Many more here.
Humour Etc.
Short: Why Blowjobs Are More Intimate Than Sex.
From College Humor:
More PostSecrets.
Many more here.
More PostSecrets.
Many more here.
Lego BDSM.
This would be amazing if it was a real set.
More PostSecrets.
Many more here.
British rowers get naked to fight homophobia.
From Buzzfeed:
British Rowing Team Strips Down Once Again To Fight Homophobia
It’s a beautiful day for fighting bullies.
Say hello to the fine gentlemen of the Warwick University Rowing Club. On most days, they’re just your average fine British rowing men.
[…]
Since 2009, the rowing team has stripped down for the Warwick Rowing Naked Calendar, donating a portion of the proceeds to their charity, Sport Allies, which fights homophobia and bullying. According to the project, “Sport Allies is dedicated to challenging homophobia among young people. The rowers are predominantly straight men who have welcomed and embraced the fantastic support they have had from the gay community for their fundraising efforts. Sport Allies is their way of honoring that support and giving something back.”
[…]
You can watch the entire promo video here, follow them on Twitter and Facebook, and, of course, grab a calendar at WarwickRowers.org.
See the rest of the photos here (NSFWish). And the video (also NSFWish):
More PostSecrets.
Many more here.
Sarah Silverman on vaginas.
More Damn You, Auto Corrects!
Many more here.
Creative test response.
Meow.
More PostSecrets.
Many more here.
Sexercise.
Some light and funny reading to cure the Monday-morning blues. From The Cut at NYMag:
How I Turned My Sex Life Into an Exercise Routine
B C. Maria McMillan
In the back of any fitness enthusiast’s mind is a series of attainable and unattainable goals. Run 26.2 miles? Attainable. Squatting my way to Coco Austin’s ass? Utterly unattainable. But my personal Everest has always been sexercise, that elusive yet seemingly attainable goal of burning calories with exertions designed by nature to feel good. Over the years, while on the treadmill or holding a plank, the ultimate form of multitasking would call to me: “Why are you doing (insert current activity) when you could be having sex?” It seemed so simple. Deceptively simple. Following in the footsteps of exercise pioneers like Suzanne Somers and Jane Fonda — and sexual pioneers like Sappho and Kim Cattrall — I was ready to condition and climax.
First, I needed a plan. I was shocked by the lack of information on sexercise. Most of the books were distasteful self-published works from nostalgic swingers. As a modern sexerciser, I would need to construct my own approach.
My grand experiment would last fourteen days. I would perform aerobic sexercises for 30 minutes a day, six days a week, using twelve approaches culled from contemporary fitness trends. Needing zero persuasion, my husband was onboard. (He would regret this decision in coming days.) Experiencing the mix of dread and anticipation every athlete feels before an intense training period, we set a date and commenced sexercising.
Day 1: Interval Sex
We start with interval training, a workout basic that can be applied to any cardiovascular routine. I will alternate between periods of heart-pumping high-intensity humping and sensual, slow-paced recovery periods.
I decide to keep the tone sporty instead of sexy, so I pull off my clothes, smack my hands in a single clap, and yell “Let’s do this!” in my coachiest voice. I immediately regret missing the chance to scream “Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose!” while slapping my husband’s bare butt. Luckily, it’s just the first night.
I position the clock so I can time my (nonsexual) splits. Jumping into bed, we assume my first position, my husband lying on his back while I pump vigorously for one minute, slow down for 30 seconds, then pick up the pace again. Like Kristen Stewart in Breaking Dawn, I am a female jackhammer. I break a sweat and my first mistake becomes painfully clear: I forgot to warm up. Like a distance runner cramping after the second mile, jumping into hard intervals leaves me with a sore, dry vagina.
After a pit stop for lube, I practice targeting different muscle groups by switching whether I use my arms and legs to propel movement. Though some sexercise books outline specific positions, I find that using positions I already know and enjoy makes it easier to endure my interval burns.
Though I work out daily, twenty minutes of interval sex exhausts me. I face two unpleasant truths: First, I have terrible sexercise endurance. Second, when it comes to sexual workouts, men have been duping women for years. When I became the predominant thruster I burned calories, toned muscles, and worked my heart. The first rule of sexercise is to take back the thrusting. Whether on top, bottom, or sideways: thrust, ladies, thrust.
Read the other 13 days here.
Dinosaur erotica.
From Jezebel:
Dinosaur Erotica Exists and It's Just as Amazing as You'd Imagine
I found something to haunt your dreams and fuel your nightmares: DINOSAUR EROTICA.
I purchased one AS RESEARCH OKAY and, my oh my, it is delightfully disturbing. Here's a taste of In the Velociraptor's Nest:
Azog stood, back to the wall, clad only in damp buckskins, waiting for the beast to slash at her torso until she lay helpless and bleeding on the damp cave floor. She wondered if it would kill her first, or if her limbs would be sliced from her body as the beast gorged on her.
Instead, it reached out with a classed hand to snatch at her damp animal hide as it clung to one shoulder. Azog felt the kiss of sharp claws against her skin as the hide slid from her shoulder and exposed on naked, heaving breast. The raptor paused, curious, sniffing at her as she pressed desperately against the wall.
A reptilian tongue, stiff and hot, dashed out to lick at the tender, naked flesh so suddenly exposed. Azog gasped at the touch, then gradually relaxed as her body warmed to the intoxicating sensation of the beast's flesh against her own.
She wasn't sure if her sudden arousal was because of her earlier thwarted climax in the cool stream, or if she was just desperate for one last pleasant sensation before being torn limb from limb by the great, scaly beast. Either way, Azog relished the rasp of its tongue, hot and rough, on her sensitive skin.
I just want to point out that it took two people to write this 18-page book. That is all.
Happy reading!
More PostSecrets.
Sexpectations.
From College Humor:
Coffee ad.
Sex questions.
From Thought Catalogue:
25 Mind-Numbingly Stupid Sex Questions People Actually Had To Ask On Yahoo! Answers
See the other 19 here.
More PostSecrets.
It's not porn.
A clever new ad from HBO (NSFW language!):