What Makes a Hunk?
What do you first think when you hear “erotica”?

Ben Wa Balls have been around since about 500 A.D, initially used by Geisha in the orient. I chose the traditional basic version which are essentially two small marble-sized steel balls.The feeling of the balls floating freely in the vagina and constantly massaging the vaginal walls are said to cause intense sexual arousal. To keep them in, you have to flex your PC muscles constantly which is great for rebuilding relaxed tissues.Morning Bad Girls- Today I have a special treat for you from Ms. Esme over at Love, Esme.
She wanted to give us a look into Dating After Divorce- so let's hear what she has to say...
If there is one, fucking huge, difference between my pre-divorce life and post-divorce life, it has to be the dating. The god-damned dating. Who knew one 6-letter word could send cold chills down my spine, make my heart seize, and my brain fart…all at the same time. I hated dating. With such a passion, that I married the first man who showed an interest. Not my best plan, I have to admit. No…I don’t recommend it…but I did learn. So much of dating, I think, has to with age, confidence, and all out bad-assery. Yes, it’s a word. I just invented it. Fucking deal.
When I dated in my late teens/early twenties (because I did not yet have the confidence in myself to date as a younger woman), I still cared WAY TOO MUCH what people thought about me. I didn’t order the expensive things on the menu, because I didn’t want to be that person. I didn’t argue or debate with my date because it was just impolite. And if it was a god-awful waste-of-time date, I gave him 3, 4, or 10 more dates because I felt horrible for turning him down. See the pattern that developed here? I let myself become a fucking doormat, allowing any ass-hat to come along to take advantage of my sweet nature. My parents raised me to be polite, and I took it WAY TOO FAR.
Fast forward ten years. Ten glorious, learning and growing years. Dating? I fucking love dating. I love no-holds-barred dating. I love the whirlwind first date, where I make that dude’s head spin so fast he has no idea what the hell just happened. I breeze the fuck in, see if it is someone I am even remotely interested in meeting a second time, and get the fuck out. Never more then an hour and a half. A bad girl always has an excuse handy. This works for me for two reasons. One: Douchebags ALWAYS reveal themselves within an hour. Two: It gives me an extremely quick out when things do not go according to the bad girl fairy godmother‘s plan-because in her world they would all be amazingly hot half-dressed men ready to go for some intense…wait…I digress…
Case in point-I met a guy at a bar one afternoon. Within 15 minutes, he revealed the following: he had 8 kids with 3 different women, he wanted me to cook breakfast for them in the morning before school, I was never under any circumstances allowed to look in his wallet or at his phone, he had done something worth an ex-wife stabbing him, and he is not a huge fan of sex-or tits-but will play with mine if my fucking heart desires. I smiled at this guy as I leaned in to him some. I slowly lowered my eyelashes and traced my fingertip around the rim of my beer glass. Normally, I said, I would get up, put money on the table to cover my drink, thank you for the date and walk away. I raised my eyes so they met his and continued, But I am not even going to pay you that small courtesy. I got up and gracefully threw my trench coat over my shoulders as I walked away. I never looked back at his fucking ass. And you know what? It felt PHENOMENAL. The only thing that would have felt better? My stiletto in his fucking eye socket.
But Esme, you ask, what happens when you actually meet someone you are interested in seeing again? How do your rules work then? My hour and a half rule still stands…it leaves him, and me, wanting more…which in turns sends those chills down my spine. Only this time they feel very much delicious. I am so glad I embraced the bad-assery…
Much Love, Esme
Introducing Marie from O 4 Her as she explains the meaning behind Pimps and Hos...
I recently heard that phrase come out of the mouth of Kevin "KB" Blatt, the infamous ringleader behind the Paris Hilton Sex Tape. OK, that makes sense coming from him, but he was referring to everyone - including the rest of us "normal" folks. Huh? Now, me being the "fearsome goddess that doesn't like to be told what to do" type, my initial reaction was, “Oh hell no, douchebag!” I mean, no misogynist dude is gonna try and say this applies to me! Or to the other strong women in the world! Or for that matter, the many men in the world with integrity and respect for women! Pimps and Hos? I don't think so, Neanderthal.
But then I started thinking about it (I know, I do that sometimes!) Just for shits and giggles, let's take the analogy deeper than the traditional roles of male and female. Basically what he was saying is that you are either someone who makes the rules, or someone who has to play by those rules, right? This got me to thinking some more. And Googling. Turns out, KB (as usual) was using borrowing someone else's concept.
Enter Ghettophysics. It's a movie. Based on a book. About how we are all either pimps or hos. And with limited releases this month across the country, Ghettophysics has been getting generally positive reviews. Probably because from the looks of it, there might actually be some intelligence behind it all.
You're either a pimp or a ho. At first glance, it seems a little "black and white" (by the way, as much as I enjoy a good pun, this was not intended to be one this time!), and we all know the world don't work like that. But then maybe these terms don't have to work like that either. What if we said that, regardless of your sex, you could be both a pimp and a ho, in various shades at various times. You're roles in the world, the roles you choose, the roles you are given, determine your relative pimp-ness or ho-ness. Cubicle job: ho. CEO: pimp. Average citizen: ho. Congressman/woman: pimp. Churchgoer: ho. Priest: pimp. I'm starting to see the relevance.
I could go on, but I'm pretty sure you get my drift. And I'm pretty much all done thinking for today....*exhale*. OK, I lied - I have one last thought. I love the fact that some of us women have begun to claim the terms "bitch" and "ho" for our own. As strong women, we can say these words and own them. Way to go, bitches! And now it's time to bring it to the next level. Go out and take control of your decisions. Be a bitch, be a ho, AND be a pimp!