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Sex EDGE-U-cation with Scott Daddy – Podcast #103 – 02/25/09

Hey sex fans,

Today I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming a friend and colleague, Scott Mallinger, a.k.a.

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Scott Daddy, to those who know and love him.  (So that’s why I call him Sir.)  Just kidding!

Scott is a BDSM journalist, lecturer, leather titleholder and Dom all rolled into that most charming package.  And he has the most wonderful sense of humor, as you will soon discover.  Scott is my second guest in this new series of podcast interviews called Sex EDGE-U-cation.

Through this series we’ll take a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative sexual lifestyles. We’ll touch on topics both familiar and exotic.  And I will be chatting with prominent educators, practitioners and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles from all over the

world.

This new series will continue to appear on Wednesdays.  My regular weekly podcast, which often contains The Erotic Mind interviews, will continue on Mondays.

Scott and I discuss:

  • The meaning of Power Play.
  • Kink — behavior outside the social norm.  But how decides the norm?
  • Cathartic and recreational aspects of BDSM.
  • Working definitions for: Negotiation, Safeword, Scene and Aftercare.

Be sure to visit Scott Daddy at his website:  scottdaddy.com

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Today’s podcast is bought to you by: Dr Dick’s Stockroom.

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The Sex Talk You Can’t Skip

These conversations with children are far more critical than parents think

by Deirdre Reilly

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Moms and dads typically grit their teeth, square their shoulders, and take a deep breath when it’s time for “the birds and the bees” talk with their kids. For many parents, by the time they gather the courage to have “the talk” — it’s way too late.

One father of two from Charlottesville, Virginia, joked to LifeZette, “I had the sex talk with my kids, and it was not bad at all. Sure, they were asleep — but I have to say it really went pretty well!”

There is no reason to avoid or fear the talk with the kids.

“Talking to kids about sexuality does not encourage them to be sexual,” Dr. Rita Eichenstein, a pediatric neuropsychologist in Los Angeles, told LifeZette. “We give our kids all types of information to protect them — why wouldn’t we talk to them about sex? There are a lot of bad things in this world, but sex isn’t one of them. The facts of life aren’t scary — they’re beautiful.”

The best way to discuss a healthy sexual identity with children is to make the topic as normal as possible for both parent and child.

Bobbi Wegman, a Brookline, Massachusetts, clinical psychologist, advocates using the world around you to begin teaching age-appropriate sexual information.

“I’m a mother of three kids, and it is absolutely vital to talk about sex with your children in a direct and 002honest manner that is appropriate for their age,” she told LifeZette. “Personally, the first time this came up in our home, my son was four — he asked where babies came from. We had just finished the summer and he had planted and raised the vegetables in our garden, and I used that as a metaphor for where children come from. ‘Dad planted a seed in Mommy and it grew into a baby, just like the tomato plant you planted,’ I told him. It is best to model that sex and our bodies aren’t shameful, and that sex is completely natural,” she added.

One Boston-area mom recounts how her third pregnancy opened the door for discussion with her first child, a fifth grader.

“He asked me how I first knew I was pregnant, and I said I had missed my period,” this mom of three told LifeZette. “He said, quite casually, ‘Yeah, so what is that?’ We were able to move on from there to a great discussion, which I had been longing to have with him.”

Waiting until your child is a teenager is to late to begin, the experts say.

“Teens, by virtue of their developmental stage, believe they are invincible and thus may not consider the risks associated with their actions,” Laguna Beach, California, psychiatrist Gayani DeSilva told LifeZette. “However, health risks can have lasting implications. For example, teens should be aware that contracting herpes is a lifelong condition that will impact sexual activity for life — and will need to be disclosed to all future sexual partners.”

Other health risks include mental health problems. “Sex in the context of a respectful, loving relationship will not be mentally damaging,” said DeSilva. “But sex in the context of a power struggle, assault, incest, rape, or molestation can have devastating effects on a person’s self-esteem and mental well-being. It may even be the trigger for suicide.”

Adults can hold the view that sexual activity is to be enjoyed only through marriage and still talk to their kids about sex — and the risks associated with it.

“Be consistent in your beliefs — if you are conservative, act conservative,” said Eichenstein. “Be modest, attend church and give them exposure to this topic in a way that is consistent with your morals and values. No closet Puritans allowed — you have to talk the talk and walk the walk of your own family’s moral code.”

Eichenstein understands a parent’s discomfort over “the talk.”

“The media and the culture have made sex really sleazy, and that’s what parents are embarrassed about,” she said. “All the ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’ stuff mangles the reality of normal, healthy sex, and that’s why it is critical that lines of communication are open from very early on. Body parts should be correctly named with young children, and parents should work hard to stay natural about sex.”

Chunking sexual information is good, said Eichenstein, beginning with a series of little talks starting very young. “Remember, the older children get, the less likely they are to listen to the information you have to share. Use books or other helpful materials — don’t fly on your own if it’s not working. Leave a book on your child’s night table and they will read it, guaranteed.”

003“Before sexual activity is the time for the talk — after is too late,” Eichenstein emphasized, adding that 4th, 5th and 6th grade is the window in which to share more in-depth information about sex. “It is good to say, ‘I don’t endorse that you become sexually active. But I hope that if and when you are ready down the road, I hope you’ll be open to talking to me — I’m here to help you.’”

Pornography now seems normative, said Eichenstein, which makes “the talk” an uphill battle for parents.

“Pornography desensitizes kids to sexuality, and cheapens it, too,” she said. “They no longer know how to have a healthy relationship, or how to trust their instincts. My guess is that girls actually want the type of relationships people had in the 1950s — a very romantic relationship.”

It is important to help girls have a sense of self when it comes to sexuality, and to always refuse to do what they don’t want to do — and how to say no to overtures from boys that are not welcome. “That’s the most important part of sex education for girls, in my view — knowing how to get out of a bad situation.”

Eichenstein said parents talk to boys a lot less about sex than they talk to girls, and this is dangerous. “Boys can turn into aggressors and they need to be taught by responsible parents,” she noted.

“Simple empathy between the sexes is a huge part of good sexual education for children,” noted Eichenstein. “For boys, it’s the ability to put themselves in a girl’s shoes — and act accordingly.”

Complete Article HERE!

Having Kids Helped Me Embrace My Own Sexuality

By

Margaret E Jacobsen

My children’s first interactions around sex and sexuality are actually taking place in our home right now. I’ve worked hard to establish where we live as a safe place for them to grow, make mistakes and learn from them, and to inquire about life. It’s why I made the choice early on in their lives to make sure that they learned about sex from me and from their dad, and that in teaching them about sex, we taught our kids to be sex positive. As much as people warned me that the conversation around sex is awkward between a parent and child, I didn’t let the fear of being uncomfortable keep me from taking about sex with my 3- and 2-year-old children.

I’m sure that talking to a 3 year old and a 2 year old about sex sounds like it’s a bit young, but I feel like that’s because we’re so used to framing the sex conversation around the “birds and the bees” conversation. When I was growing up I never had that conversation with my parents and had to frame my own ideals about sex and sexuality through experience and age. I didn’t want that for my children, though. So I felt that a toddler age was actually a wonderful time to start talking to them about how to love their bodies and how to appreciate them. I felt like the intro into sex isn’t about diving head first into questions like “where does the penis go?” and “what is the purpose of the vagina?” I wanted to give my kids a foundation for understanding and respecting their bodies before I ever taught them how about the intimacy shared between two people.

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More than anything, I wanted my kids to understand as soon as possible how to love themselves, to understand consent, and to respect others’ bodies. I believe that sex positivity isn’t just about the act of having sex, it’s also about learning that the experience starts with you and will eventually (if you choose) include others.

By the time I was 18, I had disassociated myself from my body because of how my parents talked about it. now I had the chance to do things differently.

My upbringing kept me from understanding what sex was. My parents sex hidden, far above my reach. I was told we’d open that box when I was old enough, but only when I was was getting close to marriage. I found this strange — even at 10 years old. I would look sex up in the dictionary and in the encyclopedia. I often wondered what sex was and what was so special about it — why was it something only adults could understand? I’d hear my friends talk about boobs, about liking boys, and wonder if I’d ever feel comfortable enough to be naked around another person I liked. At the time, the thought horrified me.

I was uncomfortable with my body. I didn’t understand what was happening to it, or why I was suddenly getting hair under my armpits and on my vagina. My parents were constantly telling me to “be modest,” and I felt so much pressure and responsibility to look and behave and act a certain way. By the time I was 18, I had disassociated myself from my body because of how my parents talked about it. now I had the chance to do things differently.

Margaret E Jacobsen & kids

When I was 18, I was in love and I had sex for the first time. It was amazing, and I had no idea why I’d been so afraid and so ashamed. I was raised Christian and was taught to believe that sex before marriage was shameful. But after having sex for the first time, I didn’t want any forgiveness. I simply wanted to keep having sex, without feeling guilty because of it. After I’d gotten married to my then-husband and had two kids, I looked back on my own sexual experiences and realized that I didn’t want my children gaining their sex education from the world around them without some input from me. I didn’t want them feel ashamed of the fact that they liked having sex or pleasuring their bodies. I wanted my kids to know that they could always come and talk to me, that I would always support them.

I tell them dressing my body in things that make me feel confident makes me feel empowered, as if my body hold some kind of magic. They love that. So do I.

So I started to talk to them about celebrating their bodies when they were young. And because of that, I had deeper conversations with myself surrounding my own sex positivity. I had some sexual trauma in my past, which has always made it a bit difficult for me to grapple with wanting to be sexual and carving out safe spaces to practice having sex. I made changes in my personal life: I was more vocal with myself about my needs and wants, then with partners. It helped me shape the conversations I’d have with my children about how they can and should voice what they want, not with sex because that’s still a ways off, but when interacting with others. I wanted them to learn and understand the power of their own voices. I taught them to say, “No, that’s not something I would enjoy,” or “I would really like if we did this” in their everyday lives, knowing that these lessons will help them in their sexuality later on. We’ve focused on how important it is for them to speak up for themselves and to advocate for themselves.

Margaret E Jacobsen's kids

Another thing we do in our house is walk around naked. I used to shy away from showing parts of my body, like my stomach or my thighs. I have stretch marks and cellulite — both things I’ve been told aren’t “sexy.” My kids, however, could care less about whether or not my body is sexy enough, because they just like how soft my body is. It’s soft for cuddling and for hugging, two things that are very important to them. My kids move so confidently with their bodies, both with clothes on and with clothes off. My daughter’s favorite thing is to stand in front of the mirror and compliment herself. She’s actually inspired me to do the same. I’ve taken up the practice. They’ve seen me in some of my lingerie, and tell me it’s beautiful. They don’t know that lingerie is “just for sex” or that it’s something I should feel wary of other people seeing. Instead, I tell them dressing my body in things that make me feel confident makes me feel empowered, as if my body hold some kind of magic. They love that. So do I.

I watch them be confident in their bodies. I watch them say “no” strongly to each other, and to others, and most importantly, I watch them hear and respect each other.

My kids are 6 and 7 years old now, and we’ve talked about what sex is. The conversation has changed as they’ve grown up. They understand that sex is a beautiful act, one that mostly happens when people are naked. They don’t really care to know more yet, but I watch them be confident in their bodies. I watch them say “no” strongly to each other, and to others, and most importantly, I watch them hear and respect each other. As a person who is non-monogamous, I’ve shown them that sex and love are not limited to one person. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. In turn, my children have taught me to respect and be proud of my body. They think it is magic — and I agree.

Lately, the children have been exploring their bodies, which I’ve told them is fine, but it’s reserved for their alone time. I’m trying to make sure that when we talk about our bodies and about sex that we do so in an uplifting, positive way. I don’t want my children to ever question or feel any shame around their bodies or their wants. I want to equip them with the right knowledge so that they’ll be able to enjoy. Most of all, I want them to be happy.

Complete Article HERE!

Postnatal Sex

Name: Stacy
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Location: ND
Could you talk a little about postnatal sex? I’m a new mother and, while I love my husband and I know he’s got blue balls from lack of sex, I just don’t feel like it.

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Hey, congratulations on the arrival of your baby. It’s cause for celebration, right? But you should know that experts pinpoint this event as the one that places the most strain on a relationship. When you think about it, there should be no surprise. The new mother is exhausted. She’s developing mothering skills she may have only read about before. First babies are a challenge – they can be colicky and demanding. If she’s going back to work, then organizing childcare is a big hurdle. With all this going on, what if her partner expects the sort of sex life that led to the pregnancy in the first place? She may feel like there’s just one more person to service, one more person with needs and demands that are keeping her from much-needed sleep.

New mothers can find sex unappealing for reasons both physical and emotional. If you’re breastfeeding, your breasts are sore, heavy and leaky. Your body just doesn’t feel sexy, with its stretch marks, cellulite, dark nipples and dark line down the abdomen, not to mention the weight gain and varicose veins. Then there is lochia, the discharge after the birth, which lasts for 3 to 4 weeks and does not smell very good. If you had an episiotomy, the stitches are very uncomfortable and you may worry about infection. Your hormones may still be in a state of flux, so you feel moody or depressed. And you may not have a good method of birth control, so sex is the last thing on your mind!

Some doctors recommend that new mothers refrain from sex until their first post partum examination, usually about 6 weeks after the birth.mommy, daddy, baby

Couples aren’t warned about all this, you’re totally unprepared. If you can’t talk about it, there may be trouble ahead. Many males firmly believe that once the baby is born, their sex life will go right back to how it was pre-pregnancy. This is unrealistic, and it puts pressure on both partners.

New fathers can help their partner move beyond those feelings of sexual disinterest by being a very involved parent and helping around the house.

Many new mothers are quite happy to perform a hand job and or a blow job until they are feeling sexual again. And many males will be quite happy masturbating until their partner is ready to resume sexual intercourse. (Here’s a fun sex toy that has gotten other couples through the postnatal sexual dilemma.)

Touching, hugging, kissing and snuggling are important for both, but remember, there should be no expectation that it will inevitably end up in sex.

It takes time, patience and understanding to return to a normal, intimate, loving partnership after your first baby is born.

Good luck

PS: For more information on this topic look HERE!

When Did Porn Become Sex Ed?

Conversations between adults and teenagers about what happens after “yes” remain rare.

By

porn:sex ed

THE other day, I got an email from a 21-year-old college senior about sex — or perhaps more correctly, about how ill equipped she was to talk about sex. The abstinence-only curriculum in her middle and high schools had taught her little more than “don’t,” and she’d told me that although her otherwise liberal parents would have been willing to answer any questions, it was pretty clear the topic made them even more uncomfortable than it made her.

So she had turned to pornography. “There’s a lot of problems with porn,” she wrote. “But it is kind of nice to be able to use it to gain some knowledge of sex.”

I wish I could say her sentiments were unusual, but I heard them repeatedly during the three years I spent interviewing young women in high school and college for a book on girls and sex. In fact, according to a survey of college students in Britain, 60 percent consult pornography, at least in part, as though it were an instruction manual, even as nearly three-quarters say that they know it is as realistic as pro wrestling. (Its depictions of women, meanwhile, are about as accurate as those of the “The Real Housewives” franchise.)

The statistics on sexual assault may have forced a national dialogue on consent, but honest conversations between adults and teenagers about what happens after yes — discussions about ethics, respect, decision making, sensuality, reciprocity, relationship building, the ability to assert desires and set limits — remain rare. And while we are more often telling children that both parties must agree unequivocally to a sexual encounter, we still tend to avoid the biggest taboo of all: women’s capacity for and entitlement to sexual pleasure.

It starts, whether intentionally or not, with parents. When my daughter was a baby, I remember reading somewhere that while labeling infants’ body parts (“here’s your nose,” “here are your toes”), parents often include a boy’s genitals but not a girl’s. Leaving something unnamed, of course, makes it quite literally unspeakable.

Nor does that silence change much as girls get older. President Obama is trying — finally — in his 2017 budget to remove all federal funding for abstinence education (research has shown repeatedly that the nearly $2 billion spent on it over the past quarter-century may as well have been set on fire). Yet according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, fewer than half of high schools and only a fifth of middle schools teach all 16 components the agency recommends as essential to sex education. Only 23 states mandate sex ed at all; 13 require it to be medically accurate.

Even the most comprehensive classes generally stick with a woman’s internal parts: uteruses, fallopian tubes, ovaries. Those classic diagrams of a woman’s reproductive system, the ones shaped like the head of a steer, blur into a gray Y between the legs, as if the vulva and the labia, let alone the clitoris, don’t exist. And whereas males’ puberty is often characterized in terms of erections, ejaculation and the emergence of a near-unstoppable sex drive, females’ is defined by periods. And the possibility of unwanted pregnancy. When do we explain the miraculous nuances of their anatomy? When do we address exploration, self-knowledge?

No wonder that according to the largest survey on American sexual behavior conducted in decades, published in 2010 in The Journal of Sexual Medicine, researchers at Indiana University found only about a third of girls between 14 and 17 reported masturbating regularly and fewer than half have even tried once. When I asked about the subject, girls would tell me, “I have a boyfriend to do that,” though, in addition to placing their pleasure in someone else’s hands, few had ever climaxed with a partner.

Boys, meanwhile, used masturbating on their own as a reason girls should perform oral sex, which was typically not reciprocated. As one of a group of college sophomores informed me, “Guys will say, ‘A hand job is a man job, a blow job is yo’ job.’ ” The other women nodded their heads in agreement.

Frustrated by such stories, I asked a high school senior how she would feel if guys expected girls to, say, fetch a glass of water from the kitchen whenever they were together yet never (or only grudgingly) offered to do so in return? She burst out laughing. “Well, I guess when you put it that way,” she said.

The rise of oral sex, as well as its demotion to an act less intimate than intercourse, was among the most significant transformations in American sexual behavior during the 20th century. In the 21st, the biggest change appears to be an increase in anal sex. In 1992, 16 percent of women aged 18 to 24 said they had tried anal sex. Today, according to the Indiana University study, 20 percent of women 18 to 19 have, and by ages 20 to 24 it’s up to 40 percent.

A 2014 study of 16- to 18-year-old heterosexuals — and can we just pause a moment to consider just how young that is? — published in a British medical journal found that it was mainly boys who pushed for “fifth base,” approaching it less as a form of intimacy with a partner (who they assumed would both need to be and could be coerced into it) than a competition with other boys. They expected girls to endure the act, which young women in the study consistently reported as painful. Both sexes blamed the girls themselves for the discomfort, calling them “naïve or flawed,” unable to “relax.”

According to Debby Herbenick, director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at Indiana University and one of the researchers on its sexual behavior survey, when anal sex is included, 70 percent of women report pain in their sexual encounters. Even when it’s not, about a third of young women experience pain, as opposed to about 5 percent of men. What’s more, according to Sara McClelland, a psychologist at the University of Michigan, college women are more likely than men to use their partner’s physical pleasure as the yardstick for their satisfaction, saying things like “If he’s sexually satisfied, then I’m sexually satisfied.” Men are more likely to measure satisfaction by their own orgasm.

Professor McClelland writes about sexuality as a matter of “intimate justice.” It touches on fundamental issues of gender inequality, economic disparity, violence, bodily integrity, physical and mental health, self-efficacy and power dynamics in our most personal relationships, whether they last two hours or 20 years. She asks us to consider: Who has the right to engage in sexual behavior? Who has the right to enjoy it? Who is the primary beneficiary of the experience? Who feels deserving? How does each partner define “good enough”? Those are thorny questions when looking at female sexuality at any age, but particularly when considering girls’ formative experiences.

We are learning to support girls as they “lean in” educationally and professionally, yet in this most personal of realms, we allow them to topple. It is almost as if parents believe that if they don’t tell their daughters that sex should feel good, they won’t find out. And perhaps that’s correct: They don’t, not easily anyway. But the outcome is hardly what adults could have hoped.

What if we went the other way? What if we spoke to kids about sex more instead of less, what if we could normalize it, integrate it into everyday life and shift our thinking in the ways that we (mostly) have about women’s public roles? Because the truth is, the more frankly and fully teachers, parents and doctors talk to young people about sexuality, the more likely kids are both to delay sexual activity and to behave responsibly and ethically when they do engage in it.

Consider a 2010 study published in The International Journal of Sexual Health comparing the early experiences of nearly 300 randomly chosen American and Dutch women at two similar colleges — mostly white, middle class, with similar religious backgrounds. So, apples to apples. The Americans had become sexually active at a younger age than the Dutch, had had more encounters with more partners and were less likely to use birth control. They were also more likely to say that they’d first had intercourse because of pressure from friends or partners.

In subsequent interviews with some of the participants, the Americans, much like the ones I met, described interactions that were “driven by hormones,” in which the guys determined relationships, both sexes prioritized male pleasure, and reciprocity was rare. As for the Dutch? Their early sexual activity took place in caring, respectful relationships in which they communicated openly with their partners (whom they said they knew “very well”) about what felt good and what didn’t, about how far they wanted to go, and about what kind of protection they would need along the way. They reported more comfort with their bodies and their desires than the Americans and were more in touch with their own pleasure.

What’s their secret? The Dutch said that teachers and doctors had talked candidly to them about sex, pleasure and the importance of a mutual trust, even love. More than that, though, there was a stark difference in how their parents approached those topics.

While the survey did not reveal a significant difference in how comfortable parents were talking about sex, the subsequent interviews showed that the American moms had focused on the potential risks and dangers, while their dads, if they said anything at all, stuck to lame jokes.

Dutch parents, by contrast, had talked to their daughters from an early age about both joy and responsibility. As a result, one Dutch woman said she told her mother immediately after she first had intercourse, and that “my friend’s mother also asked me how it was, if I had an orgasm and if he had one.”

MEANWHILE, according to Amy T. Schalet, an associate professor of sociology at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and the author of “Not Under My Roof: Parents, Teens, and the Culture of Sex, ” young Dutch men expect to combine sex and love. In interviews, they generally credited their fathers with teaching them that their partners must be equally up for any sexual activity, that the women could (and should) enjoy themselves as much as men, and that, as one respondent said, he would be stupid to have sex “with a drunken head.” Although she found that young Dutch and American men both often yearned for love, only the Americans considered that a personal quirk.

I thought about all of that that recently when, driving home with my daughter, who is now in middle school, we passed a billboard whose giant letters on a neon-orange background read, “Porn kills love.” I asked her if she knew what pornography was. She rolled her eyes and said in that jaded tone that parents of preteenagers know so well, “Yes, Mom, but I’ve never seen it.”

I could’ve let the matter drop, felt relieved that she might yet make it to her first kiss unencumbered by those images.

Goodness knows, that would’ve been easier. Instead I took a deep breath and started the conversation: “I know, Honey, but you will, and there are a few things you need to know.”

Complete Article HERE!