KissBitSu ®

        There’s a move I’ve developed that I’d like to share. It can be done by a man or a woman. It may take some time to get the hang of, but I can assure you that neither you nor your partner will mind the practice.
        The move is best performed when the other person doesn’t expect it. It usually works better in the summer than in the colder months. It takes some skill, but nothing that anybody can’t master. The move requires a sensitive feel, a firm but loving touch, a good deal of passion and playfulness, and just a dab of lust.
        I call it the KissBitSu. It’s one part kiss, one part bite, one part suck. It’s all done more or less at once, in a single fluid motion, often repeatedly, on your lover’s neck. And it’s best performed from behind, when they don’t expect it.
        The reason it works better in the summer is because a large part of the neck and shoulder area need to be exposed and available. That happens much less here in New England in winter, at least in public. I forgot to mention that it’s usually more fun when done in public, only because of the element of surprise. But it works just dandy if the two of you are alone and the other is caught off guard.
        Wait for your partner to be alone and appear relaxed. If you’re really ballsy, you can forgo this requirement and do this right in the middle of a conversation they’re having. But the drawback is that they may have to mitigate their response. That’s why I prefer the person to be momentarily alone. They’re not engaged in any activity, except thought, so once you make your move, they’re more likely to give you their full attention. Try it both ways and see what works. Maybe both will work for different reasons.
        Come up behind her (or him) and firmly grasp their exposed shoulders from the side, not the top. As you grab them, squeeze their shoulder blades together gently as you make a rubbing, circular motion with your hands. The grip must be firm, like you’ve caught them in a game of hide and seek, and they feel they couldn’t get away without some effort. But be gentle as well, because this is an act of love. Somewhat aggressive love perhaps, but love nonetheless.
        Once you’ve established this tender but forceful grip, caress, and squeeze, you can go in for the kill. So to speak.
        If you’re a guy, the chances are, you’re taller than your woman. This gives you a nice angle of approach (if you’re a woman, or are shorter than your partner, wear shoes and stand on tip toe to get your mouth at least as high as your partner’s neck). Target the area of her neck where it starts to sweep into her shoulder. For you anatomy buffs, the muscle you’re actually shooting for is the trapezius, or possibly the sternocleidomastodeus. Along those lines, when you grab the shoulders, the muscles you’re going for are the medial deltoids. But let’s not get hung up on technicalities.
        Once you’re targeting system has locked on (and this may take several attempts to hit a bulls-eye), you may commence the KissBitSu. Open your mouth and expose your teeth, kind of like a vampire. Drive your mouth gently but forcefully into the targeted area, allowing your teeth, your lips, and your tongue to all make contact with her skin at the same time. Then softly bite her neck and allow your lips to simultaneously rub against her (Note: This doesn’t work with a dry mouth. Your mouth must be well oiled prior to commencing KissBitSu. Lubricate sufficiently with water - not alcohol, because you want her to smell you, not vodka). At the same time, brush your tongue against her as well, and gently suck that moist patch of skin so that it makes a little noise.
        Getting comfortable with doing all this at once may take some practice. Don’t be disappointed if the first time you do it, it doesn’t quite come off the way you want it to. Practice this move while the two of you are alone. But never let on that you’re practicing this move to one day surprise her in public with it. If you do it enough when you’re alone and you’re paying attention, the first time you surprise her with it in public, you’ll both achieve lift off.
        The KissBitSu is one coherent action that encompasses several motions happening at once, kind of like your mouth multi-tasking. While you’re doing all this, don’t forget to inhale deeply. Get a healthy whiff of her luscious scent. That never fails to amp up the pheromones, the libido, and the overall lust factor. All critical behind the scenes motivators of a proper KissBitSu.
        I recommend you perform this action several times in rapid succession, followed by either whispering something very naughty in her ear or growling (as I describe in the post “Growl”). Don’t overlook the audio element. You’re deliciously close to her ears. Take full advantage of that.
        At the very least, she’ll be pleasantly startled, and maybe eek out a giggle or a little shriek. Always fun to partake in, for both of you, especially in public. But if you get really good at this, you may achieve something even better.
        Not everybody has this, but some of us do. It’s a certain place in the neck area called the “Bulls-eye”. If you hit it directly, and with proper technique, it instantly makes your lover involuntarily weak in the knees, lightheaded, and generally a complete mess (in a good way). You can get her eyes to roll back into her head and her head to tilt back, as though she suddenly has a neck made of rubber. If you know where this spot on her is, you can accomplish this response with a simple but passionate kiss. With the KissBitSu, however, you’re doing something a little different, and often times more effective. Bringing your teeth into the equation and employing a gentle sucking motion makes a big difference, because of the pressure you can apply. You simply can’t get that kind of action with a kiss. Sometimes the extra pressure and unique sensation of the KissBitSu is just what you need to put her right over the edge.
        But again, everyone is different. Experiment. Use this procedure as a guideline or a template. Come up with your own move, your own sequence, your own name. Then tell me about it. I love to learn.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a deliciously exposed neck full of Wrongs) Reserved.

Foot Heaven

        Women spend more time shopping for, talking about, obsessing over, looking at, and lusting after, footwear than any other article of clothing. This is in no way a bad thing. Just an observation. And I’m all for it.
        For most women I know, shoes take up a larger percentage of a their clothing budget than dresses, pants, blouses, and skirts combined. In fact, even though it goes on her body, just like everything else she wears, things that go on a woman’s feet get their own category: footwear. And footwear gets broken down into its own subcategories: boots, pumps, sandals, wedges, heels, flats,....the list goes on.
        Why the fascination with footwear? Ladies, I’m asking you. I’ll offer my own half-baked theories, anecdotes, musings, insights, and candor here, but I’d love to hear what you have to say. And gentlemen please, if you have anything to offer, speak up.
        Let’s start with the fact that, according to Wikipedia, “Foot fetishism, foot partialism, foot worship, or podophilia...is the most common form of sexual preference for otherwise non-sexual objects or body parts.” Before I get going, let me say I have a problem with the definition. Who’s to say what “body parts” are “otherwise...non sexual”? As far as I’m concerned, the entire body is one big erogenous zone. In the appropriate context, every square inch is sexual. Dividing the body up into “sexual” and “non sexual” areas is not only a complete waste of time, but dangerous. It can lead those of us with fetishes to believe there’s something wrong with us for being into an arbitrarily determined “non sexual” something. Don’t buy it. It’s bullshit.
        Improper definition not withstanding, we see that there’s an affinity for feet and footwear that not only crosses genders, but is somewhat universal. Both men and women, from all walks of life, have a thing for it.
        This is, as far as I’m concerned, great news. Because despite the obvious fact that men and women usually have vastly different ideas regarding clothing, plenty of both agree that women’s footwear is damn interesting and exciting. Women love to have it. Men love to look at it.
        So both sexes are enamored with women’s feet and what goes on them. That’s common ground; another area where the two sexes can connect. As common inhabitants of this planet who often struggle with understanding one another, men and women can never have too many metaphysical places where their hearts and minds meet.
        Think of other obsessions that men have. Take breasts for example. I don’t know any straight women who gets as excited about her own breasts as virtually any straight man does. But shoes and feet? Women are into that as much as men are. That’s fantastic, because we can both share the obsession. Or at least the interest. Even guys who aren’t that into it would probably say that they like the way a nice pair of shoes makes a woman look.
        The sheer variety of choice in footwear is positively staggering, which means that women never get tired of looking for shoes, and men never get tired of looking at them. There’s just so much to see.
        If there’s any truth to the cliche “A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, then I offer that “A way to a woman’s heart is through her feet”. How many men pay enough attention to the woman they’re with to know her foot size and her sense of style regarding footwear? Not enough. I happen to be one guy who does, and I can tell you from experience; when a man, all on his own, buys a woman a pair of shoes that she digs, that actually fit her, it is a rare and special event that will be long savored and forever remembered. Flowers are nice. Jewelry is commonplace. Shoes are money.
        Then there’s the pedicure, which most women spend as much time on in summer as men do on football in the fall. Here’s a golden opportunity that most men miss completely. You know how good it feels, gentlemen, when a woman gets into football with you and wants to learn the game? I love that. You get to explain football to her, in all it’s luscious subterfuge and analytical complexity. You get to watch it with her, in all it’s blood and guts glory. You get to guide her through the labyrinth of strategy, the richness of the game’s history, the subtlety of it’s nuances, and the passion of it’s physical mayhem. It feels great to take your woman by the hand and say to her “Come with me, honey. Let me show you the way. Let me enlighten you on the greatest game on earth.”
        There’s a similar opportunity with the pedicure, or with women’s feet in general. This is the man’s chance to become part of a very important element of a woman’s world that he most likely doesn’t have a clue about. Her pedicure, her footwear, her feet; these are a woman’s “Football”. Let her take you by the hand.
        Learn to give a pedicure, or at least how to paint her toes. Notice which toenail polish colors she likes, say something to her about it, and then go buy her some in those favorite colors. Compliment her on how good her feet look after a pedicure. Know her shoe size, her boot size (usually a half size larger), and the kind of footwear she likes, and buy her some. Look at shoes with her in magazines and when you window shop. In other words, pay attention to her feet, however you can, because, and here’s the point, they are important to her. If you make them important to you, even just a little bit, it means something. It means you care. About her and what’s important to her. Think football.
        As I’ve mentioned, lots of guys already have foot fetishes, so there’s plenty of interest. But too many men just don’t take it to the next level. Sure, they may kiss her feet in the bedroom, but that’s only the beginning. To a woman, feet and footwear represent an entire WORLD, full of many facets. Explore it with her. Shoes. Boots. Toenail polish. Pedicures. Lotions. Creams. Et cetera. Become more a part of this world with her, as she becomes more a part of yours. Everybody wins.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a woman’s shoe closet full of Wrongs) Reserved.

Growl

        One of the things I love to do when I’m with a woman is growl. Like an animal. What you do is suck air in through your nose, kind of like you’re snoring while awake, and let the incoming air reverberate against the back roof of your mouth. Then you manipulate the noise with your mouth, changing the pitch so that it sounds like a growl. That’s the best I can do in describing the process. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, although back then, it’s application was in an entirely different context. I learned to do it as a way to imitate imaginary dinosaurs or tigers when I played. Girls were still the enemy then, and I never dreamed that one day I’d use the sound as a sort of mating call.
        Actually, there’s a specific application of the growl that’s most effective. I’ve always found a woman’s neck to be a beautiful, smooth, soft, sweet smelling landscape upon which to orally explore. Lots of guys dig a girl’s neck. And most woman I know love it when a man pays attention to it. Maybe because it’s so close to the mouth but yet is an entirely different erotic canvas. There are lots of nerve endings in the area, just below the ears, under the chin, and all along it’s sinewy curves. And since it’s right near the ears, a woman can hear your heavy breathing and the sounds your mouth makes when you’re going to town there. The audible dimension of eroticism is sometimes overlooked, but it’s a gorgeous and powerful stimulus that can have a huge impact on the quality of a sexual relationship.
        Lots of guys love kissing a woman’s neck. Very softly. Or more aggressively, breaking out the turbo tongue. I like to bite it, gently but with a little force, like a benign vampire, then nibble. Licking is always fun, like a yummy flesh lollipop. And I’m constantly inhaling as much of her scent as I can during all of this, because smell is very evocative. And there are few, if any, places on a woman’s body that carry as much of her natural scent as her neck. And I don’t even have to mention how much most men love the smell of a woman’s hair. Plenty of those sexy fumes are dancing around her neck as well. It’s a schmorgasborg.
        Once you’ve perfected the growl, the best place to use it is on a woman’s neck. What you do is stick your whole face right into a soft fleshy area; your open mouth gently but firmly engulfing a patch of skin, your nose resting there as well. Then growl. The act of placing your mouth against all that soft skin lowers the fundamental pitch, making it sound even more like a growl; more bassy, more animalistic, more playfully sinister. And you’re doing it right under her ear, so she can hear this loud and clear. In fact, that could be all she can hear, which is even better.
        The vibrations caused by the growling reverberate against her skin, creating a sensual rapid fire caress. And it lightly tickles her. Nine times out of ten, she’ll start to laugh. But not the type of laugh that says “What the hell are you doing buddy?”, but the kind of laugh that says “This feels really good, it tickles, it’s fun, it’s different, it’s passionate and wild, it’s turning me on”.
        The growl is playful and passionate. It’s fun and sexy. It’s primitive, reminding our modern DNA’s that we were once much more animalistic. It evokes a primal lust that’s completely non-threatening, and completely natural. Remember the old Esso (now called Exxon) ad that said “Put a tiger in your tank”? Well I say “Put A Tiger In Her Neck”. Wearing loin clothes and animal pelts is optional.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a Serengeti plain of Wrongs) Reserved.

Boobs

        Boobs. Not a bad slang for that wonderful part of the female anatomy. Easy to say. Usually Inoffensive. A cute word who’s dainty demeanor does nothing to hint at our culture’s obsession. A mild mannered linguistic symbol that belies men’s reverence and women’s societal driven self-consciousness.
        Thumbing through fitness magazine’s at the gym, each week I come across hundreds of shots of beautiful women in fantastic shape. I’m not talking about the hard core bodybuilder women. The one’s that ingest massive amounts of steroids to make their physiques resemble a man’s. The one’s with the “roid jaw” that develops from taking high levels of artificial testosterone. You know, the women who have chins like Dudley Do-Right. That whole look is attractive to some people. I’m just not one of them.
        The women I’m referring to in the magazine’s are the “fitness model” types. Models, who are just really....fit. They have pretty faces, lithe, shapely, muscular bodies, and are usually wearing nothing but a bikini. Sometimes with high heels, which I always find amusing. Only because it’s a sight never seen anywhere on earth except at photo shoots. Like seeing a guy wearing nothing but a ski jacket and a thong. I know they put the women in heels because it supposedly makes their legs more shapely, but something about it always strikes me as absurd. If they want the woman’s legs to look “better”, have them flex their feet and stand on their toes. But I digress.
        The women look great, except for...the boobs. Because they’re usually fake. Which I’m in no way against. But they go house with them. They throw in a pair of D’s, when a C, or even a B, would be just dandy. Unusually large boobs on the type of frames these women have throw off the proportions completely.  I lament when I see such an attractive, fit women with a pair of breasts that look like they don’t belong to her own body. They look out of place and unnatural. The whole effect just doesn’t work for me.
        I realize that this is completely subjective, and that I’m not claiming to be “right” about this. I’m not chastising the women for wanting larger breasts either. It’s their body, and they should be free to do whatever they please with it, or to it. The point I’m making is that it appears as though our cultural aesthetic is just way the hell out of whack. Bigger is not always better. Not from these eyes.
        Our cultural obsession with boob size is the real culprit. Yes, they are wonderful, beautiful, parts of the body. But they don’t need to be big. Whatever happened to balance? We’ve drop kicked that right out the window in our plastic surgery society.
        It saddens me that many women think they need larger breasts to be attractive. That’s the part I don’t like. It’s a troublesome sign that so many women are that concerned about their breast size. All you have to do is check on the stats for implants to know how out of control it is. The pressure on women to have bigger boobs is not healthy. I guess I’m at odds with our cultural demands on women’s breast size. I think a healthier aesthetic would be to go for balance. Even if it’s a balance augmented by implants.
        Here’s an attitude I wish more men had towards their girlfriends or wives who want boob jobs: “Sure, get the boob job baby, if you want. It’s your body. But don’t do it to please me or the male population at large. Do it for you. Only you. Do me a favor and first go inside and ask yourself what this is really about. When you can honestly answer that, you’ll be in a better position to make the decision that’s right for you. Know that I love you just the way you are. And if you do decide to go for it, don’t get caught up in the size. B’s are beautiful too. In fact, so are A’s. Especially if they’re on you.”
        Maybe more guys feel that way then I think. But you wouldn’t know it.

 ©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a double-D amount of Wrongs) Reserved.

Toe Cuffs

        Before Christmas, I bought a new keychain. This keychain has attached to it a pair of toe cuffs. Also known as thumb cuffs. But I prefer calling them the former, because I have a foot fetish. I’m not prejudice though. I’ll use them on either.
        When I bought the keychain, I thought to myself “There are probably more than a few people who would like to buy this, but won’t, because they don't want anybody to know that they’re into this kind of thing.”. Obviously, I’m not one of those people. But I understand the sentiment.
        I’m not saying that you need to let the world know what you’re into. But you needn’t be ashamed of it either. That’s one half of my point. Whatever turns you on doesn’t have to be anybody’s business but yours, and whoever you’re with. And that’s the second half of my point. There are so many people who don’t let their partner know what really drives them wild.
        I realized a long time ago that an important part who I am, an important aspect of being fully myself, has to do with my sexuality. Because so much of human energy is sexual, to deny that which arouses us is to deny a large part of ourselves. And nowhere in human psychology do people have more hang-ups than between the sheets. Our inhibitions are alive and well everywhere in our lives. In the bedroom, they’re usually kicking and screaming. I honestly believe that sexual repression is one of those “silent killers” in many relationships.
        It’s an understatement to say that we’re not encouraged to be ourselves, to fully be who we are, by our society or our culture. Conformity is far more important than individuality or unique self expression. Nowhere is this truer than when it comes to sex. Only recently has there been a broader acceptance of behavior that was considered “sexually deviant” only a few decades ago. Before the sexual revolution, unless you were completely vanilla, you were labeled, at best bohemian, and at worst, perverted.
        We’ve come a long way, baby. But a choking sexual conservatism is still very much a part of american culture. Especially if you get away from the coast and the big cities. And if you start throwing religion into the mix, what’s deemed acceptable sexual behavior can become even more restricted.
        I say, to both sexes, let it all hang out. To do that, however, you have to know what you’re hanging (no male prejudice intended). You have to know what you’re into. And you can only do that if you accept, without shame, that which sets you ablaze. If you start judging what rocks your boat, your boat won’t get rocked.
        There are some great books that offer in-depth analysis of the psychology of sex, of why we’re into what we’re into. Better yet are books that discuss particular fetishes and sub-cultures. The reason these books are helpful is because they discuss “that which turns us on” not as deviant behavior, but as healthy sexual self expression. They effectively help people give themselves permission to like what they like. They help us be more ourselves, because they can teach us to accept ourselves. And I know that human sexuality is an exquisitely beautiful and complex phenomenon that has more than enough room for everybody.
        When I was much younger, there was a certain apprehension to exposing some of my more than vanilla turn-ons to partners. It didn’t last long, but it was there. Luckily, my drive to get my rocks off in the most stratospheric way possible always outweighed my reluctance to say what I was into. So, once trust was established, instead of repressing it, I would let a woman know that I wanted to say, blindfold her. If she wasn’t into that sort of thing, then I always believed it’s better to know sooner rather than later. It wouldn’t necessarily sink the relationship. But if we weren’t into the same things, and more importantly, weren’t willing to try new things together, then our days were numbered.
        That hasn’t changed. Not because sex is the most important thing. But because I know that sexual compatibility is as important to me as temperamental or emotional compatibility. And the ability to work out the kinks sexually with a partner is as important as the ability to work out the myriad of emotional issues that are bound to surface. Ahem.
        My sex life has actually gotten better as I’ve gotten older. Part of this is because I’ve been fortunate to have been with some really special women. Part of it is because I’ve gotten even more comfortable in sharing what really turns me on. And part of it is because I continue to explore the scope and depth of my own sexuality. No different than getting to know myself better emotionally, or expanding my mental capabilities, delving onto what rocks my world is a beautiful journey of self discovery. Taking that journey with the woman I’m with is truly one of life’s most wonderful experiences. And, not to put too sharp a point on it, it makes for some unbelievable sex.
        Being completely sexually open and honest with your partner and being willing to take that journey together takes some guts. It takes trust. Lots of it. It takes a leap of faith, in yourself and the person you’re with. It takes an acceptance of self. Actually, it takes more than just an acceptance, although that’s the critical first step. It takes a celebration. When your sex life becomes a celebration of self, yours and your partner’s, that’s when the real fireworks start. That’s when you both really achieve lift off. When your sex life becomes a true celebration of what rocks both your world’s. When it becomes an uninhibited-no-holds-barred joyous intimate celebration of what drives you both abso...fuckin...lutely....crazy.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a dungeon full of Wrongs) reserved.

For some books related to sexuality, go to my Recommended... links page.