Joanne: The Call

bih-10-05I woke up at 8.30 on Saturday morning. Even with only four hours sleep, I still felt good. Last night had been great, just what I needed to take my mind of things. I could still feel the pounding energy of the dance music, and I could still smell the vodka, the dry ice, and James’ cologne. I had danced with James, a lot.

Then I stretched, and the tangy aroma from my armpits hit me. I had sweated a lot, and I needed a shower.

But as I sat up, I realised something else. Last evening’s brief adventure with the dildo, while being fun, hadn’t really done the job. Either that, or a new course of desire had begun as I danced with James and he stared at my breasts.  Whatever the case, my vagina now lay between my legs like a huge exotic flower, demanding special care and attention. Every move I made, I could feel it tremble.

I placed my hand down there, moved a finger in amongst the hair, and found myself wet and slippery, like melting jelly.

I knew exactly how I wanted this situation to end, and so I got up and put some music on, Portishead’s first album, loud enough so my neighbour would not hear me in the final phases.

But the question was, how to begin?

I put an experimental finger on my clitoris, and found after a couple of gentle passes beside it that I was probably only a few minutes away from having the first in a string of light, lovely orgasms. I could get my small vibrator and settle back for a half- hour or so. Why not?

But then I toyed with my labia for a few seconds and they broke open with eagerness, leading me inside. With two fingers I played gently with the opening, and immediately felt a dark hunger welling up in the back of my vagina, and also, in my breasts. This wasn’t a clitoris type of a day, after all. I wanted to be taken care of in a different way.

So I walked to the dresser and got out a large vibrator, big enough to fill me nicely, and I eased it inside on a medium setting, putting my pants back on as a way to keep it in place.

Then I got some massage oil for my breasts, and I lay down and made love to them, thinking about how they had been the centre of attention the previous evening.

I placed my fingers underneath them and gently smoothed them upwards, teasing my nipples on every second or third pass, but never pushing downward, and never moving them in a circle. I removed the pressure after each stroke was completed, and returned my fingers to the place just below each breast, to start the upward motion again. I built up the pace slowly as the minutes ticked by and the vibrator slowly built up a huge pre-orgasmic glow in my pussy. This was going to be a big orgasm. Like, “visible from space” type big.

The Portishead album was about two thirds over when the phone rang, on my bedside table. I still hadn’t come yet.

I saw a long number on the screen, maybe international, and panicked. Was it about the fellowship?

It took me almost a minute to get myself together, switch everything off and pick up.

joanna23‘Hello?’

‘Is this Joanne Marsh?’ The voice was American, and older man, slightly reserved.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘Hi. My name’s Davis Malone, from the New York Design School. I just wanted to let you know that we made our decision earlier today. I know it’s a Saturday over there but I thought you would want to know.’

Oh My God. It was about the fellowship.

‘Yes?’ I said excitedly.

‘We’d love you to come over to New York and work with us, Miss Marsh. Your portfolio was great and you were strong in the interview. You will get an official call on Monday but I figured you’d want to know. Congratulations.’

I thanked him profusely, not a thing I normally do, but he told me that I was the strongest applicant by far and that I’d be very welcome in New York. We talked for a while about how long it would take me to move over, and he said they wanted me there as soon as possible.

Then, the call ended. I cued up Portishead’s other album and then I lay down again and kept going. But I couldn’t finish. I was too excited. And also, still a bit worried about what had happened last night.

Super Wifey Says: Behave!

‘You proper Super Wifey,’ say I as I sit down to the table. ‘You make food taste good.’

‘Your fake Japanese accent is terrible. And, I am not pretending to be a geisha girl for you,’ says Super Wifey. ‘Just eat the noodles’

‘You such a terrific lady,’ says I. ‘You so good proper real wifey lady make noodles.’

‘Stop it! And if you say me so horny I will go out for the evening,’ she says.

‘Why so mean?’ says I. ‘You should be real nice wifey lady.’

‘I am real nice wifey lady,’ she says. ‘Now behave!’

But of course, I will not behave. She just started talking in the Super Wifey voice. Now I know I’ve got her interested.

Later, she is Super Wifey in a different way,

 

 

Joanne: Testing

Time to talk about men, again. That’s the pattern of this, by the way. Masturbation, men, and my life as it was last year.

When I go out with a guy, I like to test them out. I partly do it to see if they can defend themselves. But there’s also a few things about sex that I really need to know before I will consider going out with someone.

I went out on a single date with this guy Bill, a barman, earlier on in the year, because he’d asked me out while I was in his pub. We went to another place, a gastro-pub, one of those ones with booths around the edges, and he’d made sure we got one. He was decent looking and confident and quite funny, and I thought I might be interested in him, so I got down to the testing pretty much straight away, as soon as we’d ordered.

‘Can I ask you some questions?’ I asked.

Shoot.’

‘Do you find me attractive?’

He laughed. ‘Yep. You could say that.’

‘Do you want to go to bed with me?’

He laughed again. ‘Wow. You’re pretty direct. Yes, I definitely want to go to bed with you, Joanne.’

‘OK. Do you masturbate? I know that’s direct as well, but I’m just interested.’

‘Um. Yes, I masturbate. Do you normally do this on dates?’

‘Yes, I do.  What do you think about when you masturbate?’ I asked.

Now he stopped laughing and lowered his voice. ‘Wow, you really give a guy the third degree, don’t you? Why do you want to know that?’

‘I’m just really curious. You don’t have to answer.’

He puffed out his chest a bit. ‘No. OK, I’ll answer. To be honest I usually think about women, and being in bed with them.’

‘What’s happening in the bed?’

‘This is the most intense first date I have ever had!’ he said. ‘What’s happening in the bed is that, um, the girl I am with is having a really great time.  And before you ask, yes, I have thought about giving you a good time.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask that. Do you think about the girl giving you a good time?’

‘Um…no, not as often. Hold on a second. What do you think about? Do you masturbate?’

‘Yes,’ I said, poker faced.  ‘I do it all the time. I did it before you picked me up actually. And I usually think about how good my vagina feels.’

(That last part wasn’t actually true. I think about men all the time. I just don’t think about them giving me a good time.)

eng008779 - Copy‘Hmmm. That’s hot,’ he said. You’re wild, you know that?’

‘Thanks, I guess. Anyway, do you still want to go to bed with me later?’

‘Definitely,’ he said.

‘I want to give you a blow job,’ I said. His eyed widened for about the fourth time in the conversation.

‘Wow. Great. I’d like to return the favour.’

‘Hmmm. That won’t be necessary. Like I said I already sorted myself out before you came to get me. But thanks.’

His face fell, and I knew I couldn’t be with him. That was confirmed afterwards. I gave him the blow job, and then he started asking me if I wanted to come.

‘No, I already said. Thanks, but no thanks.’

‘You’re sure? You might find that if you tried for a while, you’ll get horny again.’

And there it is. The attempt to take my vagina away from me, and use it to give me “a good time.”

I am definitely not interested in this guy.

Super Wifey is Go Penis Go!

ovulation-affects-a-womans-behavior-in-complex-waysI say: Oh Super Wifey! Your face has grown rounder. Your lips are fuller. Your hair is lustrous. Your skin is glowing and you are warm and soft and you smell like pine and spice. And, you just spent eighty dollars on low cut tops even though you already own about thirty of them.

Super Wifey replies: I know! It’s my other time of the month. Yay! Sort of…um…

I say: Oh Super Wifey! You bring penis to you like pin to magnet!

Super Wifey replies: So bring it already. Jeez.

I say: Super Wifey is Go Penis Go!

Super Wifey rolls her eyes and giggles.

And then I fuck her.

In an ideal world, I would have an other time of month too. Insta-stubble. Sudden temporary increase in arm and chest size. Voice lowers by half an octave. Musky armpit odour. Bigger wallet pouch. Just to coincide with her sudden increase in desire…

instead, I just have to make sure I fuck her really good and hard.

(It’s really not a bad problem to have.)

It’s Good to be Screwed

prev_ID_10

Jennie Breeden manages to capture in this single ID strip what the author of that infamous, oversharing plea on Craiglist took nearly 1800 words to convey: lots of women like a good solid assertive fucking. They like it when the guy takes control in bed. Not always, but enough for it to matter. And some of them aren’t getting it when they want it.

Seems like there’s some frustration and confusion around this at the moment, generally. Our own suggestions for the guys out there are:

  • Ask her to fuck you. Lie back and be submissive for a change. Feel the rush for yourself. That’s the feeling she’s after. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean she wants to be tied up and spanked (although she might).
  • If she’s horny, actively initiating sex, or just giving you clear signals of interest, and she’s not specifically asking for anything else –  then screw her, and screw her well.

Sunshine and Lollipops

It’s Monday. You are both ‘sick’. (Of working). You have the day off.

You Jump straight into bed as soon as the kids are out of the door.

You open the curtains, and let the sunlight in, to shine on each others’ bodies as you move together.

Exhibitionists among you might even head down to the beach or the park, like this lucky couple, who even came prepared with an umbrella, in case the sun got too hot.

thomas-rowlandson-couple-having-sex-on-a-wheeled-stool-1808-17

But most of you will prefer the morning in bed, in the comfort of your own house, with the sun full on his back and her face.

image-2-for-coleen-13-04-2011-gallery-374420607-122104

The eyes respond differently in sunlight. Hair shines, and skin feels warm and clean.

One other thing – if we told you that a type of medication had been clearly and directly linked to increased happiness, a decreased likelihood of stress, anxiety and depression, higher energy levels, weight loss, a lower risk of cancer and heart disease. and increased vitamin D levels, would you be interested?

Well, sunlight does all that and it’s free. (Unless you live somewhere dark and cold, in which case, poor you.)

Now, onto lollipops. We do not recommend putting these in or anywhere neat the anus or vagina. Thank you and good day.

Joanne: Friday Night Part 2

(Back to the previous episode or back to the start…)

I get a little steamy and romantic when I talk about masturbation. Back to the pub scene, that Friday night, in November 2012.

‘How come you’re so late?’ said my ex-boyfriend Gareth, sneering a little. He was drunk, but still basically in control of himself.

‘Did I arrange to meet you?’ I asked, incredulous. ‘Weird.’

The ox grinned a little wider but said nothing.

‘No,’ he scoffed. ‘But it’s twenty past ten. Place closes at eleven.’

‘Well, I’d better skull nine pints so I can catch up with you,’ I said. Mike actually laughed aloud but still said nothing.

‘This is my fourth,’ Gareth said. ‘So anyway, what have you been doing this evening?’

He still asked me stuff like that, even after eight months, longer than we were together. Obviously I could not possibly be happy without him, but he still needed to check, to make sure this was definitely the case.

‘Having a bath,’ I said.

‘Alone at home on a Friday night, having a bath!’ he crowed. ‘How exciting.’

I wanted to tell him: I have been eating sushi, reading, and then having a large orgasm, with my dildo. It reminds me of your penis, only, it is really hard.

But that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And the truth was, I had spent much of the time worrying about if I was going to get the fellowship or not. The encounter with the dildo had only accounted for about ten minutes.

Besides, it was pretty clear that I had not been having a bath. My hair was unwashed, and tousled at the back from lying on the couch, and my work make up was still on, and smudged from sweat. My deodorant was struggling to cope with the smell of my arousal, and in general, I was far from fresh.

But Gareth was blind to all of that.

‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ he went on. ‘Baking?’

‘Shut up, Gareth,’ said James. ‘She’s probably had more fun than listening to you all night.’

joanna2Gareth had no comeback, and he saw it was going to be three against one, so he just sneered again, and sauntered back off to the group from his own office, a rival firm.

‘Sorry about him,’ said James. ‘He’s a grumpy chump because we got the Paolini contract again, and not them.

I smiled at James and sipped my drink.

(Oh, James, my valorous protector, you do not know how right you are. You may stare at my tits and armpits all you like.)

Then Pauline came over. She was a rather nice-looking girl from my office who is also quite the bimbo, work-wise.

‘Hi, Joanna,’ she says.

‘Wotcher, Pauls,’ I say. I can smell her perfume, sweet and girly, and her drink, the same. If she can smell me, she is nice enough not to say anything.

Pauline has not really come over to talk to me. She has come over because she likes James and they have slept together a few times, off and on. Part of me wants it to work out, because I know she is basically a nice girl, and he is lonely.

But I also know that he prefers the stronger flavours of a woman like me.

So, I’m torn. I want him to be happy, and I like his company, but I do not actually want to be with him. I want him to be with a nice easy girl like Pauline.

But that night, I was in need of company, to take my mind off things, and I decided to take what I wanted.

‘James,’ do you want to come out dancing with me?  To the Eagle Lounge?’

‘Sure,’ he says, excited.

‘I’ll come too,’ said Pauline, and before James had a chance to throw her of the scent, I said:

‘Sure. More the merrier.’

So the three of us went to the Eagle Lounge. And something happened there…

Warning! You May Have Partialism!

Do you find this photo sexy?

belly-button-rings

More sexy than if you could see her whole body?

If you do, this means you have a form of partialism called Navel Fetishism! According the the American Journal of Crazy People, that is a paraphilia in the DSM-IV-TR type and you are therefore crazy, Or at least, really shy.

Sorry.

Partialism means a erotic fixation on a particular part of the body, to the extent that you can get your rocks off just concentrating on that part alone.

Other common partialisms are:

Maschalagnia Armpit fetish Armpits
Mazophilia Breast fetish Breasts
Pygophilia Butt fetish Buttocks

And there’s loads more.

Luckily for me I do am not fixated on any of these parts of my wife’s body, like, at all, but if you are, you should really get that checked out, dude!

Make an appointment with a shrink and tell them all about the bits of women’s bodies you think about when you choke the bishop. They’ll give you meds, and sort you right out.

The Man from Alibi

The Man from Alibi is that other man you’d want to have sex with, if you were not married to your husband.

He pops into your head sometimes. Most commonly when you are taking care of yourself, but also, when you are with your partner, or when you’re doing laundry, or driving, or just doing nothing at all.

He is a shape-shifter, a different face for a different day.

man-walking-away-from-womanYou can imagine him looking something like a combination of several of your favorite actors. They are all shape-shifters too, playing different roles at different times.

Sometimes he just looks like a handsome man that you have never met.

And sometimes he looks like no one at all.

It is not his appearance that counts. It is his potential to express a part of you that lies elsewhere.

And it is his power, the power to lead you into a places and situations that you have never been, and give you leave of absence from from the familiar world you have made around yourself.

(And also, he’s like, crazy good in bed.)

Joanne: The Discovery

So, you will see I can get a bit dark and controlling when talking about men. Better get back to the masturbation.

I had no boyfriends to speak of before the age of sixteen. This is partly because my mother sent me to an all girls’ school, and also I think it was because I was so pretty that none of the boys I knew had the courage to come near me. So, before that time, it was all solo action.

When I hit sixteen, I stopped being a tomboy. The journals I was keeping were longer filled with fantasy islands made for exploration, and drawings of the strange creatures that lived there. Instead, I began to be interested in fashion, and also, in my body, even more than before.

I kept one drawing journal that was about all the clothes that I thought I would design one day. Mostly these were copies of things I had seen in magazines. One, from the year 2000, has lots denim and leather, and the women all have long straight hair, and when I look back, I realise they were all a kind of new age bikie chick, who would probably have to change in order to actually ride a real motorcycle.

Then suddenly, it all changes to vintage dresses. I was sixteen. I was into femininity.

The other kind of ‘diary’ was all online, and in my head, really. I looked on the net, on sexual health sites for teenage girls, I and found a lot of information on what masturbation was about, and how other girls did it, and I checked out what worked and what didn’t. Systematically.

For the record: pillow humping doesn’t work for me. Nor does lying with my pussy under the bath spout. Putting things in my ass doesn’t do anything for me. Rolling my clit hood back and directly touching my clit just makes it feel sore. And, the thing with the hairdryer? What was that about?  Etc. Etc.

In fact, most of the newfangled methods I came across didn’t work out and after twenty minutes of frustration I would end the session as normal, on my back with a home-made dildo inside me and my middle finger on the hood of my clitoris, writhing and straining to come, and thoroughly enjoying it. I thought I was in ecstasy.

Then, around the time I turned sixteen, I came across something else.

I read this post on a website (called The Clit dot com, incidentally), by an older woman, saying that if she just left the tip of her vibrator on her clitoris, and relaxed, she could come over and over again. The first few times, she said she had to push through a little discomfort right after she came, a kind of electric feeling, but after that, she could go straight onto the next one. Once she had gotten used to it, the orgasms just kept coming, like waves. She said she could have as many as forty.

Forty? Christ. I didn’t believe her, of course. Up to that time, I could only have about ten, and that was really unusual. Most of the time I would have two or three, and then my clitoris would get sore. And, I always had to wait a few moments before I could start again. I knew the electric sensation she was talking about, where my clit retracted and just didn’t want to be touched.

But I wanted to check out if what the woman said was possible, so, I got my first vibrator, a small purple number, which cost ten dollars, ran on two small cell batteries and had a simple dial to turn it up. (It stopped working after two sessions. I guess the connections must have corroded.)

And that night – in fact it was Tuesday, June the 20th, 2000 – I tried it out, doing just what she said.

eng008934And it worked.

It really, really worked.

I can still remember the sense of amazement. It was like waking up. I don’t know how many times I came, because that wasn’t really the point. It was the sense of rolling along effortlessly, from one to the next.

I still sometimes go back to that post and read it, it’s still there. I even sent a reply, years later, thanking her, but she never replied, I guess she had just logged in and posted, and forgotten about it. But it made a huge impact on me. And I wonder how many other girls read it and tried it, and made the discovery.

Older girls at school taught me how to have a few. The older woman online taught me how to have many.