Daily Loaf

Hey guys, guess what? Women masturbate too.

It seems that lately anytime I’m with a group of friends and the topic of masturbation and methodologies is broached, voices become hushed, giggles escape with each breath, and the clitoris of every nearby woman seems to perk up and listen.

Why is it that for CENTURIES men have openly discussed, “choking the chicken,” “spanking the monkey,” or “jerkin’ the gerkin” (for the brits), while women are meant to blush and run anytime such a devilish act is mentioned. Read the rest of this entry »

“So, what is ’sex’ for lesbians, anyway? I mean, neither of you have a dick, so it’s not like you can really fuck. You just haven’t been fucked by the right dick yet.”

You know, you’re right, guy who still high-fives and wears Ed Hardy shirts. Obviously we dykes can’t have “real” sex. “Real” sex requires use of your giant cock. You describe “sex” as the act of penetration. And even though I can penetrate a woman using other methods, and probably find her G-spot more quickly and efficiently than you can, I’m not having real sex with her. It’s ‘cause I can’t cum in her butt crack, isn’t it? Don’t be shy…you know that’s your jizz-catching area of choice…usually ‘cause you’re fucking her doggy-style…or you just have it in her asshole…I’m not insinuating you’re a closet homo or anything. Your protein shake is ready. Read the rest of this entry »

That was one question I asked myself after an incident a few years ago. I met a man in his mid 30s at a bar in South Tampa. He was a well-dressed Italian man with a nice athletic build. We exchanged numbers and that was that. I left the bar and forgot about even giving my number away.

The following week I get a text asking to hang out. I figured what the hell, I’m the adventurous type — why not see what happens. I was a little bit horny anyway, but figured I could probably control myself.

I get over to his place, played with his cute little dog, watched some baseball, and sipped a cran and vodka. We both got a few drinks in us.

Read below the jump for the rest [probably NSFW]:

Read the rest of this entry »

I read Cecil Adams’ “What are the risks of hetersexual anal sex?’ last week and it made me think back to my phone sex days.  Most of the time my calls were pretty routine: what are you wearing, what do you look like, give me a blow job–the usual.  Then there were calls that made me think, what the fuck?

Some people have some freaky shit going on in their brains. I like to think I’m pretty open and accepting about sexuality. I come from a state where it’s legal to have sex with your animal.  I’m not into the whole, Tiajuanna Donkey Show, but hey if that’s what you’re into. Needless to say, something must be pretty extreme for me to think it’s a perversion.

For me, as long as your fantasy does not permanently injury me, I’m down to try just about anything once. I have to try everything to know whether or not I like it.  But this one caller had a request I knew I’d never try. The fetish did however make me think about how happy I was that he was on the phone and not doing this with some naïve young girl who didn’t how dangerous a fantasy like this could be. Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve been single now for six weeks and I need sex. I’m used to getting sex everyday, sometimes twice a day. Hey, my ex may have been a big asshole, but he was hot and great in the sack when or wherever the urge struck us. Now that he’s gone, I’ve had to break out the glasscock a lot more than normal.

For anyone who has never tried a glass blown dildo, I highly recommend it. The beauty of the glasscock is that it’s always hard, you can heat it up by boiling it or cool it down by putting it into the freezer. Cleaning it is a breeze, stick it in your dishwasher or wash it by hand. It’s by far the safest material to use for sex play since you can wash the funk off and it’s safe to use for the next time or person, whatever you’re into.

But as much as I enjoy the glasscock, I crave a man’s touch. Read the rest of this entry »

Like liquor stores and post offices, there’s never a good sex shop around when you need one.
Around eleven, my coworker Thao and I stumbled out of Dave’s Aqua Lounge on Gandy after being casually molested by a large man named Nacho.

We were headed for the sex shop down the street, BedTyme Stories. I had a $5 gift card with which to get something that would complement the raspberry Arbor Mist I bought my fiancée for Valentine’s Day. I doubted $5 would buy much more than a dick shaped lollipop, but I was banking on some Valentine’s Day discounts.

Considering that it is far less creepy to walk into a sex shop with an attractive woman, I recruited Thao. Having recently received a personal massager as a gift, and promptly wore it out, she was interested in finding a toy that could accommodate her. She was doubtful, however, claiming she preferred natural sex. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never met a woman who didn’t think sex was enhanced by modern vibration technology. Read the rest of this entry »