginia Johnson recorded and measured the physiological response during sexual arousal, using new technology, including a miniature camera inside a plastic phallus. Their book Human Sexual Response (1966) was based on data from more than 10,000 orgasms from nearly 700 volunteers: laboratory research involving sexual intercourse, stimulation, and masturbation by hand and with that transparent phallus. Learned journals have produced findings such as ‘Orgasm in Women in the Laboratory – Quantitative Studies on Duration, Intensity, Latency, and Vaginal Blood Flow’ (1985).

In therapy, too, masturbation has found its place ‘as a means of achieving sexual health’, as an article by Eli Coleman, the director of the programme in human sexuality at the University of Minnesota Medical School, once put it. A published study in the Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology in 1977 outlined therapist-supervised female masturbation (with dildo, vibrator and ‘organic vegetables’) as a way of encouraging vaginal orgasm. Then there is The Big Book of Masturbation (2003) and the hundreds of (pun intended) self-help books, Masturbation for Weight Loss, a Womans Guide only among the latest (and more opportunistic).

Self-pleasure has featured in literature, most famously in Philip Roth’s novel Portnoys Complaint (1969). But it is there in more recent writing too, including Chuck Palahniuk’s disturbing short story ‘Guts’ (2004). Autoeroticism (and its traces) have been showcased in artistic expression: in Jordan MacKenzie’s sperm and charcoal canvases (2007), for example, or in Marina Abramović’s reprise of Vito Acconci’s Seedbed at the Guggenheim in 2005, or her video art Balkan Erotic Epic of the same year.

On film and television, masturbation is similarly pervasive: Lauren Rosewarne’s Masturbation in Pop Culture (2014) was able to draw on more than 600 such scenes. My favourites are in the film Spanking the Monkey (1994), in which the main character is trying to masturbate in the bathroom, while the family dog, seemingly alert to such behaviour, pants and whines at the door; and in the Seinfeld episode ‘The Contest’ (1992), in which the ‘m’ word is never uttered, and where George’s mother tells her adult son that he is ‘treating his body like it was an amusement park’.

There is much evidence, then, for what the film scholar Greg Tuck in 2009 called the ‘mainstreaming of masturbation’: ‘We are a profoundly self-pleasuring society at both a metaphorical and material level.’ There are politically-conscious masturbation websites. There is the online ‘Masturbation Hall of Fame’ (sponsored by the sex-toys franchise Good Vibrations). There are masturbationathons, and jack-off-clubs, and masturbation parties.

It would be a mistake, however, to present a rigid contrast between past condemnation and present acceptance. There are continuities. Autoeroticism might be mainstreamed but that does not mean it is totally accepted. In Sexual Investigations (1996), the philosopher Alan Soble observed that people brag about casual sex and infidelities but remain silent about solitary sex. Anne-Francis Watson and Alan McKee’s 2013 study of 14- to 16-year-old Australians found that not only the participants but also their families and teachers were more comfortable talking about almost any other sexual matter than about self-pleasuring. It ‘remains an activity that is viewed as shameful and problematic’, warns the entry on masturbation in the Encyclopedia of Adolescence (2011). In a study of the sexuality of students in a western US university, where they were asked about sexual orientation, anal and vaginal sex, condom use, and masturbation, it was the last topic that occasioned reservation: 28 per cent of the participants ‘declined to answer the masturbation questions’. Masturbation remains, to some extent, taboo.

When the subject is mentioned, it is often as an object of laughter or ridicule. Rosewarne, the dogged viewer of the 600 masturbation scenes in film and TV, concluded that male masturbation was almost invariably portrayed negatively (female masturbation was mostly erotic). Watson and McKee’s study revealed that their young Australians knew that masturbation was normal yet still made ‘negative or ambivalent statements’ about it.

Belief in the evils of masturbation has resurfaced in the figure of the sex addict and in the obsession with the impact of internet pornography. Throughout their relatively short histories, sexual addiction and hypersexual disorder have included masturbation as one of the primary symptoms of their purported maladies. What, in a sex-positive environment, would be considered normal sexual behaviour has been pathologised in another. Of the 152 patients in treatment for hypersexual disorder in clinics in California, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, Texas and Utah, a 2012 study showed that most characterised their sexual disorder in terms of pornography consumption (81 per cent) and masturbation (78 per cent). The New Catholic Encyclopedia’s supplement on masturbation (2012-13), too, slips into a lengthy disquisition on sex addiction and the evils of internet pornography: ‘The availability of internet pornography has markedly increased the practice of masturbation to the degree that it can be appropriately referred to as an epidemic.’

Critics think that therapeutic masturbation might reinforce sexual selfishness rather than sexual empathy and sharing

The masturbator is often seen as the pornography-consumer and sex addict enslaved by masturbation. The sociologist Steve Garlick has suggested that negative attitudes to masturbation have been reconstituted to ‘surreptitiously infect ideas about pornography’. Pornography has become masturbation’s metonym. Significantly, when the New Zealand politician Shane Jones was exposed for using his taxpayer-funded credit card to view pornographic movies, the unnamed shame was that his self-pleasuring activities were proclaimed on the front pages of the nation’s newspapers – thus the jokes about ‘the matter in hand’ and not shaking hands with him at early morning meetings. It would have been less humiliating, one assumes, if he had used the public purse to finance the services of sex workers.

Nor is there consensus on the benefits of masturbation. Despite its continued use in therapy, some therapists question its usefulness and propriety. ‘It is a mystery to me how conversational psychotherapy has made the sudden transition to massage parlour technology involving vibrators, mirrors, surrogates, and now even carrots and cucumbers!’ one psychologist protested in the late 1970s. He was concerned about issues of client-patient power and a blinkered pursuit of the sexual climax ‘ignoring … the more profound psychological implications of the procedure’. In terms of effectiveness, critics think that therapeutic masturbation might reinforce individual pleasure and sexual selfishness rather than creating sexual empathy and sharing. As one observed in the pages of the Journal of Sex and Marital Therapy in 1995: ‘Ironically, the argument against masturbation in American society was originally religiously founded, but may re-emerge as a humanist argument.’ Oversimplified, but in essence right: people remain disturbed by the solitariness of solitary sex.

Why has what the Japanese charmingly call ‘self-play’ become such a forcing ground for sexual attitudes? Perhaps there is something about masturbation’s uncontrollability that continues to make people anxious. It is perversely non-procreative, incestuous, adulterous, homosexual, ‘often pederastic’ and, in imagination at least, sex with ‘every man, woman, or beast to whom I take a fancy’, to quote Soble. For the ever-astute historian Thomas Laqueur, author of Solitary Sex (2003), masturbation is ‘that part of human sexual life where potentially unlimited pleasure meets social restraint’.

Why did masturbation become such a problem? For Laqueur, it began with developments in 18th-century Europe, with the cultural rise of the imagination in the arts, the seemingly unbounded future of commerce, the role of print culture, the rise of private, silent reading, especially novels, and the democratic ingredients of this transformation. Masturbation’s condemned tendencies – solitariness, excessive desire, limitless imagination, and equal-opportunity pleasure – were an outer limit or testing of these valued attributes, ‘a kind of Satan to the glories of bourgeois civilisation’.

In more pleasure-conscious modern times, the balance has tipped towards personal gratification. The acceptance of personal autonomy, sexual liberation and sexual consumerism, together with a widespread focus on addiction, and the ubiquity of the internet, now seem to demand their own demon. Fears of unrestrained fantasy and endless indulging of the self remain. Onania’s 18th-century complaints about the lack of restraint of solitary sex are not, in the end, all that far away from today’s fear of boundless, ungovernable, unquenchable pleasure in the self.

Complete Article HERE!

How is sensory deprivation used in BDSM?

By Ken Melvoin-Berg

sensory deprivatio in BDSM

Q:

How is sensory deprivation used in BDSM?

A:

Sensory deprivation is a commonly used practice in BDSM (and sensual sexytime, too) that makes us focus on our other senses by depriving us of one or more senses. For example, blindfolds are commonly used to deny us sight, but that forces us to rely on touch, smell, hearing, and taste to guess what is coming next. This is a fun way to make us focus in an unnatural way due to our reliance on all five senses. If we have a blindfold on, our sense of touch feels more intense, we have greater depth in our ability to hear, our sense of smell is more keen, and we can taste things to greater degree.

Sightsensory deprivatio in BDSM2

The sense of sight is the most common form of sensory deprivation because sight is the one sense we rely on more than any other. We have already mentioned blindfolds, the number one go to device in sensory deprivation. There are also ways to limit vision by getting rid of peripheral vision, like a horse with side blinders. Using a mask narrows the scope of our vision to what is in front of us. Hoods are also a common theme in BDSM. They are great for limiting both sight and hearing.

Taste

The sense of taste can’t really be taken away, but we can overwhelm it using foods with an intense flavor. Onions, bitters, sour candies, or mouth wash is a great way to mask the next taste detected in your mouth. Taste and smell go hand in hand. So, if you plug the nose, taste is slightly hampered. For extra fun, learn what parts of the tongue detect what flavor and sadistically overload it. Extreme sour candies placed near the center on the sides of the tongue can overwhelm someone to he point of tears if left long enough.

Smell

The sense of smell can be blocked simply by plugging the nose. As mentioned before, this also affects taste to a minor degree. Using a hood that blocks sight and sound in conjunction with a clothespin on the nose will force your lover to focus all their attention to what they feel on their skin. This intensifies both the good and the bad.

Hearing

sensory deprivatio in BDSM3Hoods, earplugs, and headphones with noise cancelling or loud music are all great ways to limit hearing. To really use hearing to its best effect, pick the same music to use time and again while delving in kinky fun. This does two things. It blocks the sound via loud music. It also trains the mind and body to crave sex or kink when that music comes on. Discordant electronic music has the added benefit of causing mental confusion to the loss of hearing. This is particularly useful during interrogation scenes when you want the submissive to be a bit confused and focus their attention to the other senses.

Touch

Depriving someone of their sense of touch is a bit different compared to the other senses. Skin is the largest organ in the human body. The only way to effectively decrease the sense of touch is to either create a barrier (liquid latex, plastic wrap) or through a topical anesthetic that will numb the skin. Both of these have potential risks you should watch for (low blood pressure, latex allergies, seizure disorders, etc.) before utilizing.sensory deprivatio in BDSM4

Try playing with one or more of these forms of deprivation and then start with some great sensory play to tantalize the senses that are not dulled. Having a blindfold then tickling someone with a feather might just be a little more adventurous than you thought! Have fun and have great sex!

Complete Article HERE!

9 Weird Signs That You’re Actually Really Good In Bed

By Kitty Fitzgerald

Really Good In Bed

1. You eat your food slowly.

And not just popsicles. Those who aren’t in a rush to devour their meals take their time in all aspects. You don’t skip over foreplay like it’s some annoying YouTube ad. You’ll give pleasure as long as you possibly can.

2. You aren’t afraid to be vocal.

Those who can speak on what they want in day-to-day life make for communicative partners. Sex is all about sharing: your body parts, your desires, your thirst, etc. If you’re the kind of person who lets it be known what you’re looking for, there’s a good chance that carries over into the bedroom. And good sex is vocal sex.

3. Your exes stay hung up for an incredibly long time.

I mean, can you blame them? They know just how good it can be. God bless those poor, horny souls.

4. You don’t regularly watch porn.

Porn has a numbing effect on sexuality. I’m not saying it’s the worst, but those who watch a large amount have a tendency to have problems…performing. That’s not to say if you don’t typically watch you don’t also have a large and healthy sexual appetite. But you know how to differentiate realistic sex with fantasy sex. Or, you’ve figured out how to combine the two.

5. You can sing, dance, or play an instrument.

If you have a natural understanding of rhythm, *ahem*, I’d bet your body does too.

6. You have regular dental check-ups.

Nobody wants to play tonsil hockey with someone who has untreated halitosis or undetected cavities. You’re on top of your dental health. And your make-out partners are grateful, I’m sure.

7. You’re comfortable with nudity.

And not just when you’re having sex. You enjoy a good nude selfie on Instagram, or a graphic image on Tumblr. You don’t find the human body threatening or uncomfortable. You appreciate the beauty in it. You are secure with your own body and have no problem letting everything hang out. You have confident sex, and that’s the absolute hottest.

8. You’re a good listener.

This should probably go without saying. If you are the type to sometimes just shut up and listen to what the person you’re with has to say, you’re the kind of person people want to fuck. You don’t make it all about you. You’re happy to be all ears.

9. You have a healthy view about sex.

So many people get fucked up because of their upbringing. When someone is taught that sex is fundamentally wrong and dirty, that’s pretty hard to unlearn. Not to say they can’t, because it’s happened many times. But if you’re someone who understands the naturalness of it all, you are already more dynamite in bed. No nagging guilt eating away at you.

Complete Article HERE!

9 Things You Didn’t Know About Your Load

By 

9 Things You Didn’t Know About Your Load

When you think about it, splooge is mysterious but no one really talks about the facts. What’s in a load? Is it good for you? Can you cook with it ? How big is the average blast?

After obsessing over guy goo, we decided to put on our detective hat and do some research. Here are nine questions we had about spaff and the surprising answers we found.

1. What’s in it?

The short answer is: a lot of things. Some people think it’s nothing but swimmers, and they’re wrong. In actuality, less than 10 percent of your load can swim. The rest is comprised of nutrients (i.e., protein) and bodily fluids.

2. Is it good for you?

Well, it’s not bad for you. We’re not advocating for an all-spunk diet, but your splooge contains about 20 calories, as much protein as the white part of an egg, as well as vitamin C, magnesium, potassium, vitamin B12, zinc, and calcium.

3. How big is the average load?

The average volume in a load is 3/4 of a teaspoon, which is pretty easy to swallow or spit (whatevs, we don’t judge). How do you measure up?

4. Do men ever stop making baby batter?

Nope! Never ever. Although women obviously stop making eggs during menopause, men never stop churning out baby batter.

5. Can you cook with it?

Surprisingly, yes! There’s even a cook book and cocktail (no pun intended) recipe book available. We can’t vouch for how any of the recipes, but who knows, maybe they’re delicious.

6. Does your diet affect its quality?

Yes. A balanced diet helps your body produce a quality load. Eating foods like oysters, bananas, walnuts, asparagus and garlic are always good choices. And, eating pineapple can give your cream a sweeter flavor.

7. Can you be allergic to baby gravy?

Well, you can be allergic to pretty much anything. But, yes. Some people (usually women) are allergic to man yoghurt. You can learn more about “seminal plasma hypersensitivity” (aka semen allergy) here.

8. Can you rub too many out?

You can never rub enough. Kidding. If you jerk it too many times you can irritate your shaft, but frequent jerking improves the quality of your swimmers, so have a ball and go to town.

9. Can you use it as a skin cream?

Yes. There’s a chemical in your load called “spermine” and some high-end spas include the ingredient in wrinkle creams. It will also dry out and reduce the appearance of acne.

 Complete Article HERE!