The Lost Art of Seduction

seduction 3

Before I get this party started, I will admit that I need to carry some of the blame for this disappearance. With that being said…

Men, I’m talking to you! Whatever happened to the art of seduction? I’m about to turn 39 and when I have sex, I swear it still feels like college dorm room level sex. So often we skip the preliminaries and go straight to sex. And not even good sex at that.

  1. Kiss.
  2. Boobs (five seconds tops).
  3. Insert penis in vagina.
  4. Repeat.

Ugh!

I love sex and I too, often rush it. But most of the time it is because I’m moving along with the speed of the man I’m with because I want him to lead. And even if I did say, “Slow down,” I don’t think he’d know what to do after that. He’d probably think I don’t want to have sex when that’s the exact opposite of what I want.

What I want, is to be seduced. Slowly. Intentionally.

Date 1- Do the normal talking and getting to know each other stuff. If the chemistry is flowing, go in for a kiss at the end of the date. French is fine, but only a taste. Just enough to let your date know you are attracted to each other. And then…STOP! Say goodnight.

Date 2- Continue getting to know each other. But now throw in some subtle, but not so subtle touches. Hold her hand and stroke the top with your thumb. When sitting, take her hand and place it on hers or your thigh, palm up, and then stroke your fiseduction 1ngers through hers and draw light circles on her palm. This is an erogenous zone for some women. Guide her when you walk with your hand at the small of her back, and stroke your thumb there. Kiss her at her doorstep, deepening the kiss for a little longer this time. And then…STOP! Say goodnight.

seduction 2Date 3- If you’re at this level, invite her over for Netflix and Chill. But surprise her. Instead of ‘Chill’ which we all know is code for sex, revert back to being a teenager and makeout aka dry-hump. Feel her up outside of her clothes and vice versa. Kiss and caress her neck, brush your thumbs over her cheeks as you kiss her, maybe even suck on her nipples, etc. Tell her what you want to do to her. Leave her breathless. Work yourself up and then…STOP! Say goodnight. Send her home in an Uber.

The point is, have some self-control. Make her and yourself crazy with want. To the point that when it does go down, you’re ripping each other’s clothes off. And when it does go down, DO NOT fall back into old habits and just stick it in. Engage in foreplay. Spend some time giving each breast some attention. Learn the fine art of cunnilingus. Trust me, she’ll thank you for it. If she’s into it, make sure she orgasms from it. And then…GO FOR IT! Say good morning.

Stop thinking sex is about how quickly you can shoot your load. Remember there is another human being involved, not just you. This isn’t a sprint between you and your hand. Her lady bits need just as much stimulation as your manly bits.

Any man who says he truly loves sex should also love pleasuring his partner. Moral of the story: Make her want a cigarette when she doesn’t even smoke.

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Men, I Am Not Your Life Raft

titanic 4

Dealing with a man I’ve been seeing for nearly a year (a long distance friends with benefits relationship, to be exact), I’ve learned something vitally important about myself and the men I attract.

Hi, my name is Twyla and I attract damaged, broken men with a U-Haul’s worth of baggage. And I let them in because I like to fix people.

I have a healing and nurturing spirit and I recognize wounded people, and I always want to help them. Unfortunately for me, these people (men in particular), like to suck the life force out of me in the process.

My first love was a troubled child. We’ll call him Chuck. We met in college. Well, I was in college. Chuck was pretending he was in college. His father didn’t want anything to do with him and his mother had remarried and had two other boys. So Chuck felt left out. He rebelled and became a problem child. His mom, fed up, kicked him out. He came down to SIU, I believe, in the hopes of going to college. He ended up living in a homeless shelter. They let him live there rent free and paid him small wages in exchange for working there. This is when I met him.

He was attractive and seemed at least relatively sweet. But what I didn’t realize at the time was that he was looking for someone, anyone to love him. To show him that he mattered. I have no problem being that person but don’t shit on me in the process.

Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t that terrible to me at first. Chuck cooked for me, bought me nice things when he could afford it (illegally at times, I realized later), and he was very romantic. But in the end, he ended up stealing from me to get cash and then broke up with me when I pressed him about it.

He told me years later, that after hitting rock bottom, he got his life together and started a business that began with me (I had a Mac computer he loved and learned how to use and started a company that taught people how to use them), got married and had kids, and then eventually got some really good paying job at a great company.

The next guy I loved, we shall call him Dwight, was damaged physically and emotionally. He had a pronounced limp from a terrible mishap when he was a teen, and a hole in his throat with a gravelly voice to go along with it from needing a tracheotomy when he was born prematurely. He was also broken from a recent breakup.

I fell for the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. I picked him like a damn stray roaming around the street. And he walked all over me for 5 years. Of course, I let him for various reasons, but mainly because I was in love with his potential, not the actual man.

After I broke up with Dwight and moved across the country to get away from our toxic back and forth relationship (the best decision I ever made. There’s nothing wrong with running sometimes), leaving my dog and half of my belongings, he found someone and proposed to her after about a year. And he used my dog to propose. Yet he strung me along for 5 years with the promise of marriage.

With these first two guys, I was a total lid loosener. I read somewhere once that there are two kinds of women. Lid looseners, those who loosen the lid. And lid openers, those who come along after the loosener and pops the lid right open. Basically, the women to heal the man, making him better for the next woman who doesn’t have to do jack but enjoy the man he now is.

Now, this new guy that we will call Mark, is having troubles with an ex. I can’t give details in case either party sees this post, but let’s just say it’s not pretty. He wants to move to a new place, but can’t really afford it. He asked me to move back to California to move in with him, but I refused. Mark’s not ready. He’s still broken from his relationship and wants to use me as his therapist. His life raft to keep him afloat.

When I refused to bend to his will, he decided to go on a date with another woman while he was on a work trip in another country. He proceeded to tell me about it. This I actually don’t care that much about because we’re not in a serious relationship. But he told me in one breath that he missed her and in the next, he asked to see me so I can make him feel better. Of course, I snapped. But my epiphany also hit me like a ton of bricks.

I’m a magnet for wounded and broken men. And I am so grateful to him for helping me realize this. Of course, the minute I did, I was so turned off by him that it was a damn relief. I have a healing and nurturing spirit, but that doesn’t mean I’m here to be shit on or pulled down into the abyss with you. I’m not loosening one more damn lid for anyone else!

Men (and women for that matter), please fix your own shit before you move on to the next person. It is not your next lover, girlfriend/boyfriend, or spouse’s job to fix your damaged behind. Stay single until you figure your shit out.

While learning this about myself and those that I attract, I realized that there are two types of men. I’m going to use the movie Titanic as an analogy to preface my point. After the ship finally sank, Rose and Jack first found themselves in the fridged water and everyone was splashing around frantically. The one guy, in a panic to save his own life used Rose as a life raft. He pushed her under the water in order to try to stay afloat. Meanwhile, Jack was searching for her in the water and when he found her, smashed that dudes face in and then proceeded to let Rose get on the wooden door while he froze to death in the water. There will be that guy who will bring all of his issues and baggage to throw onto you in the hopes of saving himself while he saps you of your energy and drowns you. And then you’ll have that guy who will uplift you, who will try to save you above all else. Even him.

Now, I personally think Jack should’ve found a way to get on the door to save them both. That would be a third type of man. The type of man I want. The man who won’t drag me down, but also won’t let me walk all over him. The man who is strong and capable, with minimal and/or controlled baggage (because let’s get real, at this age [38], any man I meet is going to have some kind of baggage just like I do). Someone who will uplift me when I need it and who let me uplift him when he needs it.

In a word… Equal.

Playing Sexual Hide & Seek

Peekaboo I see you…

I was just chatting with one of my homegirls about sex and what we like. We both like it a little rough with our men in bed. But alas, the men we’ve encountered are hesitant to take it to that level for fear of hurting us. Which is sweet, mind you. But not what we need sometimes. So she said that she would consider bringing it up on her next first date to get it out of the way up front. To which, I replied that I promised myself that I wouldn’t bring up sex on the first date anymore because I don’t want my date to think that’s all I’m interested in, leading to a booty call, friends with benefits, or one night stand.

The minute I typed it out, it pissed me off. Why can’t I just be myself upfront? I love sex! I love having it. I love writing about it. I love talking about it. I’m a sexual human being, with a healthy appetite. Why do I have to pretend I’m a prude in the beginning just so I can make some weak and close-minded man feel comfortable? So I can be worthy of a relationship? Why can’t I be both sexual and girlfriend material?

This is why y’all asses always find yourselves in bland ass relationships with women who don’t want to have sex with you. You want the illusion of a good girl, maybe even a virgin, and then when you fall into bed, you want her to become your favorite porn star. Umm…nah. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. Sorry. I mean, I’m sure it works out in your favor sometimes, but I’ve heard WAY too many sexless relationship horror stories to believe that method actually works out for you guys.

As the perpetual single gal, listening to the complaints of the coupled, I’ve heard it all. More often than not, it’s the same story: Annoyingly horny boyfriend/husband and the low-libido girlfriend/wife.

When will you learn?

Why are men so intimidated by a woman who knows what she wants sexually? Are they afraid that they won’t measure up? That she’ll demand more? Better?

I have noticed that men like to be lazy in bed and are perfectly fine with getting theirs and leaving us hanging. So maybe that prudish or low-libido lady will let you get away with not satisfying her because she’s just ready for you to get it over with?

Whatever it is, I truly wish that men would open their minds and close off their judgment and welcome sexually confident women. Because this double standard of men being allowed to be sexual beings while women are not is what leads to sexual incompatibility and disappointment.

Thoughts? Commentary?

They’re Out of Your League!

Baseball Game

“He’s out of your league.”

I’ve always hated this turn of phrase. Whenever it has been said to me in regards to a guy that I like, it’s like a punch to the gut.

First of all, whose place is it to tell you or anyone else whether or not someone is “out of your league?” Secondly, that’s just rude anyway. Just a slightly more polite way of saying you’re too ugly, too fat, too nerdy, too poor, and so on and so forth.

So a couple of days ago, I was thinking about a past relationship that was very short and didn’t work out. In my mind, I was quick to think that it didn’t work out because I was out of his league and I inwardly cringed because it was a stupid thought. I’m no better than anyone else.

Which got me to thinking, how could we describe it without being so offensive and cruel?

Spheres 1

To me, it’s more like spheres or circles. Each person has a set of characteristics that make them who they are. All of those features are added together within your sphere. Education, looks, body type, job/career, income, goals, intelligence, and whether or not you’re cultured. Obviously, we have other things that factor into who we are as people, but these are the attributes or lack thereof  more often than not that makes someone “out of another’s league.”

Spheres 2

But the reason why saying someone is out of another’s league doesn’t work, is because everyone is going to be better than someone else in another way. And sometimes some of your characteristics are going to match with someone, while other features won’t. It’s up to the individual on whether they’re willing to overlook those differences.

I have my Bachelors degree (which I’ve never really used, mind you), I’m a writer (aka poor for now), I’m cute, I’m chubby, I have average to high intelligence (never officially measured), I love to travel the world, and I have high goals. What makes a man who has the same degree as me, same intelligence level, similar job, high aspirations, somewhat higher income, but drop dead gorgeous with an outstanding body out of my league? What makes me unworthy of him? Because I’m fat? Which doesn’t equate to lazy or inactive, by the way.

Well, I call bullshit on that. If we match in almost every way that matters, as well as personality, what does it matter that I’m fluffy and he’s not?

Or let’s say, he’s smart as a whip, but never went to college, he’s kinda cute with a dad-bod, and has a good job working at the electric company making bank (much more than me). What makes me out of his league? Because I went to college and he did not? Hell, he’s making more than me!

These rules and restrictions we put on each other are ridiculous. Men fear dating fluffy and/or less pretty women because of what their friends, family, and society will say. And women will pass up a great guy because he’s not making the right amount of money her friends, family, and society says he should be making. Or because he doesn’t have the same education level as her.

And we wonder why the divorce rate is so high. Stop worrying about everyone else, and go with who you know damn well is right for you.

And screw the leagues! We’re all playing on the same diamond (life). Just in different positions. No one position more important than the other. If we learn to play correctly, we just might make the perfect team.

 

P.s. I think half the time when someone tells another person that a guy/girl is out of their league, they’re really saying, “Oh hell no! She/he better not get that hot/wealthy/smart/well-traveled person! There’s no way that he/she is better than me and can pull someone like that when I can’t!” When someone says it, don’t be disheartened. It’s more of a reflection of how they feel about themselves than what they think of you. Jealousy is an ugly and complex thing.

Cunnilingus Impostor

cunnilingus sketch

Nothing irritates me more than fake, phony, fraudulent people. Especially, when it comes to sex.

You see, I am who I am. Always have been and always will be. I don’t lie about myself or pretend to be something I’m not. That goes for in the bedroom as well.

If I tell a man that I enjoy bringing him pleasure through oral, you best believe that when the times comes, I will prove it.

We all do it. Have the conversation before we tumble into the bedroom. We brag and boast about our sexual prowess. We exchange likes and dislikes to see if we’re compatible sexually before we ever reach the bed or car or shower or wherever you end up.

Okay, maybe myself and other sexually open people have these discussions. Though I honestly think everyone should have honest and open talks about sex beforehand.

Anyway, we have these conversations and begin to get excited that we’ve found our sexual match. “Oh my gosh! He likes what I like.” Even better for a woman, “He likes going down. No…he loves going down!” It’s a rare treat to find.

You get all hyped up, ready for your date. You shower and spend extra time preparing Priscilla (Yeah, that’s right. I named her Priscilla). You meticulously shave her. Make sure she’s so fresh and so clean. You may even give her a taste and a smell with your index finger, just to be sure. All’s good in the neighborhood. You’re ready.

Your date has come to an end and it’s Go-time. You excuse yourself to the bathroom to give yourself another sniff and taste test. Still good to go. You come back out. You kiss passionately. So far so good. Clothes start coming off. Touches and kisses down the body ensue. He’s almost there. Then finally, he reaches the promise land. You mentioned during one of your talks that it takes you a while to come. And he responded with, “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I love eating p*ssy. I’ll stay down there an hour if I need to.”

So now is the moment you’ve been banking on. Now is the time for him to prove it. It’s been five minutes tops (more like 2 or 3, but I’m trying to be generous) and he’s not doing too badly. Then suddenly he raises up and starts kissing back up your body.

Wait, what?! That’s it?!?! You scream in your head.

Disappointment floods you and taints the rest of the sexual encounter. You know without cunnilingus, you more than likely won’t come at all. Sidenote: About 80% of women can’t orgasm internally. At least not without the assistance of stimulation to the clit.

You like the guy because he seems like a stand-up individual in every other way. So just for good measure and against your better judgment, when it’s time to go down on him, you put it down just like you told him you would. He is f*cking dazzled. You think that maybe that would guilt him into improving for next time.

It doesn’t.

You realize…You’ve been bamboozled. Lied to. Scammed.

This mofo loves cunnilingus about as much as most of us like kale. It’s alright, but not something I want to eat all the time and in large quantities.

“I’ll f*ck it, but I ain’t eating it.” That’s what I think most men feel.

The biggest problem for me and I’m sure some other women out there is that I’ve seen the promise land. Hell, I’ve been there. And it was glorious. For any woman who has been with a man who actually loves cunnilingus. Who actually adores and worships p*ssy. You’ve been spoiled and ruined.

My ex was an a**hole, but that man could eat like a fat kid at a buffet. The first time, took forever. Like many females, you’re so in your head, worried about taking too long or if you smell and taste okay, that we almost never come the first time he goes down. But my ex went down at the beginning of the movie Hildago (Ha!) and was still going when that damn horse crossed the finish line. Unfortunately, I didn’t cross my finish line. But it was not from lack of trying on his part. But that’s how dedicated he was to getting me off. The next time we were together, though it still took me a while, I was finally able to reach that peak. It was glorious.

I used to say all the time that he would figuratively strap on an oxygen tank, slap on some goggles, and go down like he was deep sea diving.

When he went down he NEVER came back up without me finishing first. Even when I’d tell him to give up because I was taking too long. And that goes for the boyfriend I had before him.

So twice, I was blessed with cunnilingus experts. I know one when I feel one. You can’t pretend with me. You can’t fake that kind of dedication. That kind of praise to the p*ssy.

So men, or anyone about to crack their lips to tell a sexual lie, rethink it and be honest. Because she/he is going to find out anyway. And all it will do is disappoint.

Set her expectations low and aim higher than that. Don’t promise her the world and then give her a blade of grass.

My Curse…

And How it Led to Breaking Girl Code.

This blog/confession/purge will not make me a popular person. It alone will make any female I know never want me to be around her man…ever.

You see, I have a curse. The curse of always being the 2nd choice who men realize in hindsight should’ve been the 1st choice. This is part and parcel of being a DUFF. Let me explain.

Being the cute chubby girl (or woman now), I often get bypassed by men who are on the prowl for their next lady. I find that when men are on the hunt, they are often searching for the most attractive woman they can find. Or at least the hottest they can get (no matter what he looks like, mind you). That leaves many plus-sized females on the sidelines. Always the last pick. Like it’s Jr High gym class all over again. I was rarely ever first pick for the dodgeball team.

Then I make friends with a fellow female and we start hanging out. Invariably, I meet her man or I’m there when she meets her new man. Most of these girls are lovely and rank in the upper percentile of prime, grade-A female. But with a beautiful woman, often comes a bit of drama, baggage, or self-esteem issues. I’m not trying to be mean, but if a female grew up mainly being praised for her looks, often times that’s all she focuses on. Not all, but many. At least in my experience.

So anyway, this is where the bickering, the drama, the insecurities, the fights begin. You see, he got the hot chick, but he didn’t realize that she is a lot of work. Not saying that DUFFs aren’t work. I just think, at least for me, that I’m super laid back and chill. I’ve learned to become relatively comfortable in my own skin. I’m funny, optimistic, I don’t let a lot of little things get to me, and I appreciate the small stuff because I’m not lucky enough to get anything more. So I’m usually the mediator in these arguments between my friends and their men.

This is when he sees me. Sidenote: This does not happen with ALL of my friends’ men.

You see, I’ve found that when men are attached and not on the hunt for the hottest thing walking, they are more aware of other things besides the hotness factor. They often take off their superficial blinders that blind them to anything other than 7s-10s. And no, I’m not downing myself. Personality-wise, I’m an 8-10 depending on who you’re talking to. I just know how people judge bodies. Anyway, I digress. Once the blinders are off, they actually see me. Unfortunately, that’s also when inappropriate touches happen. Touches that seem innocent and if I say otherwise, I look crazy when he denies it. But then there are touches, actions, and/or words that are without a doubt exactly what they were meant to be.

For instance, when I was 19, I was hanging out with my friends. We were at my best friend’s boyfriend’s house. He was older, so he’d gotten us booze. At one point, I passed out on the floor of his room next to another friend’s boyfriend. Everyone left the room for whatever reason and next thing I know, I’m jolted awake by her boyfriend laying on top of me (I was laying on my stomach) and he commenced to humping my ass in his f*cking tightie whities, no less. I was so shocked and too damn nice to say anything. I just laid there stunned. Then I heard footsteps and apparently, so did he, because he rolled off of me and pretended to still be asleep when everyone walked back in. I never told my friends because I knew they’d think I was crazy. Actually, that’s a lie. I told one of those friends years later and she waved it off as if he was joking. Because it couldn’t be possible that anyone would want to sexually assault the ‘fat friend.’ That’s why I don’t say anything when this crap happens to me.

Another time more recently, my friend’s man said to me when no one was around, “If I had of met you first, it would’ve been you” or “If it hadn’t of been her, it would be you.” I can’t remember exactly how he put it, all I know was that I was floored because it came out of nowhere.

These are just two major examples. Most times, I couldn’t be the slightest bit interested in these guys. I usually just feel bad for my friends, though. They deserve better than their men making subtle or not so subtle moves on their good friend.

Sometimes through it all, I think that I’m crazy and imagining things. But recently, one of my friends who I really don’t talk to anymore because of my newfound unapologetic blackness that she’s uncomfortable with just broke up with her man, who is also my friend. In all honesty, I liked him more than I liked her. She was never easy to be friends with, but that’s still not an excuse. Anyway, when we all used to hang out before I moved, he would be so flirtatious and so up-in-my-face that even she noticed and yelled at him for annoying me. He would break the rules of personal space and get in my face to talk to me. He’d sit really close to me. Or he’d rub my ear. I always pulled away from him, but there was an attraction there that I couldn’t even deny.

Once they broke up and she started playing for the other team (Yes, she became lesbian. Does that make what happens next better? I have no idea.), he contacted me and wanted to hang out. I pushed back and tried to keep my distance, but one thing led to another and we met up. And he, of course, appreciates every single thing about me. From my personality, my intelligence, my body, my everything. Something I can never seem to find in a man who has no association with my damn friends.

I mean, seriously! I haven’t dated anyone since 2009. That’s eight damn years! And I hadn’t been touched by anyone in 3 years before him. That many years without affection and not much human contact can make you go crazy. So now we have this odd relationship that I don’t know what to do with.

In the end, I knew I wasn’t crazy. This thing with him just solidified my theory. Talking to him about his attraction to me when they were still together just confirmed my curse. The curse of First Choice, Chosen Second.

I hate it.

The Sex Whisperer

sex-whisperer

Recently, I’ve realized that I have a special calling… Sex Whisperer. *says in soft breathy voice*

Let me explain…

Being a woman who has openly and enthusiastically talked about sex since I was a senior in high school, talking to my friends about it every day at lunch, buying PlayGirl magazines, reading bodice-ripper novels and renting NC-17 or X-rated movies in secret once I turned 18; it’s no wonder I write about it for a living. As well as comfortable with the act itself.

Sex has always fascinated me. ALWAYS!!! I can’t remember a time I wasn’t curious about it. Because of that, I am a sexually open woman. I love to try new things to keep it spicy. When I learned what BDSM was, I was like “So that’s what’s wrong with me!” Not that there’s anything wrong with the lifestyle, but that I wanted a little pain with my pleasure and always thought I was strange because of it. It’s an amazing thing when you find your tribe. Though, keep in mind, I haven’t actually been able to get into the lifestyle as of yet.

Why?

Well, because for some odd reason I attract men who are prudes or sexually repressed due to the vanilla women they’ve been with. There’s nothing wrong with prudes or vanilla sex. I just prefer…more.

So anyway, these men that come into my life are dying inside to come out of their shell. Then here I am, outgoing, open-minded, and completely encouraging. And slowly, they emerge out of their shells like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. Sometimes, not so slowly as they come barreling out like a bull out of a bullpen in their excitement. Doing things they’ve never done before. Enjoying sex in a way they haven’t be able to in a long time, if ever.

I am their Sex Whisperer.

They tell me what they’re interested in, almost embarrassed and I listen openly and am usually willing to give it a try. They become more vocal before, during, and after sex. I even make them feel more confident with praise and compliments. Sometimes they find fetishes that they like that they never knew or had the chance to enjoy.

I can see why so many relationships don’t work in regards to sex. People need to be more open about their wants and needs. Ladies, ask your man what he really wants and don’t turn your nose up when he tells you. Just hear him out. Maybe what he wants will be enjoyable for you too. Men, be honest about what you want because if you’re not upfront, you’ll seek it out somewhere else, which will hurt your partner.

And another thing ladies, let your freak flag fly. Stop worrying about what people will think about you. If you’re honest and they don’t like it and walk away, oh well. It’s their loss. You would’ve been miserable anyway. Don’t sexually repress yourself because of what society might think.

As for myself, can I just find a man who is already a freak and doesn’t need to be taught? A man who encourages, praises, and compliments me for a change? I love it and it makes me feel good to uplift a man, but can a sister get some of that in return?

I need some ass-smacking, foul-mouthed talking, neck-choking, rope-tying, flogger-welding, call me Sir Dominant in the bedroom and a sweetheart everywhere else. I got plenty of meat on my bones, I won’t break.

I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. Until then, I guess it’ll be my mission to heal these poor repressed souls.

Sidenote: I know that it’s not always about sex. It’s more about communication and a deep connection with your partner. I want just as much stimulation outside of the bedroom as I do in it. But for the sake of this post, it’s all about the sex. 😉