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I am slightly paranoid about being a clean bottom

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Name: Carl
Gender: Male
Age: 45
Location: Seattle
I am a 45 year-old gay man who has not bottomed in over 15 years (which included a 10 year monogamous relationship). I am interested in doing bottoming again. However, I am worried about my cleanliness and smell. As a top, it never bothered me that much with my bottom partners, and it was rarely a problem. I never asked them if they prepared ahead of time.

I am slightly paranoid about being clean as a bottom. Should I use an enema, and if so, with what liquid? How does diet help? I am basically vegetarian, although will occasionally eat meat if it’s served to me (no pun intended). Obviously, this apprehension will not help when the time comes because I’ll likely just tighten up. I know this based on past experience.
I could go on with other details but will stop here and see about your reply.

Thanks!

Hey Carl,

Worrying about stuff is just about the best way to mess up a sexual experience of any kind. But I’m sure that you know that already, huh? This is particularly true for someone reacquainting himself with the pleasures of being a bottom.

I’ve written and spoken extensively about this very thing. I’d like to direct your attention to the CATEGORIES section in the sidebar of my site. It’s a pull-down menu. You will notice that the second category is ANAL. Under this is a whole bunch of subcategories. Click on any one of those you will be taken to all the posting I’ve made on that particular subject. Of particular interest to you would probably be my tutorial for being a good bottom: Liberating The B.O.B. Within.

In terms of douching, warm water is all you need. Never use soap. Some people add lemon juice or vinegar (1-2 Tbs per quart) of the warm water. Others dissolve (2 Tbs) of baking soda in a quart of warm water.Ergo Speed Douche

Stay away from commercially produced douches, most contain harmful and irritating chemicals. And trust me, you don’t want that. Besides, commercial douches are expensive and all that packaging is definitely not Eco-friendly. And we all want to be green sodomites, don’t we?

Finally there is always the ever-versatile shower or bath bidet option. You can find one model, the Ergo Speed Douche, in My Stockroom. Look for the Dr Dick’s Stockroom banner in the sidebar of my site.  (Everyone here at Dr Dick Sex Advice is a big fan of the Perfect Fit Brand line of adult products.)  Look for our review of the Ergo Speed Douche HERE.

I also know that a vigorous fucking will introduce more air into a bottom’s rectum expanding it and making for that “OMG, I gotta take a dump” feeling. So take it easy the first few times you get back into the saddle, so to speak, as it were.

Diet can indeed make a difference in the composition of your shit and how you and it smell. But, that being said, you have to realize your bowels are working properly when they eliminate waste from your body, so don’t try and mess with that. And just so you know, there are often some unpleasant side effects to rootin’ around in someone’s hole, regardless how fastidious the bottom is about his hygiene. So why not just relax and if there’s a little mess, clean it up with some soap and water. Its not the end of the world.

Good luck

I Can’t Cum, dammit!

Name: Jayme
Gender: female
Age: 23
Location: ??
I have a pretty major question that I think you’d be perfect to answer, with your credentials. I’ve not had the best relationship history. My second boyfriend, right after I graduated high school, was abusive in every way but physically. I stayed with him for 7 months before getting wise and getting out. A few months after the breakup I was almost raped at a party. I found afterward that I was unable to do anything sexual with anyone, unless I was drunk. It was 4 years before I tried hooking up with anyone.

It’s now been 4 years and 6 months since all that happened, and I’m finally starting to get more comfortable with being sexual. I went through some minor therapy over the summer that really helped me to get past the near-rape I experienced in college. Because of that, I was finally able to have sex for the first time a few weeks ago. I’ve been hooking up with a good friend semi-regularly, and it’s been mostly great. The only problem I’ve run into is that I can’t relax enough to cum with this guy, from anything. He’s fingered me, gone down on me, and we’ve had sex, and I just can’t get off. I’ve had no problems ever bringing myself to orgasm, and when I’m with this guy I can feel like I’m just about to, but I can’t get all the way to that point. Do you have any suggestions for me?

Jilling off

Hey there, Jayme.

Thanks for your message. I do have one really important suggestion for you. This is the same suggestion I make to other women who, for whatever reason, are not getting off with a partner.

You say you have no problems bringing yourself to orgasm. This happens during masturbation, right? Do you use your hand, or do you employ a toy of some sort? Perhaps you do both. Whatever your pattern is, it is successful, and that’s the important part.

My suggestion to you is that you masturbate with and for your partner. I am a huge proponent of a couple masturbating together. There is a wealth of information that each can share with their partner about technique and sensitive areas of one’s body. This is a particularly effective means of resolving issues like the ones you have. And I hasten to add that these masturbation events don’t have to be some boring clinical affairs; they can be totally hot. Put on a show for him and he for you. Read erotica aloud to one another. Incorporate toys, whatever.

If you were my client I’d insist on a fucking moratorium. I’d have you and your partner do lots of playful masturbation together — dry hand, wet hand, toys, whatever. Once you get into a rhythm of orgasmic filled masturbation events, I’d have you move on to mutually masturbating each other. When this is successful you could move on to oral, just as long as you also use your hands. Then and only then would I allow you to incorporate full-on fucking to your sex play.

Eliminate the performance anxiety, share your Jack & Jilling off technique and make your sex play fun; that’s your homework.

Good luck

Here’s What Could Get You Committed If You Were a Woman in the 1870s

Many of things that got women committed in the 1870s would be considered normal behavior today.

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Woman in the 1870s

Despite all the effort made today to de-stigmatize mental illness, the history of mental health and its treatment isn’t pretty. Even as late as the 1970s, lobotomies were widely practiced in the United States to “cure” things such as depression, anxiety, and even homosexuality. Now, imagine yourself in the late 1800s … let’s say around 1875. The germ theory of medicine had barely been worked out, let alone any sound understanding of the human mind and mental illness. People were still treated with bloodletting, mercury, and other dangerous practices. The definition of “insanity” was flexible, and often used to strip inconvenient family members of their money and land. Protections against being committed to an insane asylum in the late 1800s were few … and even fewer if you were a woman. With only the signature of a husband or a male guardian, women could be committed for the rest of their lives for “illnesses” that are now recognized as normal, healthy sexual behavior.

 

Complete Article HERE!

Beatin’ His Meat Like It Owes Him Money

Name: Pete
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Location: Florida
I have been notice that some of the skin on my dick is starting to wear away from me masturbating…there is no blood or anything like that. It’s just the skin turning light in color around head of my dick. I think it’s my grip. Is there a way the color will come back or have I rubbed the skin cells to death. I masturbate about 3-4 times a week. I’m not in a relationship and prefer that over random sex.

Your dick skin is wearing away??? Really? How are you handling your unit, darlin’, with sandpaper?

owes me money

You say you think it’s your grip. Ya think?

Hey Pete, are you using lube when you stroke? Or are you just yanking away down there with wild abandon? If you’re not using a good jack off cream like, SPUNK Lube Hybrid, then ya better start! This stuff is GREAT! (Be sure to read our review on Dr Dick Sex Toy Reviews.) I know that you’re only pullin’ your pud, but it’s also good for use with condoms if/when you  make a foray into partnered sex.

As to the rather sudden coloration change on your dick, I’d be willing to guess that it has nothing to do with jerkin’ off, even like a maniac. More likely it’s a genetic condition known as vitiligo. And the coloration change is actually a loss in pigment. This is not a health concern, really! Nor is it contagious. So you don’t have to worry about it in that regard. If it is indeed vitiligo, there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s irreversible, but it can and does spread.

vitiligo_arms

Here’s a relatively easy way to self-diagnose this pesky, but benign condition. While naked as a jaybird, squat over a mirror. If what you have is vitiligo, you will also see the same kind of color changes (loss of pigment) around your asshole. You may also notice it on your elbows and knees. If you are fair-skinned, the loss of pigment will be less noticeable then if you have a darker complexion.

If it’s not vitiligo, you might consider a check up with your physician. But I pretty much can guarantee you that unless you are absolutely ruthless in your masturbation technique, ya know, like beating your meat like it owes you money, it’s not the cause of the pigment change on your joystick.

Good luck

7 Things I Learned After A Year Of Celibacy

(Personally I wouldn’t use the term celibacy to describe sexual abstinence and HERE is why.)

 

The most important lessons I learned about sex were when I wasn’t having any.

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1. I used to have a lot of sex.

I’m not shy about it. I was a woman with many casual sexual partners, and for a while it was really very fun. I revelled in it. Played up to the role. I was a good-time gal and wanted you to know it. I was in control of my sexuality and unafraid to explore it – and exploit it.

Then it stopped being fun. Somewhere along the way – the way being several years of drunken promiscuity with more men than I’ll admit to – my intentions got muddied. Tarnished. I was using sex as a weapon, a way to keep distance between me and every bloke I kicked out of my bed at 4am. Hats off to you if you can enjoy no-strings-attached sex, but me? I was playing a role, a sort of Samantha-Jones-meets-Russell-Brand playgirl, and I wasn’t happy. It took me a while to realise it, but once I did – once it hit me that I was lonely, and a bit of a phoney – the reality was devastating. So I closed my legs. For a year I didn’t date. For 12 months I asked myself who I was, what I wanted, and how I could bridge the gap between those two things.

2. It’s lonelier to be in bed beside a stranger than it is to be in bed alone.

02

The turning point for me was being in bed with a balding Australian who wouldn’t speak to me on nights out with mutual friends and yet, somehow, I’d always take home. One lazy morning I leaned over to him and said, “Make me come…” His answer was to check his watch, and get up to go shower. He might’ve known the sound of my orgasm and the taste of my kiss, but I couldn’t find the words to tell him how humiliating his treatment of me – our treatment of each other, to be fair – was, because there was absolutely no intimacy. Once I was celibate, I saw that the sex had been a pseudo-surrender: I could pretend to be revealing parts of myself, but really was using my body to ensure I’d never have to. It’s the most isolating thing I could’ve done. No wonder I felt lonely.

3. Nobody can love you until you love yourself.

It’s almost embarrassing to write that, hackneyed phrase as it is, and yet it’s the truest thing I know. I reckon on some level I was after somebody to prove my own worth to me. My high school sweetheart of almost a decade had dumped me to marry my best mate, and that affected, so deeply, how I thought of myself. I think I was looking for parts of myself in every man who I seduced. I revealed my most unkind, mean version as if to see who would challenge me and love me anyway. Some men tried, and I couldn’t respect them for it. I didn’t trust anyone who wanted to be with me, because what poor judgment did that demonstrate? I could never date a man actually interested in such a broken half-woman. It’s because I didn’t like myself that I couldn’t believe anybody else did. Nobody can love you until you do.

4. Good sex is sex with somebody you actually like.

01

In my most promiscuous years, the sex I was having was terrible. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but once I declared my year-long vow of celibacy I allowed myself to have the kind of fantasies I’d previously denied. I let my mind wander as to what it would be like to be kissed – every last inch of me. To have a man take his time, to be explored deeply, widely, to be looked in the eye. Sex with somebody you like as expression of intimacy, and not as a substitute for it, is just about as hot as it gets. Sex acting out what you think you should do based on some bad porn you’ve googled? Not so much. Sex with a man who claims not to “know you well enough” to go down on you? Even worse.

5. A sexless life isn’t a loveless life.

As soon as I stopped making sex my focus for a night out, or for parties or work events or any other time I left the goddamn house, the love in my life increased exponentially. It was inversely proportional. When I wasn’t trying to sleep with men, men were suddenly more interested in me. In what I had to say. I was very honest about my year of celibacy, and it fascinated them. I had so many conversations about the pressures they felt to “perform” a certain way in the bedroom, about how much they, too, wanted real connection, a partner. It was enlightening. We’re largely sold this idea of men as single-minded fuckboys, shagging around and not wanting to be bothered by commitment, that it’s us girls who pressure them into marriage and babies, and it shouldn’t have been so shocking to me that actually they wanted to be as seen and as valued as I did. They want families and community, too. Plus, boys make really good mates when you’re not trying to shag them. A revelation.

6. It’s not actually as hard you you’d think to go without.

The most commonly asked question I get about a year of celibacy is “But didn’t you go insane?” Look, I’ll be upfront: I wanked furiously. Of course I did. And I missed the weight of a man’s body on top of me. But the longer I went without sex the easier it became, and the more I was determined that when I did start engaging again it would have to mean something. It’s a bit like doing dry January – there’s an end point, and when you reach it it’s not worth your first drink being a warm chardonnay in a plastic cup. Oh no. On 1 February you spend all day dreaming about an ice-cold pint served in a frosted glass, beads of condensation dripping down the glass as you lift it to your mouth and let the bubbles dance on your tongue. And so with the first lay after a dry spell.

7. I will never be ashamed of my history.

My story is one about sex and the body – it’s one about feelings and the heart. Nobody else gets to decide what my history is. I got hurt, like a bajillion other people have been, and I had to figure out my shit, like a bajillion other people have. That’s not sickening and unworthy. That’s human.

Some men I’ve dated don’t get it – but I’d do it all again, unapologetically. I continue to date again, in hope. Unapologetically. I will meet a million different men at a million different events, and with some of them I will think, OK, let’s see if there is something here. I will go out with them and drink with them and laugh with them and wonder about them. Sometimes, I’ll go home with them too. If it feels right. I play fast and easy with my feelings because the alternative – shutting off my feelings entirely, as I had done – is just too damned depressing. It’s par for the course that some men won’t understand that. That some won’t understand that I’m proud of what I did to become who I am. Not that I shagged around, but that I got down in the trenches with every last damned hang-up I have, and shone a light on the fuckers until I wasn’t scared any more.

I did the work. I did the work, and I will never not reveal what that work looked like. I’m still learning, but I have learned enough to understand that you have to own what you’re ashamed of or else it owns you. My one won’t be deterred by the dirt under my fingernails. My one will thank me for it. My one will understand. The blokes who don’t understand, who don’t get what it took, they
aren’t my one. The ones who don’t understand are another lesson learned, all
in the name of what will be.

Complete Article HERE!