Faking It

More news from the Female Orgasm Front: apparently, eight out of ten British women fake their orgasms. (Men do too, just in smaller numbers.)

Don’t care. Besides, they’re Brits, ergo drunk most of the time, ergo probably can’t remember what happened anyway.

And in an unrelated development (via Insty again), some guy has invented a machine (called a “Yarlap” — priceless) which stimulates a woman’s pelvic floor and may help her have an orgasm.

Still don’t care. I thought that kegels were supposed to do this precise function, but apparently eight out of ten British women are either too drunk or too lazy to do even this most basic of exercises.

And just to add a little visual to this piece, here’s the pic (again) of Typical British Chick:

No man should.

Frankly, I’m surprised that more British men don’t fake their orgasms, just to escape their predicament.

Seeking Excuses

I have a theory that for many women, sex, or rather agreeing to have sex is difficult, and especially so for the first time with a new partner. How else to explain the fact that so many women admitted that their first time with a new man was generally experienced in an alcoholic haze? (For those who haven’t been keeping up, the source data is here.) So if confronting herself about her “slutty” behavior (even if the sluttiness is only in her own mind), a woman would like to have an excuse like “Oh, but I was drunk…” and thus can excuse away or justify the indiscretion. Or else, as the original study showed, women can even explain away the drunkenness as just a regular part of the dating process, so therefore it’s okay.

I also believe that this is why so many women have rape fantasies, because “Oh, he forced me to do it…” is likewise an expression that denies the woman’s [shameful] complicity in the act. (Of course, now that it’s become okay to accuse a previous partner with actual rape as part of the excuse, the whole thing has become considerably more sinister, especially as such accusations can take place months or years afterwards and still be considered valid by law enforcement. But for the sake of argument, let’s treat this scenario as but a blip on societal consciousness which will disappear at some point when women regain their sanity. We can only hope.) Certainly, this explains female submissiveness (outside a natural submissive personality anyway), which can be regarded (by women) as a kind of watered-down rape fantasy.

The only time, I think, when self-delusion disappears is when a woman encounters a universal object of female desire, such as a hunky actor or popular musician. Even then, there is a “safety in numbers” excuse — “OMG everybody is crazy about him!” — which makes it okay, or at least, provides a figleaf of an excuse for irresponsibility and sexual licentiousness. You only need a sliver of an excuse, and it will be acceptable, in other words.

I think men, on the whole, just go “Huh?” to all this, I suppose because there’s little societal censure in licentious sexual activity for men (yeah I know, double standards whatever). But I think we men need to understand this female need for self-justification (or -delusion) when it comes to sex, because how else can we otherwise explain that so many women seem to need booze to help them get it on, even with longtime partners and/or husbands?

It’s not just partner-sex which occasions such a mindset. I recall one woman tweeting (? I think) of her humiliation when her suitcases were searched in Customs, and her collection of travel vibrators and -dildos came to light. Equally astonishing was the number of women who commented with their own humiliations on similar occasions. (I didn’t take note of links or numbers because I read this before I got back into blogging, and didn’t think I’d need them. But I recall that the sympathizers numbered well into the thousands.) So the market came to the rescue in the comment thread, with many women extolling the virtues of Bergamo’s Cucumber Soothing Gel as a travel accessory, which seemed rather odd to me until I found a picture of said wonder-substance:

Of course it’s the product, and not the packaging which makes this so appealing to women — “It’s for my skin condition, Mr. TSA Agent!” — and thus is plausible deniability maintained.

You’re not fooling anyone, ladies… but hey, if it makes you feel better about yourselves (and gets us guys involved in the process, so to speak), then go for it.

“Hey, bartender!”

Gammy’s Special Moment

Via Insty (who should know better), we learn that yes, Grandma’s still having sex.

Okay, all my usual admonitions about TMI (Too-Much-fucking-Information) [sic] apply here, but as someone who isn’t (yet) a grandfather but who is well into the demographic, I can’t for the life of me see why this is news, or of any possible interest to anyone. Everyone (except, it seems, for Millennial reporters) knows perfectly well that people can and do have sex well into their dotage, but the only difference, now that the ghastly Baby Boomers are old farts, is that they feel a need to tell everyone they’re doing it, compared to their own grandparents (most of whom must be mercifully deceased by now) who in all likelihood had geriatric sex too, but didn’t broadcast it from the rooftops.

Modesty, people.

All that said, however, I think that this is one of the sweetest pictures ever taken:

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Senior Sex

From a longtime friend living behind enemy lines in the south of Frankistan comes this little snippet:

The frequency of sexual activity of senior males depends largely on where they were born.
Statistics just released from Statistics Canada, World Health Organisation and The United Nations B.O.H. Team, reveal that:
North American, Australian, South African, New Zealand and British men between 60 and 75 years of age, will on average, have sex two to three times per week, (and a small number a lot more), whereas Japanese men, in exactly the same age group, will have sex only once or twice per year if they are lucky.
This has come as very upsetting news to a lot of us at the golf club, as none of us had any idea that we were Japanese…

Another part of the study:

Those who have even less senior sex than the Japanese are known as “Jewish”…

Okay, I made the last bit up. Shuddup, Shlomo.

See, I don’t mind talking bout sex when it’s a joke. It’s when people get all serious about it that my trigger-finger starts to twitch. Which makes the post below all the more alarming.

Tightening And Stretching

Someone did a study — a serious one this time — back in 2011 which looked at the reported incidence of surgical “improvements” by men and women on their naughty bits, and ranked the incidence by country. Here they are:

Top 5 countries for vaginal rejuvenation:
1. Colombia
2. Brazil
3. Greece
4. Italy
5. Venezuela

Okay, I have no idea what’s included in “vaginal rejuvenation” and I’m afraid to ask, but apparently it’s something of an issue for South American women.

Even better are the Top 5 countries for penis enlargement:
1. Greece
2. Italy
3. France
4. Spain
5. Netherlands

Clearly, South American men have no equivalent phallic issues to their women’s woo-woos, but those “Latin lovers” appear to be something of a myth, in terms of, shall we say, penetrative powers. (Note that Greece and Italy appear on both sides of the equation, as it were. I don’t know why that would be, but I will welcome the opinions of others, in Comments.)

I have no link for the original, but I read it in the Daily Mail, so it must be true.

Every Picture Tells A Story

…or, in the case of the picture below, dozens of stories. I invite my Readers to tell me (via email and not in Comments) just what is happening here, in the form of a short story, description, treatment or even screenplay- or stage dialogue. Take as long as you need (limit, say, 2,000 words), and it can be as approving, censorious, prudish, salacious or humorous as you’d like. All submissions should reach me before midnight, Friday March 31 with the subject line: House Party. (All submissions not having this subject line will be ignored.) I’ll choose a winner, publish the story and give out a mystery prize soon thereafter. (“Mystery prize” because I haven’t thought of one yet.) Here it is:

It’s one of my favorite cartoon sketches of all time, and I could write an entire novella from it.

Regrettably, I don’t know the artist; but according to the hairstyles and clothes, I’ll hazard a guess and put its creation in the late 1950s to mid-1960s. If anyone can shed light on any of that, I’d appreciate it.