We know you’ve never wanted to know what’s in Sisqo’s pants. But now that the “Thong Song” singer’s nude pics are making the rounds on the interwebs,we know you are curious about his dong da dong dong dong. Click here for full NSFW pics of Sisqo’s trouser snake. Spoiler: he does not wear thongs.Oh, and the “Thong Song” video is after the jump if you feel like reminiscing about the year 2000. [ONTD] Keep reading »
She says she wasn’t, but I think the spring issue of Girls and Corpses confirms that Courtney Stodden was indeed rejected by Playboy. Don’t let Hugh Hefner shit on your dreams, Court because you’re killing it on this cover. Literally. [Dlisted]
Male masturbation — it’s everywhere you look from late night TV to songs on the radio. In fact, it’s become so commonplace to talk about male masturbation that it’s even become a joke. Men get to have all the fun making love (to pies and socks and all sorts of other imaginative things). So why don’t we talk about female masturbation on the same level?
Even in my 10 years in this business of selling sex toys (and talking to more than 10,000 women about it), it’s still rarely discussed and women almost never admit to doing it. Why is that?
Why are there no cute jokes and funny euphemisms for women who masturbate? Where are the female equivalents of “rubbing one out,” “rosy palm,” “sex with someone you really love,” “spanking the monkey” or “choking the chicken”? Men talk about this a lot! And most importantly, they talk about it with no shame. Read more…
“What do you feel about going topless?” he asked me over the phone. I hesitantly replied, “Well, I guess I’m okay with it. But will they be able to touch my boobs?” There was an awkward pause on the other end of the line. “Yes, but you’ll never have to do anything more. I promise.”
A few days earlier, I’d been scanning Craigslist for part-time gigs and came across an ad that seemed too good to be true: “Beautiful college girls sought for nightclub modeling. Receive up to $1000/night. Email pics.” I answered and said that I was a 21-year-old student and attached some cheesy iPhoto shots.
It was January of my senior year of college in New York, and I was completely and utterly broke. I had been doing freelance work to keep me afloat, but things started to go downhill in December, when I only made $600 for the entire month — not even enough to cover my rent. On a cold night I huddled in the school’s library, answered every student job posting I could find and scanned Craigslist. Five minutes after answering the nightclub post, I received a response from a guy named Bob. He wanted me to call him. I ducked outside and dialed the number he sent me. Keep reading »