How did your last job interview go? We all know that when it comes to finding work our digital fingerprint can now play an important role in whether we get jobs. But what about your actual fingerprint?

Niagara Regional Council has proposed a new by-law that would require all strippers working in the areas eight clubs to submit to being fingerprinted before they can obtain the necessary license to work. To be fair, anyone requiring a license, such as cabbies and bus drivers will also need to smear their pinkies to work.

Strippers are outraged, fearing their prints could be shared between law enforcement agencies making it difficult for them to cross the border (Niagara is right on the American border). They also believe it will only be a matter of time before the by-law is adopted in Toronto and eventually across Ontario, as police are in favour of the new rule because they believe it will help clubs weed out underage dancers.

What is the difference between tracking and watching? There are both potential benefits and negatives to this situation. On the former, fingerprinting dancers could help in locating women who are often mistreated, abused and victims of violence – or even help identify their bodies. Still, I don’t think these are strong enough arguments.

The downside of this proposal is that every dancer in the area would have their fingerprints along with a record of their employment in the sex industry on file with the police. Will this information show up in any regular police background check? If a stripper later applies for another form of employment that involves a criminal background check, like teaching,, will this ‘police record’ show up? Even though she or he has never done anything illegal?

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Honestly, I’m surprised the numbers in this survey aren’t higher. A recent poll by sex toy company Adam & Eve showed that 52% of people have had sex in public. I know some might look at that number and say “Wow!”, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a smaller community, but isn’t car/park/woods sex pretty much a given?

It was good to see this write up on Jezebel mention these factors, and it is rather telling that 80% of those positive respondents indicated their exhibitionistic side came out while in a parked car. That one is, indeed, a time honoured tradition for sure. But car sex, as the article rightly points out, is usually based on necessity and not choice. Again, growing up in a small suburban city, it was much easier to hop into my girlfriend’s family’s  van and find a park, side street, parking lot (though oddly enough, I don’t recall ever going to our school, which would have been awesome).

When you become an adult, outdoor adventures are just that—a thrill. I once had a partner who used a website to “track” all of the spots we’d gotten nasty in public. I preferred a little notebook but looking at her map was kinda cool. And it became a bit of a challenge to find new and exciting places to do it.

One thing I wonder about this survey is how many people of the respondents actually don’t have a choice regarding their under-the-stars shenanigans. Some gay men, particularly those who are still in the closet, have long used park and bathroom sex as their main means of gettin’ off. Every major city has particular parks where hookups occur, and sometimes these areas are hoping hives of horny.

Of course, everyone has to be conscious of being responsible and not getting caught. As much as you may want to be one of those who gets naked for the crowds at Toronto’s Roger’s Centre, be safe and courteous. It might be a big thrill for you to be boinkin’ in front of people, but imagine if your mom got the same idea and you happened to be walking in the park while she was gettin’ it on?

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Now this report is news. News of the “Huh? Who knew?” variety, particularly for those of you out there who have sex with women and know  that sometimes women have a much harder time getting off.

A recent study in Portugal has revealed that some women also experience a problem that has heretofore been associated with men alone. According to research, 40% of those women surveyed say that they suffer from premature orgasm, with three per cent of those reporting the situation as being chronic.

Now, I know this was my first thought: isn’t that a good thing? I mean, women have the fantastic ability to keep going…so why not just keep going at it for more gold? Well,  truth is some women, who cite discomfort or irritation,  cannot continue with sex after reaching orgasm: which may lead to distress and tension when they cannot continue for their partners.

While the researchers have not offered any tips or advice on how to slow down an impending orgasm, here’s a little tip from a guy who has popped the cork a little too soon on occasion: just accept it. There is so much more to sex than intercourse. Offer up other activities! Or, if you’re not up for anymore at all, have a good snuggle. You’ll learn your partner’s true feelings that way. If your lover gets annoyed because he/she misses out on their own happy ending, by all means just tell ‘em “Go fuck yourself.”

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From the ballyhoo raised by parents you'd think Sasha showed up to class dress like this.

And finally, can’t we please think of the children!

Recently, former porn star Sasha Grey volunteered to read to kids in grades one and three at a California school. As expected, upon hearing this news some parents got all up in arms about the former adult actress reading to their kids. I mean, that’s completely understandable, right? She’s had sex! She’s had sex on camera! With multiple people! A porn star reading to our kids! It’s is just shameful!

No, it’s just ridiculous. Here is someone who’s good natured enough to go to a school on her own time to encourage kids to read through her own example. But just because she has been involved in sex work, she is criticized for it and the school is admonished for allowing it.

I say congratulations to Sasha for volunteering to do what, I’ll guess, many of those parents aren’t doing. She’s not filling young minds with prejudice. She’s not exposing them to hateful thoughts. Nope, she’s reading Dog’s Breath to the kids. Oh wait, maybe she does have something in common with their parents: something that stinks coming out of the mouths of bitches.

Hey CoCo,

I’ve reached the end of my rope here so I’m asking for advice. I have always had a hard time having an orgasm even when I’m on my own. My best friend took me out one day and made me buy a vibrator and wow, I was hooked. My little device gives me big results and I really enjoy being able to come whenever I want to but….my boyfriend hates it. After a few weeks of wonderful but non-orgasmic sex I tried to introduce him to my little friend so we could all party together. Well, he let me know that my extras were neither needed nor wanted. Now I’m still not having orgasms and we’re both frustrated. Isn’t there any way that we can all just get along?

Frustrated

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Hey Frustrated,

I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. I know firsthand how emotions can flare when man meets machine. Would it be helpful to know that it’s not just you? It’s estimated that 75% of women cannot orgasm from penetrative sex alone. Oh men, please understand, we like your penises, we really do. They’re fun to play with and they feel fantastic, but the unfortunate truth is that most of the time they don’t make us come. Sure, some of us can use our hands (or yours) during intercourse and masturbate our way to orgasmic bliss. But some of us really do need our mechanical friends to help get us there.  Vibrators can be awkward, loud and fiddly, but they can also open up a world of fun and make your job soooo much easier.

In all seriousness, an issue like this requires a conversation. Reassure your BF that this is not a reflection on him and that he is not inadequate in any way. It would also be helpful for him to know that orgasm is difficult even when you’re on your own and that this has also been the case with other partners (say this even if it’s not true).  Make sure your BF knows that all your desire is for him and that while he is a living, breathing, really hot person your toy is just a tool.

Let him see how harmless it is by showing him what it feels like. Use it on his neck, back, inner thighs, penis and scrotum. Most men really enjoy the way vibrators feel once they give them a try! Tell him you’d like to show him how to use it on you and make him watch you the first time. Try to keep some eye contact with him, and if possible, physical contact so that you maintain a feeling of connectedness.  It’s very likely that your little performance will start to make him more accepting, turned on and curious.  If you want to go a second round after that then let him hold the toy and gently guide him through using it. The thrill of finally seeing you in the throes of orgasmic bliss from his own manipulations should be enough to change his mind.

Even Hello Kitty understands a girl may need a little battery operated help to reach orgasm.

If he still feels like it’s awkward then you can investigate a hands-free couples toy like a vibrating cock ring or the We-Vibe. These toys are designed to be used during intercourse with minimal hassle and they’ve rescued a lot of sex lives. Fair warning though, they do take some manoeuvring and they don’t work out for everyone. Another alternative is to get a handheld toy that is quieter, smaller, or whatever to make it easier for you and your man to use together.  Heck, even something as simple as purchasing a new toy together can make all the difference. That way it belongs to both of you and doesn’t seem like so much of an interloper.

I truly hope that these suggestions work and frankly I think that with most reasonable guys they absolutely will. However, there are some guys whose egos cannot seem to abide a sex toy. Odd as that is, you cannot go without orgasms simply to spare someone’s feelings. Put it in no uncertain terms.  Either one of you has orgasms or both of you do.  If he chooses himself over you then kick him to the curb. No one should come between you and your orgasm!

Love, CoCo

P.S.  Here’s a fun fact for ya Frustrated. Vibrators were first invented in the late 1800’s as a doctor’s aid.  Why you ask? Well, at that time female orgasm was thought not to exist and no one understood the function of the clitoris. As a result there was such an overload of sexually frustrated women that it became common practice for doctors to have to masturbate their female patients to orgasm just to “save their sanity”.

This “frustration” was called Hysteria by the medical community who believed that a woman’s uterus could become unhinged inside her body and travel around causing her to get cranky and irritable. The only cure was a seizure or “paroxysm” brought on by manipulating the genitals that would (temporarily) bring the uterus back to its rightful position. Women often received this procedure once a week and doctors found this ongoing female condition quite profitable.

Religion is probably, after sex, the second oldest resource which human beings have available to them for blowing their minds – Susan Sontag

Should religion be part of any or all of our bedroom antics? It’s a question we will continue to ponder over the course of this month, but I for one think we can all take a simple step to get straight on this issue.

Regardless of your religious affiliation, many of us bring religion into our sex life.

“Oh God” or “Jesus” or “Jesus Christ” are invoked at orgasm (or almost orgasm) across the globe. Is this level of coitus induced blasphemy necessary? With a plethora of choice in our vocabulary, can’t we branch out a little? Alas, the most commonly used alternatives aren’t too inviting…

Your lover’s name. But what if you accidentally shout out the name of an ex or current lover who isn’t the bedmate of the moment? Or ever more difficult to explain – what if you shout out the name of the celebrity you are fantasising about?

“YES! Oh YES, yes, yes.” Acquiescing is all very well, but what to do in scenarios when you are asked a question at the time of climax? Be careful or you may find yourself answering marriage proposals, requests for monogamy, bank loans or “do you love me?” with accidental agreement…

“Please, oh please, ooooohhh.” This is nothing short of begging for an orgasm, and I hope sexual equality has moved on far enough to mean we can all demand an orgasm rather than beg (or pray) for one.

Being the helpful sort of sex blogger, I have put my thinking hat on – and have a few alternatives to offer.

1. Body parts. Why not yell out that which pleases you – “Oh COCK” or “Tongue, yes tongue, oh”. You’ll have the dual benefit of giving your lover a bit of direction, while praising the appendage responsible for your joy.

2. “Code Blue” or other strange movie catch phrases. A good way to bring a little Hollywood into your nude play.

3. Animal noises. What says “I’m coming” more than a loud MOO or a Quack? (Ok, this one might be more for comedic purposes than anything else.)

4. Mobile phone noises. Beep like the arrival of a text message; everyone enjoys that sound.

5. Sporting phrases. Treat your lover to some instruction from his glory days. “It’s a ruck” for the rugby fan as an example.

All in all, it shouldn’t be too hard to remove the religion from our heavenly moments with a little bit of training. Personally, I will be going for the rather factual but utterly truthful, “I’m coming”. If I am looking to be a bit more creative, I might turn it into an opera aria and try hitting a high A with it.

If you’ve ever caught any German porn, you’ll probably come up with a few words like, odd, weird and possibly even disgusting to describe their taste in sex (hey, whatever bulges your lederhosen, no judgment here). But maybe the best word to characterize their sex is the oft-used efficient.

Recently, the city of Bonn installed meters for street-active sex workers to ensure that they too pay the proper taxes that all other local sex workers pay. In much the same way you would pay to park your car on the street, these workers now pop six Euros into a machine to obtain a ticket that they must present to authorities upon request to avoid facing a significant fine.

One knock on this set up is that the street workers already pay income tax on their earnings. However, this new fee isn’t just a tax grab. The city has built specific garages where customers can take their chosen sex worker and engage in lederhosen bulging. The city also provides specific security for these areas.

These are progressive and effective methods to ensure sex workers aren’t harmed by their clients. Many ‘johns’ need the anonymity they are afforded by  dealing with street workers, as opposed to entering one of the city’s brothels. Hell, maybe it’s a timing issue. But I do wonder what happens if a session runs over time?

Wait, a guy run over time? Okay, no worries there.

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There is no doubt a teacher can have a tremendous influence on children’s lives. But should we expect them to be role models? Do we want them to be role models?

Benedict Garrett, aka Johnny Anglais, recently waged an appeal after he was suspended from his teaching duties when his online alter-ego was discovered. Through his website he offers naked butlering, stripping, fitness training and other services. The General Teaching Council (GTC) offered him his job back if he quit this part-time work.

This story is yet another example of the staid and proper British. The argument of the GTC is that it would be improper if students were to happen upon Johnny Anglais and then recognize him as their very own Mr. Garrett. His poor pupils would get the wrong idea. Oh right, think of the children.

Or, try this: Sex and the Internet isn’t going away. People offering sex-related services aren’t going away. Maybe, just maybe, we should try teaching kids that these things exist. People like to get naked for money. People will clean your house for money. There are even some people who will come along and do it for free!

Nope, let’s just  continue to operate under the assumption that if we shield kids from anything sex-related they won’t learn about it, and  better still, they won’t ever, ever engage in it.

I wonder if Mr. Garrett teaches mathematics. Maybe he and his students can determine the probability that that theory is bullshit, to the nth degree.

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I was recently in Ottawa and we took a stroll down the Rideau after dark. We came across a guide giving a ghost tour of the area. In New Orleans, I sneakily followed a tour through St. Louis Cemetery. Here in Toronto you can do a city tour on a bus that also goes into water. But the tour I most want to take is in Montreal.

Velma Candyass, burlesker extraordinaire offers a fascinating peak into the grand and seedy days of Montreal’s lower Main with her Red-Light Walking Tour. In the latest example of a city repressing sex, Montreal is trying to clean up the area and let gentrification run rampant. By taking people through the areas that have titillated celebrities and common folk alike for decades, Velma hopes to maintain and encourage a sense of collective determination to keep the area that right kind of dirty.

A victory in this battle was won recently when landmark strip and burlesque club Café Cleopatra was saved from the wrecker’s ball. If you’ve been to downtown Montreal, you’ve surely seen it. With the city being a significant centre for the neo-burlesque movement, the Cleo offers its upstairs space as a venue for the tassel and not-just-tits crowd. Denying the rich sexual past of the town, and worse yet, taking it all away would ensure that Montreal loses its reputation as the Paris of North America. It would also make it a lot less fun.

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So, what do female orgasms and men’s nipples have in common? My first answer is “I like them both!” and my second answer is “They taste great!” We’re not even going to get into my next 10 answers because I think you get the point.

According to some researchers, what these two things have in common, is that they may both  be evolutionary by-products. While not a lot of time and study is being put into the little additions on men’s chests, women’s sexuality continues to be studied and researched to death. I’m not really sure how the question of “why do women even need to orgasm?” first came up, , but I suspect there is quite a bit of curiosity on that.

If you look at sex as purely a procreative act, then sure, women don’t need to come. Some have suggested that women get the O to ensure they’ll want to keep having sex and therefore keep popping kids out. Others think there are contractions that happen that ensure the ‘upsuck’ of semen.

The by-product idea comes into play when male and female bodies are compared. Because there is much shared genetic make-up, some believe that women are able to get off because they share nerve endings similar to those of men…so it is just a happy coincidence that ladies can scream with joy like dudes.

While the reason why women can orgasm is somewhat interesting in our ‘have to know everything world,’ I think the more compelling course of study would be a paper on “Why researchers are so damn obsessed with female sexuality?” We have figured out how babies happen. We have figured out that there is a G-Spot. We have figured out that some women like X, some like Y, and some like Z. Why do we need to keep researching women’s sexuality? Is it that men are too boring? Is it because we want to explore all the mysteries of the world?

But I would argue that female sexuality isn’t a mystery. Women come. It happens.

When you don’t have sex until your wedding night (oh yeah, I waited! And like, WAITED waited. I literally did nothing beyond kissing a boy before that night) not long after your 21st birthday, you may find yourself five years later divorced and experiencing the whole wide world of sex in a way that seems anything but vanilla. I mean, when your experience is so incredibly limited, the very fact that some dude would want to take you home from the bar THAT NIGHT and bone you is titillating.

Wait…you want to have sex with me, just because?? OKAY.

Maybe that’s a tad vanilla…but I can tell you honestly that I am a woman who is still astounded and mystified by the beauty and carnality of sex, especially after growing up and being taught that sex was a dirty thing to be avoided at all costs…

…unless, of course, you were giving it up to your wedded husband, in which case, then it was supposed to be awesome.

So are my fantasies all that scandalous? No. They generally involve me in the kind of stuffy clothes I would have worn to church, doing all sorts of sinful things in a cramped coat closet and trying to finish before being caught.

And they say you get over some things from your childhood. Ahem.

One of my fantasies, however, DOES involve two things all women want. I don’t remember when I first had this particular fantasy, but when it popped into my mind, unbidden (as the best fantasies are wont to do…usually in a place and time where it’s completely inappropriate to be having said fantasies, like in line at the bank, or in a boring work meeting, or on a date with someone you loathe) I nearly caught my breath.

You see, not long before I had this fantasy, I had gotten a haircut. For once, having my hair washed didn’t involve my neck being wrenched painfully back. Instead, I rested comfortably, eyes closed, nearly being lulled to sleep…until the stylist really began working at the wash. The smell of shampoo, the feeling of her hands kneading into my scalp with surety and firmness, the warm water…all in all, a relaxing, lovely, nearly-moan-inducing experience.

So, that’s how my fantasy started…except, this time, my stylist was a tall, dark and handsome type. Muscled and shirtless, of course, with an ample amount of (trimmed) chest hair (c’mon, I like ‘em virile). It all starts innocently enough, with him pulling my long red hair gently from its bun, allowing it cascade down my shoulders and back. Then he leans me back gently in my chair, allows me to rest comfortably on the edge of the washbowl, and brushes my hair softly back from my face. I hear the spray of the faucet, then feel warm water coursing over my scalp.

What my very lucky fantasy man just might find under my decidely unsexy church lady skirt.

And here’s where my fantasy gets good. As he massages my scalp with fragrant shampoo, his strong fingers working in circles, my eyes open long enough to notice that we have been joined by yet another tall, dark and handsome type. But this one has a different agenda. He kneels in front of me, slips his hands up my thighs and pushes up my prim, church lady skirt (clearly, I cannot escape this outfit in my fantasies) then pulls down my panties and begins giving me the most unholy of kisses until I finish in a torrid, shuddering, full body orgasm.

And then they do my hair and make me look pretty. This is my FANTASY, okay? I get a makeover, too, dammit!

(PS–Did I mention that neither one of them speak this whole time? Yeah. AMAZING.)

So maybe it’s a fantasy that’s not too far off vanilla. There are no whips and chains here, or hidden sapphic desires, or thoughts of school girl skirts and knee socks and paddles. But it’s a fantasy for the senses, and as a woman who only recently–relatively speaking–thought “missionary” was a spiritual calling, well…it gets me goin’, at least.

Though ladies, if you ever have the chance to have your hair washed and be gone down on at the same time…take it. And then please, please tell me about it, in detail.

The year was 1998. The spot? Miami. My boys and I came down for Spring Break and we were in a club called Amnesia or something like that—I forget. But that’s where I saw her for the first time standing by the bar.

Brianna looked something like this

Her skin looked honey glazed from being in the Florida sun all day. She was dressed in all pink: From her form fitting Prada skirt and matching top to her strapless Moschino sandals. Her hair was cut short, real short. Almost like a little Caesar or something. Point is, she was sexy as all hell.

From the way she carried herself I could tell she was older. Her nails were done up on some silk wrap shit, not those $5 Lee Press Ons girls around the way be wearing. She knew how to put on makeup, too. Her eye shadow and lipstick wasn’t caked on her face. Her shit was more subtle and way more sexy.

Nervous and unsure, I approached her. Clearing my throat, I began, “Excuse me, miss. Can I buy you a drink?”

She turned, sized me up and responded, “How old are you?”

Out of reflex or fear I blurted 26. I was actually 21, but hopefully the club was dark enough that I could get away with a little white lie.

Slightly hesitant, she huffed, “I’m trying to order a Chocolate Martini but the bartender’s trippin’.”

I saw that as my moment to take charge. Positioning myself alongside the bar, I flagging down the bartender and ordered a pair of drinks before turning to her, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Brianna.”

“Hi, my name’s Anslem.”

After the standard repetitions of my name, she finally pronounced it right (An-Suh-Lem) and smiled. “That’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

“Handsome.”

“It suits you.”

Once the drinks arrived I tried to floss by leaving a $10 tip. Nonchalantly taking’ my glass of Henny and Coke to my mouth, I sipped in true playa fashion or so I thought. It must’ve gone down the wrong way or something because as soon as the drink hit my throat I started choking. I was embarrassed and Brianna knew it. Stroking my ego, she took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Song after song, we stayed glued to each other the entire night. Few words were said, but there was an obvious attraction.

Before we knew it, it was three o’clock in the morning and we decided to go outside to get some fresh air. It started raining shortly after we got outside. Since my hotel was only a few blocks away, I suggested we run back to my room. (I still can’t believe she agreed!)

Sitting on the edge of my bed, Brianna slipped off her sandals and mumbled something about the color of her toenails not matching a blue outfit she bought earlier. She wasn’t talking to me, more so to herself. I offered to paint her nails.

“That’s cute,” she laughed, but I was serious.

It was like a dream come true. I had a woman six years my elder in my room and here I was walking down the Miami strip at four in the morning in search of nail polish. I came across a 24-hour Walgreens. You should have seen the look the cashier gave me when I placed a box of condoms, polish remover and a bottle of baby blue nail polish on the counter.

When I got back to my room, I was surprised to find candles everywhere. I don’t know where Brianna got ‘em from, but that added touch let me know she was official. I heard singing coming from the bathroom and stepped in. It was dark, except for two burning candles creating a silhouette of Brianna’s form against the curtain. Standing in the doorway, I watched as she lathered up, pausing for a moment at her breasts.

“Are you coming in,” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Uh, yeah.”

Anxiously, I slipped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. Taking the washcloth from Brianna, I gently worked my hands across her wet body. She willingly returned the favor before we toweled off and headed to the bedroom.

Completely naked, Brianna laid back on the bed and her thick hips sunk into the mattress. She flinched as I took her foot in my hand. She was ticklish. Opening the bottle of nail polish, I dipped the brush into the blue liquid and began painting her nails. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. In fact, I jacked her nails up, especially when I got to her pinky toes and the polish spilled onto her skin. Brianna, though, was caught up in the moment. She just smiled.

That night I made love for the first time. I’m not saying that Brianna was my first or that I was in love with her, but before her, I thought sex was about how hard, deep and fast you could fuck. I tried that and she immediately stopped me.

Gently grabbing the nape of my neck, she led my face to the center of her hips. As soon as I tasted her, my mouth salivated in anticipation of the next sip. Our hands and mouths explored each other several times over. This was the warm-up, what she called “30 minutes of foreplay.”

Our synchronized gyrations continued endlessly until Brianna told me to open my eyes. I was about to climax. My normal reaction was to keep my eyes closed. “Open your eyes,” she demanded, riding me harder with each thrust. I did and looked helplessly into her eyes. I was cummin’. My eyelids were getting heavy. Brianna ordered them open again. Unable to contain myself, I looked up at her and… exploded.

It was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced in my life. We climaxed at the same time. Her juices flowed onto my stomach and I clenched her waist, easing myself deeper inside.

Drenched in sweat and parched, I headed to the sink to splash some water on my face. I returned with a glass of water and offered it to Brianna. Her full lips enveloped a portion of the glass as she quietly swallowed each drop. With her head nestled in my chest and my arms blanketing her, I kissed her and we slowly drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning to find that Brianna was gone. For a second, I thought it was all a dream, but the heavy scent of sex was still in the air. At first I was confused but then realized what she had done. A devilish grin filled my face as I looked down at my feet and saw that the woman who had taught me the art of making love had painted my toenails baby blue.

Fin!

In all the years that I’ve been having sex – I can’t for the life of me remember having any amazing NSA vacation sex. And the one time I do recall – it was so lame – I just wanted it to end. Seriously, it was so bad I stared at the ceiling for the whole time asking myself ‘Why the hell am I even with this guy?’

I met him while vacationing in Bangkok and he looked oh so sexy in the dimly lit roadside bar where we met. But up close in bed, he was just a scrawny Swede who kept whispering random unsexy phrases that I failed to understand.

Clearly traumatized by the experience, I had all but erased this disastrous episode from my mind. That is until the gorgeous Skye asked me to pull my act together to share a story about my vacay sexploits, which meant breaking the Golden Rule of Vacation Sex – something I was not (entirely) prepared to do.

So on the topic of vacation sex what I’ll say is this…

It’s obviously not for me!

It’s not like I don’t get offers whilst away. Hell I get asked out on more dates with invitations to participate in extra-curricular boudoir activities when I go on vacation than I do when I am at home. But somehow (even if I exclude the action on that one night in Bangkok) it has never really worked out for me. However, if you broaden the scope of sex away from home, to include any horizontal action where I didn’t have home bed advantage, that’s another ball game altogether…

Room Service Please

Way back when I lived in London, I had boyfriend who was based in Leicester for work and we would rendezvous mid-week whenever we could before he came home for the weekend. I would often catch a train to go up to see him and since his company put him up at the Marriott, we had a lot of fan-f*ckin-tabulous hotel sex.

My set was kind of like this in powder blue...

I don’t quite know what came over me one week, but I decided to spice things up and packed up my overnight bag accordingly. On the train ride to Leicester I wasn’t sure about whether I would follow through or not – but I did. I headed to the washroom just before the train pulled up at the station to slip into a lacy turquoise lingerie set (which really complimented my chocolate skin tone), a short pleated denim skirt, a white shirt (that I left unbuttoned) and a pair of deadly stilettos. Then I glossed up my lips and made my way to the exit.

When I arrived at the hotel and made my way to the elevators, I wondered how the BF would react to my little lace surprise. Let’s just say that I never wore that outfit again, as it was ripped of me, and I’m pretty sure the folks in the car park saw flashes of turquoise slammed up against the floor to ceiling French windows.

Can’t You See I’m Working Here

My office was in a large business complex that had amenities that included many conference and board rooms, showers and changing rooms, and a small gym too. With the exception of the gym, I did the bump and grind in all of those rooms every time the BF dropped by to surprise me. And the thrill of getting down and dirty where the chances of being caught were high (the security was really tight, cameras on each floor including the conference rooms), made it all the more exciting.

Have you ever given your man head/your woman lip service whilst he/she is on a really important work phone call? If not you should try it. After you do, I’m sure you’ll be glad you did.

Out In The Open

Just admit it, much like me, the exhibitionist in you wants to/enjoys doing the deed out in a public place where any passerby might stop, turn back and have a peak. Inside your car in a car park (for those getting started or reliving their youth), beaches (sex on a jet ski is sublime), parks, night clubs, on a balcony or the roof of a high rise, swimming pools and outdoor jacuzzis, the elevator (been there and been caught too), and even on a boat in a lake in a park (yes I’ve done that too and received a few whistles from the shore line). The list is endless…and enticing.

Based on the evidence it seems I can definitely S.W.A.Y.Y.Y (to multiple orgasms even) when I’m not on vacation. Hmmm…Maybe what I need to do is find is a travel buddy for the next time I head off on holiday? Perhaps, but in the meantime I’ll just scratch my itches with some delightfully raunchy vacation sex at home.

“What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do – especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.” – William Least Heat-Moon

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Sex on the road. Is there anything more blissful than this, the purest form of NSA encounters?

If I could have vacation style sex at home all the time it would be for the undeniable singularity that it holds. In fact, I love it so much, I feel I must count the ways…

One: No-one feels the need to ask for a surname.

Two: There is no talk of Facebook or exchanging email addresses.

Three: If we don’t share a common language, often there is no talk at all.

Four:  I will not bump into the bedmate in question at my local pub or on the tube in the months to follow.

Five: I already have a hotel room to go to for anonymous sex – and who doesn’t love room service?

Six: The unknown variety a “single serving” lover presents. Will he be selfish? Will he be rough? Will he tease me for hours and hours in an almost tantric form of foreplay?

Seven: There is no question of not using protection, and no whiny face or slight posturing to avoid a condom. In fact, they normally have one in their pocket and on before their socks come off.

Picture these two naked and a whole lot closer together, and you'll have some idea of the type of "penetrative postures" I'm referring to...

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But the reasons listed above are really just small fries compared to the most compelling one of all; my main incentive for choosing to always indulge in some “local flavour”…

Without fail, the experience of partaking in a bit of “sex tourism”  becomes so entangled with the place I am visiting that in my memory the two are always intertwined.

For me…

A yoga trip to India that resulted in some truly penetrative postures means that the scent of cinnamon and spice will always bring back the moment I felt his hot breath on my neck as he took me up against the door.

The taste of a mango lassi is a sweet reminder of the afterglow from a literally dizzying orgasm.

The sex I have while abroad becomes part of the overall experience of my visit, and means my memories of holiday sexual encounters are much dearer to me than fling, fucks and one-night-stands nearer to home.

Speaking of which, I must start planning my next trip…

As I promised you all yesterday, I’m back (on time no less) with Part Two of my interview with Carlyle Jansen, owner of Good For Her. I could blather on (I’m real good for that at times), but as I’m sure those of you who’ve already read Part One of this interview are anxious to read what Carlyle has to on female orgasms, the sexuality workshops GFH offers and sex toys, I’m going to keep this short and sweet. So, without further ado ladies and gents, I give you Carlyle in her own words, one mo’ time…

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Skye: Your store has an extensive offering of sexuality workshops, and you and your staff seem to be quite committed to sexual education. How do you go about deciding what classes to offer and developing the curriculum for each class?

CJ: We look at what questions people are asking, and what books or other resources they are after. Then sometimes a new class is an off shoot from another workshop. For instance, I started teaching a class on orgasms when I realized there were always a few women in the class who didn’t orgasm at all. I knew I couldn’t fully meet their needs and still talk about everything else that was more advanced, and geared towards having better orgasms. So, I broke that off into a Learning to Orgasm course with a follow up.

People will also approach us and say I want to do a class on X. So we’ll talk to them, see what they’ve taught previously and then give it a go to see if the class will work out.

So, basically we want classes to provide an open environment for the people who attend, to fill a gap, and to be something that people are going to find interesting.

Skye: You just mentioned your Learning to Orgasm class. Is that still a class that’s in high demand?

CJ: Yes. It always fills up. When I first ran it I thought I may have three or four people, but it usually has between 12 and 15 participants. And it’s a big deal for a lot of the women who choose to come. At least one woman ends up feeling quite emotional in the middle of it, because there are relationship and self-esteem issues that are affected by it. So, it’s quite a relief for those women to find out that there are other women out there like them. Because, often when these women talk to their friends, they’re the only one in their social circle who can’t orgasm.

Skye: And are the women who attend these classes comfortable discussing their difficulty orgasming?

CJ: Some are and some aren’t. There are women who come in who have tried all kinds of things, talked to all kinds of people and read all kinds of books, who are happy to say all kinds of things about what they like. But then there are others who’ve never talked about it before and who aren’t really comfortable talking about sex. We see a whole range.

Skye: There are a number of very popular sexuality workshops at GFH, the most well attended being Giving Great Head, but which of the classes offered do you most enjoy teaching?

CJ: I’m really happy teaching people about technique, but what I really get satisfaction from is when I feel like people discover something about themselves that they didn’t know before. And so, some of the classes where we get to do that are Getting the Sex You Want, Deepening Intimacy for Couples, Discovering Your Erotic Sensual Self. Even the Erotic Massage for Couples, which helps people learn about their partners through touch. Because it’s hands on, people learn all sorts of new things about themselves as a couple and how they like to have sex that they hadn’t noticed before.

Of course that can happen in almost any class, though it happens less frequently in the technique classes.  However, take a class like Giving Great Head for example, as much as it’s about technique, what we also help women do is reframe what that looks like, what the goal is and how you can enjoy it. So, I also find that very satisfying.

Skye: GFH also offers a wide variety of sex toys. Which are your personal favourites?

The Form 2 Vibe

CJ: The Hitachi magic wand is a great vibrator. You never have to look for batteries. The Form 2 is also fabulous, it looks like a tooth. The designers were clearly thinking outside the box and thinking what is going to do really interesting things for women’s anatomy on the outside, so it’s really great for that. The Orchid is a fantastic G-post vibrator. And the Pjur lube.

Skye: You are also connected to an organization called SHEPP, Sexual Health Education and Pleasure Project. Could you tell our readers a bit about that?

CJ: SHEPP is a not for profit organization and there are a few of us who run it. It’s about offering pleasure based sexual information to youth and other marginalised communities. So what we strive to do is offer topics around sexual health, technique, and learning about sex. But there is always a pleasure aspect to what we teach. We don’t shy away from discussing pleasure, so we get people interested in learning about sex. When we discuss pleasure we can still leave in the information about STIs and safer sex, but people are generally interested in learning more about pleasure than anything else.

When the teen sex survey happened a few years ago, one of the things teens wanted to learn about was pleasure. They wanted to learn how about how to have sex. So, we go to schools (generally alternative ones, as they have more leeway about what they can do), community centres and youth groups to teach people about sex.

Skye: GFH recently presented Café Scientifique, a panel discussion on Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD) that was well attended and very interesting. What are your thoughts on all the attention FSD is getting in the media and from pharmaceutical companies lately?

CJ: The attention it’s getting I think is good, because there is a lot of shame around sex when it doesn’t quite work the way you want it to. So, I think the attention is important for people to realize that they’re not alone.

I do think that there is a certain amount of medicalization of women’s sexuality, sort of this idea that what is often very normal for women needs to be fixed with a pill they’re trying to come up with. But it’s just the way we are. In essence, we’re not always horny all the time and we often need something to stimulate us in order to get aroused, and that will stimulate the desire. But now, somehow the fact that we’re not horny all the time is a supposed to be a problem, and many women don’t understand that their experience is quite “normal“. So that’s an issue, but there’s also more valuable discussion. Books like Sex, Lies and Pharmaceuticals are starting to expose some of that. So people are starting to talk more about what is normal for women sexually.

The result is that more women are recognizing that there’s nothing wrong with them. That they are actually quite normal and that all they need is to find something to stimulate themselves to boost their libido, instead of a pill. So I think that’s it great that there’s more and more discussion about it. Of course with more discussion, come more voices, which means you have to filter through the voices to find out who has the best intentions for women.

Skye: What in your opinion is the single most misunderstood aspect of women’s sexuality?

CJ: I don’t know if this is the single most, but it’s definitely what comes to mind first. I will regularly get into conversations with women who say they can’t orgasm. Then when I get into all the different things she can try to start having orgasms, she stops me as says, ‘Oh no, I can orgasm on my own.’ Then I ask them if they can orgasm during oral sex, and she’ll say ‘Yeah, that’s fine too.’

So what I think is misunderstood are our expectations around how women “should” orgasm. There’s still so much emphasis on intercourse, and we’re still so tied up in the notion that that’s the real way to orgasm. To many women and their partners, other ways of achieving orgasm simply don’t count.

I’ve even met with women who say, ‘I understand that only 30% of women orgasm via intercourse only, but all my friends can orgasm without clitoral stimulation, so what’s wrong with me?’ So, this whole misunderstanding of the fact that the vagina does indeed produce pleasure, but may not be enough to produce orgasm in women still exists. And is causes a lot of problems for people: problems in relationships, problems with self-esteem, and problems in how they perceive themselves.

Skye: You’re on record as saying that people often take sex far too seriously. Why do you think so many of us have tendency to do so, instead of seeing it as a fun and healthy activity?

CJ: Well, I’m not sure what context I said that in, so let me start by saying sex can be very serious. Especially when it involves violence that’s non-consensual. But outside of that, I find that people tend to be really focused on doing it the right way, and there’s no one right way to do it, obviously. What feels good to you today may not be so great tomorrow.

So, I think because we generally don’t know a lot about sex, and it’s so much about performance – where we have to be a diva or a stud – we have this thing to live up to. We end up being focused on performing, rather than just enjoying the experience and letting go enough to allow ourselves to make mistakes.

I think there is a whole other aspect of our self-esteem that gets tapped into during sex, that doesn’t get tapped into in other places. So, we all get nervous about that being shattered: which makes us a little too serious rather than saying “let’s try this” or “I don’t really know what to do, so let’s try to figure out what works”.

Skye: Beyond the FPAs, SHEPP, and offering your services as a sex educator to schools and various organizations, are there any other initiatives supporting women and other marginalized communities that you and/or GFH are involved in?

CJ:  I was involved in the queer women pap campaign a few years ago, that drew attention to the fact that queer women need to get paps too, which was really great and satisfying. I am also involved with the women and trans bath house committee.

Skye: Any final thoughts you’d like to share with our readers?

CJ: Drop by for a cup of tea some time. (smiles) Beyond that though, I want to say that Good For Her is really known for our customer service. I get stopped in the street and people will tell me that whomever it was that served them the last time they were in was exceptionally knowledgeable, really nice, attentive and patient. So I think we really excel at customer service and the staff is really great. I’m one small part of it, but it’s the staff that makes the shop what it is on a daily basis.

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FIN

So far this month, among other things, we’ve seen how being an overly ambitious bedroom daredevil can bring an otherwise pleasant evening to a dramatic and painful end; discovered that our resident slut Elizabeth Rose was not always the shameless minx she is today; and learned that Sam used to run the car sex game. I’m sure the more observant among you have noticed that I have yet to weigh in on this month’s dignity demolishing theme, by sharing one of my own embarrassing moments or sexual mishaps in the bedroom. Well folks, tonight’s the night I throw my hat into the ring with my own story…

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FYI all: Most people don't find this sexy. So easy with the 'vomity' dirty talk.

Way back when, in a past life when I was a much younger version of myself, I met ‘Rohan’, a positively beautiful man, with a dazzling smile, smooth nut brown skin and a killer bod, toned by years and years of playing football – his sport of choice. I met him through a friend at a house party one night, and from the moment I laid eyes on him I was shook. My every day wise crackin’ and vocal self up and left as we were introduced, leaving my seemingly deaf and absolutely dumb alter ego to fend for itself. He was that magnificent. So, I was totally caught off guard when he turned to address me – the voiceless, unblinking and motionless lame ass standing amongst a gaggle of giddily flirting girls.

‘Hey, what’s your name again?’ he asked, his eyes resting on my face, ‘You’ve been so quiet all night. What’s up with that?’

Shocked to hear him speak my name, I just stood there looking up at him, praying my lips would eventually move and sound would come out. I heard someone beside me say, ‘Skye, aren’t you going to answer him?’ and what seemed like an eternity later, I finally said, ‘I don’t know. Just not much to say I guess.’

Apparently he found my lameness charming, because within minutes, he and I were sitting alone in a quiet-ish corner of the room doing the whole ‘getting to know you’ thing. That first chat led to a few dates, which of course led to the two of us getting horizontal.

Now, as luck would have it, Rohan was as magnificent in the bedroom as he was to look at. That is he was until the day he got comfortable enough with me to start dropping dirty talk…

A quick aside here folks: For the record, although back then I wasn’t the nasty girl I am today, I’ve always been game for some down and dirty discourse while bumping uglies. But here’s the thing with dirty talk, you need to know your audience. As I’d learned when I made my own very ‘un-cute’ commentary (for those of you who missed reading that story when Sam called me out on it – again – last week, you can read it here) years before meeting Rohan, an ill-timed word can stop the good times from rolling just like that. Unfortunately, my magnificent bedmate had not yet learned that lesson.

So there we were in his bedroom, him on his back and my mouth full of…ahem. Needless to say, he was soon in his happy place – his really, Really, REALLY happy place (what can I say I’m am enthusiastic giver). And that’s when the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard anyone – including my ‘greatest mistaking’ self – say in a bedroom. As he lay there, reveling in the joy of what I was doing to and for him, Rohan, my Mr. Magnificent, supaman lova of a bed mate up and said:

‘That’s right…Just like that…Make my dude throw up for you, girl.’

What. The. Fuck? Make your dude throw up? Really?

Poor Rohan. He didn’t know what hit him. From the moment he uttered those words my mojo – ALL of it – left the building. I was done. Game over. Instant buzz kill. From a hundred to zero in ten seconds flat.

And since he’d trounced my ‘I love sucking dick’ vibe in grand style (likening man milk to vomit has that effect on me don’t you know), I was in no mood to explain, so I just got up and left: a not so smart move (unfortunately for both Rohan and I, Sam wasn’t around to remind me to be an adult) that pretty much ended our connection.

Now good people, here’s my PSA on this one. Unless your partner is into emetophilia – something you should definitely check in with them about before dropping your prime vomit related dirty talk on them – as much as I’m all for you doing you in the bedroom, under NO circumstance is mentioning puke, upchuck, barf or whatever you want to call it a good idea in the bedroom. In essence, what I’m saying is this: for most people…

‘Vomity’ talk ≠ SEXY talk.

I can’t make that any clearer kids. Really. I’ve got nothing.

Anyone beg to differ?