Watching Your Baseball Team Get Blown Out Is Like Anal Sex
As I watched the Cleveland Indians’ wholesale slaughter of the Houston Astros last week (the final score was 19-6), an odd feeling crept over me. It was horrible to watch a baseball team get absolutely creamed like that, but it was also oddly familiar, and not just because the Astros are terrible. The mixture of pleasure and pain that unfolded over nine innings—it started out scary, but ended up being kind of fun—was pretty much like anal sex. Actually, baseball blowouts—be they the 1897 Chicago Colts’ 36-7 record-setting victory over Louisville, the 30-3 destruction of the Baltimore Orioles by the 2007 Texas Rangers, this season’s 15-0 shellacking of the Nationals by the Reds—are exactly like anal sex. Here’s an inning-by-inning recap:
THE FIRST INNING: BACKDOOR PRESSURE
The initial runs that appear on the scoreboard serve as a quiet harbinger of what’s to come, much like the none-too-subtle pressure of a wiener knocking on your tightly clenched rosebud. This game won’t really be so bad, you tell yourself. Then another walk, wild pitch, ground-rule double, and you surreptitiously clasp your cheeks in expectation. But I never do anal!
THE SECOND INNING: PENETRATION
Much like the moment when your lover spits on your asshole, the appearance of an additional three or four runs in the second officially heralds that anal is occurring, and then—yup, that’s a dick in your asshole. Any hope of a comeback is shattered, and no amount of praying for run support will make that sweet pucker of yours any less penetrated. The flesh of your loins quivers, bases loaded, no outs.
How to Fake It (for Girls)
I rarely fake orgasms because I don’t believe someone who is fucking you poorly deserves that kind of payoff. More importantly, faking an orgasm is the biggest dick move you can pull on another girl. A faked orgasm during shit sex only serves to perpetuate a guy’s misconception that he has “moves” when he doesn’t, which he’ll likely use on the next girl unlucky enough to fall into his bed. By faking an orgasm, you’re inflicting a disservice to sisters everywhere.
That said, there are occasions when it is essential to fake an orgasm like when a) love or intense “like” is involved (ew); or b) the guy is doing a seriously good job, and it’s your purely non-physical disposition that’s in the way of coital finality.
I should point out—because even grown men don’t yet seem to grasp this concept yet—the path to orgasm relies as much on mentality as it does on physical acts. So you can fuck all the right buttons, and hover just near or around climax for a bit, but unless your mind is completely present, it’s not going to happen. That doesn’t mean the sex isn’t lovely. It just means it’s been a long ass day and everything is distracting right now.
Here’s how to fake an orgasm when the penis in your vagina deserves it most, but you have that instinctive feeling that it’s just not going to happen tonight (or this morning, or this afternoon, or whenever you happen to be fucking)…
Baby, Arch Your Back
OK I got this one out of a Miguel song, but if you’re going to fake an orgasm you may as well make it as cinematic as possible. When you’re having a real orgasm you are so removed from the moment in your ecstasy that you might not concentrate on the inherent sexiness of your movements. Use this opportunity to inhabit those moves. Writhe around, push your hips up (or down if you’re on top), and be all lithe and serpentine, the way movies would have you believe people look during sex. BONUS: The dude fucking you will be so enraptured by your alluring posturing that he probably won’t even notice you’re faking. He’ll think he’s hit the jackpot, which he has, duh.
Lips are another part of your body that you can luxuriate in your deception. You’ve probably never seen your face mid-climax, but I’d bet good money it looks similar to the face you pull when you’re struggling to lift weights at the gym. Pout your lips, half close your eyes in that hooded, seductive bedroom way, and grab your own hair like a stripper mid-dance (where it would usually be matting into dreadlocks at the back by this point, flick it about like there’s a fan in front of you instead, but not too much, because you don’t want to look like you’re having a fit).
Fucking Hysterical: A Timeline of Vintage Vibrators
Not far from San Francisco’s favorite trans bar in the heart of the historically gay-friendly Polk district you’ll find the Antique Vibrator Museum, a vivid exhibit of vibrators dating from the early 20th century through the 1970s.
The museum opened last year inside a sex-toy store called Good Vibrations, where therapist and educator Joani Blank had been displaying a few old vibrators since she opened the shop in 1977. Gradually, customers started to donate their own, then eBay came along, and 36 years later, her small collection has evolved into the Antique Vibrator Museum—home to more than 120 vintage vibrators, along with packaging materials, manuals, print ads, and other vibrator-related ephemera. It’s the biggest collection of orgasm-inspiring devices open to the public today.
The curator of the museum, Dr. Carol Queen, who we interviewed last year, gives regular tours of the old-timey vibes, which are arranged chronologically inside a dozen glass cases. A lot of her info comes from from Rachel P. Maines’s book, The Technology of Orgasm: “Hysteria,” the Vibrator, and Women’s Sexual Satisfaction. But while Maines’s historical research forms the backbone of the Antique Vibrator Museum, Dr. Queen is the one who fleshes things out.
“It’s one thing to know about vibrators as sex toys, and quite another to see how many types there were throughout the century,” she says. “It’s also a great example of design and industrial changes in one particular household implement.”
The vibrator itself has a long and storied history rooted in female hysteria, a so-called physical illness that disappeared from medical textbooks in 1952. For centuries, though, hysteria was a legitimate and common diagnosis for women who just needed to get laid, or, at the very least, treat themselves to a few mind-blowing orgasms. But since most women in the old-timey days didn’t even know they could have orgasms, they needed someone—or something—to help. Thanks in part to the Antique Vibrator Museum, here’s a timeline chronicling the evolution of vibrators in history.
200 AD: The Genital Massage
Physician and philosopher Galen of Pergamon prescribed “genital massage” to treat hysteria, which comes from the Latin for “womb.” He wrote that the disorder, as it was known then, was caused by a wandering womb or something. “It certainly was thought of as primarily a women’s disease,” says Dr. Queen. “Some commentators talked about it in nearly sexual terms — it affected virgins and widows more than married women, for instance.”
1650-1660: Coming Along
By 1653, Petrus Forestus started fingering his patients with essential oils so they could achieve a “paroxysm,” which British surgeon Nathaniel Highmore soon figured out was really just a fancy word for orgasm. To treat symptoms of hysteria, doctors would massage the vulva and clitoris until the woman had a “hysterical paroxysm of relief.” But according to Dr. Queen, “Very few doctors said in so many words that they were instigating orgasms through these treatments.”
When we shot this, I could not believe what was happening. This was probably the most mind-blowing moment for me. I mean, it’s Vanessa Hudgens, the girl from High School Musical! Of course, the ATL Twins were very helpful in demonstrating the proper way to snort drugs off of naked women. The girl with the “drugs” on her (crushed B12, in case you’re wondering) was an extra who was stiff as a board and blushing from ear to ear the entire time.
—Behind the Debauchery: A Spring Breakers Scrapbook
Behind the Debauchery: A Spring Breakers Scrapbook
I’ve known Harmony Korine for many years; we’ve been friends through thick and thin, good times and bad. I feel like every element of Spring Breakers was him creating an environment where people felt really open and safe—perhaps so they were comfortable going crazy (in a fun way). The fact that he brought this cast together—James Franco, Gucci Mane, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens, Ashley Benson, and his wife, Rachel—was a sign that this movie was going to be very special. And I think casting the ATL Twins was him recognizing that they were a physical manifestation of what the film is about. They were so clear about their desires: drinking, double-penetrating women, and doing drugs. It was all out in the open with them, just like the movie. I’m happy to share with the world some of my favorite behind-the-scenes photos, along with a few captions that will provide some context for what the hell was happening on this crazy set.
How to Have an Orgasm with Your Vagina
It has come to my attention that a lot of grown-ass women out there have yet to experience an orgasm, which makes me want to jump off a cliff onto a bed of sharpened dildos. Orgasms are important, and you need to be able to make yourself cum. I know it can be frustrating, but you have to keep trying because the entire world runs on orgasms.
I remember masturbating like it was my homework as a young teen because I knew that eventually I’d get the hang of it, and it would put me on par with the rest of the orgasm-experiencing world. That world, of course, includes 100 percent of adult males, which make up nearly 100 percent of presidents and the majority of CEOs and police officers and professors. I’m not really sure why that part’s important, except for the fact that it would make me really mad if everyone telling me what to do could magically blast cum out of their genitals and I couldn’t. My point is it was a conscious, effortful process for me but I persevered and succeeded.
I noticed that a lot of the “instructions” on how to masturbate were purely physical, but that’s clearly not the only ingredient in an orgasm casserole. As we all know (or should know) girls are mental basket cases, just like their mothers, and their mothers’ mothers, and centuries of some anthropological bullshit that I don’t understand, and sometimes that stuff can really get in the way of everything fun. Therefore, I am going to approach this orgasm problem from a meditative standpoint.
One day as I was driving down a busy street during rush hour, I suddenly realized that I was about to have an orgasm, because I was masturbating. That realization was amazing to me, since I could remember feeling uncomfortable about touching myself in my own bedroom, simply because it was inside my parents’ home. Women’s magazines will probably recommend that you find an isolated spot where you can feel comfortable being alone—like in the shower with the door locked, for instance. But I think you just have to confront what it is that makes you feel so shameful about masturbating.
I used to get worried that someone would see my fingers and notice cervical mucus residue, or see that my face was all flushed and post-orgasm-like. Then I realized: Fuck it. I am a disgusting, gross piece of shit, just like everybody else, and if I don’t have an orgasm today I’m going to end up killing someone.
No one will notice that you were masturbating. No one cares. Join the party.
A PORN STORY: MY WEEKEND BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE AVN AWARDS (PART ONE)
I’m sitting in the hotel room of one of America’s biggest adult movie stars, Jesse Jane. It’s time for Jesse to get her makeup done before she heads downstairs into the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel in Las Vegas for an autograph signing. The mid day sun is creeping through the windows all over the parade of make-up, hair products, and extensions that take over the room. In the corner I spot Pepperidge Farm Goldfish and some Coke Zero.
As her close friend and makeup artist, Toni, from Jesse’s current home of Oklahoma takes pieces of her delicate, bleached blonde hair and twists it into loose curls, Jesse is teaching me how to the give the ultimate blow job.
“There is an art to it,” The 32-year old instructs as she winds her hands in a cork screw motion showing me how to jerk off the cock and suck at the same time. “The trick is to put your tongue into the pee hole. They are so sensitive there.” She sticks her tiny tongue out and motions to the invisible penis in her hands. “You go, ‘You like that?’” Her tone changes from her media-friendly bubble to commanding. “Smack that cock on him. He’s going to go crazy.”
All five of the women in the room (Jesse Jane, the makeup artist, my PR liaison, the photographer, and myself) nod and laugh. Sucking dick is something we’ve all done. We can all relate.
“Put it as far down as you can and pump it,” she continues. “You have to breathe in, open your throat, inhale it like you’re smoking a cigarette. You can feel the penis grow, like shock therapy.”