Chances are you've heard the story: An unmarked door leads to a dimly-lit massage parlor where women with strong hands and tolerant smiles await a train of libidinous male patrons. The "happy ending" tale is all too common, a mixture of truth and urban legend that captivates male imaginations even in an age of casual sex and unlimited Internet porn. But until recently, the female version of "happy endings" has remained doggedly taboo. While one woman's violation may be the next woman's fantasy, here is the bottom line: We like massages and we like orgasms, so why shouldn't the two sometimes, er, come hand in hand?
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.
We talk sex with Penny Antine (aka Raven Touchstone), award-winning adult film script writer.
What’s the first step in exploring S&M? Change the way you think. What exactly constitutes as S&M? Are you comfortable enough in your sexual relationship to try it? Ky Henderson clears up misconceptions and speaks to couples who agree that it is a new way to build trust and explore ways to potentially liven up a “vanilla” sex life.
Now, we're in surgery mode and where once a little "nip/tuck" was considered an interesting possibility for the person who desired physical change, it's presently part of a culture that equates body modification with self-esteem. I am talking about vaginal surgery, as in labiaplasty, hymenoplasty and vaginoplasty — all procedures designed to enhance the appearance and feel of the vagina. What bothers me about the idea of vaginal surgery (when it's done for aesthetic reasons as opposed to medical) is that it just seems to provide yet another avenue for women to believe they're less than perfect as is.
It's time to get acquainted with the little egg made of jade (yes, the stone) that's putting a pleasurable new twist on the age-old concept of getting laid.
Even though women make up one third of the visitors to porn sites, why is the majority of porn being made by men, for men? We take a look into the adult content that's being made exclusively for women, everything from video to erotic fiction.
There's no denying it: Birth control can be awkward. That's why YourTango and Bedsider have teamed up to present you with genius tips for preventing and dealing with awkward moments, from the 'condom conversation' to using a birth control method
We're giving sexy makeovers to seven wholesome holiday traditions to help you not just face but embrace the season with your special someone.
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...
Have you ever had sex in a soup pot? These two did and this episode of sex stories is unbelievably hilarious!
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.