People I like | Dan Savage


01, 02, 03, 04


As a straight guy myself, I think other straight guys should be aware of these built-in advantages to sharing an apartment with a gay guy:
1. You'll have a roommate who won't fuck your girlfriend.
2. Can offer you fashion advice.
3. Won't fuck your sister when she visits.
4. Knows where to go to get a great haircut.
5. Knows tons of hot straight/bi chicks whom you can fuck.
6. Knows where to find the best underground parties.
7. Can get you X at wholesale rates.
8. And did I mention that you'll have a roommate who won't fuck your girlfriend?

Reformed Homophobe


Thanks for sharing, RH, and I would like to add two more items to your list to bring it up to an even 10:


9. Straight chicks will think you're all sensitive and stuff for having a gay roommate, and will want to fuck your brains out.
10. If you can't make rent, your roommate might settle for a blowjob.

Offering an inexperienced young woman a "friendly" back rub puts her in an extremely awkward position. If you asked her honestly for sex, she would probably give you an honest answer: no. But when you ask dishonestly for sex (by offering a back rub), don't complain when you get a dishonest answer. You offered a back rub, and who doesn't want a back rub? By not being honest ("I'll trade you a back rub for some sex, howzaboutit?"), you and your friends are essentially manipulating young women into quasi-sexual situations they may not be entirely comfortable with. Which isn't a very gentlemanly thing to do, is it?

Has no one heard of the merits of pineapple juice? ~ Makes semen taste good.

What can you bid on at Yahoo! Auctions? Well, I managed to find a Family Ties cast photo signed by Meredith Baxter-Birney, which I find infinitely more disgusting than, say, a pair of John Ashcroft's soiled panties. Which only goes to show that one man's auction-house treasure is another's health and safety violation.


Okay, here are your cunnilingus tips, boys!

Whatever you do, DO NOT use your teeth! Also try to keep the saliva down to a minimum.
Been There

Got it, boys? No teeth, and very little saliva.

SALIVA, SALIVA, SALIVA: I can't overemphasize the importance of plenty of lubrication.
Cumming from Cunnilingus

No, wait--use saliva, boys, and lots of it. But no teeth.

The word cunnilingus derives from two Latin words: cunnus (female genitals) and lingere (to lick). But the action should include not only the tongue, but the teeth. Tongue: soft, yet firm. Teeth: Nibble around down there!
Pussy Prof

No, wait--use your teeth to nibble, boys.

I don't think it's necessary for a guy to spend much time in any other area than the clitoris.
It's the Clit

Focus on the clit, boys.

A clit is not a doorbell. Please do not punch it repeatedly with your tongue. And explore the rest of my pussy. It has just as many sensitive nerve endings as my clit.
Word of the Day

No, wait--explore the whole pussy, boys.

As a closeted gay college student, I turned to my straight friends for guidance on "the deed," and one bit of advice actually worked: Lick the alphabet! One word of caution: SHE CAN'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING! It is disastrous to let her hear you humming the alphabet song. This could imply that you are not sufficiently stimulated by her parts, as was the case with me.

Lick the alphabet, boys, but don't let her know you're licking the alphabet.

I dated a guy who used "the alphabet song" to guide him along. Basically, he hummed the "A, B, C, D, E, F, G H, I, J, K, LMNOP" song while drawing the letters with his tongue on my clit. Now every time I hear the alphabet song I get wet!
Alphabet Soup

No, wait. Tell her you're licking the alphabet, and she'll get wet when she hears the alphabet song.

Guys, don't slide your tongues in and out of our vaginas. All that feels like is a small, thin, limp dick. Most women don't like small, limp dicks, so why simulate one with your tongue?
Clitty McNub

Don't stick your tongues in, boys.

A French guy once stuck his tongue in and swirled it around, pushing it really hard against the walls of my vagina. It was amazing. The American guys I've slept with tend to lap politely. I guess this must be one of those things the French come up with in their six weeks of annual paid vacation.
French Kissed

No, wait--stick your tongues in the vaginal canal, boys.

So many guys are obsessed with penetration that they can't eat pussy without sticking their fingers in. Fellas, please, just lick me.
Lick It Don't Stick It

No fingers, boys, just tongue.

Men need to know that the G-spot is located behind the ridge of the pubis bone, up and inside her vagina. Take your hand palm up, insert middle and pointer fingers, curl your fingers toward you like you're saying, "Come here." Do this while you lick, and she'll come right then and there.
East Bay Hard Core

No, wait--use your fingers and tongue, boys.

Personally, two things kept coming up while I was reading my 500 e-mails about cunnilingus: my lunch, and the sneaking suspicion that not all women enjoy the same things when it comes to oral sex. So, boys, you'll have to ask.

Here at Savage Love Inc., everyone gets it in the chops eventually--gay men included. I would direct the committee's attention to a crack I made recently about gay men leaving "brown puddles" in our beds.

So before my quick-to-anger readers boot up their computers, I'd like to point out that it was JTTBHIC (a woman!) who coined the highly offensive phrase "stinky, slimy, hairy pussy" to describe beautiful, beautiful, beautiful pussy.


Some women are terrible at it? Really? How would you know? Judging from your e-mail--which is all I have to go on--I'd say you don't get much sex, Mike. All caps, bad grammar, misspellings, run-on sentences, almost no punctuation marks save exclamation points: If the impression you make in person is anything like the impression you make via e-mail, well, you should be grateful if you get another lousy blowjob in your long life, Mike. BUTT THNX FIR CHERING.

Golly, I don't know where your boyfriend got the impression you don't like giving head. Perhaps it was the gagging and retching and puking? Or, hey, maybe it was the cocksucking-equals-a-head-on-collision similes. Regardless, that hair-trigger gag reflex makes it unlikely that you will ever be very good at giving head. While your boyfriend may derive some limited pleasure from your hesitant, I-may-puke knob polishing, it sounds as if he's reconciled himself to your oral shortcomings. I would encourage you to do the same. If you want him to associate your face with his orgasms, ask a friend to suck him off while he stares deeply into your eyes.

As you believe your problem stems, to a large degree, from your devastatingly good looks, I'm annoyed that you failed to enclose a nude photograph of yourself... Are you with me? You can look like Keanu Reeves, dress like Puff Daddy, and smell like a bar of chocolate melting in Brad Pitt's ass crack, but if sitting still for endless conversations about just how deep and artsy and sensitive you are is the price of admission, well, not a lot of women are gonna stick around long enough to ride your ride.

In reality, I had reached the point where I wanted to stab him in the eye with a fork every time he opened his mouth.

My take? Some guys dribble, some guys spurt. While spurters sometimes dribble (as the result of an underwhelming orgasm), dribblers rarely if ever spurt (no matter how mind-blowing the orgasm). What can you do with this talent? Soil headboards, come on your own face, terrorize house pets. Is there anyone out there interested in your ability? Probably, and you'll be hearing from them.

Is this what your wife really wants? I don't know, let's review the evidence: She's asked you to spank her, she's told you she fantasizes about rape, she's downloaded rape-fantasy porn from pay websites. You know what, Perry Mason? IT'S WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS. There's probably a good reason why your little-oral/mutual-fondling/missionary-position sex life isn't exactly burning holes in your sheets. I suspect that your wife, having spent the last five years dropping hints, is in some despair over whether you, her lover, will ever help her realize these fantasies. Not only is she bored with her sex life, she's probably come to resent your inability to take the fucking hint already. For the sake of your marriage you're going to have to drop the sensitive-New-Age-guy crap ("My goodness, I couldn't!") and come through every once in a while with an enthusiastic spanking and some rough sex. Rape fantasies are not uncommon, and so long as everyone involved has given their consent, it's not violence. It's cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians. It's play. And it's love, too, if you're doing something for your wife that makes her happy. It's no accident that she paid that fee with your shared credit card. Your wife wanted you to find that charge, and find your way to the website; it was one more goddamn hint. Now it's time to ask your wife to share her fantasies with you. Don't make faces, don't judge, and don't tell her she's disgusting. Just listen. Then promise her you'll do what you can to make her happy, but for your own sanity and safety, you're going to have to take it slow. I doubt very much she wants you to beat the shit out of her or hold a knife to her throat; she probably just wants to be held down, fucked hard, and called names. It may look a little like rape, it may sound a little like rape, but if it's what she wants, then it's NOT rape.

Why not skip the Reddi-Wip and use an old-fashioned pastry tube with a nozzle attachment? You'll be able to use fresh whipped cream instead of canned whipped topping--a much better recipe for the, uh, ultimate dessert--and you can squeeze out excess air bubbles before you squeeze the cream into your sweetheart's crack. You also won't have to worry about gasses or chemicals, and your lover will know you care enough to use only the freshest ingredients.

Being with someone who's already cheated on you is like having a get-out-of-infidelity-free card in your wallet. I would urge you to consider the value of that card before you walk away from a contrite, humbled, guilt-ridden, easily manipulated ex-girlfriend.

The dykes you mentioned for whatever reason decided that they wanted big hard cocks to rest their heads on at night. Who cares, Dan? If they want cock, let 'em have cock.
Gotta Wild Bush

Never let it be said that I attempted to come between a dyke and a big hard cock. In fact, I can't think of a place I'd be less likely to come.

Before the BDSM dyke author Pat Califia gender-transitioned to being Patrick Califia, s/he said that s/he'd rather be stranded on a desert island with a kinky man than a vanilla lesbian. I feel that way too: If your kink fits mine, then I will work with whatever plumbing you've got.

If this column, like most advice columns, were written by an older woman, your letter would inspire the following tirade: "You can think with your cock and marry some empty-headed, 24-year-old bimbo who rates high on your 'meat-o-meter,' pal, but one day that 24-year-old looker is gonna be just another 44-year-old woman ravaged by gravity and deeply bitter about it. Over the long haul, a married couple spends a lot more time talking than fucking, so I'd advise you to marry someone who rates a bit higher on your 'mind-o-meter.'" That's what the ol' ladies would tell you, HFWHH, but luckily for you this column is written by me, a dumb fag, and not an ol' lady. Fags are men, men are pigs, and here's some thoroughly piggish advice that might actually be of some use: While everyone does get older--time and gravity spare no one--that's no reason to forgo 15 or 20 years of sex with a woman who sets off your meat-o-meter. Those 30-year-old women you admire for their brains and independence were once relatively empty-headed 24-year-olds. So keep dating 24-year-olds until you meet a woman you believe will mature into one of those smart, older women you admire so much, i.e., a woman who scores high on your meat-o-meter who will eventually set off your mind-o-meter. Of course, there's always the chance that you'll fuck it up and accidentally marry a 24-year-old who matures into a vapid, annoying 44-year-old. If that happens, well, you can divorce her and start dating 24-year-olds again until you find one who appears headed for smart, older womanhood. If she isn't, well, repeat as necessary.

Please pass this note along to Can't Rape the Wife, the guy whose wife has "sick" rape fantasies. Like this man's wife, I too have rape fantasies. I am also a rape survivor. I did NOT like being actually raped, and do NOT want to be raped for real ever again. However, when I'm with my partner, there's nothing better than having him throw me down and fuck me like he wants to break me. You mentioned for CRTW's sake that he take it slow, and that's good advice for CRTW's wife, too. Also suggest that he and his wife decide on a very non-sexy code word for "no" or "stop," since she may find pleasure in begging for him to stop and it is important they still be able to communicate. You suggested this once, Dan, and I have gotten great pleasure from it. Words that do not rhyme with "no," "stop," "fuck," "cunt," "cock," "bitch," or other nasties make the best safe-words. Thanks to you, Mr. Savage, I smirk, blush, and think of my beloved whenever I hear the words "table" or "orange."

One night I was alone and feeling kinda horny and I rubbed my penis all over my cat. I thought it would provide me with an interesting sensation, and it did. I am not attracted to my cat. My cat is FEMALE so what I did wasn't in any respect "gay," but I want to know if it would be considered bestiality even though I never penetrated my cat.
Only Goes in for Pussy

Let's say you're lying on the floor in the sun, OGIFP, minding your own business, when, let's say Hugh Grant walks into the room. Hugh drops his pants and rubs his cock all over you. Hugh's not attracted to you--he's only interested in the sensation--and he never penetrates you. Would you consider that gay in any respect? I imagine so. In fact, Hugh Grant rubbing his cock all over another man probably strikes you as "gay" in every respect. There's something bestial about a man rubbing his cock all over a cat, penetration or no penetration, which means that what you did would have to be considered bestiality in all respects. But it wasn't gay, praise Jesus, which will no doubt be a relief and a comfort to your parents.

Instead of freaking out guys you meet in bars, I would urge you to visit the handful (mouthful?) of websites that cater to (and hook up) disgusting, shit-eating perverts like you. Speaking of having crap shoved down your throat, today I caught a matinee of Bridget Jones's Diary.

If you're not willing or able to financially support your girlfriend--pay her rent and bills, buy her clothes and food--you have no right to prevent her from supporting herself the best way she knows how. As for "stark choices," if she's really adamant about stripping, then it sounds like you're the one who's been handed a stark choice.

It's a free country, and tempting as it may be, we can't exactly round up the shit-eaters and gas them. As disgusting as they are, it's currently illegal to murder shit-eaters. Heck, they're not even legally obligated to floss.

What should we call it when a woman fucks a man in the ass with a strap-on dildo? The rejected ones.

Punt: I actually like punt, UW. Punt is in the running.
Fodomy: I'll tell you why not: Most straight boys are already scared to death of the idea of someone playing with their butts. Incorporating "damage" into the name of this particular act isn't going to alleviate their fears, now is it?
Bug-her-y: No one can tell that a "womin" is saying "her-story" unless she raises her eyebrows, leans forward, and hits "her" hard. Have you ever been trapped in a conversation with someone who insists on using that term? It's annoying. Likewise, "bug-her-y" would require the speaker to hit "her" hard, which would be annoying, and anyway there's nothing about "bug-her-y" that makes it woman-on-man specific; a lesbian could "bug-her" another lesbian.

I have an idea: BOB. This is in reference to the popularity of the Bend Over Boyfriend videos, which demonstrate both the pleasures and techniques involved in this act. Different tenses of this word also work well: e.g., "Cathy bobbed me last night." Or "So, are you into bobbing?"

Bug-her-y, bobbing, bitch-poked, SOS (for "strap-on sex"), chick-dicking, chick-banged, lassfucked, she-lunking, soafing (for "strap-on ass fucking"), womandriver, strapped, femboning, womucking, and shebang, gobsoffing (girl-on-boy-strap-on-fucking) or fomsodding (female-on-male-strap-on-dildoing), "HETMOBAS" (for "HET' Man on Bottom Anal Sex"), Myra Breckenridge (for the boy-butt-raping transsexual heroine from Gore Vidal's 1968 novel of the same name), straponanism (a biblical reference), Pied-Piping (just dumb), sphinctilating (too many syllables), gynomounting (too clinical), straightboyprostatebanging (only in the awful German language can you get away with jamming three or four words together and declaring the result a brand-new word), she-nis (ugh!), the ol' rubber-dick-in-poo switcheroo (please!). And, finally, terms rejected because they're dumb: a Jolly Roger, Chinese ear-cleaning, the Fifth of July, Mr. Ben Dover, and Savage Love, punt (as in punting for the other team), fodomy (Foreign Object Damage, as in birds beings sucked into plane's engines)

Boy prostitutes were sometimes called peg boys because they would sit on pegs to keep their assholes open between clients, so I suggest the word "peg." The woman would be the "pegger", the boy would be the "peggee," the act would be "pegging," and the boy would write in his personal ad: "I want to get pegged."
Paris P.

Most people who like to fuck butts like to fuck butts that are tight, not butts gaping open after hours on a peg. Consequently, a boy prostitute who sits on pegs would seem to have a less marketable ass than one who spends his downtime doing, say, squat thrusts or crossword puzzles. So I very much doubt that the practice you describe was widely practiced, if it was practiced at all. And while "peg" has a certain appeal as a sex word--one syllable, percussive--my Aunt Peggy (who goes by Peg) would never speak to me again if "peg" took off.

No offense, Dan, but hey, Aunt Peg, fuck you! Pegging is too great a term to be eliminated so as to avoid offending one of your family members. Bobbing is too evocative of the action done by a person performing oral sex ("his/her head was bobbing up and down"), and punting gives the false impression that there's a foot involved somehow. Pegged, on the other hand, just seems to beg the addition "my ass." As in, "My girlfriend pegged my ass last night." The fact that it's a woman's name makes it all the more appropriate.

go punting means "to propel oneself down the river in a flat-bottomed, wooden boat, by inserting a massive pole into the river and pushing hard,"

American slang dictionary. Peg boy won hands down (or asses up). Peg boy was a position in Her Majesty's Navy: He was the boy available for the after-hours pleasure of the sailors on those long nights at sea. To keep loose for his hard nights' work, he would sit on a peg during the day.

Definitely "peg." Consider: Pegged. Pegging. Pegger. Peggable. Sir Pegged-a-Lot. Soft peg/hard peg. Feeling a bit peggy. Peg me, dammit. Not tonight, I've got a peg-ache.

I voted for "punting" because it blends p(enis) with (c)unting, and because men always feel more manly when they're talking about sports. As opposed to "bobbing," which reminds me either of apples (fairly neutral), or John and Lorena Bobbitt (fairly terrifying).

Hey, Dan, have you ever notice that the word "Strap-On," spelled backwards, is "No-Parts"? Kind of ironically perfect, isn't it?

P.S. I want to clarify that I am NOT one of the poo-eaters who read your column.

Look where all this poo-eating talk has gotten us. Normal people--guys into eating pussy and licking squeaky-clean butts--now feel compelled to deny being poo-eaters when they write. Nothing about your letter, CBP, led me to believe you were into shit, and it pains me to no end that you felt compelled to deny it in a P.S. Anyway, in answer to your question, only clean butts should be licked, as dirty butts can make a person very, very ill (hepatitis, intestinal parasites, cooties), and butt-licking should never be a first-date activity.

The kinky person should spend at least as much time talking and handholding after the kinky sex goes down as he did cajoling for the kinky sex. As soon as you were done, you should've checked in with the girlfriend: "I had a great time, thanks. Did you have fun?" "Did I do anything that made you feel uncomfortable?" "Is there anything you wanna talk about?"

I'm happy to print your e-mail address--there it is--but I wouldn't waste much time sitting at home by the computer if I were you. With a creepy e-mail address like "," you're probably not going to get a lot of mail from my female readers.

I recently started dating a girl who has a strange fetish. The first time we slept together, she wanted to wear a Catholic schoolgirl outfit. The schoolgirl fantasy turned me on, although I thought it was a bit odd to go that far our first time together. Now she's taking things even further, going places I find disturbing. The latest thing that she does is nick the inside of her vagina with a razor so that she bleeds a bit during sex. She says that the pain it causes and the bleeding make it easier for her to fantasize that she's losing her virginity all over again. This obviously seems like really high-risk sex to me, and frankly, I'm starting to get a little nervous about how far she's going to want to go with this. Is this a common fetish? Should I be worried about this woman? I wear a condom, but is there anything more I can do to protect myself?
Worried About Blood

Is there anything more you can do to protect yourself? Hmm. Have you thought about a restraining order? The kind of woman who takes a razorblade to her genitals without so much as a "Honey, I've always had this fantasy about" is the kind of woman who'll take your CDs out of the stereo without putting them back into their jewel boxes or drown your five children in a bathtub one afternoon while you're at work. I'd move on if I were you.

I am a 45-year-old married male and I'm into enemas. I've been doing this for over 20 years. I am looking for a woman to give me an enema. I made contact with an enema mistress on the web but she wants 300 bucks. I think that's a bit much. Do you know of a woman who can provide me with satisfaction for free?
Water World

Oh, sure, I know lots of women who would love nothing more than to provide you with satisfaction for free. Gee, now where did I put my mother's phone number?

You're really in no position to tell your ex who she can or cannot do while she's pregnant. If she wants to have a three-way with O.J. Simpson and Robert Blake, well, that's her absolute right. Of course, you have an absolute right to ask her politely not to have sex with other people during the pregnancy, though I'd suggest you end your request with this statement: "And if you do have sex with other guys while you're pregnant, please don't tell me about it, okay?" But if I were pregnant and the man who knocked me up and dumped me had the nerve to ask me not to have sex with anyone else, well, I wouldn't just have a three-way with O.J. Simpson and Robert Blake and tell him all about it, I'd send him the videotape.

Pressuring a new partner into unprotected anal sex is an act of violence, and you should avoid these guys just like you avoid any other abuser. You know, we hear an awful lot about gay victims of hate crimes. But while the straight men who murdered Matthew Shepard or Brandon Teena get all the press, the vast majority of hate crimes being committed against gay men in this country are currently being committed by other gay men.

Imagine this hypothetical scenario: Guy meets Girl. Guy cooks dinner for Girl on second date, and make-out session erupts on living room couch. Guy takes Girl kayaking on third date, and make-out session breaks out after romantic picnic. Guy and Girl meet for a drink as she prepares to leave for a week-long vacation. Girl promises to call Guy upon return. Time of promised return comes and goes. Guy leaves Girl several phone messages. No response. Guy likes Girl and feels there is potential. Should Guy continue to pursue Girl?
I'm the Guy

Imagine this hypothetical scenario: Girl meets Guy, Girl goes out a few dates with Guy. Unfortunately, Girl isn't romantically attracted to Guy. Still, Guy is nice, so Girl keeps seeing Guy. Girl even makes out with Guy a couple of times, hoping that romantic feelings for Guy will kick in once she's tasted his spit. Girl goes away, thinks things over, and admits to herself that she will never be romantically attracted to Guy. So when Girl returns, Girl sends the universal signal for "not interested" by not returning Guy's calls. Guy sends pathetic letter to advice columnist. Advice columnist orders Guy to take the friggin' hint already. That's the obvious scenario, ITG, and obvious scenarios are usually the correct ones. Oh, there's some slim chance that this girl never came back from her vacation, having been eaten alive by a shark off the coast of Florida or something. Or perhaps she was in the tub the first time you called and, in her rush to answer the phone, slipped and fell, broke both her legs, and is now slowly starving to death on the floor of her bathroom while her phone rings and rings. These scenarios are possible, I guess, but "not interested" seems more likely than "eaten by sharks" or "starving to death on her bathroom floor," dontcha think?

Everybody, all together: Oral sex is sex. Girls who let guys go down on them aren't virgins. Your "virgin" friend was just as sexually active as any crusty ol' dyke.

As boys, GGMSE, most gay men were excluded from tree houses and locker rooms and camping trips. Consequently, we missed out on the farts-are-hilarious/listen-to-me-piss socialization that our straight male counterparts subjected each other to. I don't know about you, GGMSE, but personally I'm glad I was at home memorizing the score of Cats and not trapped in some filthy tree house learning how to light farts or gulp air and belch at will.

The author of the best masturbation story will win a gift basket filled with masturbation lotions, implements, and inspiring smut from some of my favorite woman-owned, sex-positive sex shops. (Please note: Stories about mom walking in are a dime a dozen, so please don't waste my time. No one wants to hear your mom-walked-in story unless your mom walked in on you masturbating over the corpse of your beauty-queen little sister.

With all due respect, Glen, fuck your complex underlying factors--and don't change the subject. I wanna talk about gay men who infect other gay men with HIV. Like a lot of HIV-positive guys, you would no doubt prefer to discuss HIV-negative gay men who take foolish risks... HIV infection rates among gay men continue to rise despite the millions of dollars spent every year on blame- and shame-free HIV prevention campaigns. I'm not advocating fear-based prevention campaigns, Glen, but truth-based campaigns: HIV-negative guys who take stupid risks and get themselves infected have only themselves to blame; HIV-positive guys who infect other gay men ought to be ashamed of themselves.

POST 9.11
It's about you, my readers, and your needs. And what you need these days is respite. And sometimes respite wears diapers. I'm unaware of any organizations in Canada for diaper wearers, TBNDWD, other than day-care centers--where I hope and pray that 26-year-old diaper lovers are unwelcome. That means, of course, that you're on your own. And, really, is that so bad? I mean, what on Earth would you get out of joining Adult Diaper Wearers of Canada, if such an organization existed? Camaraderie? ("How's the ol' diaper, Stan?" "Still pretty dry, Bob. How's your diaper?" "Dry as a bone." "Well, let's have another beer then, eh?") What do you need a club for? Can't you pee on your own two feet?

Diaper-lovers! You're not alone! There are others like you out there! Not everyone who wears diaper is under two or over 90! Hell, I bet they broke out a box of Depends on Air Force One on September 11.

When I was a teenager I got off on sneaking out of my parents' house naked and wandering around in the woods. I really dug masturbating in the darkness of the forest. One night, I decided to put the garden hose up my ass instead. I had always wanted to know how an enema felt. I was a twisted kid. My parents were away from home, so I was outside naked earlier than usual. I stuck the garden hose up my ass, and slowly turned on the water. Then I heard a car coming up the driveway. I panicked and ran into the woods. Running naked is uncomfortable. Running while squirting water out of your ass is really uncomfortable. The vehicle belonged to an uncle of mine, who stopped in to check on me at my parents' request. He had to have seen me, as it was dusk when he arrived. I hid in the woods for five and a half hours. He hung out in the house, waiting for me to come back. There were other clues around the house (a pile of clothes by the door, my porn mags), so he knew what was going on. I went back to the house when he drove off. He had put the hose back and cleaned up all of my porn stuff. He also left a freaky note promizing that he wouldn't tell my parents, and telling me that he was bisexual. I was totally freaked out.
Woody Woodpecker

Girl ones. I (T) really didn't believe this until I saw how many similar ones there were: I was obsessed with Mickey Mouse when I was a child, so my parents would give me Mickey things for my birthday and Christmas. One present happened to be a Mickey Mouse electric toothbrush. It became my new most favorite thing in the world. Well, one day my toothbrush disappeared. I was crushed and utterly confused. My mother blamed one of my "no-good friends." Anyway, months passed and I slowly got over my loss. One morning I woke up early, and being too young to cook myself breakfast, I went into my mother's bedroom. She was lying on her side, with her back to me. She was making noises--weird, groany, moany noises. Thinking she was having a bad dream, I ran up to the bed and grabbed her arm and told her to wake up. She screamed. I screamed. Then I saw my Mickey Mouse electric toothbrush in her hand. I grabbed it and ran out of the room, down the hallway, and into my room, slamming the door behind me.

If this ain't friendship, I don't know what is: One of my friends in ninth grade was obsessed with masturbating. One evening I got a call from her and she was speaking very softly, but rapidly, obviously in tears. She told me that she had shoved a hot dog up her vagina trying to get off and couldn't get it out. This was the same girl who, not two weeks before, had burned her vagina trying to masturbate with a curling iron which she THOUGHT was only mildly warmed. I wanted to hang up and run away, but she was so upset I went over to try to help her. She answered the door, walking very awkwardly and trying to appear cheerful in front of her mom. In her room, we quickly realized that there was nothing either of us could do. Leaving her sobbing in her room, I went and explained to her mother why her daughter needed to go to the emergency room. That was fun. With the help of a 19-year-old uncle, I bought her a vibrator for her next birthday.

I was a 16-year-old girl visiting my very old-school grandparents while on summer break. I had also recently discovered the joys of masturbation. For some reason, I decided to see if I could fit my entire hand into my vagina. Well, I managed to fit it, but I couldn't get it back out. I had to call my grandmother for help. She couldn't get it out either. I wound up wrapped in a blanket, sitting in the emergency room. The nice doctor managed to lube me up and stretch me enough to finally get it out.

I was in school and really horny (probably had my mind on some guy). So I got a pass for the bathroom, went into a stall, pulled down my pants, and started fingering myself. Suddenly the stall door opened. I hadn't carefully locked the door in my rush to fingerfuck myself. But it wasn't another student at the door--it was my Spanish teacher! Needless to say, I cut my Spanish class that day. My Spanish teacher never called on me or made eye contact with me again. She would, however, glance at my hands and make disgusted faces.

You transparent cocksuck--oh, wait a minute. I'm being nice this week and, shit, man, your father just died. Let me start over: I'm so very sorry about your father passing away, MOMCAA. My condolences, you transparent cocksucker.

In addition to avoiding "spas" that use "therapeutic" and "AMT Certified" in their ads, you should also avoid massage therapists who describes themselves as a LMPs (licensed massage practitioners) and "spas" that use tasteful line drawings of trees or streams in their ads. What you should be looking for are places that use images of sleazy-looking women with big hair in their ads (think Nagel print), as those are the places you're most likely to find a happy ending. But if you want a handjob from the nice lady, STROKEME (well done!), you're gonna have to ask the nice lady for a handjob. Here's the code: After you arrive, and after the woman gets a feel for whether you're a cop or not, ask her this simple question: "Do you offer erotic massage with release?" Yes, it sounds creepy. That's because "happy endings" are creepy; in your situation, the creep factor can't be avoided.

So what do you say when she's blowing you and you're getting close? When you're reaching the point of no return, simply say, "Oh, baby, if you keep doing that, whoa, I'm gonna come." If she redoubles her efforts, that's a sign that she wants you to come in her mouth. But you're not off the hook yet: When you're past the point of no return, when you're actually beginning to come, say, "Oh, baby, I'm coming." Then it's her call: In her mouth, on her face, in her hand, over her shoulder, right back at you--she's got ahold of your cock, and once you're coming she can point it and shoot it wherever she likes.

Go and find yourself a shrink. Advice columnists can address big, scary issues but we're not in a position to help anyone work through them.

Most men are routine masturbators, NW, and the rest are liars. If routine masturbation left men too exhausted to ever have sex, no one but lesbians would ever get laid.

Your son is 14 fucking years old, you moron, OF COURSE HE'S BEATING OFF IN HIS ROOM. Where did you beat off when you were 14? Buckingham Palace? If you don't know what to say to your son, SAU, I have a suggestion: "I'm terribly sorry I walked into your room without knocking, kiddo. I promise to respect your privacy in the future. Forgive me. What I did was wrong."

If you stick something in your boyfriend's ass out of spite and not desire, NFAG, I hope your boyfriend enjoys it so much that you spend the rest of your life sticking things in his ass, from tools of your choosing to table legs to the occasional big black man.

Is this healthy? In a medical sense, yes. Since you're careful to sterilize the pubes you collect off the urinal at work before you put them in your mouth and beat off, you're certainly not going to make yourself sick. You are, however, going to make other people sick if you run around telling people about your strange behavior. So file your fetish under "No one needs to know." Start no clubs, put up no websites, send no more letters to advice columnists. Otherwise, SIN, if you can still have orgasms without Mr. Distraction Stud's pubic hairs resting on your tongue, and if you're not turning down dates with other good-looking guys with pubes of their own, then I wouldn't describe your obsession as necessarily unhealthy. So you go right on enjoying yourself, you hear? While you may be grossing people out this week, SIN, you're not hurting anyone--not even Mr. Distraction Stud. It's not as if he's going to miss his pubes, after all. In fact, his pubes, once they've been abandoned on the urinal, are no longer his personal property. The very same laws that allow the police to go through your trash once you put it on the curb would have to apply to Mr. DS's abandoned pubes. If he ever finds out what you've been up to, well, then he may be able to argue that you're creating a hostile work environment, and he may get your pervert ass fired. But so long as you're as discreet as you are hygienic, I don't see a problem. I also don't want to see any more mail from you.

The new meaning of "santorum" is, what, three weeks old? And already people are trying to pervert it! Santorum is not an inch-thick layer of crap and lube all over your ass, MESS. Santorum is that frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex. It is never, ever the point of anal sex. Picture an amber-hued froth, MESS, not an inch-thick layer of crap. The latter's not santorum, it's just scat.

Sorry, SINMLN, but innocent people named Santorum will just have to deal, just like guys named Dick and girls named Peg and people named Lewinsky. If other folks named Santorum are angry, well, they should direct their anger at the jackass senator himself. He brought santorum down on all their heads, not me.

Blah blah fuckin' blah, WMD. Send the fucking girl the fucking letter already, you fucking coward. You don't want her as a friend--in fact, being her friend was such torture that you were already pulling away from her. So what do you have to lose by telling her how you really feel? So send her the fucking letter. If you lose her friendship, well, so fucking what? You were losing her friendship anyway. Pull the fucking trigger.

No, you don't owe her an apology. While I generally agree with your mother--men shouldn't strike women--all bets are off when a woman bites down on a man's penis so hard that she draws blood. I imagine your mother didn't anticipate this particular circumstance when she taught you not to strike a woman. It's too bad your mother didn't teach you not to make jokes at the expense of a person who happens to have your penis between her teeth.

A man who ejaculates on a woman after she asks him to stop is a rapist. A man who touches another man at a sex club is a rapist. Pornographers are proxy rapists. Corporations are economic rapists. Advertisers are mental rapists. Your narrow definition of rape heaps condemnation on certain types of rape while excusing others.

I am unwilling to undergo the nine-month infestation that traditionally prompts the production of breast milk.

Some men are abusive assholes, boner or no boner, and for that reason alone women have to be careful. Arousal doesn't make a guy an abusive asshole, WOG--although plenty of abusive assholes have tried to use arousal as an excuse.

First, straight men will say and do anything for pussy. They'll lie, they'll cheat, they'll steal, they'll make false promises, and they'll put it on Visa. And some men aren't above toying with a woman's feelings or exploiting her maternal longings in an effort to keep her panties fallin' down. The hemming and hawing is for show--he's simply stalling for time, hoping his wife or girlfriend will lose interest in kids or hit menopause.

You can break up with your girlfriend for starters. Trust me, RMPS, a girl who would sell her lover's homemade porn videos to an Internet pornographer in a jealous fit shouldn't be trusted around anyone's genitals. Leave her.

Egypt recently tossed a 15-year-old boy in jail for having gay sex (that should put a stop to his homosexual activities), and sentenced 23 other men to long periods of hard labor for being gay. If that sounds bad, consider the fate of three men in Saudi Arabia who were recently convicted of "marrying amongst themselves": All three men were beheaded--talk about your Defense of Marriage Acts. According to the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission, the Bush administration hasn't said boo to our Arab allies about these abuses.

Here's a snappy, smart-ass line that might do the trick: "Eat my pussy or I'll break your fucking legs." If that doesn't work, try this one: "Honey, you're going to eat my pussy or I'm going to divorce your sorry ass." Or the next time he wants some head, say: "Does my baby lamb want a blowjob? Well fuck off, you selfish, unresponsive bastard. Do you know it's been three years since I had an orgasm? Suck your own goddamned dick!" As for steppin' out for the oral sex you deserve: Go for it.

1. Trim those fingernails.
2. Opera-length latex gloves.
3. Anal fisting? Enemas, enemas, enemas.
4. Anal or vaginal fisting? Lube, lube, lube.
5. Start with one finger. Then two, three, four. When your partner is good and relaxed, make your hand as narrow as possible--press your thumb into your palm--and slip your whole hand in. Only when you're "all the way in" do you make a fist.
6. Some anal fisters find poppers help them relax 'n' release their butt. Poppers are, of course, illegal in the United States and I would never, never, never advise someone to fist under the influence of an illegal drug. But I've heard poppers are very helpful.
7. Go slowly.
8. Remove your watch, or have it removed for you.

I get a lot of mail from disabled/ugly/fat/old people complaining about shallow able-bodied/pretty/thin/young people who refuse to date them. "Why can't able-bodied/pretty/thin/young people appreciate me for how beautiful I am on the inside?" they write. "Dan, you should scold the able-bodied/pretty/thin/young for being so hurtful and shallow!"

When I suggest to these disabled/ugly/fat/old folks that they might have better luck dating other people who are disabled/ugly/fat/old, they invariably respond, "But I'm only attracted to people who are able-bodied/pretty/thin/young!" What this means, of course, is that the disgruntled disabled/ugly/fat/old folks who write me are every bit as shallow as the able-bodied/pretty/thin/young ones they're writing in to complain about.

Sexual orientation may not be a choice, but sexual identity is. The more closely a person's professed sexual identity reflects his behavior, and the more closely his behavior reflects his desires, the less fucked-up and conflicted he's likely to be. If a guy's sexual and emotional desires are overwhelmingly hetero, on the other hand, but he likes to suck cock once in a great while, then identifying as bisexual is rather misleading. A guy who's exclusively into women emotionally and 95 percent into women sexually probably shouldn't tell anyone he's bi.

Okay, here's the plan: Place a personal ad, sift through the responses, and then arrange to meet the men who interest you. For your own safety, tell them you're going to need their full names and both their home phone numbers. Do NOT invite them over to your place, do NOT give them your name and phone number, do NOT make plans to have sex at your first meeting. Your first meeting should be a short getting-to-know-you session that takes place in the middle of the day and in a public place. If you click with a pair of guys, call them back after your meeting and tell them to book two hotel rooms. Why two rooms? Because on the night the big three-way goes down, a friend of yours will be staying in the hotel room across the hall. "I got a great feeling from you guys when we met," you should tell them, "and I feel like I can trust you. But just to be on the safe side, I want my friend to be there. One loud 'help' and he'll call the cops."

But brothers and sisters? Falling in love? Making babies? I'm sorry, PH, but that's just fucked up. As for your parents, I can't imagine they'll take the news any better than I did (I certainly hope not), so why don't you spare them the details as well as the three-legged grandchildren?

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. Once again, the polls open Friday, July 26, at 9:00 a.m. EST. The polls will close at 5:00 p.m., Tuesday, August 6. To vote for the best-looking contestant in Savage Love's "My Man Sure Looks Hot in His Tighty-Whities Contest" go to www..... Wait! Before I give the address, there's something I have to get off my chest. Not all the "My Man Sure Looks Hot in His Tighty-Whities Contest" contestants are actually all that hot--and that's fine. I don't mind going to Las Vegas with someone average. I'm not running this contest to get laid. I am, however, concerned that evildoers out there will vote for some of the scarier contestants--the man with the huge brown cock, the strange-looking cat with the mustache, the guy chain-sawing a dog in half--in an attempt to ruin my trip to Las Vegas. There are people out there who don't like me or my column much, and I'm afraid they're going to take advantage of this opportunity to ruin my life. That's why I'm issuing this appeal to those of you out there who do like me and like Savage Love: You know my tastes--slim, boyish, hairless--and I would be forever in your debt if you would do me a favor and cast your ballots for my kinda guys. Okay the polls open Friday at

You furries have such thin skins--no, wait. That was insensitive of me. You furries have such thin hides.

To hurry the giving-up process along, show the girlfriend how much fun anal sex is by giving up your own ass. Once she sees how much fun you're having while she pounds away at your ass with a HUGE strap-on, she'll be anxious to try it out, ring or no ring. Or were you saving your ass for the wedding night too?

Allow me a brief introductory sentence, in which I shall convey to you the wonderment that is the result of my gleaming genes, my incredible chemical composition. "Mr. Z" is a fastidious dresser. Alas, "Mr. Z" cannot find love. All "Mr. Z" wants is a warm body to dance with beneath the moonlight. Help "Mr. Z"!
Mr. Z

Perhaps Mr. Z isn't getting any because Mr. Z is far too ANNOYING to fuck.

Any man who reacts badly to, "Hey, honey, I didn't dig that, so let's not do that again," isn't someone you want to be with anyway.

You MUST sit your daughter down, look her straight in the eye, and you MUST say the following: "Please accept my apology. I've been such a dumb bitch about all of this and I hope you'll forgive me." Then hand your daughter a nicely wrapped package. Inside the package? A dildo of her very own. Then you MUST say this: "Like all girls your age, you're curious about sex, and your hormones are raging, and you're old enough to masturbate, and masturbation is healthy and natural. Your desire to experiment with penetration is likewise healthy and natural. You're no longer grounded, and as we speak your father is putting a lock on your bedroom door, so that you can masturbate in total privacy. Now get out of my sight, you little scamp."

I didn’t discuss your problem with a therapist, HOTTY, but I did share your letter with my lawyer, along with an early, much different draft of my advice for you. Ahem: My lawyer, as an officer of the court, strongly advised me not to advise you to do anything illegal with him. Until this boy is 18, it would be illegal for you to GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM, so it would be irresponsible of me in the extreme to advise you to GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM, even if I think it’s highly unlikely that anyone would be harmed if you were to GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM. An older person can, in good conscience, sleep with a younger person provided the older person obeys the Four Big Nos of Sleeping with a Young, Inexperienced Person: 1. Tell no lies. 2. Transmit no diseases. 3. Make no babies. 4. Break no hearts. However, she and the boy can have a meaningful short-term relationship. Meaningful short-term relationships don’t get much press, and a lot of people aren’t even aware they exist. But exist they do--and when pressed, most people can recall having at least one in their youth. I know I had one. (Yes, Tommy, I’m thinking of you.) While I’ll admit that the fourth No is tricky--despite the older person’s best efforts, the younger one can still wind up with a broken heart (and yes, Tommy, I’m thinking of you)--if the older person observes the first three Nos, then the older person can’t be condemned if the fourth doesn’t work out. Finally, my lawyer wanted me to add a fifth No to the list: Break no laws. So in conclusion, and at the insistence of my lawyer, let me emphasize again to you, HOTTY, that you shouldn’t initiate a meaningful short-term relationship with this boy until he’s 18. I hope I’m making myself clear: You must wait until this boy turns 18 before you GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM. Do we understand each other?

When your done chompin' on her hair pie, jump out of bed, dunk your head in a bucket of bleach, inhale, gargle, and then jump back on the girlfriend. Lord knows it's what I would do if I had to lick something as grotesque-sounding as a "quivering quim." Ugh.

But your girlfriend can't see past the bondage. While it can't be denied that consensual erotic bondage is a kind of ritualized sexual violence, consent transforms even seemingly violent sex acts into hearts-and-bunnies-and-flowers sex. On the flip side, a lack of consent can transform the dullest vanilla sex into an act of sexual violence. Consent is always and everywhere the magic ingredient, and your girlfriend's inability to see the implied consent in this image betrays her discomfort with kinky sex.

Mutually agreed upon role-playing sessions with a defined beginning, middle and end.

Depriving spouses of sex—or subjecting them to absolutely joyless sex in the hope that they'll stop asking for any at all—is an act of emotional violence. This brand of emotional violence not only creates frustration, anger, and desperation but inevitably leads to infidelity, which all too often leads to divorce, broken homes, and traumatized children. And who gets the blame? Getting married—or civilly united or shacking up or whatever—is like buying a cow. You know going in that you're going to have to milk the thing. But unlike an unmilked cow, a spouse—male or female—won't just stand there in a field and suffer. A spouse is a cow with a credit card, a job, and a car.

01, 02, 03, 04

Source: City Pages and Village Voice and The Stranger (of which he is editor and advice columnist)


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