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Do some exercise, get buff.

By Dan Savage · July 28th, 2004 · Savage Love
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I'm a girl who really enjoys being fisted by my boyfriend. We don't do it too often because I worry that frequent or prolonged fisting will loosen me up too much. How much is too much? Could I become the Grand Canyon if we indulge in it too often?
-- Fisting Is Super Titillating

"It isn't looseness that permits insertion," says Deborah Addington, author of A Hand in the Bush: The Fine Art of Vaginal Fisting (Greenery Press), "it's control. The pubococcygeal muscle is the ring of muscle inside the vagina and relaxing the PC muscle is what permits insertion. If a woman does her Kegels, she can buff up that muscle and be better able to control it. A buff PC muscle not only aids in fisting, but it can also reduce the odds of urinary incontinence later in life. Additionally, a buff PC can be used to tighten down around anything that gets inserted."

So if you and your buff PC muscle get fisted a lot, FIST, will you wind up huge and loose? "If a woman was fisted four or five times a day, every day, for several years," says Addington, "she might begin to notice some loss of vaginal elasticity."

So buff up your pubococcygeal muscle (start buffing it now), but remember to fist in moderation.

As a long-time reader and fan of your column and books, I was hoping for a reference. You see, I applied for a job at a nice little sex shop in Portland, Maine called Condom Sense. Since the majority of the sexual knowledge I have is because of you and because they said my references would be a big factor in deciding if I would get the job, I thought why the hell not try to have you on my list of references? I'm a hard-working 25-year-old guy down on his luck, Dan.

I think they would get a kick out of me telling them that Dan Savage says I have what it takes to serve the public.

-- Neill Needs a Job

Oh, Neill. I would love to help you out, but I'm afraid I can't. Since we've never actually worked together, I don't know if you're presentable or good with customers or, shit, if you're even capable of making change. You could be a morphine addict for all I know.

And while I'm glad you're a fan of the column, I'm sorry to say that being a regular reader of Savage Love doesn't carry a lot of weight with me. Judging from my e-mail, a lot of my regular readers, to say nothing of my fans, are out of their fucking minds.

How about asking your readers to send in stories about childhood misconceptions they had about sex and give a Savage Love prize to whoever has the funniest story? By "funniest," I mean stories we can laugh about now as opposed to "I thought you couldn't get pregnant the first time and, boy, did I find out how wrong I was when I missed my period." I'll give you an example:

When I was about 8, my father decided it was time for my older brother to learn about sex via Nova's "masterpiece," The Miracle of Life. Knowing that my brother would either tell me anyway or twist the facts just enough to scar me for life -- what else are brothers for? -- Dad decided it wouldn't hurt to have me sit in. At one point, there is a slow-motion shot of the head of the penis as it ejaculates inside the vaginal canal. Because it was a close-up, the head looked about the size of a basketball and I was convinced there was no way I could ever have sex.

Fast-forward about 10 years. Dad takes us to Paris for a week. As we're looking at the Greek and Roman statuary in the Louvre, I noticed how small the penises all were. I remember thinking: "If that's average, then sex with a guy will be no problem!" Unfortunately, I didn't take into account that all those marble penises were flaccid. Six months later, I see my first real-life erection, and all I could think was, "Jesus Christ, that's huge!" The head wasn't as big as a basketball, but it was a lot bigger than those penises I saw in the Louvre.

Laughing at Myself Now

That's a marvelous idea, LAMN. Readers are hereby invited to send amusing misconceptions to fuckedinthehead@savagelove.net. If I get enough amusing stories, I'll dedicate a couple of columns to them toward the end of the summer.

In the meantime, I can't resist sharing one that, like LAMN's, involves a brother. My older brother Eddie told me when I was, oh, about 12 that a blowjob was when a man opened a woman's vagina and blew into it. You had to do this, he explained, to inflate the woman's vagina enough to get your penis inside. You can imagine my distress the first time a guy offered to give me a blowjob.

"I was dumb and young," Eddie says today in his own defense. "You shouldn't have listened to me. I didn't even learn what a clit was until I was 19. It's not like we had good health or sex-education classes in our Catholic grade school."

 
 
 
 

 

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