Tag Archives: male sexuality

Sex Advice From Porn Stars (And Why We Should Listen)

There are certain people who just love giving advice, but overestimate the quality of that advice. Usually, their heart is in the right place. They genuinely believe they have something to offer and are willing to share it. Sincere or not, though, their advice doesn’t always line up with their expertise.

When it comes to advice about something as expansive as sex, everyone likes to think they have a unique skill to offer. Ask anyone who isn’t a priest, mullah, or monk and they’ll claim to have the secret to a satisfying sex life, especially after a few beers. More often than not, those secrets are just a bland mixture of common sense and basic anatomy.

For the more advanced stuff, you need to find people who really do have expertise. When you want to learn more about building houses, you go to an architect. When you want to know about finances, you talk to a licensed accountant. Following that same logic, if you want advanced advice on sex, then you should consult a porn star.

No, that’s not the basis of a dirty joke or a kinky anecdote. I’m as serious as a rug burn on a newlywed’s honeymoon. A satisfying sex life is a major ingredient to a satisfying life, in general. It’s also the kind of advice that’s more than a little awkward to get from your parents or family members. As such, porn stars are uniquely qualified to help.

Granted, porno sex and actual sex are as different as drag racing and your typical morning commute. Sure, porn can be a great way to spice things up, as can reading sexy novels. It shouldn’t be your sexual baseline any more than Ron Jeremy should be the baseline for penis size.

Even if porn is essentially a Photoshopped version of sex, those involve have more experience with sex than 99 percent of us ever will. You don’t have that much experience without gaining some level of expertise. That’s why I’ve compiled a few tips from famous porn stars, courtesy of the fine folks at Women’s Health Magazine and Maxim.

Beyond the advice, I’d also like to highlight its merits. Porn stars may engage in the kind of sex that most people without fake tits or a nine-inch cock can only dream of, but experience is experience. That’s why their advice should carry more weight than most.


Porn Star Sex Tip #1: Alternate Between Foreplay And Intercourse

This one comes courtesy of Jessica Drake, a veteran porn star that most men will claim not to know, but are definitely aware of. It’s also my favorite sex tip ever and one I try to employ in my sexy novels at every turn.

I’ve already made my love of foreplay known, but it’s one of those things that’s worth belaboring. Using it in conjunction with all the juicier bits of sex makes for a potent combination. With it, the physical act of sex gains a whole new dimension.

It becomes intense, emotional, and even a little exhausting. A porn star knows all those things in their work, but it works just as well for ordinary people. A little sex here, followed by some foreplay, followed by some more sex, and followed by even more foreplay doesn’t just mix it up. It turns up the heat, the energy, and everything else that goes into sex.

If you only follow one tip from one porn star, make it this one. You and your lover will be glad you did.


Porn Star Sex Tip #2: Talk Dirty

This is another one of those tips that uniquely appeals to aspiring erotica/romance writers. I kind of have to have my characters talk dirty in order to set the tone, build the passion, and create drama.

Porn stars have to use it too. It’s how they keep a scene hot and sexy to improve the overall experience. Again, this comes from Jessica Drake, who is known to have as dirty a mouth as any porn star can claim. However, that kind of talk isn’t relegated to porn stars and erotica/romance writers.

A big part of great sex involves communication. Talking dirty, while not the most refined form of conversation, helps convey your desires. Sure, it can get vulgar and crude at times, but that kind of rhetoric is uniquely appropriate for the bedroom. Also, crude and vulgar also tends to be blunt and easy to understand. It might just be the easiest way for lovers to communicate their desires so it makes sense to use it.


Porn Star Tip #3: Listen To EVERYTHING

This tip is deceptively simple, but exceedingly important. It comes from a male porn star named Ryan Driller. You might not recognize the name, but if you’ve been on the internet for more than a year, you’ve probably seen his face or his penis. The man has acted in both straight and gay porn so he knows how to tend both sides of the field.

Unlike dirty talk, though, this kind of listening involves more than just getting the right moans out of your partner. When Ryan Driller says listen to everything, he means everything. That means listening to your partner’s breathing, their heartbeat, and the way they react to every move you make.

Even with dirty talk, some people are going to struggle to convey their wants and needs in the bedroom. Sometimes, you have to be the one who listens to those subtle queues and make the most of them. Sure, it’s more work, but the end result is a more satisfied partner who think you can read their mind. Is there any other kind of work that’s more worth it?


Porn Star Tip #4: Make Your Lover Feel Desired

This is one of those sex tips that should be common sense, but is easy to forget in the heat of the moment. It’s also another one of those tips that takes center stage in erotica/romance novels like mine. However, in the real world, that sentiment becomes an afterthought all too often.

This tip comes from Veronica Vain, who doesn’t have the same pedigree as Jessica Drake, but still has enough experience to know the value of desire. Porn stars may make their living having crazy kinky sex with people they don’t have any emotional connection with, but they still have feelings. They still share in basic concepts of desire.

Making your partner feel desired is another one of those things that takes work. Again, it’s the kind of work that’s worth doing. It gives depth and meaning behind the basic mechanics of sex. Put in that work and those actions become more than basic. The more desired your partner feels, the more they’ll desire you. Everybody wins and has orgasms. That’s as big a win-win as you’ll ever get.


Porn Star Tip #5: Pay Attention To Your Needs

This is one more tip from Jessica Drake. Like I said, she has a lot of experience. As such, she has a lot of intimate wisdom to share. This is also a tip that most other porn stars tend to give, on and off the camera. Porn stars don’t always get to prioritize their needs any more than a baker prioritizes theirs when they’re making a cream pie. Actually, that might not be the best terminology for this discussion.

Whatever the case, the nature of a porn star’s work means they know the value of their needs better than most. They also know that taking care of those needs can add to the spectacle, as many porn scenes and sexy novels. This is one of those tips that works as well in real life, as well as porn and novels.

Sure, it’s important to put in the work, as I’ve stated with other tips. However, that doesn’t mean doing all the work. Sex is supposed to be mutual. Sex that involves one person doing everything while the other just lays there is barely a step above masturbation.

Meeting your needs is an important part of sex, although it’s not the only part. However, taking care of them helps ensure that everything else after that is just a bonus. When used in conjunction with the other tips, it can make for one hell of a bonus.

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Filed under Marriage and Relationships, polyamory, sex in media, sexuality

The Sexiest Dream I’ve Ever Had (That I’m Willing To Share)

Strap yourselves and loosen your panties because I’m going to get personal on this blog again. I don’t do it too often, but when I do, I try to make it memorable. I’ve talked about my fondness of sleeping naked and the most awkward boner I’ve ever gotten. I’ve even recounted the hottest teacher I ever had a crush on. I’m not afraid to get personal is what I’m saying.

This time, I want to get personal in a different way. I don’t just want to share past experiences or explore those sexy/awkward moments that we’ve all had in some form or another, regardless of gender or setting. I want to talk about the fantasies we have in our quiet moments.

Specifically, I want to talk about dreams, primarily the sexy variety. It’s one thing to just see a someone walking down the street and imagine what they look like naked. A dream is more vivid. It’s something that manifests from the deepest parts of your psyche. We don’t fully understand them, but most people recognize their power. Not every dream is sexy, but those that are go beyond simple fantasy.

I’ve certainly had my share of sexy dreams. I’m not afraid to admit that. Granted, I save most of those details for my novels, but there are a select few that I don’t mind sharing. One, in particular, has always stood out to me.

It’s not one that involves a childhood crush, of which I’ve had more than one. It’s not one that involves a celebrity, pop star, or cartoon character who may or may not look like Wonder Woman. When you’re young, horny, and hormonal, those kinds of dreams are a dime a dozen. What this one lacks in media inspiration it makes up for in raw imagery, which is a big reason why it’s so memorable.

Rather than just list the details and the note the sensations, I’ll try to narrate it as though it were a scene from my novels. If you don’t have a dry pair of panties nearby, now would be a good time to get some.


It’s so sunny and hot, a perfect day at the beach. I don’t know how, but I find myself on a secluded tropical island. It has the feel of an expensive resort, one remote and overpriced, but worth every penny. I don’t see the hotel or the beach chairs, but I don’t mind. I’m too busy admiring the pristine, white sand and the beautiful blue waves.

The air is so clean and crisp, mixed with a gentle breeze that warms my body while still sending chills down my spine somehow. It’s at this point I realize I’m naked. If I had trunks on, I’ve since ditched them. I don’t care though. I just love the feeling of hot, tropical air over my body.

For a moment, I stand just a few feet away from the crashing waves, feeling the hot sand between my toes and taking in the peaceful noises. Then, as I gaze out into the sparkling ocean, I see two beautiful female figures emerge from the water. I don’t recognize them, but they recognize me.

One has bright, platinum blond hair that seems to shine with the radiance of the sun. She’s wearing a white bikini, which barely contains her ample breasts and heart-shaped ass. It looks like she’d rather not wear it, but tolerates because it augments her every curve.

The other, who stands next to her, has silky auburn hair that looks like it had been polished by an angel. It illuminates a figure that is every bit as beautiful. She bears a more athletic frame, one that her black bikini reveals much of. She too looks inclined to remove it too, but keeps it on, if only to entice me.

Everything about these two women radiates with perfect femininity. Everything about them leaves me in perfect awe. I watch as they laugh and splash each other. They carry on like a couple of old friends who have known each other since childhood. They keep looking at me, as though they know me. I feel like I know them, but I can’t seem to put a name on them.

I can only smile, to which they respond. I swear their smile makes the sea sparkle around them. They both make their way towards me, as though I’d been waiting for them. My heart races and the air seems to grow hotter.

When they arrive, they laugh as they eagerly embrace me. Immediately, I feel their warm flesh on mine. It’s ecstasy. It’s like smothering my skin with pure, unfiltered ecstasy. I want nothing more than to stay in their embrace for all eternity.

My smile grows as they take turns kissing me. I kiss them too, tasting the sweetness of their lips. It’s like the first bite of my favorite treat, so full of life and passion. They laugh and I laugh. They then whisper something into my ear. I can’t make out the words. I can barely make out my own heartbeat. I only make out three words.

“Let’s make love.”

The next thing I know, the two beautiful women shed their bikinis, throwing them out into the ocean, as though they’ve no intention of ever wearing them again. I see with utter astonishment their exposed breasts and curvy hips. They’re so beautiful. Every female feature shines with perfection, as though polished by divine forces.

Freed from their clothing, they embrace me again. I embrace them, as well. We laugh and kiss, the echoes of the crashing waves mixing with every sensation. At some point, I notice the sun starting to set over the ocean. Did that much time really pass? How long have we been out here?

I don’t know. I don’t care. Time has no more meaning to me. All that means anything anymore is this moment with these two beautiful women. Together, we lay down on the sand. We kiss and touch some more. Soon, the air is so hot and the sensations are so strong that I can’t stand it. I want what they want. That’s all I want. I’m ready and so are they.

Then, just as we’re about to make love, I wake up. I rise up in my bed, short of breath and feeling hot all over, but I swear I can still taste their lips and hear the crashing waves of the ocean.


I’ll give everyone a moment to catch their breath and change their underwear. Take all the time you need. I totally understand.

I don’t know exactly when I first had this dream. I do remember it happening in the summer after just having return from a vacation to the beach. I was a teenager and had already realized how much I love beautiful women in bikinis. Given how vocal I’ve been about my love for the beach, I’m sure that surprises no one.

It’s one of the few dreams that I vividly remember. It’s also one of the few dreams I’ve had on multiple occasions. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I sleep extra well for reasons I hope are obvious. I consider it a beautiful, sexy fantasy that helped inspire me to write erotica/romance novels.

I think most people have these kinds of special dreams at some point in their lives. They may not inspire you to write sexy novels, but they still inspire you. That’s what makes them special.

That’s the sexiest dream I’m willing to share for now. I have others, but I’ll hold off on sharing them until I feel the time is right. Until then, I’d like to encourage others to take the time to share their sexy dreams as well. Either post them in the comments or just share them with close friends or family, assuming it’s not too awkward.

Even if it is, though, these sexy dreams are powerful insights into the things that drive our desires. They’re like messages from our psyche and even if they would make a lousy novel, we would be wise to listen. Besides, some dreams are just too sexy to keep to ourselves.

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Filed under Jack Fisher's Insights, sexuality

The War On Horny Women (And Why We Keep Fighting It)

People have been waging wars since the dawn of civilization. These never-ending struggles have people clash over ideas, concepts, and identities that cannot and will not be resolved. Some of these conflicts have literally reshaped society and the world we live in. They are a fundamental, and at times inescapable, part of civilization.

Then, there are the subtle, less obvious wars that we never win, but insist on fighting. These wars rarely have epic battles or iconic names like Waterloo, D-Day, or Super Bowl XLII. On some level, we know these wars can’t be won. We know we inflict a lot of collateral damage by fighting them. We’ve just been doing it for so long that we don’t know how not to fight it.

The war, in this case, involves horny women. Yes, that’s a war too. I know I dedicated an entire post to documenting the war on horny men. Even though I am a man with functioning genitals and a healthy sex drive, I don’t deny that women experience plenty of horniness, as well. I also don’t deny that those same women have endured a war that has spanned generations, cultures, and rap battles.

Despite not being a woman, I think it’s important to touch on that struggle, especially since recent scandals and trends in our sexual culture have taken the war to uncharted territory for both genders. For women, in particular, the conflict is far different from the one they’re used to fighting.

Anyone who has studied history, or just listened to Pat Robertson for more than five minutes, understands that civilization hasn’t exactly been kind to the female libido. For a good chunk of human history, a horny woman had exceedingly limited options.

If they weren’t having sex with their husband, who they probably didn’t even choose, then they weren’t having much sex. For the most part, a man could get away with having a few mistresses or seeing a prostitute every now and then. If a woman dared stray from her wifely duties, though, the punishments were severe.

Even today, a woman sleeping around on her husband is dangerous in some parts of the world. Even when it doesn’t get you killed, it can ruin your life in many other ways that men rarely deal with. It’s not fair. It’s certainly not in line with notions of gender equality. That’s the problem with wars, though. Things like logic, justice, and compassion are the first to go.

Why is this war even being fought in the first place, though? Moreover, why are women dealing with a different war than men? Well, there are many answers to that question and most of them will piss off most feminists, egalitarians, or people who just value any semblance of fairness.

I’ve touched on it before, to some extent, but the foundation for the war on horny women has its roots in a mix of biology and economics. Humans are a sexually dimorphic species in that each gender bears distinct traits that set them apart, beyond the presence or absence of certain organs. However, the trait that most distinguishes women is their ability to have children.

It’s a beautiful, but critical skill that any species needs to survive. A great deal of energy goes into giving incentives for humans to make babies and some of those incentives are pretty damn powerful. However, because of the biology involved, there are circumstances that set a horny woman apart from a horny man.

In terms of raw numbers, horny women are at a evolutionary disadvantage. No matter how horny they are or how much sex they have, they can only bear one or a few children at the same time over the course of nine months. Men, on the other hand, can impregnate dozens of women and sire a much larger volume of offspring.

From an evolutionary perspective, it’s like one person has a butter knife and the other has a machine gun. One tool is just inherently better at doing more damage. Now, if men and women are living in some hippie commune where nobody cares about which kid belongs to who and nobody has to deal with messy child custody hearings, then a horny woman doesn’t have much issues.

Unfortunately, hippie communes are few, far between, and prone to poor hygiene and clogged toilets. Much of our civilization was built on complex, hierarchical societies that required men to work the fields, women to care for children, and a certain assurance that the kids you had were yours.

Before the days of Maury Povich, though, the only way to be sure of that was to be sure that a woman was faithful from her wedding night onward. Since people rarely trust the horniness of their spouses or the men who may seduce them, this led to traditions and taboos that demanded modesty and subjugation for women.

It didn’t matter how horny or sexually unsatisfied they were. From the perspective of society, it was more important that these women remained “untainted” so that men could be sure their kids were legitimate and there were no nasty diseases, a common problem that plagued ancient societies to no end. It wasn’t as much a war of misogyny as it was a war of practicality.

Even after we learned to treat disease, control conception, and test for paternity, the idea of a horny woman is still taboo. There are some that even claim that promiscuous women bring down entire civilizations. These are not claims that anyone should take seriously, but they do reflect the ongoing struggles of this war.

The idea of a woman being horny, sexual, and feeling no shame about it just seems wrong to many people. They see that and they see an affront to how they believe society should work. Never mind the fact that society is always changing and technology promises to accelerate that change. We, men and women alike, are still stuck in this war-like mentality when it comes to horny women.

It often manifests in subtle ways. Watch any slasher movie, sitcom, or poorly-scripted reality show and you’ll see a similar theme. The horny, promiscuous women are the villains. They are an evil, corruptive force that undermines all that is good and noble. Why else would Regina George be so easy to despise?

Beyond the media, female horniness is often presented as something that has to be contained and hidden. Unlike men, who are expected to fight the wars and work the fields, the standards for women are different. A “good woman” is someone who doesn’t sleep around, flash her tits, or show off her thong to an entire basketball team. A “good woman” stays home, has babies, and dresses in a way that doesn’t attract horny men.

That’s why modesty is conveyed as such a virtue for women, but not so much for men. That’s also why exceedingly repressive societies segregate women from men. The possibility that someone might get horny and might act on that horniness is seen as a bomb going off in house full of puppies. It’s just that terrifying.

However, despite this centuries-old war, ripe with traditions and taboos, women still get horny. Women still want to have sex and not just to make babies, but to enjoy the toe-curling pleasure that comes along with it. No amount of modesty, shame, or scorn can stop it. That says a lot about the strength of horny women. As an aspiring erotica/romance writer, I can’t help but admire that.

As much an optimist I am, at heart, I don’t see the war ending anytime soon. Like the war against horny men, certain taboos and insecurities still linger. Some are cracking, though. Just recently, Mayim Bialik from “The Big Bang Theory,” generated a lot of criticism for daring to claim that women should dress more modestly in order to avoid harassment, as though horny men aren’t that determined.

Naturally, albeit unfairly, she got accused of blaming the victim for the misdeeds of horny men. The idea that horny women are somehow responsible for crimes committed against them is rightfully absurd, but the notion that horny women need to contain themselves while some men can still push the boundaries is beyond absurd.

As I said at the beginning, the basis of the war on horny women is neither fair nor logical. Compared to the war on horny men, though, it’s just unfair and illogical in a very different way. There reasons and justifications for the war are changing and will likely continue to change, especially as certain medical advancements emerge.

Whatever the change, though, the war will continue to rage. Horny women will still be considered this taboo force of chaos that could potentially undermine the whole of society. This may be a taboo that’s impossible to break, but that may not matter much in the long run.

No matter how the war is fought, whether by religious dogma or excessive shaming, it won’t turn off that fundamental drive to make love or to enjoy good orgasm. In the long run, the horny women will win, if only because the horny men will want to hang out with them more. I’m not one to take sides in a war, but if my sexy novels can act as battle cries, I’m happy to do my part.

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Filed under Current Events, gender issues, Marriage and Relationships

A Helpful (And Sexy) Romance Tip (From Joe Rogan)

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth belaboring. Do not take advice from celebrities. I know they’re so rich, powerful, and rarely have to pay women to show them their tits. Some could spit in a glass and sell it for fifty bucks if they wanted. With all that clout, it’s tempting to think that they have some sort of secret knowledge.

More often than not, a celebrity is the byproduct of knowing the right people, having the right amount of talent, and being willing to work so hard that it makes functional relationships damn near impossible. There’s also an element of dumb luck to it all. Just look at how Justin Bieber got discovered and prepare to run head-first into the nearest brick wall.

Celebrities live in a world that might as well be an alien planet. Their understanding of how things work is so skewed, so distorted, and so flawed they can’t really relate to ordinary people anymore. Does anyone really believe that someone with the eccentricities of Tom Cruise can ever grasp a sense of normal again?

That said, every now and then, one celebrity will come out with a bit of advice that is worth taking seriously. Stranger things have happened, even on game shows. That’s why it’s worth making note of whenever it happens.

Recently, in wake of the Harvey Weinstein scandal, a brilliant bit of advice came out of these disturbing revelations. It came courtesy of Joe Rogan, a comedian and color commentator whose insights I’ve found to be refreshingly honest. Being a huge fan of his podcast, which I totally recommend, I was very interested in learning his take on the scandal.

However, it was his unusual advice on love and relationships that stole the show for me. It actually had less to do with discussions of the scandal and more to do with topics involving how men behave around women. As someone who has had more than his share of awkward moments around women, it’s something I can appreciate.

His advice isn’t very complicated. It doesn’t even require any special skills or coaching. It’s something every man can do and something they already know how to do. The key is doing it in the right situation, within a certain context. Since I know a lot of men will likely need this advice at some point in their lives, I’ll offer it as freely and openly as Mr Rogan did. With all that said, here it is.

Before you go on a date with a woman, masturbate ahead of time. 

It’s crude. It’s crass. It’s even kind of dispassionate, when you think about. However, from a psychological and biological standpoint, it makes perfect sense for men hoping to form strong, meaningful relationships with women.

There’s no way around it. From a purely hormonal standpoint, men are hornier than women. That’s just how testosterone works. It effects how man pursue sex, love, and everything in between. It also affects other aspects of their behavior, for better and for worse.

Now, apply this to the lens of caveman logic and it makes even more sense. If we work within the context that our brains are primarily wired for survival and reproduction, then it’s unreasonable to assume that our thoughts and feelings will be optimized for determining whether the romance we’re pursuing is right for us.

From our brain’s perspective, when we go out with a pretty girl, we’re basically taking the scenic route to getting that sweet sexual release that we’re wired to seek. Everything else, including the romance, is secondary or tertiary, at best. That creates a major problem, though.

If our brains are more concerned about that release than it is about determining whether we’ve found a suitable lover, then we’re prone to making bad, misinformed decisions. Our pursuit of that release, and the role it serves in the reproduction part of cavemen logic, effectively obscures our more intimate pursuits.

As Rogan himself describes, that incredible desire made him tolerate a beautiful woman who he knew, on some levels, wasn’t right for him. However, he was just so driven by that crude desire of his caveman brain that he avoided the hard truth. He effectively employed a form of excuse banking. I can only imagine the kinds of justifications he came up with, being so driven to fulfill that primary need.

That’s why masturbating beforehand made perfect sense. It effectively froze his excuse bank and uncluttered his mind so that all that wiring in his brain that emphasized reproductive efforts, namely sex, were tempered. Orgasms effect a lot of bodily functions, as I’ve noted before. That includes, to a large extent, the brain.

By giving himself that orgasm ahead of him, Rogan did himself and his love life a huge favor. It allowed him to deal with the woman in a more logical, unfiltered sort of way. It probably saved him a lot of heartache and frustration in the long run.

Even if his experience is purely anecdotal, the science is sound. That’s why it counts as good, legitimate advice for other, non-celebrity men to follow. I encourage those reading this blog with significant others to try it.

The next time you go out on a date with a significant other, get that orgasm ahead of time and see how it affects your approach to the date. It may make for some unusual situations, but that might be a good thing. No matter how unusual they end up being, I’d love to hear the results so please share them in the comments.

Now, I know I singled men out for this advice and there’s a reason for that. While both genders tend to agree on the joys of orgasms, there are some variations in the biology. Since I’m not a woman, I don’t know whether this sort of advice would work the same way.

That’s not to say women shouldn’t try it too before their next date. I honestly don’t see how having an extra orgasm before a date or meeting with a prospective lover can be a negative. If women can provide some insight on this in the comments as well, I think it’s definitely worth discussing.

However, when it comes to men trying to make sense of their love lives and the complications that their incessant desire may bring, I think Mr. Rogan’s advice is sound. It may very well be the best, and sexiest, advice you ever get from a celebrity. For that, I thank Mr. Rogan for his contributions towards improving the romantic lives of his fans.

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Filed under Celebrities and Celebrity Culture, gender issues, Marriage and Relationships

Why Nice Guys DON’T Finish Last (Or First)

We’ve all heard it before. It’s the primary plot of nearly every teen movie ever made. It’s the secondary plot of every underdog movie ever made. It’s also the title of a classic Green Day song. Say it out loud in almost any context that isn’t on the set of a porno and most will agree.

Nice Guys Finish Last

When we look at the world through our irrational, caveman brains and glean our information primarily from movies, sitcoms, and Fox News, that certainly seems to be the case. It’s almost obvious that we live in a world nice guys solely exist to act as toilet paper to the Biff Tannens, Bernie Madoffs, and Kanye Wests of the world.

In a sense, it’s comforting. Being a nice guy means you’ll carry the spirit of a lovable loser and who doesn’t love a lovable loser? Sure, Cleveland Browns fans would probably beg to differ, but it’s that very mindset that makes us content with the status of nice guys and gives us an excuse to scrutinize the concept through the harsh lens of reality.

As I’ve made clear before, I don’t care for excuses that don’t involve donuts, comic books, or nudity. That’s not to say I have anything against nice guys. I too consider myself a nice guy. You won’t find me punching a small animal just to impress a couple of cute cheerleaders. There are far more honorable and pragmatic ways for that sort of thing.

Instead, I’m going to add a little bit of context to the whole concept of nice guy finishing last. I’ve already highlighted how being a nice guy is a laughably low standard with which to base your appeal as a person. Most of the people on this planet are nice. The only reason you know about the assholes more is because they’re the ones that end up with TV shows and professional trolls.

So even if there are mostly nice people in this world, does that mean they finish last? Well, to answer that, it helps to build a story around the context. I could try to cite studies that show that just being likable tends to get you more opportunities in life, but that’s not very sexy. Nobody comes to this blog for scientific studies that don’t involve sex robots. They come here for sexy stories.

With that in mind, here’s the story that every nice guy should learn before they hit puberty:

You walk into a casino with all your life savings and you have to gamble it all of it on just one game.

In some of those games, the risk is high and the reward is high in the short term, but that reward naturally decreases no matter how much you win at other games.

In some of those games, the risk is very low, but for each dollar you don’t bet, you end up losing twice as much in the long run.

Then, there’s this one game in the middle of it all where if you bet on it, you probably won’t win big, but you won’t lose either. The odds are stacked in such a way where that over time, your money increases. It’s slow and tedious, but it does go up. It’s just a matter of patience and playing the odds, which are objectively on your side.

With all this in mind, which game do you play?

If you’re a smart gambler in any sense and don’t have any self-destructive tendencies, then the choice you make in this story is fairly clear. You end up playing the third game because that’s the only game that, in the long run, will increase your life savings.

That third game is basically what it means to be a nice guy. It is akin to investing in an index fund in the stock market. Ask nearly any financial guru, including Warren Buffet, and they’ll say the same. An index fund is the safest, most effective investment anyone can make. It won’t beat the market, but you won’t lose to it. Just not losing to the market is enough to make a lot of money in the long run.

Being a nice guy is one of the best investments you can make in yourself because, on the whole, it increases your value as a person and as a functioning member of society. In general, people want to deal with nice people. People want to work with them. Some even want to have sex with them. It is, by far, the easiest and most effective way to get ahead in the long term.

The main problem is the payoff sometimes takes a while. There is also some element of luck involved, but not in the Vegas odds sort of sense. For those willing to take more risks, being a nice guy just isn’t enough. Being a nice guy just takes too damn long.

That’s how you end up with the professional trolls I’ve mentioned before. These are people who are gambling that being an asshole will help them stand out. It’ll help them get attention, which they understand on some levels is a valuable asset.

That attention may be negative. In fact, it often is negative. Being an asshole in a world of nice people helps you stand out. It makes you different, exciting, and charismatic to some degree. However, all that is a quick short-term gain. In the same way these crazy things get people’s attention, those same people will just as easily get bored or frustrated with it. As I’ve said before, there is a lot of power in boredom.

That’s why a lot of those arrogant, Biff Tannen jocks from high school end up pumping gas, digging ditches, or getting shanked in prison. Being an asshole, in the long run, decreases your value because it hinders your ability to form social connections. Without those connections, there’s going to be nobody to help you up when you fall flat on your face.

That’s not to say that being an asshole doesn’t pay off big for some people. Alex Jones, Milo Yiannopoulos, and most successful YouTube stars are proof of that. They do finish ahead of the nice guys. However, they are the exceptions and not the norms.

Most of the assholes are so far behind the nice guys that they have no hopes of ever catching up. Some just quit the race entirely and cede their rank to the nice guys because they know too many people hate them to hope for a break. It can be somewhat tragic, but it does benefit the nice guys.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the overly careful type people who despise both the nice guys and the assholes. I knew people like this in high school. I was almost one of them. These are people who are so bleak in their outlook on life that they don’t bother being nice or mean. They’re just a walking ball of gloomy nihilism.

Other than grunge rock and Marilyn Manson, you don’t see too many instances of this paying off in the long run. Even if you’re not an asshole who kicks small puppies for fun, people will still avoid you if you’re a pain to be around. If every hour of your day involves whining about how terrible and awful everything is, then nobody will want to work with you, help you, or sleep with you.

As a result, the nice guys beat those gloomy goths with ease. They finish ahead because, and it’s worth emphasizing, people prefer to work with those who are likable. They will help, befriend, and have sex with those who are nice to be around. Again, it won’t happen all at once. It will take time, but in the end it will pay off.

So in a sense, Green Day got it wrong. Nice guy’s don’t finish last. However, they don’t finish first either. Given how few of those who try to finish first ever make it, your best bet is to just make sure you don’t finish last. In that sense, being a nice guy is the safest bet you’ll ever make that doesn’t involve jello shots.

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Awkward Boners And Another (Overly) Personal Story

Brace yourselves because I’m about to get personal on this blog again. Yes, it’s going to be the awkward kind of personal. Yes, it’s also the sexy kind of personal. No, it’s not that kind of sexy. I still save the bulk of that for my novels.

I think it’s important to get personal when building an audience. It helps us relate to one another. I can’t just be some faceless guy behind a computer screen trying to sell sexy stories. I need to be someone with which people can feel a personal connection. That connection is the difference between a passing audience and a loyal one. The sexy stories I sell, as a result, are just a nice bonus.

Now, I’ve already gotten pretty personal on this blog before. I’ve talked about my love of sleeping naked, my own circumcision, and the soul-crushing, four-year prison sentence that was high school. I hope those stories have endear my life and this blog to people. I’d like to deepen that endearment and I intend to do that by talking about awkward boners.

I’m sure I’ve got every man’s attention now. I’ll still give a moment for the women to stop rolling their eyes. I get it, ladies. Awkward boners are one of those things that men make too big a deal of. Yes, it’s a unique experience to a particular gender, but it’s not even in the same hemisphere as giving birth or breast feeding. I’m not going to equate awkward boners with that, but I do feel they’re worth talking about, if only because it’s funny.

In fact, I think it’s because we don’t talk about these gender-specific experiences that men and women have such a hard time relating to one another. For some, talking about the joys of birth is a bit too much. I think awkward boners are a good start, if only because they reveals a vulnerability in men that they don’t readily admit.

This brings me to my personal experience. Yes, it’s about an awkward boner situation that I endured. I admit it. I’m a healthy man who has had at least one awkward boner in his life. Any healthy man who doesn’t admit that is a goddamn liar. While I doubt I’ll start a trend, I can at least tell a story that should brighten everyone’s morning.

This particular story happens in middle school, which is sort of like the sub-par prequel to high school. It’s like a mild soreness that you don’t realize will one day become a stabbing pain in the pit of your soul. I won’t say it was awful, but there were definitely signs that being a teenager was going to suck on a lot of levels.

This was also before I developed a serious acne problem that utterly destroyed what little confidence I had. I like to think that during middle school, I was at least somewhat content. I won’t say I was as happy as a fly in a shit factory, but I wasn’t miserable. For the most part, life was okay.

At the same time, however, puberty was starting to kick my ass, as it does with most people when they enter those fragile years between being a kid and being a walking time bomb of hormones. As a result, unexpected and unwelcome erections were becoming more common.

For the most part, I was able to hide those erections as well as any burgeoning young man. Talk to any man who survived that part of his life and they’ll tell you the same. They learned to be tactful, discreet, and downright cunning at hiding their boners. You might say that men at this age become boner ninjas, which is a lot less sexy than it sounds.

Every now and then, though, our boner ninja fails. In this particular instance, it failed at one of the worst possible times, short of me giving a speech to the entire school while wearing a speedo. I’ll give everyone a moment to conjure that mental image. You’re welcome.

On this particular day when my inner boner ninja failed me, I was in the seventh grade. It was late in the spring and really starting to get hot outside. As such, gym class involved a lot more outdoor activities that turned us from hormonal time bombs into sweaty hormonal time bombs. I didn’t mind this because it made the afternoon go by faster.

However, my body just loved making it harder for me and yes, that means exactly what you think it means. I’d just finished my English class. Gym was the last class I had before I went to lunch so I went to the locker room eager to work up an appetite. I go to change into my gym uniform, as I’d done almost every day to that point. Then, it happens.

I don’t know whether it was the poetry assignment I’d had in English class. I don’t know whether it was because of some cute girl I’d seen who just started wearing a bra. Maybe I’d just read one too many Wonder Woman comics that day. I don’t know, but whatever it was, something triggered an unexpected launch in my pants. It wasn’t a half-launch either. This rocket was going into orbit and staying there for a while.

Now, keep in mind, I’m in a boy’s locker room in a middle school full of immature teenagers. You can’t find a time or place less appropriate without involving clowns, dead puppies, and buckets of expired milk. On top of that, I’m up against the clock. I needed to be out in the gym with the rest of the class within five minutes. For a situation like this, that’s the longest five minutes you’ll have outside a dentist’s office.

I don’t even get a chance to undress before the situation escalates. By the time I get to my locker, we’re already at ignition. By the time I unlock it, we’re at liftoff and we’ve cleared the tower. There are several obnoxious boys next to me, talking about crap that should arouse absolutely no one. All I can do is keep my head down and silently curse my dick for doing this to me.

I know my body well enough at this point to understand that this situation is going to get worse before it gets better. If I start undressing, there’s no way I’m going to hide this. For a moment, I just stand there and stare at my uniform in my locker. At that point, though, my rocket is well into its orbit and re-entry is not possible.

I needed to act and act fast. I had only four minutes left and that was just not going to cut it. Finally, I made a decision. It was going to require some theatrics on my part, but there was no other way.

Tactfully, I grab my uniform from my locker. Then, I clench my stomach as though I’m in pain and head right for the bathroom stalls. From where I’m standing, those bathroom stalls might as well be in the heart of Mordor. Instead of Orcs, though, I have to weave through a bunch of spitting, swearing teenage boys. It was an arduous journey, to say the least.

At one point, a kid next to me that I knew looked concerned. He asked me if I was already. I instinctively said I was fine, but my stomach wasn’t. I might have said something about the tacos I ate for dinner last night, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

That seemed to do the trick, though. He didn’t ask again. I managed to work my way around the crowd of other boys and make it into the bathroom stall. In my first stroke of luck, there was nobody in there. I was able to close the door, lock it, and breathe the biggest sigh of relief I’d felt to that point in my life.

After I was alone in the stall, I was able to settle down and let my penis complete its orbit, so to speak. It still took a lot longer than I wanted. I remember thinking about anything and everything that would get it to settle.

If you’re a healthy man, you know what I’m talking about here. You’ll go through any number of unsexy thoughts and images. You’ll picture your grandmother in a nightgown. You’ll picture your dog throwing up on your bed. You’ll even resort to doing algebra in your head. When algebra is an option, you know your body is working against you.

For me, I don’t quite remember what I thought about to subdue my erection. It still didn’t work as quickly as I’d hoped. I still had somewhat of a quasi-boner by the time I got undressed and put my uniform on. I was still up against the clock too. By the time the warning bell rang, I had to grit my teeth and hope for the best.

I managed to put the rest of my stuff in my locker and make it out into the gym. I still had somewhat of a tent in my pants. Keep in mind, these gym shorts aren’t exactly known for being well-fitted. I had to be very careful with how I carried myself, especially as the girls started making their way out of the locker room. It also helped that the gym uniforms weren’t exactly sexy. Even raging teenage hormones can only do so much.

Once I sat down and waited for the gym teacher, I was able to finally able to complete re-entry, so to speak. In another stroke of luck, the teacher was a bit late so I had a few extra minutes to make sure no more rockets were ignited. It still made for some tense moments, but I got through it.

That, my friends, is the story of my most awkward boner. I’m sure there are other men out there who have had far worse experiences in far less comfortable situations. It is, in a sense, the shared price of masculinity. No one is immune to it. We never know when it’s going to happen. When it does, we learn that we aren’t always in control of our bodies. Sometimes, our bodies control us.

There’s almost something poetic about that. I’m sure plenty of men disagree and just see awkward boners as an annoyance. Well now, you’ve heard my story. If there are any men out there feeling bold, I encourage you to share yours as well. Please let me know in the comments. There’s no shame or judgment. For men and women alike, let’s share this experience and everything it can teach us.

Perhaps I can make this part of my sexy discussions. Boners can be awkward, but they can be beautiful too. Let’s not let that awkwardness undermine that beauty.

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A Handy Trick For Men

It’s true you can’t really know a person by judging them on their looks, their clothes, or who they follow on Twitter. There are so many things that go into making people who they are that, short of reading their minds and hacking their Facebook account, it’s impossible to truly know them.

That said, it is possible to glean a few details about a person based on simple observation. As I’ve said many times before, nature is not that intricate. Nature is a drunk monkey trying to shave itself with a rusty axe. That means there are bound to be a few surface-features that nature is too lazy to tweak.

The results are a few little parlor tricks that you can use to impress others too lazy to look them up on the internet. The human body, in all its flawed glory, has a few peculiarities that you can either laugh at, exploit, or ignore entirely. It doesn’t matter. Nature is so beyond giving a fuck at this point.

One of those little tricks involves your hands. No, I don’t mean that trick that requires tissues and lube. I don’t mean the trick I’ve used to set an overtly sexual tone in my novels. That’s not a trick. That’s built-in happiness that we can all celebrate in our own way.

This little hand trick involves measuring the length of your fingers. Why would you do that? Why would anyone without severe OCD do something like that? Well, for the men out there, I can best sum it up in two words: bigger penis.

Do I have your attention now? Good because short of fireworks and air horns, this topic is sure to interest a certain segment of men, gay and straight alike. It’s called digit ratio. It’s not quite as technical as it sounds, but it effects your penis so you damn well ought to take it seriously.

Specifically, digit ratio involves the length of your index finger compared to your ring finger. In technical terms, your index finger is labeled 2D (second digit) and your ring finger is labeled 4D (fourth digit). Take that length and put it into the ratio 2D/4D and you’ve got yourself your digit ratio.

That’s the basic math. So how does this affect your penis? Well, it actually affects a lot more than that for reasons that are a testament to the eccentricities of biology.

For reasons that I can only assume involve nature being drunk on the job, your digit ratio is a byproduct of the amount of androgen (male hormones) that you were exposed to in your mother’s womb. According to Science Direct, a smaller ratio, which means having a longer ring finger, is a direct byproduct of being exposed to more androgen.

More androgen means more masculine features and masculine traits. Among those many masculine traits includes a man’s penis size. In a sense, nature really does have the sense of humor of a 13-year-old boy. More exposure to manly forces make your manly parts bigger. It’s crude, but oddly fitting when you think about it.

It’s also a great convenience when you think about it. At the moment, it’s not legal to show somebody your penis in public when they ask you to prove your endowment. While that’s a legal battle we’ll surely fight down the line, our hands give us an easy cheat.

Is someone curious about the size of your bulge? Are you in an area where dropping your pants will get you arrested? Don’t worry! Just show them your hand. Show them that your ring finger is longer than your index finger. That should assure them that you’ve got a generous endowment. If they have a problem with it, they’ll have to take it up with biology.

I hope this tip helps men out there who want to flaunt their penis without taking their pants off. I’m sure it’ll help at office parties, bars, and nosy relatives. As a man, this is my way of doing my part and I feel I can do more than just write sexy stories.

Now this is not to say that simply having a longer ring finger makes you a well-endowed man. Again, nature is not that refined. Having a bigger penis is just one of the effects of getting a big dose of manly chemicals in the womb. There are other effects and not all of them are good.

According to the fine folks at www.artofmanliness.com, having a low digit ratio is also tied to higher rates of prostate cancer, higher rates of substance abuse, higher rates of infidelity and risk-taking, and higher rates of aggression. These are all things that can ruin your weekend and limit your ability to enjoy your big penis.

In the end, all we can do is take the good with the bad. I try to focus more on the good so to those men out there with a low digit ratio, do what you can to enjoy the benefits. Show your hands to those curious about the bulge in your pants. Show them that nature has been generous enough to endow you.

On a more personal note, I suppose it’s only fitting that I describe my own hands. I’ve measured them closely and I can confirm it. My ring finger is considerably longer than my index finger. Take from that what you will.

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