Hi, my name is mike I’m 20 and I’m a bisexual. And I have an 8 and half inch uncircumcised cock. And I believe my stepmom has been spying on me. Now do I take the opportunity to have sex with her, or do I let it go. She’s extremely beautiful, very thick with a nice hairy pussy and big titties. I’ve seen her spying on me numerous times. What should I do? Should I drill her or should I not? Let me know.
AS IF, Mike! Nice try though.
I have a good deal of experience working with real issues of intra-family sex, so when your message arrived I knew it was sheer fantasy.
There is so much about your story that is completely unbelievable. First, you start out with way too much information about yourself — your bisexuality and your eight and a half inches of uncut cock. What does that have to do with anything? Unless, of course, you’re flashing your boy meat to your unsuspecting stepmother. But then if you’re flashing her, she can’t be spying on you. More likely, she is revolted by your impudence.
Second, you don’t give enough information about how the supposed spying occurs. Someone with a real story to tell would have reversed these things. He would have gone into detail about the incident or incidents involving his stepmother and he wouldn’t have volunteered the size and shape of his johnson.
The next mistake you make is the detailed description you volunteer of your super-hot MILF of a step mom — beautiful, thick, hairy pussy, big titties. How would you know she has a hairy pussy unless you’re spying on her? BUSTED!
And say, what’s a 20 year old doing still living at his father’s house anyway? Are you some kind of slacker?
Should you drill your stepmother? Indeed, what could possibly go wrong with a dead-beat son fucking his father’s wife? In your dreams, Mike. In your dreams!
Even though Mike is full of shit, there may be others in my audience who are really struggling with issues of intra-family sex. So I’d like to take this opportunity to discuss this very thorny issue a bit. Incest, particularly the heterosexual type or the adult-to-child type, is considered taboo and a serious crime in nearly every culture, both past and present. There’s plenty of good reason for this, not least of which is issue of inbreeding. But the genetic concerns aside, the most devastating thing about incest is the secrecy. No one violates this universal taboo in the open. The secrecy and the inevitable shame and guilt will, sure as shootin’, destroy a family dynamic.
Even when the intra-family sex is not technically incest — sex between blood relatives — like Mike’s fantasy with his fantasy step mom — the secrecy, the violation of the inherent family bond of trust and the inescapable guilt and shame will destroy the relationship between the perpetrators as well as destroy the family.
If you find yourself in a seductive situation with family member, don’t give in to the temptation. Even a seemingly harmless encounter between consenting adults will inevitably have dire consequences for all concerned.
Finally, because the incest taboo is so strong and so universal it also creates the perfect environment for equally powerful fantasy development. Take Mike as an example. This lad’s fertile imagination, coupled with an overactive libido and too much time on his hands, has created the quintessential jack-off material for horny adolescent. He imagines himself man enough to fish in the same waters as his old man. Titillating whimsy for sure and definitely lots of boy juice will be spilt into wadded up Kleenex. But that’s precisely where it needs to say — as a cherished albeit forbidden fantasy.
Location: Mexico City
What does CBT mean?
Geez, CBT could mean all sorts of things, depending on the context. It could stand for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, something the good doctor knows a great deal about. It could also stand for Computer Based Training, but why in the world would you be asking Dr Dick about that? Let me see what else…CBT also stands for “Cock and Ball Torture”.
Yeah, that’s it! That’s what you want to know about, huh Julian — you little pervert, you. Good for you!
There are all manner of torture techniques for your cock and balls Slapping, Squeezing, Pinching, Bondage, the use of weights even tickling can be a form of torture. A dude’s package can withstand a fair amount of torment. But dolling out professional grade torture is not for the amateur. The dominant (as opposed to the submissive) really needs to know what he or she is doing. Carelessness can lead to severe injury.
In most cases, “torture” is really mostly “play”. One’s cock and balls are simply tugged on or stretched out, maybe with some weights. There’s cock and ball bondage too — the family jewels trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey, don’t cha know. And that’s just the beginning. Imagine what you could do with your mother’s old clothespins. See, now you’re putting two and two together!
Oh, and the “T” word doesn’t necessarily stand for torture. It can represent a full range of play — from tickling and teasing to torment and torture.
If you’re interested in investigating the pain/pleasure of cock and ball torture for your self, Julian, here’s a safe way to start. Begin by experimenting with different sensations. Look around the house for things you can brush or rub against your cock and balls. Start with something soft like a silk scarf. Progressively work your way to something with a rough texture, like a scrub brush. You will also notice that the sensations are different when your dick is soft as opposed to when it is hard.
Try a hollowed-out, cylindrical loofa sponge. Get it good and wet, and slip it over your cock and try jerkin’ off with it. Rubber bands can be applied to your cock and balls. Not only for the constriction sensation, which is delightful in itself. But you can also snap those puppies for some delicious pain.
Lots of pervs like cock and ball spanking. You could try your hand at this, so to speak. Or you could employ a kitchen wooden spoon or spatula. They work nicely too. Prickly things like a fork can be used to scrape or drag over your cock and balls. Poke them lightly if you like. Be careful though; you do not want to break the skin and draw blood.
Cock and ball bondage can be a delight. Hemp rope is the perfect choice for this. And I have a fantastic resource for you, Julian, a novice, as well as for all you more advanced perverts. Check out all the great stuff at Twisted Monk. You’ll find everything you need, including some very informative how-to-videos. Look for the Twisted Monk banner in the sidebar.
Again, safe play is happy play. Wrap the rope around your cock, and around each of your balls separately. Use the rope to stretch your sac. A little discomfort is desirable, but just don’t over do it. Remember the sensations will become more intense as your dick engorges with blood. Keep this kind of play to less than 10 minutes at a time. Watch for signs of distress — your dick will veer to the color purple and your balls will feel cool to the touch. When that happens, it’s time to loosen the restraints and move on to something else for a while.
CBT is great for livening up and extending a ho-hum jerk off session too. And here’s a tip: once you know what you like and how you like it; you can turn on your partner to the practices.
Speaking of partners, the novice perv might want to surrender his privates to a professional Dom. A well-trained mistress or master will be able to take you places you’ve only dreamed about. A pro Dom is also a great resource for the do-it-yourself kinda guy. Before you launch into uncharted waters, seek the advice of someone who has made the study of pain/pleasure his or her life’s work. But don’t expect to get this information for free.
Cock and ball play can be loads of fun — alone or with others. Just remember the mantra — safe play is happy play. Experimenting is fine, but if you get in over your head and you don’t know what the fuck you are doing, STOP. Go back to something more suitable to your skill set.
Last Sunday, 07/24, I woke up feeling a bit wonky. Couldn’t quite put my finger on why I was feelin’ out of sorts; I just was. But I had a swell outing planned for the day, so I couldn’t flake. A couple of friends and I were planning on taking the ferry to Bainbridge Island for lunch. The weather was perfect for our little cruise across Puget Sound.
My friends and I met at Pikes Market, a famous landmark here in The Emerald City, and we walked to the ferry from there. I walk about four miles every day so the 15-minute walk should have been a breeze for me. But something was wrong. I felt lethargic and winded.
The 35-minute ferry ride was magical, as always, but upon disembarking and walking to the restaurant I began to really hurt. Not one to spoil the fun I marshaled my resources and made it to lunch.
The walk back to the ferry was excruciating. I was lightheaded, slightly nauseous, and completely winded. My heart was pounding like it wanted out of my chest. My companions became as worried as I was.
Once we docked in Seattle I had to once again disembark then walk to public transportation and to home. I was in a panic. The crush of the crowd around added to my distress. I thought for sure I was gonna faint, or barf, or worse. I was certain that my lungs were gonna give out on me. After many stops to catch my breath and buckets of sweat from the effort I finally made it home.
I’ve been monitoring my blood pressure for several months. (Ya gotta do this when you’re old, like me.) So once at home, I took a reading. My blood pressure was normal, but my pulse was unusually low, a reading of 49 to be precise. A couple of hours later it was 45. This was odd. I had never experienced anything like that before. Mostly my pulse rate hovers in the upper 70s and low 80s.
I felt much better on Monday. But come Tuesday, I was a total wreck. The least bit of exertion left me exhausted and prostrate. I knew it; my lungs were finally giving out. I put in a call to my doctor and got an expedited appointment for the very next day.
Tuesday’s blood pressure readings were slightly elevated, which was great, but my pulse was way down. I took several readings and each was in the mid 30s never over 40. I still didn’t get it. (This is probably why I’m not a brain surgeon.)
Wednesday turned out to be a nightmare. Unbeknownst to me I was about to began a headlong descent into the maw of the medical industry.
My doctor’s appointment was at 10:30am. The doc took one look at me and ordered an electrocardiogram (EKG). “HOLY SHIT!” She exclaimed. (Or something to that effect.) “How is it that you’re still standing?”
Needless to say, this got my attention right quick. “What?” I inquired. “Although you are not having a heart attack you are this close to the pearly gates. Your pulse is about to flat line, you monkey!” My doctor stuttered. (Ok, maybe she didn’t mention the pearly gates, or call me a monkey, but that was her drift for damn sure.)
Maybe it was the stress or shock of it, but I started to laugh. My doctor asked; “What’s so funny?” I said; “Did you ever see the movie, Death Becomes Her? Remember the scene in the emergency room?”
She gave a faint smile and said; “Yeah, I get it, but this is no laughing matter. Get thee to the Emergency Room ASAP!”
Off I went.
I got to Swedish Hospital (First Hill) Emergency Reception just before noon. The guy behind the desk asked what was wrong with me. I said; “Basically, I’m having a heart attack.” Apparently those are the magic words because the team swung into action. I was admitted immediately, blood was drawn, another EKG, x-rays were taken, and I was hooked up to a heart monitor. Diagnosis: Bradycardia with second-degree heart block.
You need a pacemaker IMMEDIATELY!
We’ll get you a room on the cardiac ward at our Cherry Hill campus, which is just a mile away, as soon as one is available.”
“Oh, OK, I guess,” said I as the severity of the situation finally began to dawn on me. As you can see, I’m not the sharpest pencil in the box.
Back in the emergency room I was laying on a gurney with electrodes and wires sprouting from my chest and back. I lay there for hours listening to the cries, screams, and moans of my fellow emergency patients. Codes blue and grey are being called with regularity and I can just imagine the human misery that surrounds me.
At 5:00pm one of the emergency nurses tells me that a room at the cardiac ward will be available at 7:00pm. “But, 7:00pm is the changing of the shift. So the soonest we could get you there is 7:30pm.”
7:30pm comes and goes. “What’s up?” I ask. “We’re trying to locate transport for you.” Was their retort. “But the Cherry Hill campus is just a mile away. I could walk there from here.” I countered. “But you need a special ambulance, one with a nurse on board, one that can monitor your heart in transit.” “You gotta be kidding!” Said I. “Not at all. You could flat line on the way to Cherry Hill and we’d be liable. Don’t worry, Richard, we will surely have the transport by 10:00pm.”
The transport didn’t actually arrive till 12:30am. That was twelve and a half hours on a gurney in the ER! And the fun is just beginning.
I finally get to the Cherry Hill campus at 1:00am. I am ushered into a room where I am then interrogated for 45 minutes. (Are you now, or have you ever been…) They called it an intake, but a rose by any other name. I haven’t eaten since breakfast at 5:00am the previous day with only water to drink. Now, even the water was being withheld. I guess they anticipated I would have my procedure later that (Thursday) morning.
Not so fast there buckaroo!
Thursday dawns, but nothing happens. I’m confined to my bed (the second worse bed in the world. The first being the ER gurney I left yesterday) and am attached to a heart monitor. I am faint from hunger and more than a little dehydrated. By noon they decide they need to feed me lest the hunger and dehydration kill me before the arrhythmia.
I scarfed down my lunch like a dying man…mostly because I was.
Allow me to pause my narration for a moment and comment on the cardiac nursing staff. They are superb! And even that superlative leaves me wanting. These women are freakin’ rock stars in my book. One in particular, Nurse Jen, totally got me. We both had the same gallows humor. She is my hero.
Eric Williams, MD, FHRS
Late Thursday afternoon Dr. Williams, a cardiac electrophysiologist, saunters into my room. He’s gonna be doing the cutting on me. He is a tall handsome black man with the most unassuming manner. He looks me in the eye and talks to me like I’m a human. I’m super impressed with his bedside manner. He tells me my blood work and enzymes are excellent. My x-rays show that my heart isn’t enlarged. (But wait! Every one tells me I have a huge heart.) And there’s no sign that I had a heart attack. We talk about the pacemaker and the procedure. He tells me it’s about the size of a silver dollar. (When I actually see the blasted thing the next day, just before they shove into my chest, I have to wonder where Dr. Williams gets his silver dollars.) The procedure is very routine; he tells me. “Yeah sure, for you maybe.” It’ll last approximately 45 minutes, during which I will be enjoying twilight anesthesia. “Twilight anesthesia, huh? That sounds delightful.” Better living through chemistry, I always say.
I get a sedative Thursday night to help me sleep in my little bed of torture. And nothing by mouth after midnight. (Oh no! Not that again.)
Friday morning my nurses prep me for surgery. First, they have to shave my manly chest, don’t cha know. Nurse Jen takes the lead with a maniacal gleam in her eye. This is more than a little awkward and also maybe a wee bit kinky.
Finally the fateful hour arrives. I get a second IV stent, because apparently one is not enough for these folks. Then I’m wheeled down to the bowels of the building where I disappear into one of the surgery suits.
Does this look like the size of a silver dollar? I don’t think so.
Two hours later I’m back in my room dopey as all get-out, but still kickin’.
I’m home now, i’m happy to report. They liberated me on Saturday, 07/30, afternoon. And I am only slightly worse for the wear. I have a very distinctive slash across my left pectoral. There’s an unsightly bulge just below it. It looks like i’m growing a third breast. And a nasty purple and brown bruise that runs from my shoulder to my sternum and from my collarbone to my nipple. I sound like a real attractive guy, huh?
The Moral Of The Story
My friends, life is short! Ought we not live every day like it’s our last? I think so. I have decided that I will try to be more kind to myself and those around me. Because, ya know what? In a twinkling of an eye, it can and most assuredly be over.
Ladies, libido means sexual desire. Women having decreased libido is one of the most common complaints I hear in the office, especially for those stressed out supermoms. Trust me – you’re not alone, ladies. It is estimated that more than 40% of women experience some sort of sexual dysfunction in their lifetime. Here’s why, and what you can do about it.
Female sexual dysfunction can include problems with desire, arousal, achieving orgasm and sexual pain that causes significant distress in your life. More specifically, decreased libido is when you don’t want to engage in any type of sexual activity, including masturbation, and you don’t want to have any sexual thoughts or fantasies. Sound like someone you know? Let’s review some reasons why you may not want to have sex with your significant other:
1. Bad Relationship.
Fighting with your partner is an easy way to kill your sex drive. When you are angry or hurt, sex is the last thing on your mind. Fix your relationship — go to couples’ therapy.
It doesn’t matter where the stress comes from, all of it can cause your libido to drop. It doesn’t matter if you’re stressed out from financial problems, from trying to get pregnant, or from worrying about your job – it all negatively impacts your libido. Stress can also lead to you being fatigued, which worsens the problem. Find ways to chill out ladies – I mediate daily to deal with stress, and that might work for you, too.
3. Alcohol and Smoking.
Both of these drugs have been shown to decrease sexual desire and satisfaction. While alcohol in moderation is okay, when you binge drink, sexual dysfunction starts to occur. On the other hand, any kind of smoking is bad – just quit!
Easier said than done, right? You have to know why you are smoking. Substitute that why with something else. For example, if you smoke because you are bored, instead of lighting up go to the gym.
4. Mental Illness.
Mental conditions such as depression and anxiety can also cause your libido to drop. Talk to your doctor and get treated. Sometimes medications used to treat these conditions can also cause a drop in libido – but not every medication does, so talk to your doctor.
5. Birth Control.
Hormonal birth has been shown to decrease testosterone in your body, which could lead to a lowered libido. This is because testosterone is one of the hormones that makes you horny.
Other medications such as antidepressants, anti-seizure meds, opioids, medical marijuana, antihistamines, and hypertensive medications can also decrease your sexual desire. Talk to your doctor about switching your medications if you think any are giving you a problem. Your healthcare provider can also potentially switch you to a non-hormonal birth control option, like the Paragard IUD.
6. Trauma in your Past.
Negative sexual experiences in the past can cause issues with decreased libido. Women who were raped or have been victims of domestic violence may, understandably, have issues here. Going to therapy to work through your pain can help.
7. Poor Body Image.
In a world full of fake butts and boobs, it isn’t hard to image women struggling with their body image. Not thinking you are sexy enough can cause your sex drive to plummet. If you don’t like something about yourself, change it – in a healthy way, of course. Eat clean, drink water and exercise – though, keep in mind that a lot of times this is something that you have to work out in therapy.
8. Medical Conditions.
Medical illnesses such as diabetes, hypertension, thyroid disease, congestive heart failure, or cancer can all affect libido. They can alter hormones that have an impact on your sex drive. Proper treatment of the underlying disease can often improve libido.
9. Pregnancy and Breastfeeding.
Hormones fluctuate during pregnancy and breastfeeding, which can decrease your sex drive. Being pregnant can cause you to be tired and not feel sexy, which certainly doesn’t help your libido! Do your best to focus on intimacy with your partner — also, when you have the baby, get help. Let those grandparents help out with babysitting!
In menopause, estrogen levels drop drastically because the ovaries aren’t working anymore. Low estrogen causes, among other things, a dry vagina, which makes sex painful. This can lead to decreased sexual desire. Arthritis in the aging population can make having sex less fun. When vaginal dryness makes sex uncomfortable, use lubricants (try a free sample of Astroglide Liquid or Astroglide Gel, which temporarily relieve dryness during intercourse). Some women find using vaginal estrogen also helps.
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.
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.
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?
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.