When you think of Kennebunkport, Maine, images of lobsters, sailing, and even the Bush family retreat come to mind. What you don’t think of is seedy sex scandal – that is, until now. The swank, coastal town is where a prostitution ring was being run out of a local Zumba studio.
A local fitness instructor, Alexis Wright, has been charged with running the illicit business out of her gym and secretly taping the “dates.” Now the entire town is waiting to see whose names pop up on the list of johns as the investigation unfolds. Read more…
“I felt like my vagina died. Turned off. Lights out … And you can lie to your relatives at Christmas dinner and tell them everything on the home front is just peachy. But you cannot lie to your vagina … [Jason and I] “have sex like Kenyan marathon runners … Sometimes your vagina dies … Then you know it’s time to go. There’s no reason to sacrifice your womanhood and femininity for some sort of weird feeling of responsibility to something that may not be right. I feel like far too many women do that … [Men] are not allowed to be the only ones thinking with their genitals. We think with our pussies.”
– Excerpts from Olivia Wilde‘s vagina monologue. The other night at These Girls, an event hosted by Glamour, Olivia Wilde presented a live, solo performance about the death of her vagina, the end of her marriage and the resurrection of her sex life with new boyfriend, Jason Sudeikis (who must be feeling like the stud of the damn century today). But all joking about lifeless vaginas and marathon sex aside, she makes a very valid point: you cannot lie to your vagina. It has an intelligence all its own. And you can’t convince it or try to change its mind. Women, (well, no one, but especially women) shouldn’t sacrifice their pleasure to keep a passionless relationship afloat. [NYMag.com]
We’re convinced that extreme sex positions were created to make us common folk feel like we are failing at sexual intercourse and therefore, life. We’re all for adventure and experimentation in the bedroom, but does that have to involve getting penetrated while standing on your head? We think not. Considering that the longest we’ve ever held a headstand in yoga class was for, oh, about five breaths (and that was while balancing against the wall after months of practice), we don’t think we’ll be engaging in upside-down-sex anytime soon. Unless we have years to train for it. Maybe Sting and Trudie can pull it off, but the rest of us are laughing our asses all the way to Missionary.
Click through to see a breakdown of sexual positions that we know are completely impossible and why. You’re not fooling us, Kama Sutra!
Playboy collected anecdotes, and tallied and rated colleges to see where the most partying is going on. Their method was to take the top 100 colleges in the US and measure them in the categories of sex, sports and nightlife. I’ve made no secret about the fact that I have no interest in sports and I’m too old for nightlife (I can barely make it up past 1 a.m. anymore). So that leaves sex. Let’s talk about which schools ranked as the best places to get laid. Ahem, my alma mater, NYU, ranks near the top of the heap. Go Violets! Mom and Dad, stop reading now. Keep reading »
I don’t know about you, but I hardly ever have a spare tampon around. Actually, I always seem to be running out of them. If by some miracle you have tons of tampons laying around and you’re looking for an egregious way to waste them, here are some ideas courtesy of a website dedicated entirely to Tampon Crafts. Yes, tampon crafting is a thing that really exists.
This Halloween, you may want to consider making your decorations out of tampons. Try to control your blood-curdling scream when you behold this terrifying tampon ghost. BOO!
Click through for more tampon craft projects perfect for any time of the month … or year.
I am not a beach person. The way seagulls swoop over your head like rats with wings terrifies me. I hate that feeling of sand caked in every crevice.
But when my friend Thomas invited my husband and I to a nude federal beach in New Jersey, rumored to be filled with spectacularly hung men and tanned, pierced women, I decided it was something worth trying.
“I think we should go,” I told my husband.
Maybe it was because I needed a change. Spring had been of those staying-in-bed-smoking-cigarettes instead of going out seasons. I found myself fighting a constant drowsiness and listening to Jewel. Some days it took an effort to look both ways before crossing the street. Keep reading »