5 'Spice Up Your Sex Life' Methods That Are Clearly Trolling
Hello, fellow human. Like you, I understand interpersonal relationships and am aware that humans tend to pair up as couples. And sometimes these couples like to hide their appendages in each other. But the sad thing is that this secreting away of appendages can sometimes grow stale and routine. What's a fellow human to do? Spice that shit up, right? Well, sometimes spice doesn't mean habanero -- it means fuckin' parsley and nutmeg. And whatever spice makes a good metaphor for "crazy person who has clearly never had sex, giving advice on said activity."
The grapefruit blowjob. Read the words and take them in. Like Arthur drawing forth Excalibur, some lady drawing forth the wang citrus is the stuff of legends. The video in which Auntie Angel describes the method by which someone embeds wiener in grapefruit has become internet history, and is often dismissed as a hilarious piece of sex advice satire. It is not. It is absolutely sincere. Also, it's pretty damn NSFW, so if you haven't seen it, you're going to have to Google it.
In the highly educational video from 2014, Angel describes how to grapefruit your man as though she is sharing the secrets of immortality with Indiana Jones after he got into the Grail room. It sounds pretty impressive if you have no idea what a grapefruit is, or even what sex is. Without getting too explicit, the gist of grapefruiting is that you wank a dude with a hollowed-out grapefruit while glorping away on the citrus stick. Here's a video that uses actual audio from Angel's demonstration.
It sounds like the Sarlacc gagging on a gigantic Dorito which it somehow swallowed sideways.
Now, some reviews of the Grapefruit technique suggest that it's awesome, and that the dudes involved in this fruit stand erotica loved it, so what the hell do I know? Well, I know that hogs and balls are what you'd consider sensitive areas. And I also know that grapefruits are the opposite of "not acidic at all." How many of those liquids do you want in your urethra or anywhere near your recently shorn scrotum?
Imagine someone literally pumping your dong full of acid to the soundtrack of the Tasmanian Devil choking on Jell-O while your bed gets soaked with juice, spit, and the fear sweat pooling in your ass crack. Just make sure that your safe word is "Stop, for I am in a literal swamp of awful."
If I had a genie that could grant me three wishes, I would obviously consider all the usual things -- endless riches, the power to read minds, a ham. But I would 100 percent give a moment's thought to wishing for sex dice to be stricken from human history, because they may be the dumbest damn product in the history of boinking.
Sex Dice were invented by an awkward, horny Yahtzee fanatic who was trying to dupe a lady friend into juggling his nutsack. And if you go look at sex dice, you're probably going to see "Juggle" and "Nutsack" on at least one pair. If you're not familiar, here's how this silly shit works: You and your partner can't figure out how to fuck, or you suck at fucking, or you have fucktastrophes and your internet is down so you can't hit up Fuckipedia. You need help, and god forbid you seek it in any place other than the back two aisles of a Spencer's Gifts. You buy these fuckin' dice and use them to make your fuck not stupid. One die will have a fun, sexy action on it, like "lick" or "jam" or "fuckin' yank on," and the other die will have a sexytime body part like "nipple" or "uvula" or "fuck pocket." That's great, right?
The problem with sex dice -- beyond the glaring, all-encompassing existential sadness of them -- is that they don't work. And I blame that on the phrase "blow ass."
"Blow ass" is a perfectly possible sex dice roll. Both words appear on any number of sex dice. All of them? Probably not, but enough. So with two six-sided dice, one in every 36 rolls is likely to say "blow ass." You'll also potentially get "tease hands" or "pat thigh," but if you're James Bond enough, you can work with that. But "blow ass" is a standout, because you never blow ass. I don't even give a shit how much you like ass -- and I hope you do, because ass is a wonderful thing. But whatever your feelings on ass, one does not simply drop a liplock on the back door and expel breath with enough force to call it blowing. Nor does anyone assume that position to engage in that counterintuitive form of blowing which actually involves sucking. On the ass. Because what the fuck are you sucking or blowing from or into the ass in any way that's actually improving your love life?
Blowing ass is just shy of Saw-level punishment. How much air can your ass take, anyway? I bet your insides have a point of no return when it comes to dank air being forced inside -- a point where the curious enjoyment of feeling some pressure back there turns a corner and becomes panic as you realize you're becoming a meat balloon that's going to sputter humid human-breath and shit-spackle when it deflates.
Spicy Sex Food
The first thing you need to embrace when it comes to spicing up your love life is the fact that the word "spice" has more than one meaning. In the case of your sex life, it's not actual fucking spice. I can't stress this enough. The good folks at Shape.com need to know this. You can't sprinkle saffron and garlic on your dick and expect a sexual awakening. And in this vein, when they offer the advice that maybe you and your partner should hit up an Indian restaurant so that the spices can add some pep to your step, keep in mind that Indian food is infamous for causing diarrhea and farts so wicked you can actually see them creeping up your thigh like the poltergeist of a terribly wronged turd, eager to taste life again.
I'm not going to make this about diarrhea-sex-shaming. If that's your thing, you fuck all the squirty poo you can handle, ya big shooter, you. What I'm saying is that for the layman out there who likes a little tickle of the taint and some deep soulful kissing every so often, maybe including stomach cramps and mucous-membrane-scorching gas in the mix is a little bit niche.
The article recommends the spicier the better, before suggesting that ginseng and saffron have been shown to enhance boudoir performance. We'll ignore the fact that ginseng is not an Indian spice, and that saffron has probably never been referred to as "spicy" by anyone because it's literally just the color yellow given physical form, and just focus on that "spicier the better" part. Even if you avoid the searing heat of some hellacious curry, the spice blend can still irritate your stomach lining, and if it had anything like lentils, chickpeas, or onion in it, that's another round in the colorectal chamber.
So sure, try some food to transform your noodle into a mighty kielbasa of virile thrustability. But maybe consider chocolate or tequila as your thing, instead of the stuff that rockets through your insides like a greased eel in a wetsuit.
Mom-Sponsored Sex Vacations
When you think "sexy getaway," no doubt you picture your mom's face. Well, I bet one or two of you secretly do, because that's the world we live in. Let's all share an uncomfortable silence.
Anyway, going away to rekindle your lusty urges is no big innovation in the world of crotch boxing, but you know I'm not here to just blow smoke up your ass ... unless you got an unlucky role in our sex dice game. I'm here to make us all feel bad by also mentioning that the Danish like to take sexy vacations to the next level by making them mom-sponsored affairs. Just imagine your mom approaching you with a couple of tickets to an island getaway, and then explicitly mentioning how she hopes you pork like coke-addled bunnies in a Viagra bucket so she can get herself a grandchild out of the deal.
Spies Rejser, a Danish travel company, came up with the idea for a campaign targeting would-be grannies and their disappointing barren children who have ruined the family bloodline with their lazy, unproductive loins. No longer would Danes have to rely on things happening naturally, because when can you ever rely on that slack ass Magnus to do anything right? This is the crazy-ass ad they produced.
There's nothing coy or subtle. They straight up want you to fuck on your mom's dime. They want your mom to pay more based on how badly she wants you to fuck. Because, as they point out, it's weird if mom is there in the room, but not weird if she's some kind of vacation pimp or orgasm supervisor. The video gives you plenty of reasons for why and how a vacation is ideal for getting the juices flowing, while also avoiding the most glaring issue: Your mom's face both when you leave and when you return. Yeesh. I bet it's like a cat watching you open a can of tuna.
Sexy Role Play
Near as I can figure, every sex advice site in the world has devoted at least a page to telling us about the thrill of role play, which is nerdy when you roll a 20-sided die to do it, but somehow very alluring when you just tell another naked person you're a cop.
Sexgineers will suggest that after years in a relationship, you may not feel that same flare any more. However, those passion-less years will have created a level of trust which allows you to open up and share some fantasy best explored through role play. Maybe you always wanted to plook your French teacher, or a man in uniform. Maybe you just really want to Slim Jim a unicorn, and your partner is willing to put on a horn and a horse-tail buttplug. What could go wrong?
Every single awkward sexual experience you've ever had is immediately so much worse if role playing is included. If someone ever walked in on you or saw you through a window, imagine that, but with one of you dressed as a milkmaid and the other in a Scott Bakula mask. Maybe you wanted a threesome and you ended up getting jealous of the other two spending too much time together. Now imagine having that same memory burned into your head, except you're all dressed like Powerpuff Girls.
You could always eschew the costumes in favor of just playacting, but I was watching Transformers: The Last Knight as I typed this -- a movie with a budget north of $200 million and featuring Anthony Hopkins in a prominent role -- and I can assure you that acting is clearly not easy. If you role-played at the level of a $200 million Michael Bay ode to shit smashing into other shit, your sex drive would retreat so fast that dogs would start barking at the supersonic whistling it created.
Playacting isn't everyone's forte. It's not even most people's. And the odds of both of you being able to pull it off flawlessly every time the blood rushes to your lust thickets are pretty dismal. You may manage a few great rounds of Foghorn Leghorn and the Naive Librarian, but there's just as high a likelihood that you're going to stumble over telling your fantasy Ferengi that her lobes are the bounciest you've ever seen and ruin the moment for both of you. And that's because role-playing requires improvising a scene. Chances are you're not an actor, and neither is your partner. The second you try to make a movie out of your fuck session, you've turned your intimate time into a late-night 1980s Cinemax C flick.
Compounding the acting issue is the potential for just not being into it. It's awesome if you both can work with the same fantasy, but there's probably a good reason that when you think of role play, you think of the same five or ten scenarios. Things like cop/suspect, teacher/student, Nintendo Switch owner / Nintendo Switch are easy as hell. They're safe power dynamics that people feel comfortable working with. You're not embarrassed to suggest those, because they're out there. They're in the collective consciousness of the world's most hardcore orgasm enthusiasts.
It's when you really cut loose and propose "post-apocalyptic triple-dick monkey man and an octo-boobed mermaid from the Bronx" that you run a greater and greater risk of getting that look from your partner that says "Have you always been a sexually depraved gibbon of a human?" You don't want that. Probably.
Spice up your Twitter by following Ian, who's always up for tragic role play or some butter chicken.
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