Sex questions answered! In one entertaining sexy novel

What every woman must know about sex, written in one scandalously entertaining novel:

cover lilm Lessons in Lovemaking: Diary of the Girl with Nine Lovers

Lessons in Lovemaking reads like a sex diary, written in the comedic voice of a Tina Fey and reminiscent of comedienne Chelsea Handler’s Horizontal Life: One Night Stands. Lessons in Lovemaking is an anthology of funny sex stories, spilling the dirt on hook-ups, boyfriends and their performance in the bedroom. You’ll giggle at every turn of the page.

The best part is the 62 Rules of Sex, compiled as “lessons learned” from our heroine’s many sexual accidents. Lessons in Lovemaking answers all your questions about sex, like:

How to go down on a girl? Where to lick? Where is the clitoris?

How to make her squirt – tips and tricks for female ejaculation

How to give a blow job

How to put a condom on him using your mouth

What does cum taste like?

Can ejaculate hurt your eyes? Allergic to cum?

Prostate orgasms! Where is his prostate?

Is shower sex dangerous? How to have safe sex in the shower

How do you have sex with a man who has foreskin? How to clean smegma

How to perform a striptease

Do men like vibrators?

Do cats or dogs interrupt you during sex?

How to make him last longer, delay premature ejaculation

How to make him orgasm through his prostate

Condom allergies? What condom to use if allergic to latex

Allergic to lube? Lube burns? Itchy lube?

Positions for small penis, Do fat people have small dicks?

Can’t orgasm with a condom on?

…and many more!

A novel you CANNOT put down, Lessons in Lovemaking does not spare the dirty details about the Dirty Deed. It’s like Gossip Girl, but with more sex and more comedy.

Lessons in Lovemaking” is available on Amazon here.

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BEST ORGASM EVER! (The symptoms of an intense climax and what oral sex trick gives the best orgasm)


Annie gave me the best orgasm of my life! Before her, I thought I knew what orgasms were, but no – all I’ve been having were ejaculations. Now I know they’re two different things after she made me see pyrotechnics when I came after she did this trick with her tongue…

It all started when after she made me shower, she put a blindfold on me. At first I thought it was a robbery, then I remembered I make less than her. She orders me to get on the bed on all fours. I ain’t getting down like that, but then she starts kissing down my happy trail and said she’ll stop if I don’t get on the bed. Blackmail my boner, why don’t you?

So I’m on the bed and I feel my towel being pulled. She starts kissing my ass. Literally. As in her lips were on my butt. I’m like, What are you doing? She says shes gonna give me the best orgasm ever. Alrightee then. Her thumb slides to the taint – you know, that sweet spot between ass and balls. Daamn! Where has this knowledge been all my life?! Nobody told me to masturbate the taint, man! This girl just awakened my body. But she’s just getting started.

I feel a little lick back there and fuuuck! Do it again! I waited and waited, I didn’t breathe until I felt that lick again. Finally it came like a breath of life: another tickle of her tongue. Electricity was shooting to my dick like my penis was a power surge when that tongue danced circles around my Glory Hole.

While my man-hole was being eaten out, guilt was eating me up inside. I pull away guiltily, but she said relax, it just tastes “like skin.” Her tongue circles again like a basketball skirting the rim teasingly. I’m telling you, blow jobs got nothing on rimming. When you feel that lick back there, you will know the purpose of life – to be rimmed round and round like salt off a margarita. 

I thought it can’t get better than that, but Annie Annilingus was not done. She fondles my cream-puff testicles, rolling them like meatballs. See, I’m not the marrying type, but I wanna wife her up now. A woman that French-kisses ass and tickles testicles? Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m YOURS!

When she pressed her tongue harder on the eye of my Gluteus Maximus, it was so mind-blowing, my prostate felt that from the outside! Her hot licks and tongue flicks got me levitating until I feel the incremental rise of an intense orgasm.

Behind the blindfold, I shut my eyes close before I un-load. But I see bright lightning behind my eyes like I’m trapped in a kaleidoscope planetarium. And I’m not even high! Listen, I’ve had sex strung out. This isn’t that. When I’m high, I don’t see indigo supernovas as if Optimus Prime was giving me a tour of space while we float in a hail of blue pyrotechnics, while Zeus throws around blue thunder bolts.

Then I hear nothing, except for a dull, silent static. Woah, first I see fireworks, now I’m deaf? I can’t move my legs either, I only feel tingles. I’ve lost hearing, I’m seeing stars – am I having a stroke? Look, if I die, I ain’t even mad. I’VE LIVED. Because you never truly have lived until you get your Third Eye rimmed while getting a balls-job. And that’s how you get the most intense orgasm ever – ass licked, balls fondled, taint teased, dick pumped – one after the other. Boom-shakalaka! You’re coming so hard, you’ll see constellations in the middle of an ejaculation.

Then I hear her voice. Wait, I can hear! I’m not deaf anymore? She lowers my blindfold, and I can see again. I’m out of that kaleidoscope world of laser-tag pitch-black neon-lights orgasms. The whips of strobe lights and nebula hallucinations may be gone – it’s lights out, my body’s spent and numb, but I’ve never felt more alive. Best orgasm ever.


If you’re cumming hard and intense,

Eyes closed, but you see strobe lights dance,

Going deaf, neon visions to the max,

It’s not a stroke, but a strong climax.


Body’s numb, can’t move, are you dead?

Nah, it’s just the blood-rush to your head.

This is no plain ejaculatory spasm,

You just had a damn good orgasm.

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How to make a SMALL penis FEEL LONGER during sex (Positions and Tricks for small dicks!)

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

When Jonas’s pants hit the floor, so does my jaw. I’m completely floored. His tall height would indicate his manhood would be just as lengthy. But, no. He’s barely the size of a carrot— not even a regular carrot, but a baby carrot, the kind they serve in vegetarian party trays. It’s so small, it’s bite-sized. I want to dip his penis in hummus like a healthy pre-dinner snack.

What happened? His manhood used to be longer when he was skinny. We all saw his wang through his basketball shorts back in gym class. Now I can hardly see his member, especially when it’s obscured by that lifesaver of lard around his stomach. He even has to lift his fanny-pack of fat hanging over his manhood just to jerk himself stiff. On one hand, he’s holding up his fat rolls, and on the other hand, he’s masturbating his now-overweight penis.

Is that how it is? When a man grows a pot belly, he gets a smaller willy? There goes Sex Rule Number 38. It’s not that the penis shrinks with weight gain, though. A penis can’t shrink, it’s more of an optical illusion. The accumulation of fat at the base makes the shaft look shorter than it is. If Jonas loses weight, he’d probably gain half an inch in all the right places.

In defense of his dick, Jonas says, “I’m a grower, not a shower.”

A grower? Like an horticulturalist? How nice, but now’s not the time to tell me about your gardening hobby.

Jonas explains that a “grower” means his penis may be tiny when flaccid, but it grows substantially when erect— up to five inches with the right oral treatment.

Nice ploy to get me down on my knees. On second thought, he’s the perfect size for oral, what with being a mini pocket rocket. But his carrot cock feels awkward in my mouth. It feels like I’m sucking on a toe. That’s what his penis looks like anyway, a big thumbs-up. His member should be called Ebert or Roeper.

So I try a hand job instead. Sex Rule Number 39: 

If you can’t orally blow 

A shaft as small as a toe, 

Don’t be stumped,

Just pump his stump. 

But his manhood is so vertically-challenged, his member barely has a shaft. It just goes from balls to head as if the fat pad on the base ate up all the shaft. How do I pump it in my hand? Should I just thumb-wrestle it?

Jonas enters me. I think I can feel the head of it. Wait, is that the shaft now? Is it halfway in? I don’t know! Is my vagine high on morphine? Because I can’t feel him at all. Why is my vagina numb?

I look down. Oh, I see the problem now. I’m not numb, he’s just too short. But it’s not because he’s too small for me to feel it. It’s because he’s too short to stay inside me. Whenever Jonas withdraws to gear up for the next thrust, he keeps slipping out. How do we have sex if he’s not even long enough to stay in long enough?

I try to squeeze my pelvic muscles just to keep him inside. I tell my vagina to cling to his ding-a-ling with Kegel contractions. But he slips out yet again. I’m not giving up, though. Maybe it’s the position. What if we switch to doggy-style? And when Jonas enters from behind, I swear, I feel him deeper. In doggy position, he no longer feels like a carrot, more like a parsnip. Sex Rule Number 40:

Don’t do it missionary, 

With a man who’s chubby. 

If he’s a shorty, 

Do it doggy.


For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.


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Girlfriend RIPPED my dick during HAND JOB (How to prevent torn foreskin)


Arizona and I already had two rounds of sex. I didn’t come, though. I rubbed one out before, so I could last two rounds with her (sex is a marathon, not a sprint). She knows I didn’t cum, so she offers to finish me off with a hand job.  

Damn, her hands were rough. It’s like getting a hand job from a pumice stone. Her hands were so rough, I’m pretty sure my right hand is smoother (because I use Jergens for jerking). I get that she’s a mix-media artist/painter, so she washes her hands a lot, but she could use some hand cream.

Her hand job feels like a Ped Egg on my dick. I can’t take anymore, so I ask if she has lube. She says, “No, I don’t need that, I get wet plenty.” Yeah, but those hands are dry as the Arizona desert. I beg her to just spit on my dick. It’s the next best thing – even porn star Jenna Jameson prefers saliva to lube.

She says no, it’s gross. Au contraire, spit is sterile – it’s just water and enzymes (to break down food). I need saliva to lubricate my dick, so spit on it like it’s a sidewalk, spit on it like you’re that shrieking velociraptor in Jurassic Park. Just get it wet!  

She says she doesn’t need to spit, because I’ll be wet soon. How? She plays with the G-spot of un-cut dicks, the envy of circumcised cocks everywhere! The F-spot, the frenulum.

It’s the most sensitive part of the male member. Flick the F-spot like a flip-top and I’m panting like an asthmatic dog, tongue hanging off my chin. She was turning me on so much, my face of ecstasy was completely distorted in pleasure. She says my O-face looks like a Picasso painting.

Suddenly, I feel a slight pinch in my penis. I look down and I see bloodshed on the underbelly of my willy. Did you just bite my dick off!? 

Turns out, my banjo string broke. Freakin’ sandpaper hands here tore my dick where it connects to the foreskin. WTF! Girls are supposed to break hearts – not dicks!

I freak out. Is my foreskin going to rip all the way? Will this circumcise me? NoOoOo! She says I need to see a doctor to sew it back together. Did you say SEW? Oh, hell no! My dick isn’t Project Runway. I ain’t getting stitched, witch. No way I’m packing a patchwork-penis.

It’s a small tear. I’ll be fine. I just need Polysporin and a band-aid. And like a hymen on Prom Night, the bleeding stopped eventually.

I was healing up nicely after. I’m told foreskin rips is normal – a rite of passage for uncut dicks. After a couple of days, Arizona checks up on me. To cheer me up, she arrives in a skimpy nurse outfit (an old Halloween costume). Damn, she looks like the Blink-182 ‘99 album cover – that trashy nurse and latex gloves just do it for me.

She says she wants to see my recuperating member. So she kneels in front of me, and I’m looking down her cleavage. Three buttons undone, I see a black bra. And… uh-oh Goddammit, dick! You’re on bed rest. Don’t spring a hard one now! 

When she touches me, little horn-dog down there begins to ache. But it’s not the usual pleasurable pain – it’s a sharp twinge. Hell no, not again! My erection made the foreskin stretch, causing the rip to re-open. My boner’s literally bursting at the seams – the seams of that tear-in-repair. Damn, dick, I said LIE LOW! Bad, boner, bad!

My hot nurse needs to go. If she sticks around, I won’t have any foreskin left. I have to heal, and that means no temptations. So I was off sex. I couldn’t even watch porn. It’s torture! I haven’t ejaculated in days. The next time I have sex, she’ll have to take cover. Because my dick feels like a fire hydrant: stout, red and ready to explode.

After a long week of celibacy, I healed, except for a little scar. And that scar will forever be a reminder that nobody’s too good for lube. Like a bottle of white wine, lube is for all occasions: Anal? Lube! Psoriasis hand jobs? Lube.

Lube is like the law – nobody is above it. No penis is above the lube. Lube is like Frank’s Hot Sauce – you put that shit on everything. Especially on dry hand jobs.


If you jerk that dick dry,

You’ll make a man cry,

The foreskin will rip,

‘Til there’s blood on the tip.

The frenulum snaps! Like a rubber band

Lady Macbeth, there’s blood on your hand.

When giving hand jobs, always use lube

Dry hand-jobs are only for newbs.

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I had sex with a woman that USED TO BE A MAN – Sex with a tranny: how is it different from women? How can you tell trans from women?


Nikki had the perfect curvaceous body, shaped like a Coke bottle. I could play that bod like a Spanish guitar. When she took my hand and whispered, “Touch me,” I made a beeline for that hot mound of FUPA, m’m! And when I pressed a finger to her clit, holy cow, it’s the biggest clitoris I’ve ever felt. I didn’t even have to pull back the clitoral hood. Her clit’s just dangling from the labia like a little dingleberry, ripe for the picking.

When I looked down, she had the puffiest labia ever. Talk about labia majora those pussy lips were the spitting image of Dennis Rodman. Her labia’s raised and so plump, it looked like the knuckles of an elephant paw. I wanted to fist-bump it.

As for the pussy slit, it had the cleavage of a succulent Georgia peach. But it didn’t taste peachy, it had a hint of urine, which is weird for the clit because it’s above the urethra, so there’s no reason why it should taste like that. But she distracted me when she took off my clothes.

When she undressed me, she said, “Oh, you’re long for me.” That’s a first. Girls always tease my dick like, Oh when is your turtle penis going to come out of the shell? (by which they mean my foreskin). Nobody’s ever said, That dick isn’t going to fit. Hmm…

But she wants me, so I lube up turtle dick and get in. Damn, she was tighter than a Taiwanese virgin. And her vagina was shallow. When I thrusted, my dick hit a dead-end. I apologized right away, thinking I hit the cervix, but she didn’t seem to feel pain. She felt a little dry, too. I pull out and touch her all over to get her juices flowing first. I play with her ass, jiggling it like Jello on a plate. But damn, I was not prepared for the sudden turn of events. I might’ve spanked a little too hard because I felt something actually flip inside her ass. 

I look at her behind, and that perfect butterball of a butt is gone! Now, one ass cheek is round, but the other’s flat like a ping-pong paddle. Blow me down, they’re butt implants! Her ass pillows literally turned on the inside like a capsizing caboose, and now the flat side is facing the wrong way!

“Your butt flipped over,” I panicked. She snaps her head and suddenly speaks in this raspy, demonic hiss, “The fuck did you do?!”

The hell is that voice?! She usually talks like an angel, but now she has this deep, gravelly growl that sounds like Satan with throat cancer. Her Adam’s Apple bulging, she screams, “That butt was expensive! That wasn’t free like my sex change in Thaila- oops.”

SEX CHANGE?! Shit. I fucked a tranny? I should’ve known when she said I was “too long” – of course I’d be long! For a man-made vagina.

It all makes sense now: her shallow vag, feeling no pain when I hit it deep. Because she had no cervix! The mounting evidence played in my head like a Powerpoint of horrors: clitoris dangling like a cashew hanging out… pussy lips like swollen knuckles… dryness (man-made pussies don’t self-lubricate, do they?) 

Never mind that I just fucked post-op genitals, or that Nikki was formerly a “Nicholas.” That wasn’t the worst part, this is: The clit I just licked? It used to be a penis. In gender reassignment, the penis head is reconstructed into a clitoris. Is that why her clit tasted like pee? Because that re-purposed clit is really a pee-hole? I just licked a piss hole. Wait, does that mean I gave a blow job to a man? I need Listerine and brain bleach.

Guys, when you’re with these perfect women with perfect tits and ass, watch out, those might not be the only post-op parts. Look out for warning signs: clit that sticks out like a sore thumb (because it used to be a penis head!), puffy labia (swollen after surgery?), clit that tastes like pee. You never know, you think you’re licking clitoris, but you’re really giving a blow job to a penis disguised as a clit.

Sex Rule No. 57

This hot girl I seduced,

Really used to be a dude.

Watch out! If her clit’s too long, 

It’s ’cause it used to be a dong.

And when you fuck her,

If her vagina feels shallower,

She might be a post-op girl,

Whose name used to be Earl. 

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Can’t ORGASM with a CONDOM on? Here’s the solution!

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

Maybe I look so bad naked, that’s why John’s not getting off. Because when he gets in me, he’s hard at first, then he turns soggy. I’ve had bloody tampons in me feel harder than him.

John asks, “Can we watch something else?”

I know he wants to watch porn, the real kind. Should I be repulsed? Heck, no. I watch porn. How else would I learn how to masturbate if I don’t watch exhibitionist cam girls finger themselves? Should I be jealous of porn? Let’s be real, it’s not like he’s cheating on me with a porn star. If anything, porn helps. All I care about is getting John hard.

With my permission, John goes online and streams free porn. He chooses something called triple penetration, which I mistake for a threesome. Not quite. It shows a girl being penetrated in all three holes like a stuffed bowling ball. Ugh, it’s too much. I ask him to choose another video.

Next, he watches something called Hentai. Turns out, it’s not an Asian art film. It’s cartoon porn with octopus tentacles slithering into a girl’s orifice. I’m never going to have calamari again after seeing that. When I ask John to choose another video, he lets me pick instead.

I choose a lovey-dovey “porn for her” video. It’s sensual love-making, as opposed to artless penetration of the Kraken variety. But John says it’s not doing anything for him, he’s bored. So I choose girl-on-girl sorority sex, which he agrees is a brilliant choice. Halfway through the scene, he turns to me and blurts out, “Wait, are you lesbian?”

Oh. Is your name Joe Brown? Because I’m sensing a lot of judgment. Not that I should defend my choice of pornography, but I prefer girl-on-girl action because it’s not hardcore and foreplay is longer. It appeals to my delicate sensibilities. And no, I’m not a lesbian. If I were, I’d be flicking the bean to Ellen De Generes’s plaid vest instead of putting up with your DQ Soft-serve.

John adds, “You must be at least bi if you like watching girls make out.”

“So that means you like to get anally probed by calamari, right? Because that’s the porn you watch: Japanese octopus in the anus. Your logic, not mine,” I reply.

“Touché,” he concedes.

We watch porn, but he’s still floppy like a wet cannoli. John is taking so long to get hard, my shaved pubes are growing back. I ask him if he’s alright. Maybe he masturbates so much, he’s out of juice. Suddenly John is worried, saying porn does it for him every time, except now.

He says, “I get hard alone, but not when you’re here.”

What? I’m that un-sexy that I desensitized his dick?

John assures me it’s not my fault. “When I masturbate, I don’t use a condom. Now I’m wearing one, I can’t get hard.” 

Phew. It’s the condom, then. He can’t get hard wearing it. “But, why?”

John explains the rubber’s so thick, he feels less of the sex. Simply put, the condom numbs him. To resolve the condom conundrum, John asks, “Can I hit it bareback?”

You mean without protection? No can do. No glove, no love. Sex Rule Number 50: Cover your stump before you hump, if you don’t want a baby bump or a venereal lump.

“But I can’t get hard with this condom on,” John insists. He reasons that since I’m on birth control, it should be fine to go condom-commando.

I may be on BC, but going bareback poses the risk of contracting STDs. Better safe than syphilis.

John says, “I have to take the condom off. It’s strangling my dick.” 

I look at his member. No wonder he can’t get hard, the condom is too tight around the base. How is blood going to flow to his manhood if his boa’s constricted? It’s not that the condom is too small. It’s just tight at the base that blood can’t flow to the shaft to sustain his hard-on.

John doesn’t have performance issues. His condom is just the wrong size. It fits like jeggings, when it should feel like relax-fit Levi’s, so he won’t lose sensation and still maintain an erection.

True enough, as soon as the condom comes off, John’s wood is jutting out like the lying nose of Pinocchio. You could hang your entire wardrobe on his steel pipe. But I’m not letting him hit it bareback.

It turns out, when it comes to sex, the hardest part is keeping him hard. Sex Rule Number 51:

If he wears the wrong size of condom,

He can’t maintain an erection.

If it’s too tight, the boner dies.

So, better know his condom size.


For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.

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PREGNANT SEX: What it feels like to have sex with a pregnant lady (is it safe for the baby?)


Nadia is a full-figured woman, who has a voracious appetite for the male member. So she gets on top of me in the 69 position and gives me a blow job. She says 69 keeps her gag reflex in check. Well, she didn’t blow chunks on my junk, so I’ll take her word for it.

Her nice, round ass is in my face and she has this little thong on. I pull the string to the side and she giggles. I jiggle her butt, bouncing it in my hands, but instead of a giggle, PRFFT! She farts in my face.

A deadly detonation of sulfuric fart-vapor wafts in my nostrils. Someone give me a gas mask, a smoke bomb just went off in my face. Talk about weapons of ass destruction – that fart destroyed my nose.

I didn’t say anything, I just covered the offending orifice with her thong. But she lets another one rip, and I’m lying there, fanning the flames of the farting stink bomb that reeks of the putrid smog of a rotten blow hole. What’d you eat? A whole basket of boiled Easter eggs?

When she decides I was hard enough, she gets off me and tells me to fuck her on the edge of the mattress. She insists on this position. I don’t know why she still has her top off, maybe she’s a little body conscious. I slip off her thong, then I thrust in with a smooth glide – I was thrustin’ silken. Because if I go hard, she might toot another fart. As I’m sliding it in – easy like Sunday morning – BAM! Something inside her pokes my dick – a sharp punch. WTF was that, is there something in there?!

I wait it out, but she’s yelling at me to keep thrusting. I go deep, and there it is again. Another kick on my dick! Jackie fucking Chan is in there and just drop-kicked my prick. 

She whines, “Why won’t you fuck? Is it because I farted?! I can’t control farting since I got pregnant-”

Stop, drop and roll. Did you just say Pregnant?! Is that what the penis punch-out was? You’re knocked up? It makes sense now: keeping her top on (to cover the baby bump), the farts and the dick kicks… it’s the fetus! I thought she just ate a lot and had a food baby. Turn’s out it’s a real baby.

I asked, “Are you even allowed to have sex?” I don’t want to poke the baby’s eye out. “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that long,” she says, laughing. She explains her OB says sex is healthy. When she orgasms, and she’s riding that euphoric high of oxytocin, the baby’s on the same “happy chemicals” she’s on. She commands me to carry on with the sex. Fine, but I’m not cool with Kung-Fu Fetus kicking my prick.

She says it’s not a kick, it’s the baby’s head I felt. So it’s head-butting boners now? It’s bad enough my penis is curved. Any more head-butts to it, and my dick  will turn into a horseshoe. No way I’m getting a Quasimodo cock – bent with a dent.

I tell her she’s lovely, but I gotta peace out. She yells, “Get back here. You owe me, I swallowed your pre-cum!” And I’m like, The hell did you just feed Kung-fu fetus?! What if there’s residual sperm in that pre-come from my morning masturbation? You’re supposed to feed your baby Simi-lac. Not Semen-lac!

“Semen’s just protein!” she says.

I can’t go through with this. If that fetus is born a Conehead, I’m not assuming responsibility. It’s bad enough Kung-fu Panda drank spunk from the umbilical cord. I’m not causing it any dick-induced deformities either.

SEX RULE # 55 

If you feel a little kick, 

A sharp poke to your dick,

There’s a live fetus,

Inside her uterus.

Don’t be scared,

Just thrust with care.

Mom can have some cock,

Pregnant sex is safe, said Doc.

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How to have SEX IN THE SHOWER – positions, lube type, warnings and other tips to consider

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

Kennedy soaps my butt and massages it, working a luxurious lather. Oh, I’m foaming up nicely, alright— in the mouth and down there. When he spanks me and his hands get close to the crevice of my lady bits, it just gets me dripping wet. My pussy is precipitating, and I feel my arousal sliding down my inner thigh. I’m practically a rig of free lube. But with the shower going, the water eventually washes away my natural female lubrication. All that pussy juice, going down the drain like Drano. That’s the irony of shower sex— you’re wet all over, except where it matters. So beware the bathwater, it dries up your cooter.

Kennedy guides my body away from the shower head and he pins my hands on the tile wall. It’s so sexy the way he callously lifts my leg to open me up like I’m about to take a leak on a graffiti wall. Get in, get in! At last, he slips the tip of it inside and Ouch! Kennedy needs more lube. I tell him to back off, back up and lube up.

Kennedy applies more KY, then jerks it hard again. By the time he slips it in, the lube has dried to a sticky consistency. Just like all my sexual encounters, this lube never lasts. Lubricant? Ha! More like lubri-can’t stay wet. Kennedy says KY is water-based, that’s why it washes off.

You mean there’s other lube types apart from water-based? Kennedy says they were taught in his fraternity to use silicon lube for sex in hot tubs, skinny dipping, swimming pools and Sea World. Silicon? As in what implants are made of? Apparently, silicon doesn’t wash off since it’s water-resistant. Great. The only lube we have happens to be the wrong kind of lube.

Meanwhile, hot water is pouring on me like burning lava. It’s so hot in the shower, the glass door is clouded with water vapor. I could hardly breathe, so I switch the dial to cold water. But Kennedy changes it back to hot water because apparently cold water causes shrinkage.

What do you mean shrinkage? True enough when I look at his crotch, I find a wrinkled prune instead of his pretty penis. I don’t know if it’s the horrific sight of his Sun Maid scrotum— balls shriveled up like raisins— or the hot steam filling the shower, but suddenly my head starts to spin. I begin to feel light-headed.

Kennedy says he can’t hold it in much longer. If we’re going to have sex, he has to get in now. But my lube keeps rinsing off in the water. He suggests to just use tap water as lube.

Honey, I’m tight and right. Water is not going to work. Yes, it’s wet, but tap water feels gritty what with all the calcium deposits. It’s not slippery like lube. Oh, forget it. I just jerk him off to get it over with. His Two-Scoops Raisin Bran testicles are freaking me out.

Eventually Kennedy ejaculates. Ugh, I should’ve turned off the shower because when water mixes with jizz, it gets so sticky, you could un-break Toni Braxton’s heart with the viscosity of it. His sex juice is adhesive enough to assemble Humpty Dumpty together again. Sex Rule Number 25: Don’t mix water with his ejaculate. It ends up sticky like epoxy coagulate.

For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.


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ORAL SEX WARNING: Don’t get blow jobs after eating SPICY food, here’s why


For our hot date, Chayenne and I had curry because she says spicy foods are aphrodisiacs. Must be true because she’s been teasing me all night, playing footsies under the table. I was pitching a tent the whole dinner. When we got to her place, she says she’s still hungry… for my hard-on.

She unzips me and licks the tip of it. Ooh, I feel a little tingle from her tongue. When she deep-throated it, her mouth felt tight and warm – like pussy, but better because of that hot tongue.

But it was getting really hot – literally. It wasn’t just warmth, I feel a slight sting. Maybe I’m just so turned on that my dick’s feeling feverish. But then it felt hotter and hotter until it started to burn and itch. I pull out of her mouth and Goddamn, my dick was red as a hot pepper!

She grabs my Jalapeño hard-on and puts it back in her mouth. Fuck! I felt the heat again. It’s her mouth! Hot as hell, but it’s a flaming cornucopia of Cayenne peppers. Get me a fire extinguisher, there’s arson on my hard-on! My dick’s on fire.

Then I remember why – she ate red curry (not yellow, not green, but red – the hottest variety) and the tip of a tiny chilli. That shit is on my dick now. Call me Anthony Kiedis, I have a Red Hot Chili penis.

You know that Kings of Leon song, Sex is on Fire? Now I get what that’s about: curry blow jobs.

In a panic, I look for ice in her fridge. It’s empty, except for leftover takeout, milk and yogurt. She says she just threw out the last frozen pizza. Dammit, I could’ve used that pizza to ice my burning boner.

Then I saw a frozen face in the chiller. Why is there a face in your fridge?! Are you Mrs. Doubtfire? She says it’s one of those eye masks you pop in the freezer to cool your face. I take it and put it on my dick. Check out my penis, it’s Zorro! But she took it back and accused me of being unhygienic. (Said the girl who gives BJs with chili on her tongue.)

I don’t know if this is payback for the eye mask, but she grabs the carton of milk and pours it all over my dick. What the hell! Does my dick look like a thirsty cat to you?

She explains how in Buffalo Wing-eating contests, they wash down the heat with milk to neutralize the spiciness. Alright then, pour some lactose on me! The milk seems to help for a while. Until it ran out.

What now? All she has left is yogurt. Well, there is milk in yogurt. “I use yogurt as a celery dip,” she says. Just as her meaning dawns on me, she dunks my dick in the yogurt like it’s a celery stick. I don’t know if it’s the milk in the yogurt or the numbing cold of it, but it soothes the burn.

I ask her if it’s safe to Fun-Dip my dick in yogurt. She says she’s done it herself. Apparently yogurt cures yeast infections because of its probiotics. Well, thank God I didn’t have sex with her. I dodged a yeasty bullet there.

Nonetheless, if you just had a spicy meal, don’t perform oral sex without gargling mouthwash. Or else, the only thing that ends up getting sex is not you, but a cup of yogurt.


After eating spicy food, don’t give blow jobs,

Or his penis will burn until he sobs.

Brush your teeth before giving fellatio,

Or his dick will sting like Tabasco.

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Make a woman SQUIRT – Tips for female ejaculation

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

Bob said he could give me an orgasm— even without penetration. “With my finger. I can make you squirt.” He meant that gushing female ejaculation seen only in pornography as an urban legend. Bob said I needed to lay down some tarp on the bed because I’m about to “go off like a fire hydrant.”

Bob applied lube to his fingers, then inserted one digit, finger pad facing down. God, help him. That finger is facing the wrong way. How are you going to make me squirt if you don’t have a Blue’s Clues where the G-spot is?

“Fingers face up,” I reminded him. The G-spot is beneath the clitoris, so I asked him to tap the vaginal ceiling with his fingertip.

“Damn right, I’ll raise the roof on that pussy!” he said, fingering the upper wall.

Oh, honey. Not yet. You haven’t even found the G-spot yet. The poor thing was as lost as a tourist without a Frommer’s map. So I gave him directions, “Touch the sponge, Bob.”

“I don’t feel no sponge!” Bob complained.

Of course not. I have to be turned on before you can feel the G-spot turn spongy. Only then would it be easier to find it by touch. So we made out, he fondled my breasts and tweaked my nipples like he’s turning the dial on his gym locker. Somehow my nips enjoyed being twisted around like he forgot his locker combination and he’s turning it clockwise, then counterclockwise. When my body was ready, in went his lubed finger to find the elusive G-spot.

Bob asked, “Why is it bumpy in your pussy?”

Excuse yourself. My vagina is like a Vivienne Westwood gown, ruffly and flouncy. You see, vaginas are internally convoluted so it expands when aroused. It’s like an accordion in there, it stretches when it has to accommodate. He’s so clueless about female anatomy, I just wanted to break out my guitar and sing my G-spot song to him. Sex Rule Number 5:

To make a woman squirt,

Fingers face up, insert.

The G-spot feels like a spongy ball

On the vagina’s upper wall.

Tap to stimulate, 

She’ll ooze female ejaculate.

Finally, Bob exclaimed, “I feel the sponge!”

About damn time. Now tickle that G-spot like it’s a Tickle-me-Elmo. Sweet Jesus, he worked that sweet spot like DJ Skrillex. Wika, wika! DJ, give it a little scratch. I asked him where he learned to finger like that. Bob said, “X-box. I play all day.” Who knew video game nerds had the best fingering skills?

Suddenly there was a strained build-up of pulsing in my Bermuda triangle, ooh! I grabbed his free hand and pressed his palm on my mound so I feel more pressure. Good God, now the G-spot is pushing hard against his finger and it feels more intense. George Bush, call FEMA because I’m about to climax a storm. A flood of squirt is coming. Bob’s face will be wetter than a cabbage getting misted in the produce section of Whole Foods when I’m done squirting.

As I get closer to climax, I asked Bob to finger it harder, but he stopped because of finger fatigue. Great, he got carpal tunnel in my love tunnel. So he switched to his middle finger, the longest digit. With his “up-yours” finger, he went up mine and hit the G-spot so good, I felt my female ejaculate about to precipitate.

But his finger grew tired again. I swear, foam fingers could do me harder than this. All I can do is encourage Bob in the words of Shakespeare in Henry V, Stiffen up the sinews, summon up the squirt!

When my G-spot was all tapped-out— tapped harder than a Nintendo DS in a Best Buy demo— I squirted wildly like a garden sprinkler in Beverly Hills at 6 AM Pacific. Bob was right, the bed needed some tarp. I was so wet, it’s like a tropical monsoon hit my mons pubis.

to be continued…

For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.

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