Something truly shocking happened to me this weekend. I was in bed with my new phe, enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning make-out sesh, when phe asked me for something I was totally unprepared for: a hand job. I was dumbfounded. What were we, in tenth grade? Not only had I not given a hand job in literal years, I had been repeatedly told by friends/partners/Cosmopolitan magazine that receiving a hand job is completely unenjoyable for someone who has perfected the art themselves. Panicking at the thought of failure (as many Brown students do), I made a joke about something else and changed the subject.
Why was I so much more willing to give a blow job or do something kinky than give a good old-fashioned hand job? Back in the day (whenever that is for you), a hand job was a big deal that warranted hours of discussion with friends. Techniques, reactions, and personal emotions were matters that really needed to parsed apart. Now, brief handplay may be included in foreplay, but it is no longer the main event.
Which is why, when asked for a hand job, I totally freaked. After some introspection, however, I realized how ridiculous I was being. It’s not like phe was asking me to do something totally insane that I was unprepared for. I’m all about someone using their hands to pleasure me (more on that soon), so why wouldn’t I want to do this simple thing to make my phe feel good?
During many an afternoon in the Blue Room, I have heard Brown students talking about the muffins with the same excitement and pleasure in their voices as their most recent hook-ups. My mind could not help but wander. If the muffins were different sexual positions, what would they be?
Corn muffin = hand job. Seriously, what is the point of a corn muffin? I guess it does the job of satisfying your hunger, but there is little joy to it. Some could say the same about a hand job: takes care of business, but rarely great or memorable. You deserve an upgrade.
Blueberry muffin = missionary. Ordering a blueberry muffin shows little originality, just like the missionary position. Not that it can’t be satisfying, but there is nothing too special about it.
One muffin in a tin of 1,000.
Hi there! I’m Lana Del Foreplay, BlogDailyHerald’s new Sextion writer. I am so excited to take over this semester. Over the next few months, columns will cover everything from crushes to sex to love, with little anecdotes sprinkled in between to (hopefully) give you a teeny bit of insight into sex both at and away from Brown. Can’t wait to get down and dirty with you all.
During these snowy nights, I can’t help but wish there were someone snuggling up beside me to keep me warm in my twin bed. But without any currently viable options in the love department, I roll over and pick up my phone. What used to be a “hey, what’s up?” text to a romantic interest has been replaced with anywhere from five to 55 minutes of flicking through photos of people between ages twenty to 28 within a five mile radius. I see someone cute, take 20 seconds to look through all of their photos and read their blurb, and finally swipe right because I am bored. A match! Here we go…
As someone who has had over hundreds of matches throughout my tenure on Tinder (#notsohumblebrag), I have talked to many a phe I would not have had the
pleasure chance of meeting otherwise. I won’t lie: it is an amazingly modern way for singles to mingle. Now I’m not sure if it’s the people I am choosing or just the plethora of options on Tinder, but the majority of people I talk to are weird, to put it kindly. From the classic “you horny?” to the seemingly sweet “you’re cute :),” which turns into “I want to cum on your face,” it can be hard to tell who is a normal person and who is a psychotic nymphomaniac axe murderer.
Well, it’s almost February 14th again. Whether you are in a long-term relationship or dancing on your own, VDay can be fun and exciting; you just need the music to set the mood. Having had a traumatic experience having sex with “All of the Lights” playing in the background, I know how important a soundtrack to a good hookup is. So I’m here to help you out: here is BlogDailyHerald’s Sextion-approved Valentine’s playlist, filled with lots of smooth, slow, and sultry jams. Put it on and get down with your significant other, new fling, or your bad self. Or just put it on while you eat ice cream and watch “Bridget Jones’ Diary.” Whatever floats your boat. Happy Valentine’s Day!
P.S. This may be ~*babymaking*~ music, but remember to use protection!
Every woman should own at least one good vibrator. And though I’m like a kid in a candy store at a sex shop, I can understand how the experience of shopping for a vibrator may be uncomfortable for first-time buyers. Well, fortunately, we live in a world where purchases can be made online and shipped in discrete packaging. And we live in a world where vibrators have become pretty fucking high tech, too.
So, what are some cool vibrators out there that can be ordered online? Here are a few to look into.
For the exhausted, yet insatiably horny college student: The Little Rooster a.k.a. the vibrator alarm clock. What better way to give your groggy early morning self a boost than with some friendly nether-region pleasure?
For couples: Many women have difficulty achieving orgasm without clitoral stimulation. However, this sad reality is currently in the process of being ameliorated by an indiegogo campaign. You may have read about about this hands-free vibrator already, as it has been flounced across several online media sites; however, the fact that you have not given the $95 to secure one means there is something wrong. It’s called Eva and I could not be more excited for mine to arrive this coming May.
For the person who doesn’t want to spend too much money: I am a fan of any Lelo product, but the fact that they have put their name on a vibrator that’s only $30, the Intimina, means that you’re still going to be getting a high quality crotch rocket. Oh, and it’s waterproof.
For the uber-geek: I love novelty USB drives. A 16GB USB drive that doubles as a vibrator? Yes, please.
We have 364 days of the year to brainstorm costume ideas. Some ideas are seen to fruition and some crash and burn. When I was younger, I was a witch from kindergarten until fourth grade. I wasn’t very creative. In high school, I never transitioned over to buying trashy costumes when all of my friends did – in fact, I bought a banana suit freshman year. However, I did get slightly more creative throughout each year of high school and during my time at Brown by dressing up as a different kind of banana each year. My crowning achievement was the sex-ed banana. No, I’m not kidding – I walked around in a banana suit with a garbage bag rolled up on my head.
Anyway, I like to think that my obsession with this banana suit was some kind of a psycho-sexual-Freudian-thing. I was a sexually repressed teenager who went to a very conservative high school. And what’s happened to me now? I’m a sex writer.
That being said, I’ve done some brainstorming about what I think other people’s costumes mean about their sexuality:
Punny costume: We get it, you think you’re clever. But you also believe in the g-spot and know a thing or two about how to use your tongue.
Group costume: You’re only confident enough to go out with a group of friends. Nevertheless, I see a threesome in your future.