THE QUIET PURR OF THE ENGINE
"Dear Manola 180,
It's Orgasm Amnesty Week and I thought it would be high time to tell my boyfriend that I can never come unless I have a vibrator with enough power to run a nuclear plant strapped onto my clit. Whenever my batteries run out, I have to fake my orgasms by squealing like a pack of castrati lab rodents. Should I tell him the truth?"
Ms. Annie Steelclit"
We at Manola 180 offer only the screwiest, most half-baked sex advice and have previously discussed the unfortunate location of the clitoris relative the vagina. Indeed, sex toys are sometimes useful to compensate for nature's failings during intercourse.
Let's dig deeper: an orgasm is a good thing, but communication between lovers is even better. If you don't tell him the truth, how will he learn to please you without having that aircraft turbine attached to your jaded love knob?
ELEPHANT EARS, NOT FEARS
"Dear Manola 180,
My girlfriend and I have a loving, intimate and trusting relationship. We enjoy a good healthy romp every morning before work. But I fear I'm inadequate in bed, because she doesn't yelp continually like a wounded banshee, even though she asks me to bang her like a rutting elephant. Afterwards during breakfast she tells me -- with that big smile and post-coital glow on her face -- that she had about as many O's with me as there are floating in her cereal bowl. What am I doing wrong?
Mr. Richard Tusk"
Nothing. Don't you know silence is golden?
BONUS INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEO
[get back to work and turn down the volume, shameless reader!]
the truth is out there
Seems like Suburban Guerilla, a firm believer in 'fessing up, came up with the idea. Via email to Manola from Powerpop in Liberal Mountain.
Want to hear Manola moan? Send a salami to Manola in Miami! Hey John, I'm waiting!