Good Wanks Gone Bad

Okay. So we’ve all been there. Right? Had a moment when the urge overtook us to take matters into our own hands and TCOB which then may (or may not have) lead to a moment of embarrassment and possible regret. Below are seven stories of such moments shared by fellow netizens.

I’m Not Ready for My Close-up Mr. Demille
Sometime around 2003 or 2004 we had a video recorder. Ya know, back before cell phones were cool. So for some ungodly reason I decided to videotape my session, and that was the end of that. Anyway, fast forward to 2013 and my wife surprises me and my family for a special occasion with videos of my best friend and I. Cut in the middle of the video of my best friend and I having fun to me rubbing myself through my gym shorts saying some super weird shit to the camera before whipping it out and stroking it on home video. My poor mom freaks out and tries to turn it off but ends up hitting fast forward, so I’m double-timing myself. I have never gotten out of a house so fast in my life.

Source: Buzzfeed

Don’t F*ck with Barbie’s Man
This is mortifying. I still shiver and block it out when the memory arises: I tended to use whatever was available at the age of 16; in my case, my little sister’s Ken doll was just the right size. Being widely uneducated about how it all worked down there at that point, I would just sit on it and rock.

Well, we all know how easily those Ken heads popped off…yep. Into the vajayjay. The problem was, I could not get it out myself. I flipped completely out, thoughts of it going up into my uterus and damaging my internal organs (again, not properly educated!) flying through my panic-induced brain.

What did I do? I told my mother. Took a deep breath, then blurted, “I was masturbating with a Ken doll and the head came off inside me!”

The look on her face was a mixture of anger, disappointment, and embarrassment. But she took me upstairs, and attempted to get it out. I was crying, mortified to the core.

It got worse. She couldn’t get it out. So she got my FATHER…who then got his pliers. That worked.

Dad never talked about it again; mom walked out of the room, scolding me, saying, “Come talk to me next time you want to do that!”

At least I didn’t wind up at the hospital?


Making My Own Pickle
I am a 19-year-old guy, and one afternoon I thought it would be fun to insert a cucumber all the way into my anus. I had done this before and was always able to pass it back out easily. Well, this time it went in, and I couldn’t get it to come back out. I also had a previous engagement with a friend that afternoon, so I reluctantly went with the cucumber still in my anus. I was fine for most of the afternoon until I felt it coming! Needless to say I had to rush for the bathroom, but nobody was the wiser. That experience scared the hell out of me, but it was still fun.


I Wanted to Know What It Feels Like to Be Pretty
When I was around 12 years old, I would lay on our couch in our attic “rooting for the Yankees.” As a late bloomer, I could jerk for hours without any messy consequences. One day, I forgot to shut the door and my mom came up the stairs to see what I wanted for dinner. I quickly wrapped a nearby blanket around my waist (my pants and underwear were under a nearby pillow) and tried to play it cool. My mom asked what I was doing and I (as a clever 12-year-old) told my mom, “I always wanted to see what a skirt felt like. Maybe one time I can try your heels on? I’m just a curious kid!” My mom never came upstairs to the attic without plenty of warning after that afternoon.


Work That Pom-Pom Girly
When I was 14, like everyone of that age, I was horny all the time. I had even made a dildo out of an old pom-pom, sickly and strangely enough. I used the little, rubber handle as my plaything.

I had a very private bedroom, the only one on the first stairs, and I had my own bathroom nearby, to boot…so I got away with a lot.

I had gone in my bathroom, and I was masturbating, almost ready to have a major orgasm. I heard my mom call downstairs, “Hey, J***** is here!!!” That was my friend, and I guess she had come to invite me to go out and play ball, or something.

I just yelled back, “Could you tell her Ill be right there, Mom?!” No answer. I didn’t know then that my mom had already allowed J***** to go down to my room already, and that she was hiding under my bed!!!!!

Before anyone could catch me, I scurried to my room with my pants around my ankles, pom-pom in hand. I closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, “finishing the job”. I was sitting there, quietly moaning, got done, and pulled up my pants. I tossed the pom-pom behind my dresser, the usual hiding place. I opened the door to go upstairs to see my friend.

Just as I opened the door, out comes J***** out from under my bed, smiling. “BOO!” she yelled, laughing. I nearly had a heart attack. What had she seen?!?!?!

We hung out the rest of the evening, and she never once let on that she saw me masturbating with a pom-pom handle. GAWWWWW!!!! I still don’t know what she saw, or if she saw anything. The thoughts have rolled through my mind, though, “What if she was under my bed, but facing the wall?” I figured that was the only way she wouldn’t have seen! Maybe she was just being nice, and didn’t want to embarrass me.

I still don’t know, to this day. It was, by far, the most awful thing that happened to me, embarrassment-wise. Scope out the room before doing that kind of thing, that’s for sure! I’ve said it before and Ill say it again…The early teenage years are HELL!!!!!!


Let the Sunshine In
I almost got caught. Well I was watching wrestling smack down on cable and then Lita vs Torrie Wilson came on, and as you do I felt the urge to have a bit of a go at their presence. Torrie Wilson got her shirt ripped off so I went for it hard…a little too hard. I felt my load starting to come out. I was in my bedroom and panicked. So I got up and started to run for the bathroom, with my hand over my cock. I could feel my hand getting warm from f*cking cum so I was running quick and just as I was about to get in the bathroom, I blew my load on the hallway floor. I could hear my parents watching ER I think it was at the time in the lounge room and I was praying that the commercials didn’t come on. So with the bathroom door open wiping down my dick and hands and flushing stuff down the toilet I kept looking over my shoulder at the big ass load in the middle of the hallway hoping that no one got up. I grabbed anything, I think it was my towel and wiped it all up. Now every time the sun comes through the window in the afternoon u can see a big gizzz stain on the floor. But no one is the wiser.
that’s my story.


Tent Pole
One of my older stories was when I first moved to my dad’s house in Texas. We didn’t have any internet because the cheese goats at AT&T hadn’t set it up yet. So I had to resort to soft-core porn on HBO. Now I’m not sure if you guys know, but it’s hard going from hardcore Lela Star to some no-name bitch who dry humps some cheese goat on some HBO sex special.

But anyways, I tried my best and proceeded to climax when my step mom stepped into my room to turn the TV off. I immediately turned my head and acted like I was asleep while I blew my shit underneath the sheets (I masturbate underneath my sheets for some odd reason but I pull it out when I climax. Yeah, I know weird). Only thing is I had a huge tent poking up from the blanket and she just stared and walked away without turning the TV off. Needless to say it was awkward the next day.


Time to Start Your Own Pussy Riot?

wild pussyThe arrest and subsequent incarceration of three of the 12 members of the Russian female avant-garde punk rock band Pussy Riot is hardly recent news to anyone who follows international events. Three young women, Maria Alyokhina, Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Yekaterina Samutsevich were arrested and charged with “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred” following an impromptu radical art performance and political protest in Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow on February 21, 2012.

All three young women were subsequently convicted and each given a two year prison sentence on August 21, 2012 – because, according to the judge, Marina Syrova they had “crudely undermined the social order” with their protest and performance.1

Hello! Someone please call Ms. Syrova on her clue phone. Sometimes the social order needs to be undermined, particularly when it comes to – ummm – the pussy.

Given I live in a country in which there is a distinct separation of church and state (in theory), I find it somewhat disturbing to see three young women being subjected to what is essentially a re-boot of Salem Witch Trials for the new millennium. However, what I find far more disturbing is the underlying tone of misogyny and the overt need to subjugate women—by a woman no less. One has to seriously consider if these young women had instead been young men and were in a band named, say, Cock Fight –  would they have been arrested? And in turn, would they have been convicted and given such harsh sentences for what was essentially a flash mob (albeit politically motivated and in a church)?

And dear reader, if you think such assaults on the freedom(s) of the pussy are limited to the land of plentiful vodka, ossetra caviar, and white nights think again.

Currently, here in the good ol’ U S of A, there are any number of attempts by policy-makers and conservative special interest groups to limit a woman’s choice in regard to her own body. These restrictions include everything from limiting the availability of contraception and the re-definition of rape, to the prerequisite of essentially sexual assault to receive an abortion. And the gender of the vast majority of these policymakers? You guessed it boys and girls—men.

Why are these men so afraid of the pussy?

Okay, maybe it’s because I’m a gay man and I have little understanding of (and zero practical experience with) a woman’s lady parts which has contributed to my current state of being baffled by this conundrum. And perhaps my lack of empirical understanding of the vah-jay-jay has also led to my being nearly incapable of understanding the inherent paradox associated with current political assault upon the pussy. So let me see if I might break it down a wee bit here.

This fear of the pussy isn’t logical.

Is the intoxicating delight of the pussy really that powerful? So overwhelming that it can make grown men act in an irrational and illogical manner?

If so, where can I acquire one?

Again, perhaps my view is a tad bit skewed because I’m a gay man. However, given that logic typically follows reason, it would seem only reasonable (and logical) if something contained such power and potential of mythic proportion it would be held in high regard and cherished. But rather, it appears that in our current socio-sexual circumstance, which is fueled in no small part by political paranoia, the pussy instead is to be looked upon as something to be disdained and treated with contempt.


I think the answer lies in a line of the song Pussy Power by the demigod of punk, Mr. Iggy Pop. “When it’s there and I can’t have it/I get real real rabid.”

Fundamentally, I think it’s about resentment.

From this outsider’s viewpoint it truly appears to be a classic case of pussy envy—if you will. Yet another objectification of women. Yet another situation in which women are reduced to being a commodity like any other. It’s supply and demand, and when demands aren’t met, well, we all know that means, don’t we? It means this is war—damn the torpedo bras and establish a blockade.

Think you should have the right to make a choice as to whether you wish to conceive a child. Guess again, my sweet – we’re cutting off your supply. Too emotionally painful to endure nine months of torture as a child of incest or rape gestates in your womb? Sorry! Every life is precious, my dear, and you should consider yourself grateful for such an opportunity young lady. See, it says so right here in this ultrasound which we now require to be kept permanently in your medical record should you scrape together the funds to terminate the ill-conceived pregnancy.

Will this war ever end?

Free your pussy and the rest will follow?

As a male, who was raised by a strong, independent, hard-working single mother, I find it troubling and quite frankly insulting to witness the attitudes and behavior of many of the current politicians and policymakers. Many of whom are of (or very close to) my generation. My mother worked for many years as a civil servant in the United States Postal Service at a time when few women worked for the organization. She toiled alongside men and worked just as hard (if not harder) than they to prove herself – all the while being subjected to the harassment and intimidation by her male co-workers who felt the need to constantly remind her that her job rightfully belonged to a man.

My mother, along with any number of other women of her generation, endured any number of hardships (and outright abuse) in order to create a better world for their sons and more importantly their daughters. What will be the final legacy of the strides they made toward the equality of women? To see all they accomplished be whittled away by closeted misogynists and political/religious extremists? That’s a reality to which I’ll not be able to bear witness.

Looks like it’s time for someone to instigate yet another pussy riot.

Photo provided by


It’s Just Sex?

In the 1995 movie Jeffrey, based on a play of the same name written by Paul Rudnick, the lead character becomes paranoid about sex for fear of becoming infected with HIV while being sexually active during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Shortly after he’s made the decision to swear off sex, he meets a hunky gentleman at the gym who immediately becomes the temptation he needs to re-asses this decision. As he begins to work through the myriad feelings that result from meeting the gentleman to whom he’s intensely attracted, his friend Sterling, over coffee, counsels—”it’s just sex.”

A few weeks ago, when I posted an ad on my favorite haunt for hooks ups, Craigslist, I was looking for a play partner with whom to try out a new toy. There was a curious result: I received no less than three or four responses from guys who confessed to me that a) they were curious to try anal stimulation/penetration and experience the resulting pleasure, but had never done so; and b) that they were new to exploring sex with other men. As is often the case with the responses I get from such posts, there was only one gentleman who actually showed up at my apartment a few days later after exchanging several emails. He called himself J.

As J. initially entered my apartment I could tell that he was extremely nervous. I thought nothing of it, as guys are often nervous. However, after a few moments of idle chit chat I could tell that J. was really struggling as we were standing and talking. Finally, I said to him, “Would you like to sit down on the couch and talk a little more?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” replied J. As we sat down, he stammered, “As I was driving over here I had what I wanted to say worked out in my head. Now, as I’m sitting here, I can’t recall any of it.”

“We can talk about anything you like,” I offered in comfort.

“I’m not much of a talker,” J. chuckled, “and that makes it kind of difficult for me to tell you what I’m thinking.”

“I find it’s as difficult as we make it,” I observed.

“I guess you’re right,” said J.

As we sat talking for about an hour, J. shared with me that he’s married, but he and his wife are separated by two continents – and that he sees several women regularly for both companionship and sex. He explained that the reason he answered my post was because one of his girlfriends had, at one time, massaged his prostate with her finger while performing oral sex on him. And in his words, “It was amazing.” He further explained that he’s always wanted to experience it again, but for whatever reason his girlfriend has never once again ventured into ass play with him.

The longer we sat and talked it became more and  more clear to me that J. was most likely not going to be comfortable with the thought of the two of us having sex. Shortly thereafter, J. confessed that he wasn’t sure he’d be up for having sex upon a first meeting. And though I assured him several times that it wasn’t big deal to me – and that I enjoy meeting people just as much if not more than having sex with them – he kept apologizing and saying, “I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.”

And I kept repeatedly replying, “I don’t at all feel as though you’ve wasted my time.”

After J. left my apartment, and during many moments since, I’ve thought of those three words of Jeffrey’s friend Sterling: It’s just sex.  And when I think about those words, there is this weird kind of dichotomy that occurs in my mind. Part of me thinks he’s right. It’s no big deal. It feels good and it’s fun. To paraphrase Jeffrey, it’s one of the greatest gifts from the universe.

Then there’s the experience I had with J. For him, sex is anything but trivial – particularly the thought of making the leap from having sex exclusively with women to having sex with men. As I sat and talked with him on the evening he visited me, I could tell he was struggling with any number of conflicting feelings. And as I sat and watched and listened to him, I realized that at times sex can also bring about within us so many conflicting feelings and desires. Those conflicts often make it difficult for us to freely enjoy ourselves sexually.

“It’s just sex,” dear Sterling?

I think not.


Hot Sex?!

Given the dog days of summer are upon us here in many parts of the world, most of us are feeling “too darned hot” as Cole Porter once so famously waxed poetic in a musical number of his Broadway hit Kiss Me, Kate. In that particular tune, Mr. Porter speculated, as is apparently confirmed in the Kinsey Report, “Ev’ry average man you know/Much prefers his lovey dovey to court/When the temperature is low.” Say it’s not true!

However, if you’re finding the hotter temperatures are causing things to cool between you and your lover, here are a few tips for some hot sex as the temperatures rise.

Get Wet!
Nothing cools like gulping down a big old refreshing glass of water except perhaps wearing it. And what could be sexier than showing a bit of your private parts to your lover through a wee bit of wet fabric? So pull out that over-sized white T-shirt (for ladies) and a pair of white cotton pajama bottoms or skimpy white boxer briefs (for you gents) and have fun soaking each other through to the skin. Find that super soaker from last summer hiding in the closet. Ready, aim and fire until there’s not a dry spot left on either of you. Taunt and tease each other through the translucent fabric until you can stand it no more. Then rip off those wet clothes and go at it like the critics with Kevin Costner and his epic fail—Waterworld.

Ice Ice Baby
Frozen H2O isn’t just for washed up rap artists from the ’80s – it can be great for cooling off while heating up your lover at the same time. Snatch an ice tray from the freezer, grab your lover, shed those clothes and let your bodies become an arctic exploration. Gently tease her nipples with ice rubbed along their edges, trace the curve of her hips with a cube or two, crush a bit in your mouth and pass it between yours and hers during a kiss. Create your own treasure trail of icebergs from his navel to his pubic mound, let it melt, then slowly lick it off. You may or may not be surprised by what pops up in his southern polar region just aching to be explored.

Fan the Flames
Breath against the skin can be a very subtle but sensuous and erotic sensation. Especially when there is moisture on it. As your lover lies on her back, run your tongue over and around one of her nipples. After you’ve gotten it nice and wet, linger there a moment and blow ever so slightly and watch her squirm. Don’t forget the other one—gotta share the love equally. Does your man have Schweddy Balls?  Give ’em a tongue bath! Work those boys over good, but before they have a chance to dry stop a moment and give a little extra care. Blow on each of them ever so slightly. They’ll no doubt dance in appreciation. Just be careful to not overdo it. You don’t need a visit from the guys at the local down the street hauling their hoses into your apartment because the two of you spontaneously combusted!

Road Trip!
Too f*cking hot to f*ck at home? Take it on the road! Get in the car, crank up the A/C and get the hell out of Dodge for awhile. Once you get the hooptie on the highway, crank ‘er out and take turns cranking each other up. Slowly tease his cock by stroking it underneath his clothing until it’s straining against the fabric and throbbing for release. Slide your hand up her skirt (or shorts) and get her moist ‘n ready by softly massaging and gently squeezing her clitoris through her panties. When you’re both as hot as a cat traipsing across a dark vinyl roof on a hatchback in mid-July, pull off the highway. Find a parking deck with a nice dark deserted area, and hang out the “If this car’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!” sign. Just be careful of velour burn on the knees and elbows.

Hot sex when it’s hot. That doesn’t seem so out of reach now, does it? Perhaps you and your lover have a few of ideas of your own for hot sex when the mercury is on the rise. If so, please let us know!

Photo provided by


I Broke the Podcast Feed!

Hey Everyone,

Just wanted to post a quick note say I’m sorry about the podcast RSS feed this week. I done broke it!

Without getting too technical, I made a few changes to the blog in regard to the way the URL appears in the browser and the links to posts, etc.

When I made those changes, the podcast RSS went all FUBAR. So while Tuesday is our regular release day, episode 6 didn’t show live until today (Thursday) due to my bein’ a bonehead. As opposed to the dickhead that I might usually be on any given day.

Sorry about the techo-SNAFU and I *swear* I won’t touch those settings again. Ev-ur.


Aural Sex?

Okay we all know the sounds your lover makes can totally turn your crank. Right? Those succulent slurps that accompany oral sex. The way she lets out that little moan when you hit the right spot with your tongue or finger. Or the way he grunts with that last thrust, his cock throbbing, as both of you reach the point of no return and cascade over the edge into total abandon. But what if there was *a sound* that could cause sexual arousal and climax?

The Machine
Well, according to urban legend there is such a sound and it’s created by an instrument called the Blaster Beam. According to Wikipedia, “The Beam was designed by John Lazelle in the early 1970s, and was first widely used by Francisco Lupica whoblaster beam built several out of iron. American child actor turned musician, Craig Huxley, created his own refined version of the Beam out of aluminum which was brought to fame in the soundtrack for Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) in which composer Jerry Goldsmith used the instrument to create the signature V’ger sound.”1

Craig Huxley played his version of the Blaster Beam during a concert in Central Park in the early ’90s and a blast it was for a few lucky ladies in the audience during the performance—in more ways than one.  According to a writer for the now defunct website, “Craig Huxley gave a concert featuring…the Blaster Beam. The Beam can be heard on…several New Age albums. It’s an amazing instrument, especially when amplified to high levels. The rumor circulating around after the concert was that when Huxley played the Beam, there were women in the audience falling out of their chairs with *big* smiles on their faces. Over a dozen reported having intensely sexual feelings from the Beam sound, up to and including orgasm.”

The writer goes on to describe an experience with a female friend. “I personally took the whole idea with about four point two billion grains of salt, and never gave it much thought, until fairly recently. A young lady who was a dear friend of mine in high school, whom I hadn’t seen in several years, came over for a visit, and was amazed at my studio (I hadn’t gotten involved in music until after we’d stopped dating). She asked me to demonstrate what my stuff could do, and so I fired up a couple of synths and played her some snatches. But when, in flipping through my Xpander presets, I came to a sound called ‘THE BEAM’ in honor of Huxley’s instrument, the expression on her face abruptly changed. When I asked her what was wrong, she blinked for a moment and said, ‘Please play that again. Louder.’ I did so, and had the odd experience of watching her eyes glaze over as she half fell into a chair breathing hard. ‘I…*like* that sound,’ she managed to get out in a whisper. Nobody else I’ve played that patch for, including my fiancee (alas!), has had such a strong reaction to it, or indeed any reaction at all. But my curiosity is piqued. (wouldn’t YOURS be?!)”

Ummm. Talk about your pussy power!

The Science
In 1986 for her greatest hits album, Kate Bush wrote and recorded a song Experiment IV. The song tells a story about a secret military plan to create a sound that is horrific enough to kill people.2  Science fiction or a possible reality? A reality. Sound as a weapon is rapidly becoming truth rather than fiction.3 But how is it if a sound can kill someone it might make them cum as well?

The answer lies in physics and the concept of resonant frequency—sort of.

As we know sound is caused by vibration which in turn has a frequency. When the frequency (or frequencies) associated with the vibration of any particular sound matches that of the object (matter) it’s passing through, resonance occurs. This resonance creates a vibration within the object (matter).  There’s a good explanation and illustration of this phenomenon in this YouTube video.

Okay, but here’s the tricky part. The human body doesn’t have resonant frequency, however, there is a phenomenon known as sympathetic resonance. Which means certain frequencies of vibration can cause tissues or organs in the body to vibrate. For example, the human eyeball has a resonant frequency (sympathetic resonance) of 18 cycles per second.4  So when the human body is exposed to a sound (vibration) of the same frequency blurred peripheral vision occurs.

So what does this have to do with the pussy? You ask.

Given the protuberant nature of the female genitalia, in theory, if it were subjected to the correct frequency of vibration it would be—shall we say—stimulated. And if the woman being subject to the vibration should have an extremely sensitive clitoris (or perhaps even have a clitoral hood piercing maybe?) she could be stimulated to orgasm—in theory.

Sounds like an experiment for the guys over at MythBusters.

New Age Music is to Blame
New age musician Kitarō has used the Blaster Beam in several of his compositions. According to one reader of his music affected a friend. As he said, “[I] have a close friend who responds very favorably to Kitarō. We borrowed a friend’s condo at Seven Springs last winter for a week. Among her CD collection were half a dozen by Kitarō. This was our first introduction to Kitarō, and the response was intense and mutual. I couldn’t really say if it was the sound or something hidden in the sound, but that isn’t really significant to me.”

That sneaky bastard, here I thought Kitarō was all about peace, spirituality and sacred journeys.

So have any of you (male or female) experienced a sound induced orgasm?