We all yearn for deep, enduring love. We burn for exotic, erotic sex. We crave...well, you name it. Why? Not because we are all hot to trot, but because our brains are. That's right. A segment of the brain called the limbic system governs our reward circuitry, or "pleasure centers," which in turn rule our wants and desires, especially when it comes to love and food, the two things the body—and the species—need to survive. But that's just where the story begins.
I'm sitting in my NYC apartment one day in the middle of the afternoon, smoking a bong by myself because I was that kind of driven and motivated, when Tanya called me up. I could tell she was pretty horny, but I wasn't feeling it. I had a big "me" day planned: had just opened a bag of Fritos, pulled up Archer on Netflix and my couch was calling. "Okay, but if you change your mind, I'm already in my costume," she said. By the time I get to her door, I had just about talked myself out of it. But she already knew I was here, and had buzzed me in. And just as I was waffling at her door, it opened, to reveal...
Joelle and I hated each other, which is always a good way to start a fling. We worked together in the kitchen of our dining hall in college. I don't know how, but it started getting hot. We both had keys to the kitchen, so late-night rendezvous there were no problem as long as we kept the lights off and kept away from the windows. Our dining hall had these ginormous soup pots that let you make soup in 50-gallon batches. We were always joking about how they were big enough to fit a person inside, and now I found myself wondering wondering whether it could fit two.
I took the pill on the way home, trying to time it so I could collapse just inside our door, rather than outside. I distinctly remember rolling my commuting jeans and underwear off as one unit, like a dirty rubber band, and slipping into a pair of cotton panties and a camisole top. I woke up the next morning feeling great. Birds shining, sun chirping. My cotton panties were neatly folded by the side of the bed, which was weird. "Don’t tell me you don’t remember!" he said...
The year was 1985. I was walking on Third Avenue in New York City. On the corner, a cab stopped at the light. The car was free and the driver smiled at me as I passed in front of his vehicle. I couldn't help but notice how drop-dead gorgeous he was. I raised my hand to hail him down, and he pulled to the curb to let me in. I sat in the front seat. The sexual magnetism between us was break-the-Richter-scale material. I wasn't there to be his fare and he wasn't there to be my driver.
Miley Cyrus performed on MTV's 2013 VMAs, stuck her tongue out way too many times, rubbed her vajajay with a foam finger, danced in a sexually suggestive manner and mostly just annoyed the audience — all in the name of twerking. She may have gotten her point across, but there's one point a lot of people are missing: Miley Cyrus was not even twerking.
Whether you're too shy to buy or you've grown bored with your extensive erotica library, the web offers an ever-growing supply of sexy stories, limited only by our collective imaginations. From straight-up sex to tales of BDSM with the Saved by the Bell gang (really), we found the sites that give you the best free erotica on the net.
When it comes to our sex lives, we’re not exactly dissatisfied—but almost all of us would like to make some improvements, according to a recent study from adultshop.com.
Author of new book "What Do Women Want? Adventures in the Science of Female Desire" reveals why the age-old beliefs about the female sex drive may be bogus.
Controversies about 'sluttiness' have been raging for years, and there's no sign they're slowing down anytime soon. The word 'slut' packs a pretty powerful and damning punch. Is it time we reclaim the word and prevent it from being used as a weapon against female sexuality? It's a tough and complicated call.
My favorite gender double standard is probably the one where a guy who's "allergic" to condoms is a liar and a chick with the same terrible latex malady is a keeper. The rest of y'all seem to be hung up on the "number" game. But maybe your "number," ladies, really isn't going to be a big deal much longer.
I'm not what you'd call an incredibly sexual person. Not anymore, anyway. I'm in my fifties now (and hopefully wiser for the wear), so I no longer have the frisky energy of a younger woman. In fact, it's that very lack of desperation that's freed me, sexually speaking. Having come to terms with the mature woman that I've become, I'm clearly in touch with what I want. And what I want is younger men.
Dealing with breakups had never been my strong suit. The second I started seeing someone one, I’d start fantasizing about how I’d get out. Things shifted by time I hit my late 20s, when, instead of just imagining my exit strategies, I actually started planning and executing on them. Then I was met with a new challenge that arrived in form of a man named Jonathan.
To make the sex you're having better, hotter and consistently more orgasmic, you need to pay more attention to foreplay and communication – and you need to learn how to take the lead. Here are six tips to increase your chances of having mind-blowing sex tonight and every night
No matter how old you are, chances are you've engaged in one of the latest texting trends: sexting. Sexting is sending a somewhat naughty text to someone, in hopes to rev up their engine, if you will. By following these tips below, you'll be geared up to give good sext in no time.