baserinstincts

Cock Rings - A User’s Guide

Cock ring or cockring (n) - a ring that is placed around a man’s penis, usually at the base, primarily to slow the flow of blood from the erect penile tissue, thus maintaining erection for longer. Cock rings can be worn around just the penis or penis and scrotum, or just the scrotum alone, though this is usually designated as a testicle cuff. (via Wikipedia)

Cock rings are not just for those with erectile dysfunction. More and more men are getting into the idea of sex toys (a good thing) and a cock ring is a good place to start. Especially since they can be used alone (to enhance a good wank) or with a partner.

Personally, I’ve had many a positive experience with cock rings. They’re a lifesaver when you want to keep a man’s ego (and other parts) from “deflating”. They also provide a different sensation. While I love a flesh and blood penis, they can’t always give the resistance of a good glass, metal or wooden one. When paired with a cock ring however, the flesh and blood penis takes on a newer, stiffer feel.

Cock rings are made from several different types of material. These include leather, nylon, metal, rubber or silicone. I personally really like the silicone variety. There are also cock rings that vibrate or house a vibrating bullet designed to provide the female with extra clitoral stimulation. I’ve had no luck with these so if anyone knows of a really good one, let me know in the comments.

For safety’s sake, don’t wear your cock ring too tight or for too long. If your balls start to feel funny (numb, cold etc.) take it off. Also, if you have cardiovascular problems or are taking blood thinning medications, you probably shouldn’t play around with one of these.

HNT - Tickle Me

Ah, cleavage. Happy Half Nekkid Thursday everyone!

Another Good Reason to Wrap it Up

Because these cool posters tell you to.

Where were these posters when I was in school?

Well, that certainly is one way to drive the point home.

If you want to purchase these prints, click here.

The Spoils of War

Photo by flickr user Captain Midnight.

It’s a very effective weapon, because the communities are totally destroyed,” he said. “You destroy communities. You punish the men, and you punish the women, doing it in front of the men.

This is what Maj Gen Patrick Cammaert, the former commander of the UN peacekeeping force in eastern Congo, told the BBC.

The article goes on to state the UN’s reaction and even says that the resolution is being hailed as historic.

Forgive me if I don’t jump up and down.

I’m more inclined to cross my arms, tap my foot and scream “It’s about damn time”.

UN Secretary General says that violence against women has reached “unspeakable proportions”. ANY violence against women, and especially when you’re talking about rape as one of the systematic tactics of war, is unspeakable.

The UN can’t really think that this a recent phenomenon.

Can they?

And why does it take thousands of women being systematically raped for the UN to take notice? What about the single woman that gets attacked in a random dark alley by some chump trying to prove his manhood.

How many women get raped here in the US every year? By their boyfriends? By their husbands?

According to RAINN there is a rape every 8 minutes in the U.S. 1 in 6 women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime (look around you, chances are you already know a victim if you yourself aren’t one). Only 6% of rapists see any jail time.

As a society, we say that we care about basic human rights and that senseless violence against innocents is intolerable. But our actions say “yeah, except when those innocents are women.”

In grade school during a sorry excuse for a sex ed class we were told not to scream “RAPE” if we were ever attacked because chances are no one would come. We were to scream “FIRE” instead.

A dear friend of mine suffered an attack by her ex-boyfriend after she left him. She reported it and was attacked by him again. Frustrated with the inaction and seeming indifference of the police, she complained.

“Just calm down miss,” the officer told her. “It’s not like he killed anyone.”

Boy am I glad to know that if he did kill her, the police might actually do something about it.

Another friend of mine, an older woman, told me a the story of her husband beating her in public on the subway platform. A cop comes over to break it up. “This is my wife,” her husband said simply. The cop nods and walks away.

These are only two of countless horror stories I’m sure.

The legal system has done a piss poor job of protecting women against violence and putting the perpetrators behind bars.

But furthermore, this patriarchal society we live in is what makes it easy, commonplace and even accepted for this type of violence to occur in the first place.

This resolution that the UN has proposed has been a long time coming. And while I agree that we should help the women in the Congo and women all over the world to live safer, healthier lives, America needs to take a long hard look in the mirror and take care of home as well.

Time to put up or shut up.

The Way To a Man’s Heart - A Play in One Act

ACT ONE

THE SCENE: I am lying on my bed one sunny Sunday afternoon talking to a guy on the phone. We agreed he was going to come over that night. At present the conversation is lingering on the topic of some cupcakes I’d promised him some weeks ago (one of the things we had in common, a persistent, insatiable sweet tooth). I am trying to beg off making the cupcakes using various excuses i.e. too hot to bake, don’t have the right ingredients etc.

ME: Cupcakes or cookies? You’ll have to pick one.

HIM: Well then, I guess you’ll only get one orgasm.

(Yeah, he was a cocky son of a bitch.  And rightfully so, as I’d find out later.)

ME: Wait the original deal was cupcakes for a rubdown. We’re just substituting cookies for cupcakes. Terms for sex haven’t been named yet.

HIM: We’re not negotiating sex, we’re negotiating multiple orgasms.

(And he was a smart ass. I was getting more and more turned on.)

ME: Touche. Glad you made the distinction. Ok so how about we substitute breakfast for cupcakes.

HIM: I could do that.

ME: Standard egg breakfast good for you?

HIM: Yes. I like my eggs dry and well browned.

ME: Two eggs scrambled and dry. Got it. Meat?

HIM: Three eggs. Not really a fan of bacon and sausage. Toast ?

ME: What kind of toast?

HIM: Wheat?

ME: Sprouted grain.

HIM: OK.

ME: One slice or two?

HIM: Two

ME: Jam or butter?

HIM: Jam or peanut butter is good if you have some.

ME: I have. One slice jam and one peanut butter. Any particular flavor jam?

HIM: Do you have blackberry?

ME: No. Strawberry, Raspberry, Wild Maine Blueberry, Apricot, Champagne Rose, and Fig.

(He was a fussy eater. A pet peeve of mine but I could forgive that. It had been more that half a year and if somone didn’t fuck me soon, I was convinced I would perish.)

HIM: I’ll bring some.

ME: Fine by me. Coffee or juice?

HIM: I like juice. Orange or pineapple would be nice.

ME: I like orange. Butter or oil in the skillet?

(I was making fun of him at this point but he didn’t notice.)

HIM: Do you have PAM?

ME: Don’t use PAM but I have canola oil spray. Milk or cheese in your eggs?

HIM: No diary but salt and pepper. Maybe even some onions or garlic…

(I cut him off, inches away from annoyance)
ME: We’ll see.

HIM: Okay so call me when you get out of the movies.

ME: Sure.

I hung up and shook my head.

ME (to self): This had better be some damn good…

Link Lovin’

FUNKYBROWNCHICK - How to Love a Submissive Man - ‘Cuz I sure loves me some!

Beautiful and Depraved - Sasha Grey on the Beauty of Blow Jobs - Unabashed and unapologetic

Newsweek - It’s Hotter Away From Home - I’m about due for a vacation.

Huffington Post - Why Housework Will Get You Some - I can attest to this.

Tango - How to Be a Better Kisser - I totally agree with the notion that kissing can be more intimate than sex. I reserve kissing for the extra special.

Jezebel - Unicorns, Easy-Bake Ovens, and Vibrators, Or: I Believe In The Radical Possibilities Of Pleasure - Of for the days of my Easy-Bake Oven. What ever happened to that thing? Anyway, I agree wholeheartedlt that there are many things that don’t suck about being a woman.

HNT- Nightie Night

One of my favorite nighties. I love the feel of the satin and the laces up the side.

Here’s to good night’s sleep. Happy Half Nekkid Thursday everyone!

The Brawn and the Brains

I’ve been thinking a lot about what turns me on.

I met a guy about a month ago. We’ll call him Hotstuff.

I salivated when first I saw him. Tall, muscular beautiful eyes, all around gorgeousness.

He must have felt me ogling because he turned around abruptly and looked right at me. I tried quickly to change from the I’d-sure-rip-you-apart face I was undoubtedly making to a more normal one.

He walked up to me an introduced himself and we talked later on that day. He hailed from the Midwest, I, from the City. We discovered we both have a thing for dragons as demonstrated by the tattoos we’d chosen.

My coochie was jumping furiously. We went to the movies a week later, followed by a heavy make out session at my apartment. I behaved and sent him home but with a note to self that I’d hit that in the very near future.

Hotstuff and I hung out a couple times more and in that time one thing became painfully clear. Despite being smokin’ hot, Hotstuff needed a personality injection.

Pity. Good looks really only go so far.

So, still undecided on whether I’d play with Hotstuff, I called up Chuck.

Chuck and I had a wonderful conversation. We always do.

See, Chuck is only about half as hot as Hotstuff. Actually, he’s not hot at all. He’s what you’d call cute.

But his personality (a little too much personality at times) makes him twice as sexy as Hotstuff in my book.

So I decided to play with him instead.

And well…you know what happens next.

Worth A Thousand Words

Gallery | California gay couples say ‘I do’ | ajc.com

I LOVE this picture!

On Daddies

I blogged about my mom the day after mother’s day so it’s only fair I do the same for dear ol’ dad.

Daddy - My First Love

He was my first love.

I was crazy about my daddy when I was younger; in love with him beyond belief. He was my hero, larger than life to me.

He was my favorite.

I liked him much more than I liked my mother.

He taught me how to fight, made me eat healthy, pushed me to get straight A’s.

We were the best of friends for eight long, happy years.

In essence, a father really is his daughter’s first lover. We learn much of what we come to understand about love from watching him. He sets an example for our future lovers and inevitably, we repeat and emulate the relationships we have with our fathers, good or bad, consciously or unconsciously, for years.

When my dad dumped my mom, in essence he dumped me too.

As it much as it hurts and as long as it take to get over a lost love, so it is when a girl is dumped by her father. This plays out of course in the myriad of fucked up relations with men that have taken place over my life (my ex fiancee was just like him. Freud would certainly have a field day with that).

The years I spent chasing and trying to get men that were unavailable or just didn’t want me was of course my way of trying to recapture my father.

If there are any father’s reading this, DO NOT let your daughter ever become used to not having you around. When you decide you want her back, it just may be too late

Hey Mom. Happy Father’s Day.

When my mom and dad split, my dad wrote and called in the beginning but over the years it kinda dropped off.

He wasn’t as bad as other dad’s I hear about in countless stories. He didn’t beat me or abuse me.

He ignored me.

He was simply not present. Physically or emotionally. And he was present financially only because he was forced by the courts. I learned not to count on his presence. I learned not to count on him for anything. To do so would only bring bitter disappointment.

What makes a father?

If you think of it solely in terms of biology, a portion of sperm, well then we all have one.

But I refuse to believe that’s all it takes.

It’s about being there for your children. My father wasn’t. I doubt he even really knows me as a person or anything about the woman I’ve become. Maybe he doesn’t want to know because I became this woman largely without him.

He couldn’t tell you my favorite color, what I like to eat, what I do for a living. I haven’t even laid eyes on him in several years. The last time I spoke to him, he was asking me for money.

It sucks. How do you go from being best friends to painfully obligatory phonecalls on father’s day, birthdays, and major holidays?  We should have a better relationship. I want us to. But there’s miles and miles and years and years of bullshit between us that we can’t seem to cut through.

It’s tiring.

And so I keep my distance.

And I’m certainly not going to try harder than he is.

Maybe one day we’ll make things right.

In the meantime, mommy and grandma are the ones who get the cards on Father’s Day.