Everything from frozen peas to Brokeback Mountain. We asked 11 men. Their answers may surprise you. With sounds for everything from sexcapades to masturbating. Our most-read Sex Diary to date.
A few typos and we thought that marks character could have had more depth and perhaps a woemn bio. And she wondered if the theory explained why heterosexual women responded genitally more to the exercising woman than to the ambling man. Chivers is perpetually devising experiments to perform Sexy control women story the future, and one would test how tightly linked the system of arousal is to the mechanisms of desire. Full of scientific exuberance, Chivers has struggled to make sense of her data. Like Chivers, Meana thinks of female sexuality as divided into two systems.
Sexual harrassment books for young adults. More from Sex & Relationships
Although I'd had a few experiences with girls, I was still a virgin. Just staring at me. They drove me to their home. I had to stop him because I was so freaked out, so I got my clothes and left. She continued talking and I don't remember what she was saying, but pretty soon she had reached over and put her hand under my sleeping bag on top of my underwear, resting it on Celebrity sexf outline of my cock, gently squeezing my cock through my underwear. Sunblade Ch. Preview comment. I was definitely not Sexy control women story right girl for him! About twenty minutes later a white, beat-up ford, pulled up. That Damn Bell Dominant play contril a reluctant kitten. Home Coming I arrive home after a long and frustrating business trip. Slipping Away to Nirvanna She sucked him until he had to have her.
For that reason, she resisted talking about the movement in the book.
- These are, with some poetic license, true stories that focus on my kinkier experiences, rather than on more conventional sexual relations.
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- Oh me, oh my, the things people do to get laid.
Meredith Chivers is a creator of bonobo pornography. The bonobo film was part of a series of related experiments she has carried out over the past several years.
She showed the short movie to men and women, straight and gay. To the same subjects, she also showed clips of heterosexual sex, male and female homosexual sex, a man masturbating, a woman masturbating, a chiseled man walking naked on a beach and a well-toned woman doing calisthenics in the nude.
While the subjects watched on a computer screen, Chivers, who favors high boots and fashionable rectangular glasses, measured their arousal in two ways, objectively and subjectively. The participants sat in a brown leatherette La-Z-Boy chair in her small lab at the Center for Addiction and Mental Health, a prestigious psychiatric teaching hospital affiliated with the University of Toronto, where Chivers was a postdoctoral fellow and where I first talked with her about her research a few years ago.
The genitals of the volunteers were connected to plethysmographs — for the men, an apparatus that fits over the penis and gauges its swelling ; for the women, a little plastic probe that sits in the vagina and, by bouncing light off the vaginal walls, measures genital blood flow.
An engorgement of blood spurs a lubricating process called vaginal transudation: the seeping of moisture through the walls. The participants were also given a keypad so that they could rate how aroused they felt.
Males who identified themselves as straight swelled while gazing at heterosexual or lesbian sex and while watching the masturbating and exercising women. They were mostly unmoved when the screen displayed only men. Gay males were aroused in the opposite categorical pattern. Any expectation that the animal sex would speak to something primitive within the men seemed to be mistaken; neither straights nor gays were stirred by the bonobos. And for the male participants, the subjective ratings on the keypad matched the readings of the plethysmograph.
All was different with the women. No matter what their self-proclaimed sexual orientation, they showed, on the whole, strong and swift genital arousal when the screen offered men with men, women with women and women with men. They responded objectively much more to the exercising woman than to the strolling man, and their blood flow rose quickly — and markedly, though to a lesser degree than during all the human scenes except the footage of the ambling, strapping man — as they watched the apes.
And with the women, especially the straight women, mind and genitals seemed scarcely to belong to the same person. During shots of lesbian coupling, heterosexual women reported less excitement than their vaginas indicated; watching gay men, they reported a great deal less; and viewing heterosexual intercourse, they reported much more.
Among the lesbian volunteers, the two readings converged when women appeared on the screen. But when the films featured only men, the lesbians reported less engagement than the plethysmograph recorded. Whether straight or gay, the women claimed almost no arousal whatsoever while staring at the bonobos.
Full of scientific exuberance, Chivers has struggled to make sense of her data. She struggled when we first spoke in Toronto , and she struggled, unflagging, as we sat last October in her university office in Kingston, a room she keeps spare to help her mind stay clear to contemplate the intricacies of the erotic.
The cinder-block walls are unadorned except for three photographs she took of a temple in India featuring carvings of an entwined couple, an orgy and a man copulating with a horse. She has been pondering sexuality, she recalled, since the age of 5 or 6, when she ruminated over a particular kiss, one she still remembers vividly, between her parents.
And she has been discussing sex without much restraint, she said, laughing, at least since the age of 15 or 16, when, for a few male classmates who hoped to please their girlfriends, she drew a picture and clarified the location of the clitoris. In , when she worked as an assistant to a sexologist at the Center for Addiction and Mental Health, then called the Clarke Institute of Psychiatry, she found herself the only woman on a floor of researchers investigating male sexual preferences and what are known as paraphilias — erotic desires that fall far outside the norm.
Who am I to study women, when I am a man? But the discipline remains male-dominated. But soon the AIDS epidemic engulfed the attention of the field, putting a priority on prevention and making desire not an emotion to explore but an element to be feared, a source of epidemiological disaster. One study, for instance, published this month in the journal Evolution and Human Behavior by the Kinsey Institute psychologist Heather Rupp, uses magnetic resonance imaging to show that, during the hormonal shifts of ovulation, certain brain regions in heterosexual women are more intensely activated by male faces with especially masculine features.
Intriguing glimmers have come not only from female scientists. Richard Lippa, a psychologist at California State University , Fullerton, has employed surveys of thousands of subjects to demonstrate over the past few years that while men with high sex drives report an even more polarized pattern of attraction than most males to women for heterosexuals and to men for homosexuals , in women the opposite is generally true: the higher the drive, the greater the attraction to both sexes, though this may not be so for lesbians.
Investigating the culmination of female desire, Barry Komisaruk, a neuroscientist at Rutgers University , has subjects bring themselves to orgasm while lying with their heads in an fM. But Chivers, with plenty of self-doubting humor, told me that she hopes one day to develop a scientifically supported model to explain female sexual response, though she wrestles, for the moment, with the preliminary bits of perplexing evidence she has collected — with the question, first, of why women are aroused physiologically by such a wider range of stimuli than men.
Are men simply more inhibited, more constrained by the bounds of culture? Chivers has tried to eliminate this explanation by including male-to-female transsexuals as subjects in one of her series of experiments one that showed only human sex.
These trans women, both those who were heterosexual and those who were homosexual, responded genitally and subjectively in categorical ways. They responded like men. This seemed to point to an inborn system of arousal. Still, she spoke about a recent study by one of her mentors, Michael Bailey, a sexologist at Northwestern University : while fM.
Early results from a similar Bailey study with female subjects suggest the same absence of suppression. For Chivers, this bolsters the possibility that the distinctions in her data between men and women — including the divergence in women between objective and subjective responses, between body and mind — arise from innate factors rather than forces of culture. One manifestation of this split has come in experimental attempts to use Viagra-like drugs to treat women who complain of deficient desire.
By some estimates, 30 percent of women fall into this category, though plenty of sexologists argue that pharmaceutical companies have managed to drive up the figures as a way of generating awareness and demand.
Desire, it seems, is usually in steady supply. In women, though, the main difficulty appears to be in the mind, not the body, so the physiological effects of the drugs have proved irrelevant. As with other such drugs, one worry was that it would dull the libido. Yet in early trials, while it showed little promise for relieving depression, it left female — but not male — subjects feeling increased lust.
Testosterone, so vital to male libido, appears crucial to females as well, and in drug trials involving postmenopausal women, testosterone patches have increased sexual activity. For the discord, in women, between the body and the mind, she has deliberated over all sorts of explanations, the simplest being anatomy. The penis is external, its reactions more readily perceived and pressing upon consciousness.
Women might more likely have grown up, for reasons of both bodily architecture and culture — and here was culture again, undercutting clarity — with a dimmer awareness of the erotic messages of their genitals. Chivers said she has considered, too, research suggesting that men are better able than women to perceive increases in heart rate at moments of heightened stress and that men may rely more on such physiological signals to define their emotional states, while women depend more on situational cues.
So there are hints, she told me, that the disparity between the objective and the subjective might exist, for women, in areas other than sex.
And this disconnection, according to yet another study she mentioned, is accentuated in women with acutely negative feelings about their own bodies. Lust, in this formulation, resides in the subjective, the cognitive; physiological arousal reveals little about desire. Besides the bonobos, a body of evidence involving rape has influenced her construction of separate systems.
She has confronted clinical research reporting not only genital arousal but also the occasional occurrence of orgasm during sexual assault. And she has recalled her own experience as a therapist with victims who recounted these physical responses.
She is familiar, as well, with the preliminary results of a laboratory study showing surges of vaginal blood flow as subjects listen to descriptions of rape scenes. So, in an attempt to understand arousal in the context of unwanted sex, Chivers, like a handful of other sexologists, has arrived at an evolutionary hypothesis that stresses the difference between reflexive sexual readiness and desire. Ancestral women who did not show an automatic vaginal response to sexual cues may have been more likely to experience injuries during unwanted vaginal penetration that resulted in illness, infertility or even death, and thus would be less likely to have passed on this trait to their offspring.
And she wondered if the theory explained why heterosexual women responded genitally more to the exercising woman than to the ambling man. You need something complementary.
That receptivity element. The study Chivers is working on now tries to re-examine the results of her earlier research, to investigate, with audiotaped stories rather than filmed scenes, the apparent rudderlessness of female arousal.
But it will offer too a glimpse into the role of relationships in female eros. Chivers is perpetually devising experiments to perform in the future, and one would test how tightly linked the system of arousal is to the mechanisms of desire. She would like to follow the sexual behavior of women in the days after they are exposed to stimuli in her lab.
If stimuli that cause physiological response — but that do not elicit a positive rating on the keypad — lead to increased erotic fantasies, masturbation or sexual activity with a partner, then she could deduce a tight link.
Though women may not want, in reality, what such stimuli present, Chivers could begin to infer that what is judged unappealing does, nevertheless, turn women on. The relationship with DeGeneres ended after two years, and Heche went on to marry a man.
After 12 years together, the pair separated and Cypher — like Heche — has returned to heterosexual relationships. Diamond is a tireless researcher. The study that led to her book has been going on for more than 10 years.
During that time, she has followed the erotic attractions of nearly young women who, at the start of her work, identified themselves as either lesbian or bisexual or refused a label.
From her analysis of the many shifts they made between sexual identities and from their detailed descriptions of their erotic lives, Diamond argues that for her participants, and quite possibly for women on the whole, desire is malleable, that it cannot be captured by asking women to categorize their attractions at any single point, that to do so is to apply a male paradigm of more fixed sexual orientation.
Among the women in her group who called themselves lesbian, to take one bit of the evidence she assembles to back her ideas, just one-third reported attraction solely to women as her research unfolded. And with the other two-thirds, the explanation for their periodic attraction to men was not a cultural pressure to conform but rather a genuine desire.
She acknowledged this. But she emphasized that the pattern for her group over the years, both in the changing categories they chose and in the stories they told, was toward an increased sense of malleability. If female eros found its true expression over the course of her long research, then flexibility is embedded in the nature of female desire.
One reason for this phenomenon, she suggests, may be found in oxytocin, a neurotransmitter unique to mammalian brains. For Diamond, all of this helps to explain why, in women, the link between intimacy and desire is especially potent. View all New York Times newsletters. She is now formulating an explanatory model of female desire that will appear later this year in Annual Review of Sex Research. She spun numerous Hula-Hoops around her minimal waist and was hoisted by a cable high above the audience, where she spread her legs wider than seemed humanly possible.
The male, without an erection, is announcing a lack of arousal. The critical part played by being desired, Julia Heiman observed, is an emerging theme in the current study of female sexuality.
Meana made clear, during our conversations in a casino bar and on the U. With her graduate student Amy Lykins, she published, in Archives of Sexual Behavior last year, a study of visual attention in heterosexual men and women. Wearing goggles that track eye movement, her subjects looked at pictures of heterosexual foreplay. The men stared far more at the females, their faces and bodies, than at the males. The women gazed equally at the two genders, their eyes drawn to the faces of the men and to the bodies of the women — to the facial expressions, perhaps, of men in states of wanting, and to the sexual allure embodied in the female figures.
Meana has learned too from her attempts as a clinician to help patients with dyspareunia. Though she explained that the condition, which can make intercourse excruciating, is not in itself a disorder of low desire, she said that her patients reported reduced genital pain as their desire increased.
She rolled her eyes at such niceties.
Piles upon piles of dirty clothes were laid on top of video games, which laid on top of his dingy twin mattress. He's one of those 'I go to the gym every day and drink things that involve raw eggs and grass' types. Slipping Away to Nirvanna She sucked him until he had to have her. Jones and the Bellhop Ch. Arcadia Castle Ch. As a general rule, the human race can get up to some pretty strange business.
Sexy control women story. Change picture
A Mistress is Born Hubby comes home to the surprise of his wife taking control. Slipping Away to Nirvanna She sucked him until he had to have her. The Going Away Gift Woman gives her friend a going away gift he won't forget. CJ and Sherri Ch. Taking Control Laura gets bored of waiting for a fuck buddy to turn up.
Night with the Nanny Ch. Wet and Wild A shower the next morning reignites our passion. The Office Vixen Ch. On Her Terms She only gives him what he wants when she wants it, too. Rainy Day Summer She catches brother's friend in her room. My Wife's First Facial Wife allows hubby to experience facial fantasy.
Teresa's Slave You must do whatever she asks. In the Kitchen She takes control and torments him with ice.
Conventional Lust Ch. You and I You take turns with mild restraints and exploration. Separate tags with commas. More info in the FAQ. These women plunged into unbelievable sex stories land and lived to tell the tale much to our delight.
In this gallery, you'll learn the truth of a speedo's attractiveness hint: it's low , and when it's appropriate to dress up like a superhero in order to seduce your date second hint: never. So take note, boys and girls: women love you and want to sleep with you, but not if you are trying to seduce us in a spectacularly dirty room, or, you know, pee on us unless that's your deal, in which case, no judgment.
Here are 11 women's craziest sex stories for your reading pleasure. Begin slideshow. He was obsessed with my butt. He seemed like a normal guy who I thought would be a fun hookup. But before we'd barely even gotten into it, he asked if he could put it in my butt. When I said no, he asked, 'Why not? Not to mention all he could talk about the rest of the time that we hung out was my ass. That was the end of that. He apologized after a little time had passed and was actually sincere about it, but I was definitely not interested in trying again.
When I say no, I mean NO. He had a pee fetish. We haven't spoken in over a year. He wanted to listen to the 'Laverne and Shirley' theme while we had sex. So, before we got intimate he decided to turn on the theme song to the TV show Laverne and Shirley.
It's just not possible. He was a little too into taxidermy. He was cute, romantic and really funny. We got to his charming apartment and low and behold, he was into taxidermy. But I'm not talking a stuffed moose. Being that it's New York City and the apartments are small, all he had room for was a stuffed squirrel, lying on his fireplace mantle on its side. Just staring at me. A stuffed squirrel? That's an urban rodent. Who wants to make eye contact with a squirrel when they're having sex?
His creepy animalistic tendencies came out. He's one of those 'I go to the gym every day and drink things that involve raw eggs and grass' types. Great body, totally chiseled. So we're getting all hot and heavy, clothes start coming off and he starts grunting. And I don't mean in a good way. He starts grunting, shaking his head from side to side, rolling his shoulders around.
The closer we get to intercourse, the crazier this gets. Now, he's saying, "Yeah bro! I was like, is he about to bench press me, or do me? It was so creepy! I had to stop him because I was so freaked out, so I got my clothes and left. I got a dozen roses the next day with a note saying, 'So sorry for my King-Kong like behavior. You bring out the animal in me He licked my armpit!
On purpose. He dressed up as Spider-Man. I screamed and ran out of there so fast!
Fire Escape - Red Hot Erotic Fiction
Katy Thorn July 23, The following short erotic story explores a lust between colleagues that is much sexier than just an office crush. Read on…. But time was not something Sara had much of any more. Everything was urgent. Everything had a deadline. The office had become her life, and her life had become the office. Her routine was to wake up Monday, dress, eat, commute, work, return, wash, repeat. She may as well copy Monday and paste it through the week until Sunday, when she could spend her free time preparing to begin all over again.
Sara had lost her spark somewhere along the way, and she felt it. A vague feeling that she was missing something essential. Every time she left a room she patted down imaginary pockets, a subconscious bodily tick she had acquired somewhere in the last two years, as though she always felt she had forgotten something. That sensation was with her every moment of every day. It was something far more fundamental than that.
Sure, she had her little rebellions. Every now and then she would slip out for a cigarette and enjoy its badness. Perhaps once a month she would wear something sexy beneath her charcoal trouser suit, something only she could know and touch. Her little secret, her little mutiny. It was only a little thing, but it made her stand taller, walk bolder and smile a little more than usual. She needed to protect it: to rebel to often would be to trample the embers, it would no longer be special.
But it was no longer enough. She had stopped counting the months since her last date, let alone her last fling. She wondered what had happened to her. She used to take risks. She used to be spontaneous. She was embarrassed that she had traded it all in for a T-shirt bra and a competitive wage. Today, though, she did feel special, and she would make it happen whatever the cost.
And then there was Mark. Mark was new, Sara had interviewed him for the job and had found herself uncomfortable during it when she realized she was flirting with him.
At 27 he was five years her junior, smart, clean, arrogant and intelligent. Ever since the interview there had been something intangible between them, an awkwardness that belied attraction. The mature thing would have been to ignore it, maybe even joke about it, and let it extend no further than a misguided kiss at an office party. But Sara wanted a break from maturity and Mark was going to provide it. She glanced at Mark from her desk.
He was sorting through papers at his own desk. She brought up her instant messenger and began to type. Sara watched. Mark read the message and his brow ruffled a little in confused alarm. His eyes shot across the office and met hers. He registered to mischievous smile on her face. Sara says : two of us should stay behind to make sure everyone gets out safely. I just promoted you to assistant fire officer.
Are you up to the task? Sara stood slowly with a devious smile growing across her face, sauntered nonchalantly over to the wall, checked no one was looking, grabbed the lever for the fire alarm and pulled.
The office suddenly became alive with noise, as obnoxious alarms began to screech and people began to clamber away from their desks. She stood by the fire escape door, held it open and pushed her colleagues out one by one, like paratroopers from a plane. Mark was last, and before he could leave, she slammed the door closed. It was just her and him in the loud, empty office. She pressed her back against the door and took him by the tie, pulling him to her, and without a word, they kissed hard and urgently.
He wrapped one strong hand around the back of her head, gripping her long hair, and pressed his weight into her. The sprinkler system switched on and they were doused as they kissed, as though the heat between them might cause them to ignite. The cool water poured over them, drowning the fragrance of his aftershave and causing his white shirt to cling to his tall, slim frame.
With one hand she explored his body, and with the other she unbuttoned her pants and slid her hand inside. Mark stepped back, still holding her hair pressing her against the fire escape door, and watched her pleasure herself in anticipation of him. He listened to her quickening breath and the growing pleasure of her body as the sprinklers drenched them. She slid her suit pants down and kicked them off. She stood in heels, dark lace-top stockings shrouding her long creamy legs, silk suspenders and a lace thong with her hand inside, and her shirt and jacket.
She pulled it out and stroked it as she stroked herself, and then pulled him to her, lifting her leg to his waist. She gasped as he took control and began to push slowly inside, little by little.
She began to grind up and down him, filling herself with him, holding him at the back of his neck for leverage and the other hand still pleasuring herself, enjoying the firmness of his grip in her hair. Mark lifted her leg a little higher so she was on tiptoes, and stroked long, satisfying strokes in and out of her. Sara could feel his strength, he was essentially lifting her off the ground and pressing her into the door like he was going to fuck her through it.
Her legs became weak as a familiar wave of pleasure rolled up her body, and she began to meet his thrusts with her own as she edged closer and closer. The waves of pleasure began to mount and evolve into bodily convulsions that gripped Mark tightly as he entered her, bringing him closer to his own peak.
Their faces were both turned up at the ceiling, eyes closed, mouths opened, soaking wet and moaning loudly. Finally, Sara allowed the wave to crash down on her and every muscle seized, hot convulsions shattering her whole body, breathing obscenities through gritted teeth. The convulsions gripped and massaged Mark within her, causing him to lose control, and he released a visceral growl as he climaxed inside her orgasm-wracked body.
Exhausted, they slumped into each other smiling under the water still cascading over them, the sounds of the alarms returning as their senses rallied.
They pressed their foreheads together and kissed. The fire brigade was arriving, it was time to go. With Sara, there was always a deadline. Tags Couples Free Sex Stories. This was one I read to my friends. It was pretty good. A few typos and we thought that marks character could have had more depth and perhaps a short bio. Katy this is such erotic and fun story with a lot of just row male and female power loved it ill be shure to folow you awesomeeeee!!!!!
Katy Thorn is a post-grad writer with a passion for writing about sex, sexuality, and all things rated R. She has a cat named Yoko, drinks too much black coffee, and hates writing bios.
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