July 2003

Wee Willy Wanker
Dear Jane,

I’m a guy who loves to wear women’s underwear. I really like the feel of pantyhose on my legs and cock. I’ve been dressing in women’s underwear for a long time and can’t stop. I don’t have any desire to be with another guy, but I am looking for a woman who will take my anal virginity. Is this wrong? Does it mean I’m bi or what? I just enjoy feeling like a woman. I’ve had dress-up sex and it was great. I felt like a lesbian. I could use my mouth on a woman for hours. Please help me define what I am.

I also recently discovered golden showers. I’ve not been able to experience this with anyone but I’d really like to. I found out I had this fetish about a year ago. I was dressed as a hooker (my date was my pimp) for a costume party. We were driving to the party when all of a sudden I had to piss really bad. We were on the highway and she wouldn’t pull over. After about 45 minutes she finally took an exit ramp and let me out by some trees. As I hurried over to the trees, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I stopped and tried my hardest to hold it, but to no avail. The pee started running down my legs and soaked my purple panties and black pantyhose—even my purple pumps got really wet. Amy saw what happened and drove right to a 7-11. She took my panties with her to the ladies room, washed them, and told me I had to wear them wet.

She bought me a new pair of pantyhose and we left. I put them on over my wet panties. As I did, Amy looked over and saw that my cock was rock hard. She didn’t know that women’s underwear got me very horny. She asked if the wet panties got me excited and I said yes.

She got pissed off, called me weird, and made me get out of her car. Well, I was about a mile away from the 7-11 and a phone, so I started walking back. I realized I had to piss again, but this time I let go and really enjoyed it. After I pissed, I was hard again, so I just rubbed myself ’til I came in my pantyhose. So I’m asking: Is this common or am I all messed up?

Piss Perfect

Dear Perfect,

What is it with you men and your asses? Last time I looked, your boys’ butts weren’t cordoned off by a red velvet rope with a sign reading, “For Gay Use Only.” Your anal passage is simply another erogenous zone. Period. Use it or not, as you wish. Getting corked indicates nothing about your sexual orientation, sweetie. Consider this: gay men kiss, too, but you’re not racked with worry about the meaning of your desires to be kissed.

Define “what you are”? You’re a sensitive, sexual man who likes to experiment with erotic sensations, role play, and expansion of his sexual horizons.

Which of late includes golden showers. It makes sense that because the urethra is the exit for both urine and semen, peeing could create a pleasurable, even erotic, sensation. Also, we don’t sever all links with our “inner” sexual child when we enter adulthood. Often, the things we found erotic as children emerge as part of our sexual selves later. That’s why I don’t believe that a fancy for water sports is a case of “arrested development,” as some researchers claim. In fact, it could be that peeing on yourself represents a magical return to an idyllic state of abandon. You also might explore your dual desires to be peed upon and taken from behind, both highly submissive acts saturated with fantasies of erotic humiliation.

You ask whether it’s “common” to pee on yourself while wearing women’s underwear and pantyhose and then masturbating. Since you ask, I, too, am a wee bit curious. The truth is, no one really knows who does what or how often they do it. My research leads me to believe the uncommon is, indeed, quite common. The most conventional-appearing man is not infrequently a boiling, if secretive, cauldron of creative desires. I do wish all consensual sex acts could be celebrated and embraced. For, in the end, when it comes to sex, there is no such thing as “normal.”

Call the Fetish Police
Dear Jane,

Here’s the scenario . . .

Characters: Shoe Girl, Plant Man
Scene:    Shoe Girl’s Long Island condo, master bedroom, shoe closet
Visuals:  Women’s high-heeled shoes, size 8, of every style and color, line the back of 21-foot-long long closet wall, 3 tiers high, no empty spaces

Act I:   8 a.m. Shoe girl dresses and puts on stilettos for work.  Removing the shoes from the rack leaves an empty space.  Girl closes closet door.  Goes to work.

Act II:   Noon. The plant man is scheduled to enter condo to change out trees and water plants, per girl’s monthly contract with him, which began the previous month. 

Act III:  6 p.m. Girl comes home.  Pours herself a glass of wine.  Goes upstairs to change.  Takes off shoes . . . Hmmm . . . closet door is open. She enters. Sees no opening on the 3-tiered rack for said shoes.  The gap left that morning has vanished!  In addition, other shoes clearly have migrated.  This has only happened one other time . . . approximately one month earlier.  Girl ponders and as she does, goes into the bathroom where she encounters an empty toilet paper roll.  This is the kind of girl who will change the toilet paper in public restrooms so to find her own toilet paper roll empty is highly suspect. 

Mystery for Dear Jane:  How did the girl’s shoes move? And what happened to the toilet paper? Eeew, I think I don’t want to know the answer. If you’re sure I don’t want to know, be gentle with me. Then, tell me what to do.

Shoe Girl

Dear Shoe Girl,

Oh, the burden placed upon a woman in possession of dozens of pairs of beautiful shoes. Please, Shoe Girl, show some mercy for this erotic persuasion. Any shoe lover—woman or man—must be forgiven for not being able to restrain the impulse to play in such a fantasyland. I myself, another size 8, would love to play dress-up in such a collection.

Have compassion for a man satisfying urges of a more frantic, urgent nature . . . The poor baby simply craves the suppleness of well-worn leather; the scent of sweaty, feminine feet. He’s inexplicably drawn to the sensual, shadowy opening—reminiscent of another female orifice—that unleashes his extraordinary powers of imagination and seduces him into milking himself furtively into the toe box of a woman’s shoe.

You know what happened to the toilet paper, doll. The bigger issue is what to do about it.

First, fire the perpetrator for wanking instead of watering. You’ll have to put your foot down about this; he won’t want to leave the most inspiring watering gig he’s probably had in awhile.

Second, if you find him attractive, you’ll get a leg up in the relationship if you subtly and teasingly play to his desires. Since you’re a novice, start by practicing the art of the shoe dangle. Invite him over for a glass of wine one summer evening. Be sure to wait until he’s arrived to slip your well-pedicured feet into a pair of high, strappy sandals. Cross and uncross your legs frequently throughout the evening, occasionally dangling a sandal from your big toe.

Progress to Advanced Dangling by swinging your leg slowly as you dangle. Watch your perp-turned-plaything melt, heart and sole. Of course, I wouldn’t advise anything that wasn’t ultimately for your pleasure, not his. Trust me when I tell you that knowing his secret and erotically tormenting him with it is your ticket to a power dynamic that will reap worshipful rewards, not to mention a lover who will adore going shoe-shopping as much as you do.

One last thing, Shoe Girl: Before you do any of these things, run up to your closet right now and do a shoe-goo check. I can hear you say “ick” from here. Sorry, babe. No one said the price for having an awesome shoe collection wasn’t high.

AOL Inches
Dear Jane,

I recently visited New York from Iowa. It was harder to meet someone than I thought it was going to be. So I wrote a notice that I was looking and posted it in an AOL chat room. I mentioned my dimensions as a well-hung four inches when limp and a hefty 5.5 inches when rock hard.

Well, I got a few responses—surprisingly few, I thought. I went to the home of one woman who sounded like she’d be someone I wanted to get to know. When we got down to business and she saw my flaccid cock she remarked, “Wow, you’re not as small as I thought you were by your description.” Later, she made a similar crack about my erection. Let me ask you, Jane: Am I actually small? Or do guys in New York grow them bigger?

Depressed

Dear Depressed,

I can assure you, sweetie pie, that your corn-fed cock from Iowa is just as meaty as those anywhere. You, my pet, are the victim of what is known as “AOL inches.” There is the true measure of a man’s cock, which you were innocent enough to report . . . and there is the measure of one’s member as reported in AOL chat rooms, which is one-and-a-half to two inches larger than life.

Also, penises are either “growers” or “show-ers.” Growers are the ones that are on the smaller side when not erect, but grow into respectably sized boners. Show-ers sport penises that are impressive when limp, but grow into an erection proportionately smaller. In the end, when erect, most penises are more or less the size of yours.

Next visit, consider one of two options: Fudge the truth so you won’t have to suffer comments on whatever size you advertise. Or, to find a woman who cares about more than your cock, don’t even mention it. Actually, the only pertinent fact about it is that you have one.

Jane is the owner of X-traordinary Talk! and can be found on the Internet at www.xtratalk.com. Ask for Jane’s advice on any aspect of fetish sexuality by e-mailing her at jane@xtratalk.com. “Advice to Boys Who Need It Bad” is a registered trademark of X-traordinary Talk! Please note that Jane’s advice is from the viewpoint of a caring, softly dominant woman; it is not intended to replace professional therapy. All questions are “real,” although may be edited for length.

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