What was that song they wouldn’t stop playing in the early ’90s? “When I think about you I touch myself?”

It had that stalker quality. If a guy was singing that he’d probably be under police surveillance. When a woman, and if I recall not an ugly woman, was singing that I just wanted to scream: “So throw on some stilettos and get him to touch you, already. Geez.”

Yet with a slight verb change, the line becomes less creepy, and more poetically sweet:
When I think about you I feel myself.

Or better, and more kinky:
When I think about me I feel myself.

This is the pornographic philosophy of ifeelmyself.com a site dedicated to the art of the orgasm.

If orgasm is the art, then the medium is the artist. This site specializes in taking an inventive look at ecstasy through amateur filmed orgasms. Then again, who determines who an amateur is?

This is one of a series of sites (ishotmyself.com and beautifulagony.com) owned and operated by GMBILL, who seem pretty cool and orgasm-obsessed.

Ifeelmyself.com offers various in-depth (get it? depth?) discussions on sexual philosophy to the technical side of self-filming. This open discussion format, presented in pretty graphics, makes the site more of a go-to for liberal sexual intellectuals than a stalker site. Or maybe this site is what a sex therapist’s site would be like: beautiful, intelligent and erotic.

Then again, what would be the group therapy is too personally pleasurable for any type of therapist to comprehend. “Lubrications” is the name of the page beginning pages of filmed orgasmic art. Getting a little slippery?

What is truly unique about GMBILL’s sexual series is the focus on the face. A viewer gets to witness the girl cum, with or without a partner, and watch her face contort, curl and relax as if there, or even as if feeling it.

Ifeelmyself.com definitely makes me feel more myself.

Tonight’s the night for me.

I threw all diet trends in the trash (literally all the cardboard tasting crackers, rotted veggie snacks, and shakes that taste like ass) and enjoyed a roast beef sandwich with extra mayo and cheese, mashed and carbohydrate-ridden potatoes with sour cream and chocolate. Oooh, chocolate.

So it’s rumored that chocolate releases the same happy-brain-chemicals in a woman as orgasms do. Is the fact that I’ve been disturbingly behaved since Wolf went to Las Vegas for a “boys only” vacation what led me on this splurge? Am I craving red meat, salty cream, and orgasm-brain-chemicals so badly that I tricked my hormones with a damn good meal?

These are questions I cannot answer. I can, however, blaze an Internet trail for the truth about orgasms and chocolate . . .

And, like most Internet trail blazing, wound up in a wilderness of increasing bizarre objects for sale. Clearly chocolate is still the favorite flavor.

There appear to be, in the arena of does chocolate chemically equate to an orgasm, two camps. The debate is centered on the brain-chemical phenylethylamine, an amino acid that is released when you’re “in love.” The two camps seem to be:

“Is chocolate better than sex?”
And
“Why the hell are you even asking that question? Are you a loser who can’t get laid? Or even get yourself off?”

I am personally of the camp of:
“What the heck does an orgasm have to do with love?”

I consider myself the Switzerland of the debate. And as a Switzerland, I ask for an honest discourse on the subject. Please comment on this blog, and maybe we can find the truth.

On another note, I think it would be very un-journalistic of me to not note that, in the bedroom eyes of the Internet, chocolate is also a race, a tasty dessert, and (when on a lollipop stick and molded into the shape of a vulva) a medium of feminism.

In those same eyes, an orgasm is a drink, an act of evolution or something for men to conquer.

All I can conclude at this point is that, like peanut butter, sex goes well with chocolate.

It’s no secret that sex is fun.
The secret to sex is the same secret to any fun: being uninhibited.
The girls at sssh.com are all about discarding inhibitions.
They have the advice columns, the dating/playmate finder, the boudoir of tips and tantalizers, oh, and great nudies pictures.
Eroscopes promise that our sexual tendencies are rules by the pull of the stars, like an instinct from heaven. There are also audio clips and tales to make for a sexy bedtime. They even offer up menus to instigate inhibition tossing in the covers . . . or on the kitchen floor.
Whether trying to loose all inhibitions or loose yourself in a new position, sssh.com has the succulent answers.

Ever have that daydream of being that one and only woman in a platoon of men to pick through, all stripping you with their eyes . . .

“Ahhh, for the boys, I’ll show a little more of my curves . . .”
These boys don’t just want tits and ass; these boys yearn for intimate contact. The cuddling and the cunnilingus . . ..

Some would say it is the cuddling factor that makes this a female fantasy. Others would say it is that there were any words (even thoughts of “Ahh”) before the fucking began.
The gals at forthegirls.com would say it is neither and both.

This site is an orgy of information (did you know that the vast size of the internal clitoris was not discovered until 1998?) and sexy samples that make me a horny as a toady in rain season (and at this site it’s raining men).

There’s the Stripsearch: a milder, feminine version of Girls Gone Wild only for women of men. It is funny in an adorable way and hot in a friendly way. Thoughts like:
“Ooh, that ass-did he just grab the clock to steady himself as he peels off a black sock?”
Or “Ooh, those abs are scrumptious. . . but he’s dancing like an orangutan on crack, shouldn’t someone tell him he’s by an open window?”

Then there’s Guys Going Solo. Visual tips from the fingers that play the flute, if you get what I mean. . . masturbation! There I said it.

The best part of this site isn’t the humor of homemade porn stars, or the video and written sex tips (although Wolf was quite happy I found out what a Perinium is, not that he knows what it is) or the fact I can skim centerfolds, amateurs and porn clips to fit any mood from “Bring on the boys!” to “Candlelight, petals, and massage oil.”

The best part is that this slutty site gives me a great excuse to lie, not just lie down.

You see, there are articles, real articles. Articles about psychology, health, the feminine image and more. Some of them are smart and some are funny. And I can honestly say I go to the site for the articles. The lie would be that I joined the site for the articles.

The truth would be that I joined for the boys.

Body jewelry is beginning to seem old fashioned . . . because of old people. Its wonderful that Granny feels so comfortable with those curtains of flesh, she calls her abdomen, to have her center-stage, belly-button, bejeweled with a birth stone. But now she thinks she can wear tube tops . . .

Maybe we have the sensuality of body jewelry all wrong. It no longer needs to be primitively permanent (not to say anything against boyish bruts), maybe it needs to feel the different vibrations of each day. Maybe it needs to change with the season, mood, ooh, or sandals . . .