Wednesday, August 06, 2014
Inhaling deeply
Someone sent me a news item about a nose spray that helps women to have orgasms. The frigid women who tried it increased their climax rate from 1.7 to 2.3 over a period of 84 days. That works out at roughly 3 extra orgasms per year, which isn’t a huge payback for fumigating the nostrils. It might be okay if the woman could choose when to have them – e.g. one on her birthday, one on Valentine’s Day and one on Halloween. But what if they pop out haphazardly during daily chores on the motor scooter or washing machine? There’s no point having an orgasm if it causes an accident.
As a jungle-dwelling ape, I would rather see women use natural methods of stimulating their drives and juices. Dr Ruth said an orgasm was like a sneeze, and you’ve got to admit the similarities are striking. There’s every chance that a woman who makes herself sneeze regularly will master the knack and start coming all over the place. They would have to be hearty sneezes, of course, not those repressed little “choos” that some ladies emit because they’re scared of losing control. The nose is the right organ to arouse, but with a pinch of pepper rather than a hormone spray.
Some women have the good fortune to work in occupations where orgasms are a perk of the job. Cara Houiellebecq (sic) is a mother of two whose popular blog caught the attention of the sex toy industry. She now earns a living by testing and reviewing their devices, experiencing an average of 15 orgasms per week.
“Toys have always been a part of my private sex life,” explained Cara. “It gave me the idea to start writing about my sex life and to start testing sex toys.”
Cara’s long-term partner Darren doesn’t feel threatened by her toying habit. One assumes they have an understanding that she won’t compare his todger with the latest “bullet train” dildo.
"We always say that toys are the seasoning to a sex life, not a replacement," she said.
Fair enough, but doesn’t that imply their sex life would be bland without the toys? It sounds as if Cara’s lady parts have got addicted to high-frequency vibrations and permanently hard penetrators. Call me an old-fashioned ape, but I don’t think the carnal pleasures should turn into an encounter between tool operators.
An encounter between tool operators is better than an encounter between tools, which is what happened when Orlando Bloom attempted to punch Justin Bieber in the mouth. Apparently he was upset that Bieber had slept with his ex-wife and taunted him about it.
Much as Bieber merits a good hiding, I don’t think a fop like Bloom is the right person to deliver it. He is clearly no pugilist and equally deserving of a thrashing himself. I would personally like to see Bieber chastised by a bald stocky fellow, who would sit on his back and pinch his buttocks black and blue.
Labels: Justin Bieber, nose-spray, orgasms, Orlando Bloom, Sex toys, sneezing
Monday, February 09, 2009
Cupid's aerosol
I hear that scientists are developing a nose-spray for human couples who’ve fallen out of love. The idea is to trick the brain into feeling gooey emotions, so that passions will be re-ignited and marital bed-springs will be tested to breaking point. It sounds like the greatest thing since penicillin, but I wonder if they’ve thought through all the consequences. How do they know that the couple will feel attraction for each other rather than the next-door-neighbour or the family pet? Do they have to make eye-contact while snorting the love mist?
Another worry is that the treatment might cause them to sneeze, which can have strange effects on the human brain. Back in my circus days, a young lady who worked with the big cats frankly admitted that she found sneezing more enjoyable than sex.
“It’s all so quick and easy,” she explained. “You get the build-up, the climax and the release… and it’s all done in a few seconds. Much better than lying on your back and hoping that the bloke who’s drilling you will eventually strike oil.”
I nodded sympathetically.
“Sexual gratification is surely a hit-and-miss affair for women,” I said. “However sneezes sometimes fail to discharge when you feel them coming. I have a terrible sense of anticlimax when that happens to me.”
“So you do know how a woman feels when a man can’t satisfy her!” she quipped. “You can always make sure of your sneezes with a bit of powder up the nose.”
“True enough,” I conceded. “But before settling down with a pepper pot, perhaps you should consider whether you’re meeting the right sort of man.”
“I generally assume the ones who paw me will be tigers in the sack,” she mused. “Are there differences between men and big cats then?”
“Their fingernails for a start,” I said. “You have made the mistake of applying ideas from the workplace to your private life. I suggest you judge future suitors by their virile qualities rather than their feline ones. Looking for the inner tiger in a man sounds like a futile quest.”
“What about the inner gorilla?” she said smirking.
“That is somewhat less futile,” I replied, “but beware of chest-thumping impostors.”
I am pleased to say that the woman did find a man who was able to satisfy her carnal needs, and he was nothing like a big cat. More of a sly dog with a slobbering tongue, in fact. Be that as it may, they lived happily ever after without the need for nose sprays, pepper pots or other olfactory stimulants.
The moral of the story is that scientific advances should be viewed with a healthy dose of scepticism. The boffins may claim that squirting stuff up your nose is a miracle cure for this or that, but the practice may open up a Pandora’s box of unforeseen side-effects. This caveat notwithstanding, human parents who worry about their teenage daughter being impregnated by Jimmy the Bozo might consider giving her a box of snuff for her birthday. Those sexually repressed Victorians knew how to savour their sneezes.Labels: anticlimax, big cats, climax, nose-spray, sneezing
