Take Your Mama Out All Night

[via thievesinlaw]


 No.   Noooooo.  No.


Just when you thought you were safe, 'cause I live in Chicago now and he lives in Seattle....


Jason Is Overly Interested.

Q:  Ok, so Krista, when I watch lesbian porn, there's usually a scene where the two girls do some scissoring.  But you've told me a million times that sex with the ladies doesn't look anything like porn sex.  
So while I was watching the scissoring happen on the movie, I started wondering...do lesbians actually do that?  Do girls scissor?  
'Cause it must be kinda awkward.  Don't get me wrong, I very much want the answer to be yes, here.


A:  Christ, it's early.  Haven't even had coffee yet.  Calling me at 8 in the freakin' morning.  Who does that?  


Never talk about scissoring before noon, that's what I say.

Hell, it's noon somewhere.

Jason, you have a valid question, here.  You want to know about scissoring.  

Homos, here at Effing Dykes, I get a fair amount of mail. (Write to me! effingdykes@gmail.com and p.s. I like pictures.)  

I try to answer most of it, but sometimes it takes me a real long time.

However!  certain topics just seem to keep popping up.  

Like scissoring.  

This is about the 30th question I've had from someone about scissoring within the last few months.

And guess what?

Every single person who's asked me about scissoring has been male.

Shocker, that.

But you know what?  Let's do it.  Let's talk about scissoring.  
Put this thing to bed.

So, first of all, what is scissoring?  

What does it mean 'to scissor'?

Wikianswers has the answer!

"The term scissor, which is often used as verb (scissoring), is a sex position between lesbians. It is generally shown as two partners interlocking their legs with their heads 180 degrees apart while their vaginas are touching. In practice, the torsos of the women are often closer together, to the point of being close enough to kiss."

Thanks, Wikianswers!

(by joran van der sloot///)

Just to be sure of my definition of scissoring, I asked Cory, the homeless man who comes around the bakery, about it.

Me:  (handing over bribe of hot peanut butter cookie)  Hey, Cory, can I ask you something?

Cory:  Shoot, honeybuns.

Me:  What do you think the term "scissoring" means?"

Cory:  (guffaws)  Scissoring!  You at work!  Get you fired!

Me:  C'mon.

Cory:  Ok.  Scissoring is when, like, two women are fucking - excuse me, making love - and they, like, rub their coochies together.  Like, grind on each other and shit.  All nasty.

Awesome. 


Now we're all on the same page. 
Scissoring is when two women press their genitals together and rub for sexual satisfaction.


Looks like this:

Now, Jason, believe it or not, I don't watch a lot of porn.  
Like, almost never.  
It's not because I'm against porn; I'm heavily, heavily pro-porn.  I have no problem with porn.  Go porn!

I just wish I liked it.  
Porn does almost nothing for me.  It's kind of a tragedy.  

So I haven't seen assloads of porn.  
But I have seen porn where two women scissor one another.  And I went, "Really?"

[via lesfemmes]

Apparently, people think lesbians do this on a regular basis.

I hate to break it to you, Jason, but in all my years of experience, and having had a few *ahem* sexual partners...I've scissored with a woman exactly 3 times.

The first time, it was a joke.  
My girlfriend-at-the-time and I had just watched our first porn with scissoring.  I said, "We have to try this.  Maybe we're missing out on something good!"  and we scissored. 

We got naked, got on the bed, and, giggling the whole time, awkwardly got ourselves in position.  Then we tried to grind.  

I laughed so hard I fell off the bed.  
Nothing happened.

[via hellogirls]

Fast-forward a few years.  
I'm older and more experienced.  I see another porn and go, "Oh, yeah, scissoring!"  
I tried it with a new girlfriend.  Gave it the ol' college try. 

I mean, we really. tried. to get off.

It was ridiculous.  
We gave up and fucked like normal lesbians.

[via b0ne]

The third time I tried scissoring, it was because Tawnya got this phenomenal Victorian sex-positions pop-up book for her birthday.   

There was a lithograph of two women scissoring, and as I stared at the page, I said, "Jesus.  Apparently women have been doing this for hundreds of years - maybe thousands!  This is history!  I'm a shitty lesbian.  I really should try harder."

So I attacked CJ and forced her to scissor me.  

Me:  (panting) Anything?

CJ:  No.  Keep trying.  Press down harder.

Me:  I'm thirsty.


Nothing gratifying has ever happened to me while scissoring.  

 (by Parker Fitzgerald)

It's not something I even think about.
Ever.

And I since I sometimes sleep around a little bit *coughcough*, and no lesbian has ever tried to scissor me (or brought it up, or even joked about it)...I tend to think scissoring is pretty much something that only women in porn do, for male audiences.

Maybe because male audiences miiiiight have a problem understanding sex when both sets of genitals aren't touching at all times.  

Maybe scissoring makes sense to men because, well, what are the lesbians doing?  
They're pushing their crotches together.  'As if ' they were having sex.

[via nataliedee.com]

Don't get me wrong - I know a couple dykes who say they've scissored with successful results.  
But even they say it's not worth the effort involved.

A novelty, at best.

[via lesfemmes]

Ok, Jason?

Homogirls, help Jason out and weigh in, here.

[via mymuffinroared]

Do you scissor?

Am I missing out on something spectacular?

Why Bike When You Can Trike?

You know when you've got a brand-new naked trick in your bed and she's all lying on her back with her arms behind her head going, "aahhh, that was great" ?

And you get that old urge to bite her armpit?

Y'know, 'cause she's not expecting it and you want to teach her a lesson and assert your dominance?

Don't do it.

She may be wearing Secret Powderfresh Ultraclear Solid deodorant.

And then you'll have to deal with a mouthful of super-moisture-wicking dust, all drying out your tongue. 
Mmmf.

Anyway!

I got a call the other night from the Straightest Girl in the World.
It was a drunk-dial.

So...

Um, Kelly Has A Question.

Q: Ok, Krissie, so I've been thinking about this a lot, and what would you say (I mean besides making fun of me) if I told you I wanted to maybe have a threesome with another girl and my boyfriend?  Would a lesbian have a threesome with me?  I mean, where would I even start?

A:  Aw, Kelly, Godloveya.  I can always count on you to forget that Seattle is three hours behind New York time.

But you've asked an excellent question.  One that I've been asked before.  Men, women, and one rather advanced 14-year-old have sent me e-mails asking "How Can I Have a Threesome?" in varying degrees of desperation. 
So you're not alone.

But who has threesomes?  And why are they so popular all of a sudden? 

Is it because society is sexed to the max?  Is a threesome the new sexual frontier to cross?  Could we blame this on Britney Spears, somehow?

Unless you're in the cast of Gossip Girls, or are extra fun at parties, you're probably among the millions of Americans who think a threesome would be hot, but have never had one.

But maybe you're taking that next step.  Maybe you're trying to set one up. 

I'd like to begin with three real-life ads for threesomes.  These were all pulled in less than two minutes from the Chicago Craigslist "Casual Encounters" section (aka Krista's Home Page.)

Exhibit A:

More for Her Than for Me:
This is a surprise for my wife for this weekend. She is not necessarily bi, but has expressed interest in women of late, even though its in the context of a three way. I think she will be super excited if a woman were to flirt with us at a nice bar/ restaurant and came home with us for a li'll dip in the hot tub and take us from there. I think she loves pussy juice...I always feed my wet fingers to her after dipping in her and she goes wild. Want to help?
She is exotic, HWP, very well educated and a professional. She would prefer the same or someone small to medium built. Nice big nipples are a big plus! :)

Oh my God, I was with you, sir, right until the end. I was going to flirt with your pussy-juice-loving wife in a nice restaurant and take it to the hot tub, even though you're not at all sure she would be into it. But shit! My nipples are just tiny.

------------------------------------------------------------------
Exhibit B:

Looking to experience being with a woman tonight w4w - 30
Seeking a hispanic, caucasian, or asian girl. Please be clean, fit, must be 21-29 yr old.
I'm bi and seeking her to be bi.I very submissive,but not crazy. I am a mom of two kids but have a nice and tight body, pretty, would like ongoing arrangement. I am dd / drug free. Should be in my apt. I am currently with my boyfriend, so you must be comfortable when he is around. If you'd like, he can join us!
This posting is only for tonight. So PLEASE BE REAL.. willing to voice verify.

Yes.  I would feel totally comfortable with your boyfriend lurking around.  Totally!  In fact, I'm glad you said he could join us, because I really wanted him to, and I was too shy to ask.  So...it would just be us girls then, right?  Until the real fun (his cock) started?

----------------------------------------------------------------
Exhibit C:

lookin for bi girl play with me n my boytoy - w4w -im hot,
i wanna lick you while he takes me from behind
we want to get together right
lets all meet at my place and have some naughty fun
dd free, always safe,
completely serious.

Awesome.  Count me in.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ha.  The internet is chockablock with thousands of ads like these. 

And...maybe people are answering them. 
Maybe hundreds of hot, fit, kinky bisexual women are writing back, going, "YES!  I am dying to let you 'lick me' while your man takes you from behind!"

Or...maybe not.
'Cause really - read those ads and then ask, after each one, "What's in it for me?" 
I think you'll find the answer is, "Not much."

The usual people advertising for threesomes are not thinking about you.  They are thinking about themselves; gettin' down n' dirty with a hot, nasty, faceless-female-somebody.  Anybody. 

So ads are weird.  But you could try.

Oh and hey Kells? I'm not an expert on this.

I've never had a threesome with another girl and a guy.

Why?

Because I'm a lesbian, Kelly. A lesbian. 

I know I don't speak for all the queers, but I, as a dyke, would not be interested in having sex with another woman if a man also happened to be involved.

Because what don't I like in bed, Kells? As a lesbian? Wait for it....

Oh. Men.

Doesn't matter if the girl involved is the hottest thing on the planet. I just.wouldn't.hit it if there was a guy involved.

I think it's pretty common to feel how I feel.

Straight people who wanna have threesomes never, ever understand this. 

They go, "Wait, what's the problem? I'm a hot guy. My wife is the bomb. We're hot! Why wouldn't you want to have sex with us?"

Oh, I dunno. How about:

1) I am not a new and friendly sex toy for you two to bond over.

2) Penises gross me the fuck out.  Adding a girl next to the penis doesn't make me not notice the penis in the room.

3) At least one of you is ugly.

4) The woman in the couple has never touched another woman's body before.  Why would I, as a dyke (or even a bisexual), go for that?  That just sounds like bad sex.

Again, what's in it for me?

All of that being said, Kelly, go for it.  Have a threesome.  Be safe and have fun! Find a hot slutty bi girl and go nuts. 

Good luck with that.

Not For Consumption

AGGGGH!!!!!!

Have you seen this saying before?

You have?

Well, I hadn't. Apparently, this is an tired, old, jokey-lesbian saying. Gayelles have been kidding around with this for years. I had no idea.

I saw this phrase on a lesbian's t-shirt in Grand Rapids, Michigan last night. I happened to be in a weird, dark, gay diner called Pub 43 (for-no-particular-reason-I-totally-wasn't-trying-to-pick-up-any-old-school-butches-in-an-economically-depressed-area-or-anything.)

The t-shirt offender had her back to me. She was playing pool. A french fry, half-eaten, fell softly out of my astonished mouth.

Do you have any idea how sweet even a tablespoon of honey is??

Christ on a bike.

Unable to tear my eyes away from the horrific t-shirt; unable to stem the tide of images the shirt suggested, I promptly threw up all over my plate and died and then puked again.

Nonononononono. "Dip me in honey and feed me to the lesbians" is ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE.

Do you know why, homosexuals?

Because I only have a few hard-and-fast (yes) rules about sex, and one of the most important is:

Food and Sex Must Never, Ever Happen At the Same Time.

FUCK NO. No whipped cream and strawberries. No eating while fucking. No chocolate sauce dripping off your lover's body. No eating sushi off naked girls. No cucumbers from the garden. No flavored lubes, no edible underpants, no motherfucking licking honey off any part of another human being's body, ever ever ever!

This rule has cost me dearly.

An ex of mine once brought home some chocolate body paint. It had a cute little paintbrush and came with honey dust. Harmless, right?

Maybe for you.

She waggled the brush at me playfully.

"C'mere," she said.

"Um, no thanks," I said.

The Ex was insistent.

I was polite but firm. No way was I playing with that chocolate fuckery.

The Ex called me boring. She called me unspontaneous!

I didn't rise to the bait.

She said that, you know what? We were always having the same fucking fight, and that fight was really about control. I was selfish and only wanted to do things on my agenda. (This is actually true.)

I didn't care. The Ex was hot. In those days, you could call me names as long as you looked nice naked.
She started crying. I went to hug her.

In a flash, she had that paintbrush out; dipped it in the chocolate, and wiped it on my cheek!

BITCH YOU CAN'T EAT ME!! I AM NOT YOUR LITTLE SUCKLING PIG!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

We broke up shortly after this little episode.

Now, I know a lot of you are going to disagree with me on this, but c'mon!

Food and sex don't go together.

Eating is a sensual experience. Sex is a sensual experience.
Both at the same time is too many sensual experiences. Greedy!

Plus, if you turn into a food-sex person, you'll start feeding your partner bites at the restaurant table, just to watch her mouth. (Remember when guys used to do that on Elimadate? They'd get the biggest mouthful of fondue and "feed" it to their dumb date. The dates always opened wide to "take the load.")

I know the dyke in the t-shirt at Pub 43 was just trying to announce to the room that she was gay, but everybody already knew that. And now we had nightmare fodder.

She ruined my dinner. My life's ruined, too. Btw.

At least until I forget about this.

And that could take daaaaaaays.

Kentucky Dirty

Hi sluts!

I'm here in Louisville, Kentucky, where the ladies are a little more…ladyish.

I was expecting this. Most stereotypes have at least a teensy original kernel of truth in them – that’s why they’re funny and/or painful.

And the ladies in the South are delivering on stereotypes. These women are funnily, painfully Southern. They really do have Big Hair. They really do say, “Y’all, come ovah heeyah and get chy’alls books for the seminar from thisheeyah girl.”

They all have acrylic, manicured nails. These are painted in soft shades of rose, coral, pink, or…pink. Every single woman I've seen has these nails.

Even the lesbians.

Today, I’m staying at the Galt House, the fanciest hotel in Louisville, and fuck if I’m not completely underdressed.

Well!

Usually, in whatever city I get sent to for work, the women who attend my seminars go, “Ooh, cute boots!” or, “Ooh, I like your pretty little scarf!” in the morning when they’re checking in, just to have something to say to me.
I’m used to this. I have a nicely swelled ego from all these fake compliments.

So I was not surprised when a Southern Lady, as she was signing in for the seminar, reached across my registration desk and touched me. (Middle-aged women have even hazier boundaries than I do.) She ran her fingers through my hair.

I wasn't concerned - this has actually happened before. I sat still, like a spaniel, waiting for my compliment-treat. The Southern Lady was supposed to say, “Ooh, I just love your choppy haircut.” (Know why it's choppy? Safety scissors and lack of skill.) That's what I was expecting.

What she said, however, was, “You know, sugar, you would be so pretty if you would just do somethin’ with this mop.”

Clearly, the Southern Women in my seminar were different from the ones I met last night.

Last night, as I was walking to dinner, I came across a group of four obvious Southern Lesbians. Short haircuts and sweatshirts in the South = Dykes.

They were sitting in the bar, drinking. They looked like they were having a great time. Delighted, I smiled at them and said hi as I walked by.

The Southern Lesbians either ignored me or didn’t hear me, so I got embarrassed and blushed furiously. I then pretended to take a Very Important Cell Phone Call. (I do this a lot at parties. When I feel really rejected/unconfident, I will pretend it’s an international friend calling, just to let everyone know that not only do I have to take this call, but I have to take it in Italian. Because I am obviously a Very Important Busy International Business Jet-Setter.)

If you ever see me do this, please don’t call me out on it. It’s all I have. I walked back to my room. The Southern Lesbians were still there. Still drinking. I felt braver. They had to be drunk by now.

I wandered over to them and bellied up to the bar. Blatently ignoring them, I loudly ordered a Shirley Temple with extra cherries, because I knew it would get their attention.

LEZFACT: Lesbians cannot stand the sober person at the party.

The Southern Lesbians were all drinking hard liquor. The dyke next to me whooped.

"A Shirley Temple! What are you ordering that for?"

"I've had a few too many tonight," I said. Lies! I had ginger ale with dinner.

"You're still standin'!" she said. "You should have what we're havin'!"
Me: What are you having?

Southern Lesbian: Dead Nazis!

Me: Dead Nazis taste like mouthwash.

(Southern Lesbians cackle.)

Me: Anyway, a Dead Nazi is not a Southern drink. Y'all are supposed to be drinking Wild Turkey. Or mint juleps.

SL: Whaaat? We’re all drinkin’ Dead Nazis. You should get a Dead Nazi.

Me: I’ll get a Dead Nazi if I can ask you all some questions for my blog.

SL(instantly wary): What kinda questions?

Me(in a rush): Well, um, I’m a lesbian, I write a blog about lesbians. And I –

SL: LESBIANS! WHAT?! WHAT DO I KNOW ABOUT LESBIANS?? DO I LOOK LIKE A LESBIAN TO YOU???
Me(terrified): Uh.

SL: HAHAHAHA! ‘Cause I sure am! (all Southern Lesbians guffaw) But we gotta keep it jus' between us! How can you tell?

Me: You’re the only fun ones here.

SL: What’s your question, sweetiepie?(shoves my wallet away) I'm buying.

Me: It’s personal. You don’t have to answer. If you don’t want.

SL: C’mon.

Me: Ok, well, um. What is up with your nails? Everybody’s nails! You all have really long nails here! How do you, you know...

SL:(friends snickering) Heh. Sweetiepie, you don’t need to nevermind long nails. (shows me her nails) We keep ‘em that way because we live here – we're teachers. It ain’t like Chicago. In Kentucky, I guess women are a bit more feminine, and it’s ok to be gay, it’s just not something you talk about with everybody and their mother.
Me: So you get fake nails to fit in? So people don’t kick your ass?
SL: Sure! (orders another Dead Nazi)

Me: No offense, but who are you fooling?

SL: Not you! Clearly!

Me: Mmkay, I'm sorry, but I still don't get it. I have to get more personal than that. How do you, you know, um…doitwiththosenails?

SL:(waggling her fingers with the palms facing me): Gotta use the pads, sweetie. Pads of your fingers.

Me: You are fucking with me. It doesn’t hurt?

SL(grinning): Get enough liquor in ya, nothing hurts.

Me: Holy shit.

SL: Jokin’ honey! Jokin’! God, you're easy!

What great dykes. Two of the four Southern lesbians had two first names; i.e. Mary Jo and Stacey Ann.

They were so funny, and so crass, and so careful to include me. I wanted to stay in the bar with them for the rest of my life. They were going to a convention the next day, but there were big plans to go to another bar when the Galt House bar shut down.

People, these women were fifty fucking years old. They threatened to follow me back to my room to “find out how the Yankees do it.”

Oh, Louisville.

After dinner,

I should be so fun at 50.