The Fuckiest Contest Around

We learned a new word over at the IBWMW Facebook page yesterday:  "fuckiest."

It was given to us by a Misguided Googler®* searching for "fuckiest woman." "'Fuckiest' is instantly my new favorite superlative adjective," commented Suzanne.

Agreed! Though I'm not sure about usage. If someone says, "That was the fuckiest thing you ever did," is that, like, good? Bad?

"Absolutely," wrote Brad, sagely.

And that's what makes fuckiest so great. It doesn't actually mean anything, but, damn, you sure sound like you feel quite strongly about...whatever it is. Fuckiest takes its meaning from its context. Like a word version of tofu, but a really kick-ass tofu.

Which brings us to today's contest.  Your challenge:

Use the word "fuckiest" in a sentence. 

The prize is the lovely Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator (shown in the photo) from our benevolent corporate overlords at Good Vibrations. (You can also just buy it yourself if you're not a gamblin' type.)

Here are the technical specs, if you're picky about what you stick up your wang.

Get ready to conjure up sensational sensuality with the Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator. This bewitching blue beauty is a mini-sized wand style vibrator that packs a powerful pleasure punch. The flexible head bends in every direction to facilitate proper positioning while the powerful Japanese-made motor cycles this vibe through three levels of intensity and three vibration patterns. Similar to the popular Mystic Mini vibe, the Midnight Desire is battery-powered, splash proof and suited to shallow submersion in up to approximately 3 feet of water, making it a charming travel companion. A pretty pouch is included for storage at home or on the go. For an absolutely enchanting erotic experience, the Midnight Desire will have you spellbound.

Midnight Desire Pleasure Wand Vibrator
Silicone and ABS
6” x 1 ¼” diameter (15.24 cm x 3.17 cm diameter)
Uses two AAA batteries, not included
Volume: 3, Intensity: 4

So yes, not only is it a $49 value, but you can also submerge it under 3 feet of water, if you're subjected to flooding conditions while aroused.

Drawing is Saturday, March 17. Fuckiest sentence wins. Whatever that means.

xoxox
jill

*My other fave Misguided Googler® of yesterday: "You should fuck the robot." Which, I just decided, is going to be the chorus of the first death metal song I write. It'll be blah, blah, verse expressing sentiments of angst and whatnot...  then I'll yell hoarsely, "You should FUCK THE ROBOT!"

True Wife's Tale #8: Dusky, "I have had one great love and one great lover, and they are not the same man."

I chose this to illustrate the concept of having two balls in
the air.  However, not quite sure why model has made a
couch fort of those (exceptionally stylish!) throw pillows. 

True Wife's Tales are an occasional feature of In Bed With Married Women. ("Occasional," as Webster defines it, "whenever I am too fucking lazy to write a new post and/or someone happens to send one in.")

The idea behind them is that when someone (originally it was just wives, but really, it can be anyone) tells the truth about their sex life (or lack thereof), we all Learn and Grow, and can thus scamper unfettered out into the world to have freer, better--I don't know--somehow truer sex.

At the very least, TWTs allow you to indulge in the lower pleasures of Voyeurism and/or Judging.* So enjoy.

xoxo
jill

*Judge all you want, but keep that $%$# to yourself, please. These are real people being brave and 'fessing up.


Dusky, early 30s.

     Jill, thank you for your blog, it is a great read… and also a great comfort to read different experiences of love & sex. 
     I feel I live with a secret pain... I get a pang of hurt every time it is suggested that great sex & great love go hand in hand.  I feel surrounded by the idea that naturally the greatest sex of your life will be with the love of your life. The implication being that sex is a litmus test of the true inner feelings of two people, that if you really loved one another, the sex would be spectacular.
     I have had one great love and one great lover, and they are not the same man.
     My husband and I had a very romantic story, falling head-over-heels in love almost instantly and moving in together in less than two weeks. We stayed up all night talking, talking, talking… and by day we spent hours on end just sitting, gazing at one another and sighing. In between the talking and the gazing, we did manage some sex too. I don't remember if it was great sex then, it was just part of celebrating our enraptured love, taking our physical closeness and affection to the extreme.
     Since the 'in love' phase of our relationship has faded, we are still a ludicrously happy couple. We are best friends, and true partners. I never thought I would want to live with someone full-time, but having found the right person to live with my life is a constant joy, full of love, affection, fun & laughter. Friends and family consider us soul-mates, strangers can see how compatible we are. And everyone assumes our public physical affection is a sign of the great sex we must be having at home.
     The reality is sex has always been the less satisfying aspect of our relationship, particularly for me. After 5 years of trying to train my well-meaning husband to please me, I have pretty much given up.  We have agreed to an open marriage as I feel it is the only chance to get the satisfaction I crave. We continue to have fun, loving sex within our marriage, but now I can look outside for the intense, smouldering, sensual passion that I have missed.
     I have reignited communication with a man from my past. We never lost contact, but until recently we only shared rare & friendly messages. Now we are all the way back to regular, completely sexual communication: describing in detail what we want to do to one another, even sharing porographic photographs of ourselves.  For now it is a little thrill, in the hope that we will make it a reality someday (we live in different countries). I am sure he is not the only man who can satisfy me physically, but he happens to be the one I have experienced who can. The sex with this man was well beyond any other sex I have had. I've always enjoyed sex, I tend to be quite uninhibited, but this man knew how to really blow my mind. Sometimes I am overcome with vivid memories of that sex and I just ache to experience it again.  For some reason we felt an instant physical attraction to one another, and somehow that translated to an intense physical chemistry and sexual compatibility.
     I believe I have two mates in this life, one that meets all my mental & emotional needs, another who meets my physical needs. And generally, my little arrangment which allows me both makes me very happy. But sometimes I am very sad that they are not the same person, that the man I love can't really experience this sensual side of me. It is hard to have sex conversations (and I do love sex conversations!) with anyone other than people I know VERY well. People probably think I'm being prudish when I fail to join in their talk of sexy times with their partners, when I am just hiding the truth that the spectacular sex I would like to be talking about was with someone else entirely.
     An old friend told me a story years ago, before I met my husband. She said a friend had a most wonderful partner, they all adored him and thought she was the luckiest girl on earth to have snagged such a kind, beautiful person. They couldn't understand why she wasn't sure about the relationship. Then one day she confided in them - he was bad in bed. My friend said they reacted as though she'd said he had cancer - they just felt so sorry for her.
     Well my husband isn't entirely useless in bed, but I know how that woman felt. When you're with a wonderful man who is bad in bed, everyone else sees this perfect relationship on the outside, and don't how much it hurts to hide the frustration you feel on the inside.

Would you like to tell your own story? Just sit down at the computer, rip your heart out, and jot the results down in an email.

(photo source)

Reader Mail Tuesday: Canned Vagina Haiku, Bestiality, and Girdles for Sex

Woman demonstrating early belly-hiding technique

Even if I didn't make tens of dollars a year on this blog, I might still do it because of the mail. Oh, child, the mail!

Like this from Matt, who I suspect is from a Foreign Land because he signed off with a "cheerio." ("Cheerio," is, what? Japanese?) Matt, who we've just determined is probably Japanese, was inspired by the posts on bad erotic haiku, and wrote:

Damn!  I'm too late to the party. again. Well, I'll send the haikus that came to mind, using the funniest things I've read on your site:

rubber mangina

in his face.  his erotic

asphyxiation

alone with redtube

out comes the canned vagina

can he use it twice?

Like all truly good poetry, Matt's haiku made me Think and Feel. I felt sort of like I might yak. Because I had never pondered the reusability, or lack thereof, of canned vagina. Do you just sorta rinse it out when done? Do you wait until it's full of splooge, then toss it? Neither of those options sound too great, but just tossing it after one use seems like a waste of Perfectly Good canned vagina.

Other non-productive thought spirals: Is canned vagina a third incarnation in the science of Vagina Preservation? Maybe early prototypes--frozen and freeze-dried vagina--seemed good in the laboratory stage, but didn't work "out in the field."

I do, however, suspect that they found an after-market for the unusable freeze-dried vaginas. My mother buys these supposed "dried peaches" at Trader Joes which have an odd aroma and, well, here, have a look at them.

Exactly. I think we're all know what's going on here. (One purveyor of these "peaches," perhaps trying to "cover their tracks" has this secret clue helpful fact on their web site: Both members of the rose family, peaches and roses have in common an intense scent that can evoke strong response. "Intense scent," "evoke strong response" = code for "yes, these are totally dried vaginas, bro.")

I could talk about vaginas, canned, dried and otherwise all day, but let's move on to this haiku by Cagey-C (His third! The dude's on fire!)

Wakened orally;

vivid pleasure. Why so ab-

rasive? No! Bad dog!

I am ashamed to admit that I too considered a haiku with a bestiality theme. The last line was "Fido gives good head," which, though containing a haiku-appropriate five syllables, seemed in poor taste, even for me.

And lastly, after the post on women and The Man tellin' them what they should look like, JT alerted me to the existence of shapewear for the bedroom.

Says the web site:

Traditional Shapewear is great to look good in your clothes, but what happens when you have to take it off for intimacy? The tummy you took such care to hide is now hanging out for your partner to see.

That's right. I don't mean to scare anyone, but what would happen if your partner accidentally saw your body during "intimacy"??? (Assuming, of course, that you still had a partner after referring to sex as "intimacy.") Everyone knows the amount of men (or women) who bolt away during foreplay after a woman shows her stomach is well....that number is ZERO. If someone's already in bed with you, sister, they're staying there.

Now. Believe me, I hate my stomach as much as any woman raised in present day America, probably even more. But fuck, now we're supposed to wear girdles during sex?

Yes, no one will have to look upon the horror that is your stomach, but....girl, you're giving up so much! No one can place sweet, soft kisses up the side of your belly. No one can lick their way down between your legs or up to your breasts. That's right, not your breasts either. Because the woman in the picture is also wearing a clearly padded, push-up bra. Which presumably, offers protection from her (not nearly as judgmental as she's imagining) partner seeing or touching her shamefully imperfect boobs.

I looked on the site's FAQ under "Am I saying you should feel self-conscious about your tummy?" I got "Page not found." Maybe because there's no possible honest answer besides, "Yes, you should--to a paralyzing degree!"

And the worst part about it? They're selling it as "A New Revolution for Women."

Bah.

(photo source)

True (Almost Ex-) Wife's Tale #7: Midge--"I have let go of my inhibitions"

"Have you ever done stories about women who are NOT married, but were married and have been enjoying their sex life so much more immensely since no longer being married?" wrote Midge*.

No, but let's do it! Here, I'll get the old True Wife's Tales stuff out of the blog's attic. True Wife's Tales, if you're new around here, were the whole impetus for this blog. It was gonna be all earnest, Studs Terkel-like Real Women telling their Real Stories about their sex lives so that we could all get some fucking honesty happening. (Hence, also, the name of the blog.)

But then I learned about the existence of stuff like anal ring toss, and, well, my attention was diverted from these loftier goals.

Here Midge--who was kind enough to write down her story (and a fine job she did!)-- tells of her metamorphosis from prudish young girl to woman fully open to her sexuality. "I know what gets me excited now," she writes. "I know what makes me cum now. I have let go of my inhibitions that I had through the years and embrace my sexuality and desires."

Right on, girl! Er, woman.

(By "Midge" 40ish, in the process of ending an 18 year marriage.)

I got married when I was 24, and I was definitely not a virgin.

My first sexual experience was utterly awful. I was 16, I did it because the rest of my friends were doing it, and I had "heard" that doing it while on your period made it less painful. Well, that certainly wasn't the case, as there was blood EVERYWHERE, it hurt and I'm actually surprised that the guy I had sex with had sex again, there was so much. 

When I met the person was to become my husband, and we had sex, I thought it was the most amazing thing I had had. I was 22 then. He definitely turned me on. His dick was VERY well sized, and fit so well inside me.

After a bit of a turmoil here and there (and at 22, 23, EVERYTHING is still turmoil), we got married when I was 24 and he was 22. We were married almost 18 years.

Because, having no other sexual partners and being only with him, I knew no different. And even with the partners I had before marrying him, I had never had an orgasm. There was one time later on in our marriage when I truly remember having an orgasm while we were having sex. I cried. I literally cried because I couldn't believe I had finally had one and how good it felt.

The time I was with him, I will have to say that I can recall a few times where the sex WAS really good. At least really good for the time when I knew no different. There was one time we stayed at a lodge after a Christmas party and I was so turned on I kept climbing on top of him all night long. I couldn't get enough. And there was a time in Vegas, when it was the same. While the sex wasn't bad, it was only what I can describe was nondescript. It was there. It was what you did. The basic motions. Missionary. Me on top, a "spooning" type, one time. Positions, that although they were a little different, did not change the way he felt inside me.

Now, just writing that, I realized that the best times were when we were NOT at home. Having kids definitely changed a lot, mostly for me, and I will take that blame. Taking care of kids all day, working part time, taking care of the house, it put a strain on our sex life. I didn't have the desire most of the time.

Also, my ex traveled for work and would be gone for months at a time. Back then, I guess, also, you would say I was a prude, because I was the of the mindset, "It's either the real thing, or nothing", meaning no toys. Boy was I WRONG! Back then I literally put sex out of my mindset because I knew I wasn't getting it, so no reason to think about it.

We had sex for the last time, six months before I asked him to move out. Now, if you ask him, he will say that the lack of sex was a determining factor in the demise of our marriage. Maybe he's right in a way. I had no desire to have sex with him anymore. Not because my desires had decreased but because of other factors of lack of trust, deceit, etc.

But it was during these last six months, however, that I did start to find my sexual libido. I had always read "soft porn" "romance" novels, and I found that when reading those, my pussy got warm and wet. And so one of those times, when I was home alone, I went into the dresser drawer and grabbed an electric massager that we had (he used it on me a couple of times, but I felt silly at the time and could not relax enough to enjoy it). It had a little nub on it as well. I decided to experiment. I plugged it in and put it between my legs, right on my clit. The orgasm was so amazing and I came so hard. From that moment on I was hooked. There was no turning back. I may have not been having sex with my husband anymore, but I found something else that gave me extreme pleasure.

Oral sex was also not a big factor in our sex life. Oh, he loved getting blow jobs, but I didn't like giving them. And he tried to please me orally, but he did NOT know how to do it and frankly I felt like a lollipop. A friend of mine gave me a book to have him look at it, but by that time, the end was near and we never used it.

The day after he moved out, I went to go look for the massager and lo and behold, he took it! Crap! (and I'm not even sure he even knew I used it). So that led to my first vibrator purchase. I bought a little bullet to put on my clitoris and while it was okay, it just did not do the job like that plug in one did (and seriously, how can you compare something that only requires a little battery to operate versus electric power). Then I bought a blue vibrating dildo that required a little more power, but still nothing was as good as electric. (I was using my fingers still and knew how to make myelf orgasm, on my clit) So I went back to the toy store and found an electric one. I would have LOVED to have gotten the Hitachi one, but money was getting tight and I had to watch my pennies.

Diagnosis: a case of Femaleness

I look GOOD. Damn good.

In the past few days, I've hit a perfect storm of media consumption that has spun me into a feminist spiral. So if you're not into wild-eyed ranting, please avert your eyes.

It all started with a friggin' Campfire girl meeting. A high school girl showed a short film she'd made on body image, then in a halting, nervous voice told about her struggles with an eating disorder. By the end, every mother there was in tears. In tears! Because we all had our thing--too fat, too thin, hair too weird, butt too little, butt too big, etc...--that made us so horribly not right.

The next night, finally off of my Hoarders bender, I watched a Netflix doc called "Orgasm Inc." It was about how in the past few years, pharmaceutical companies, along with willing shills in the medical community, have popularized the "disease" of Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD). (Not to be confused with FTD, which provides human females with unattractive flower arrangements).

"I think there is dissatisfaction and perhaps disinterest among a lot of women, but that doesn't mean they have a disease," said Dr. Sandra Leiblum, professor of psychiatry at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in "Myth of female impotence 'created'" in the BBC News. 

Word.

I'm not arguing that some women don't have sexual problems that could be improved medically, but a lot of the FDS "symptoms" are just the way women are. Yes, women can take a long time to come, yes, women can take awhile to get aroused (note: FTD flowers will not speed arousal time), and, yes, women get pissed at their mates which, yeah, fucking does affect desire.

In this study of FDS among women in Lower Egypt:

Marital disharmony, 'hate' and unfavourable socio-economic circumstances were the most common aggravating factors (28.1%) for sexual dysfunction among the participants, followed by pregnancy-related events.

I'm not a doctor, but as far as I know, there is not a pill for curing "unfavourable socio-economic circumstances" and the like. (Although if there were, I would so fucking take it.)

One middle-aged women in Orgasm, Inc., ("middle-aged" = several years older than me) volunteered to be a guinea pig in some freaky-ass experimental procedure in which electrodes were inserted into her back. Into her back, as in under her skin. Did I mention that this was a totally untested procedure by, for all she knew, a completely iffy doctor?

The implants did nothing for her besides causing her to kick her left leg at random times. (This new trick, while novel and exciting, did not help her sex life.) The creepy invasive procedure did nothing to cure her "problem" which was--oh, dear god--inability to come during intercourse. Not inability to have an orgasm. Not inability to come if someone paid a whit of attention to her clit. No, this woman, raised on the notion that women's sexuality is just like men's--stick in it, pull it out, repeat til orgasm--believed that if she couldn't come from penetration alone, she was "ill."

I so wish she could have read an article like this from RH Reality Check which takes care to state in the very biggest and boldest of fonts:

The majority of women -- according to most studies, at least 70% -- do not and will not reach orgasm through vaginal intercourse or vagina-only stimulation (like "fingering" that's only about vaginal insertion) only.

So yeah, a little testosterone might help you out a bit (I said might--even this isn't certain), but seems to me the best way to alleviate FSD would be to spend a little time on arousal, make sure the female parts that feel pleasure are actually the parts that get stimulated (did I really just have to fucking write that sentence?)...plus a bunch of boring stuff like providing favorable economic conditions for the ladies and whatnot.

What is that? You have more sexual problems, you say? You've suddenly realized that your vag is not completely normal as you'd thought for years and years, but, in fact, hideously ugly and in need of surgical intervention. Don't worry, my ugly little freak, Vaginal Rejuvenation (i.e. plastic surgery for your vag) will fix any and all labia deemed unsightly.

What's sightly and what is not? Well, the highly lucrative Genital Mutilation Vaginal Rejuvenation centers that have popped up in the last few years (Hey....isn't that about the same time you started becoming displeased with your own vag? *shrugs* Weird.) have to find some way to keep the ladies coming in so currently they've determined that "too long" labia are "out." If you go ahead and get them shortened, I sure hope that long labia don't come into vogue because then you'll be bumming, huh?! (See also: The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss).

Check out these before and after Gential Muti Vaginal Rejuvenation photos from one place "helping" women.

Seriously!!!??? Not only did this chick not realize that she had a perfectly fine vag (I think it's a good one, actually, don't you?) but she actually thought it was so heinous that it required surgery--surgery!--to "correct". (Expensive surgery too. When I googled "vaginal rejuvenation" for you, the sponsored link offered a raffle for $1000 off. If they're offering $1000 off, you know that $%$# ain't cheap. Although I have to admit that the concept of a vag. rejuvenation raffle is sort of appealing in its utter wrongness. Coming soon...penile bleaching cake walk.)

Okay.

I would hope that we women would all come to our fucking senses and just...stop it. Realize how totally fine we are and get on with more important things (see above: taking time with and enjoying arousal). At the very least, I can think of about 6 million better ways to spend our time and money than getting friggin' surgery.

However, as it looks now, I think that the only things that's changing is that more men are buying into this crap too with their pec implants, ED drugs, and the like.

My big wish is that one day someone will be lying on an operating table, legs open wide as they watch a surgeon walking toward them eyeing their groin and wielding some sharp pointy thing and the patient ("patient" = "regular person misled by fucked up societal norms") will think, "What the fucking hell am I doing?!?"

And, O, they shall Rise Up and Spread their Enlightenment among the people, who shall toss aside their sense of shame and unworthiness, and be free to rush forth into the forest where they shall fuck freely and joyfully under the dense green canopy of the trees. (Note: future scenario includes ecological renewal, elimination of STDs, and men and women with true knowledge of each other's sexualities. Void where prohibited by law.)

xoxo
jill

P.S. Meanwhile, just yesterday, I paid $45 for a tube of cream that promises to even out skin tone. One of the ingredients "might cause mercury poisoning."

Fuck.

(photo source)

I toss a cock ring into the crowd. Please no trampling.

So, I can't seem to locate the winner of the Bad Erotic Haiku contest. Meaning, the prize--an O-Man vibrating cock ring*--is sitting around, cooling its cock ring heels.

This perturbs me because, not only do I like bestowing sex toys upon you, but I'm also cheap and hate waste. So a free sex toy going to waste? Well, my friends, that is a travesty in all kinds of ways.

No, I say, the cock ring must not have been created for this ignoble end! It must fulfill its Cock Ring Destiny of buzzing pleasantly upon some dude's wang.

"It should go to a good home that will take care of it, maybe a big farm where it has room to run," my dear friend B said.

So, because--unlike our opponents--we are openly and proudly "against" injustice, here is the quickest damn contest you've ever seen.

You can win our heroic cock ring and help it reach its True Purpose by:

1. Having already entered the original Bad Erotic Haiku contest last week. (Entries made via time machine to return to last week not accepted.)

2. Being the first person to comment below.

If you meet these highly stringent criteria, then email me your name and mailing address and fella (or girl, or intelligent computer-using monkey), you've won yourself a cock ring.

*It's waterproof, in case you want to wear it on a rainy day. Or are super super--some might say "excessively"--sweaty.