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I’m a 21-year-old female, and I’ve been going out with my boyfriend for four years. He wants me to masturbate for him, but I don’t feel comfortable doing it. I love my boyfriend and plan on marrying him, but I cannot find a way to do this. I would like to do it. I just can’t bring myself to let him watch.

—Wishing And Needing To Satisfy

So don’t let him watch, WANTS—at least not at first. Here’s what you need to do: Get your ass into a nice, cozy sex-toy shop—or visit one online if you’re too shy (babeland.com, good vibrations.com, comeasyouare.com, grand opening.com, familychristian.com)—and buy yourself a pair of nice, cozy blindfolds. Then go to a big, intimidating hardware store and buy a big, intimidating roll of duct tape. Then go to a bright, shiny Apple store and buy yourself a bright, shiny iPod. Then have your boyfriend sit in a chair next to the bed, put one of the blindfolds over his eyes, slap a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and put a pair of headphones—not earbuds, headphones—over his ears. Then get in bed, put the second blindfold on yourself, forget he’s in the room, and masturbate.

No need to be self-conscious: You can’t see him; he can’t see you—or hear what you’re doing or speak to you. All he can do is sit there and enjoy the mental images.

Once you’re used to masturbating with your sensory-deprived boyfriend in the room, try it without wearing a blindfold yourself. Once you’re comfortable with that, do away with the headphones and let him listen. Once you’re comfortable with him listening, stop taping his mouth shut and let him mumble sweet somethings. Then ditch his blindfold and let him watch.

And, no, I’m not kidding—this will work, WANTS, trust me.

This is a “reader submission” I found on cosmo politan.com’s Daily Confession:

“One freezing day last winter, a pipe burst in my bathroom. My local plumbing service sent a really hot guy named Jason to come fix it. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so the next day, I called the same company to complain about a clogged drain in my kitchen and requested Jason. When he showed up, he discovered that the drain really was clogged . . . with my sexiest thong. I started kissing him while he was still half under the sink, and we wound up having sex right on my tiled kitchen floor.”

I have always had a feeling that some of those stories are fictional. What do you think of this one?

—Cosmo Reader’s Understandable Doubts

I know for a fact that this story is 100 percent true, CRUD, because I submitted it myself. That was my kitchen, my plumber, and, yes, my thong. Not my sexiest though—I mean, come on. That plumber was cute, but not ruin-your-sexiest-thong cute.

Oh, and my kitchen floor isn’t tiled, it’s covered with wrestling mats because, hey, there’s nothing naughtier or more arousing—nothing kinkier—than doing it right there on the kitchen floor. At least that’s what I’ve been reading in Cosmo for 30 years now.

I’m a 21-year-old college student. I’m a gay male, and I have a thing for crossdressers. That isn’t unheard of, I know, but my thing for crossdressers comes with a twist. Most admirers like crossdressers who look like girls. I don’t. I like it when a crossdresser is a macho, moderately hairy, athletic jock, who just happens to be wearing women’s clothing. When I see some tall lacrosse player with gorgeous hairy legs, I think, “God, he’d look so damn good in a skirt.” So it’s not the pretty, passable crossdressers that do it for me. It’s the all-American jock next door. Put a body like that in a sexy teddy, and I’m so gone.

How do I deal with this desire? It seems like most crossdressers are either straight, or they’ve got a feminine body. How can I find the macho man in dresses of my dreams?

—Loves Jocks In Frocks

I wouldn’t say you’re into crossdressers, LJIF, but sexual transgression. It’s not any guy in women’s clothing that turns you on, but masculine, built, hairy guys in women’s clothing. So what turns your crank isn’t the fact of the crossdressing, per se, but the dissonance, the tension, and the contrast created by the crossdressing.

But that’s neither here nor there: How can you find the macho man of your dreams? The overwhelming majority of male crossdressers are straight, as you know, and most of the gay crossdressers out there are interested in passing. This leaves you with two options: a long, frustrating search for the mythical big, burly, gay jock that gets off on women’s clothing, or finding a big, burly, gay jock who loves you so much that he’s willing to dress up for you.

I was chatting with a guy who was looking to give away his money. That’s all he was asking for—giving it away, with nothing in return. He said it is a compulsion of his, and mentioned being sexually abused as a child. He wanted nothing in return, and part of the deal was that I’m not allowed to keep it, save it, or give it back to him. He’s a poor 24-year-old student, definitely needs the cash, and I definitely don’t. I asked him to give it away to a therapist—he agreed it was a good idea, but declined.

I had him send me $10 by PayPal to make sure he’s not bluffing. He wasn’t and he’s willing to send much more. I feel that my little game has gone too far, but what to do?

—Save Your Money

It’s his money, SYM, and he can give it away if he likes. And if you don’t take it, he’ll find someone with less scruples who will. So take some, just a bit, and only now and then. And keep him talking, SYM—you can be the therapist he refuses to see.

And bear in mind that a “cash slave” kink is as valid as any other kink—provided he, like all other kinksters, maintains some sense of balance and doesn’t destroy his life (or bankrupt himself) in pursuit of his particular thrill. If he can indulge this kink without being self-destructive, then he may not need a therapist. And, as always, there are worse things he could be into. He’s not asking you to castrate him, or shit in his mouth, or sit through one of Fred Thompson’s town-hall meetings.

After reading the letter from the girl who was “shocked and amazed” that people have a swim-cap fetish, I recall that it was quite common in certain bondage publications of the ’70s and ’80s. It’s nothing new.

MY personal fetish involves the polar opposite. I enjoy wearing thong sandals (I dislike the term “flip-flops”) and I like my dates to wear them. (BTW, I’m a straight guy, late 40s.) Sometimes I get a good reaction, but most times, women are resistant. They’d rather wear pumps or wedge heels instead of something comfortable. Could you explain why women would rather wear footwear that will kill their feet and give them bunions instead of cushy thong sandals?

—Thong Sandal Lover In Los Angeles

Except for a brief period in my life when I wore them myself, TSLILA, I’ve never understood the appeal of high heels.

Download a new Savage Love podcast every Tuesday at www.thestranger.com/savage.

mail@savagelove.net


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