CVIndependent

Mon09282020

Last updateMon, 24 Aug 2020 12pm

Your last two columns and your last two podcasts were all about the pandemic. Everything everywhere is all about the pandemic right now. Can you give it a rest? For maybe a week? Could you answer some questions that aren’t about pandemic? Any fun kink questions come in this week? I could all use a break from the pandemic, Dan, and I’m not alone.

Columnist’s Oeuvre Vividly Instills Dread

Some kink questions did come in this week, COVID, and I’m happy to answer them. But the pandemic does come up in the second one, which you should feel free to skip.

I have a kink/fetish that’s been giving me a lot of anxiety over the last few years. I inadvertently discovered that I’m turned on by big bellies, weight gain and stuffing. It’s actually been there since I was a little kid, though I didn’t understand it until now. If it’s relevant, I’m a female, in my mid-20s, in a heterosexual monogamous relationship.

My problem is that I have a lot of trouble getting off without looking at pictures or at least thinking about my kink. I believe the common guidance is, “If it’s not hurting anyone, it’s fine.” But I feel super-gross and ashamed. Neither my partner nor myself is large, and we both value our health and fitness. I have absolutely no desire to participate in this activity with a real person. Every time I finish masturbating, I feel embarrassed and disgusted with myself. Some part of my brain obviously craves the kink, but the rest of my brain HATES it. I keep telling myself I will stop, but I have such a hard time getting off with other porn (or without porn) that I always return to it. I genuinely enjoy having vanilla sex with my partner. I feel turned on, and I have fun. But I’m often not I able to come. It sometimes makes him think he isn’t doing a good job, when in reality, he’s doing great, and I’m just frustrated with my body.

So I guess I’m wondering: Does continuing to watch belly porn reinforce the kink in my brain? Should I stop watching it and force myself to find other ways to come? Should I somehow find a way to embrace the kink instead?

Big Belly Woes

Six years ago, I roped Dr. Jesse Bering, author of Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us, into answering a question from a dad who was worried about his teenage son’s sexual interest in Pokémon. (Yes, Pokémon.) Dad wanted to know if there was anything could done about his son’s “pathetic” sexual obsession. Bering explained that his kid’s kinks—that everyone’s kinks—are hardwired. “Nobody knows why some people are more prone to developing unusual patterns of attraction than others,” Bering said. “But whether it’s a penchant for Pokémon, feet, underwear or spiders, the best available evidence suggests that some people—mostly males—have a genetic predisposition for being ‘sexually imprinted’ during development.”

And once our erotic imaginations have seized on something—once we’ve imprinted on Pokémon characters or big bellies or wrestling singlets—there’s not much we can do about it. Before we’re adults—before we hit puberty—our kinks, as Bering put it, are “pretty much fixed, like it or not.”

For all we know, the teenage boy with the Pokémon fetish was completely comfortable with his own niche sexual interests. The dad wrote in, after all, not the kid. (If you’re a 23-year-old Pokémon fetishist, and your dad routinely invaded your privacy when you were a teenager and heaped shame upon you about your kinks, please write in with an update!) But I have heard from people who, like you, weren’t comfortable with their own kinks, BBW, and desperately wanted to know what could be done. Most sex scientists and researchers agree with Bering: There’s really nothing you can do, and masturbating to the porn that turns you on doesn’t “reinforce” your kinks. You can’t starve out your kinks by refusing to think (or wank) about them, BBW, and you can’t pray your kinks away any more than I could pray my gay away. Embracing your kinks and exploring them with other consenting adults—or if your kinks can’t be realized for ethical reasons, enjoying them through solo or partnered fantasy play only—is the only realistic option.

That said, some doctors have prescribed selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), aka anti-depressants, to people who were uncomfortable with their kinks. Those drugs don’t selectively eradicate kinks, BBW; they crater a person’s libido. Taking SSRIs would mean sacrificing the vanilla sex you enjoy with your partner on the same altar with the kink that stresses you out. I can’t imagine you want to go down either of these routes, BBW, which brings us back to embracing your kink and coming clean with your partner.

The risk you run telling a partner about your kink is no doubt at the forefront of your mind, BBW, because the consequences could be immediate, i.e., he might dump you. But not telling your partner about your kink—and leaving him to wonder why you can’t get off with him, but have no trouble getting off alone—isn’t risk-free, either. If he feels inadequate, if he feels like you’re hiding something from him, if he feels like he can’t satisfy you … he might dump you.

So share your kink with your boyfriend, BBW. Kinks should always be presented as crazy and endearing—and potentially really fun—as quirks, not as tragedies. You have a thing for big bellies, BBW; you don’t have leukemia. And you can explore your kinks without gaining weight or stuffing your partner until he does. A little big belly dirty talk could help you get off with your partner, BBW, and even the fittest person can push their tummy out and create the illusion of a rounded belly. Have fun!


My boyfriend and I live in San Francisco, where we’ve been sheltering in place. We are unfortunately unable to shelter together, which means that we cannot have physical contact, especially since he lives with a parent who’s at heightened risk. (It’s not an option for him to stay with me for the duration.) We’re as frustrated about having to abruptly end the physical aspect of our relationship as you might expect. We go for (distanced) walks during the week; we talk every day; and we jerk off in front of webcams together, but that only goes so far. I was thinking about giving him some of my worn panties for him to do whatever he wants with. My question is this: If I were to wash my hands and be cautious while putting together a pervy care package, is there much of a risk of spreading the virus around by doing this? I’m currently in good health, but I know that people can be infected but asymptomatic, and we’re being really careful to keep both of our households as safe as possible. Can the virus be spread via pussy juice?

Very Aromatic Gift

COVID-19 hasn’t been detected in vaginal fluids, VAG, so your pussy juice by itself doesn’t constitute a threat. But the virus, which is usually transmitted through the air (by people with the virus coughing, sneezing or even exhaling), can survive for hours or days on different kinds of surfaces, including clothes. The virus can live for up to 24 hours on cardboard, VAG, which mean it’s the package, not the panties, that are potentially a danger here.

If the last person who handled your care package—think the UPS guy who dropped it on his porch—had COVID-19, your boyfriend could wind up exposing himself by touching the box and then his face before washing his hands. But I think you should send him that package—but wear gloves while you pack it; don’t send it overnight (your scent will keep for a couple of days); and make sure your boyfriend immediately washes his hands after opening and discarding the package.

On the Lovecast, comedian Pete Dominick: www.savagelovecast.com.

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.; @FakeDanSavage on Twitter.

Published in Savage Love

First let me say that I think you give excellent advice, even if it is a bit pedestrian at times. I have a small problem: Last fall, my penis bent up and to the left at an almost 90-degree angle. I know from Google that this is not an unusual problem. And at 59, I am thankful that things are working as well as they are. But I fly gliders, and the relief system is a “Texas catheter,” with a drain line to outside the glider. I believe that the bending on my penis may be the result of trauma caused by removing the catheter.

In your many years of dealing with penis problems—I know you are not a urologist, but still—have you run across problems of a similar nature? Is there a way to remove adhesive from the penis that will not cause trauma? Gliding season will be starting soon, and I dread using the same system if it will cause more damage. My partner is an amazing woman—70, by the way, and by far the best partner I have ever had (oh, my brethren, do not look only to youth!)—but I dread further damaging my member.

Hanging Under Nice Glider

First let me say thank you for the qualified compliment—you sure know how to flatter a girl—and I’ll try to keep my trademark excellent-if-pedestrian advice coming, HUNG. Also, you’re right: I’m not a urologist. But Dr. Keith Newman is. He’s also a fellow of the American College of Surgeons and my go-to guy for dick-related medical questions.

“It is not likely that HUNG’s drainage system caused the problem,” said Dr. Newman. “His condition sounds like Peyronie’s disease, a possibly autoimmune disease thought to be related to microtrauma, though some penile fractures may result in similar deformity.”

Men with Peyronie’s disease come down with, well, bent dicks. Sometimes the bend is slight and doesn’t interfere with reasonable penile functions. Sometimes the bend is severe enough to make erections painful and intercourse impossible.

“Most sufferers will return to within 10 to 20 percent of their baseline curvature within two years without intervention,” said Dr. Newman. “Thus, it is considered best to defer therapy until such time has elapsed. Ninety degrees is quite a big bend, however, and less likely to resolve spontaneously, but it is still worth waiting.”

If your big bend doesn’t resolve spontaneously, HUNG, there are treatment options.

“The only real therapies are Xiaflex injections and surgical repair,” said Dr. Newman. “The former is not approved for patients less than two years from diagnosis or with less than 35 degrees of curvature. The latter is fraught with increased complication rates due to scarring so near the tip. Both can straighten the penis, but at a cost of length in many cases. As for drainage alternatives while gliding, I suggest the following product: freedom.mensliberty.com.”


I’m a 37-year-old male. I’ve been with my wife for 15 years. I know that passion transitions in a long-term relationship, but I’m having a hard time finishing lately. Yes, I’m on SSRIs—antidepressants—but that has only exacerbated the issue. We all know that a lot of people who own a vagina enjoy foreplay to help the orgasms along. Will foreplay help people who own a penis get to the moment faster? I’m pretty sure I know the answer, and I figured you’re the one to ask what the best foreplay options are, because your sexual knowledge is vast, and you regularly deal with two penises at a time. As someone who pleasures a penis and who has a penis that is pleasured, you tell me: What is the best preparation to get guys off before the insertion happens?

Seeking Weapons Of Male Penile Satisfaction

Foreplay isn’t just for vagina-havers, SWOMPS! Penis-havers have nerve endings all over their bodies—inside ’em, too—and while many younger men don’t require much in the way of foreplay, older men and/or men taking SSRIs often benefit from additional forms of stimulation both prior to intercourse and during intercourse. Like tit play. I know some men can’t go there because that tit-play shit—like feelings, musicals, sit-ups and voting for women—could turn you gay. But if you’re up for it, SWOMPS, have the wife play with or even clamp your tits, and then shove a plug in your ass that stimulates your prostate while also remembering to engage what’s often called “the largest sex organ”: your brainz. Talk dirty to each other! If you’re already proficient at JV dirty talk—telling ’em what you’re about to do (“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you”), telling ’em what you’re doing (“I’m fucking the shit out of you”), telling ’em what you did (“I fucked the shit out of you”)—move on to varsity dirty talk: Talk about your fantasies, awesome experiences you’ve had in the past, things you’d like to try or try again with your partner. To get your dick there—to push past those SSRIs—fire on all cylinders (tits, hole, brain, mouth and cock) before and during insertion.


I’m a 32-year-old English guy, and this morning I was diagnosed as HIV-positive. I’m in a bit of a state. I haven’t told anyone, and I needed to get it out. I’m in a long-term, mostly monogamous relationship, but my boyfriend is overseas for work at the moment, so I can’t really talk to him about it. So I’m talking to you.

Diagnosed And Dazed And Confused

I’m so sorry, DADAC. I hope you have a friend you can confide in, because you need a shoulder to cry on, and I can’t provide that for you here.

What I can provide is some perspective. I’m just a little older than you—OK, I’m a whole lot older than you. I came out in the summer of 1981—and two years later, healthy, young gay men started to sicken and die. During the 1980s and most of the 1990s, learning you were HIV-positive meant you had a year or two to live. Today, a person with HIV is expected to live a normal life span—so long as they have access to treatment, and they’re taking their meds. And once you’re on meds, DADAC, your viral load will fall to undetectable levels, and you won’t be able to pass HIV on to anyone else (undetectable = uninfectious). Arguably, your boyfriend and your other sex partners are safer now that you know than they were before you were diagnosed. Because it’s not HIV-positive men on meds who are infecting people; it’s men who aren’t on meds because they don’t know they’re HIV-positive.

I don’t mean to minimize your distress, DADAC. The news you just received is distressing and life-changing. But it’s not as distressing as it was three decades ago, and it doesn’t mean your life is over. I remember holding a boyfriend on the day he was diagnosed as HIV-positive more than 25 years ago, both of us weeping uncontrollably. His diagnosis meant he was going to die soon. Yours doesn’t. You have a lot of time left, and if you get into treatment and take your meds, DADAC, you will live a long and healthy life, a life filled with love, connection and intimacy. Spend some time feeling sorry for yourself; feel the fuck out of those feelings; and then go live your life—live it for all the guys who didn’t get to celebrate their 33rd birthdays.

P.S. Don’t wait until your boyfriend returns to tell him. He needs to get tested right away.

On the Lovecast, Dr. Lori Brotto on asexuals: savagelovecast.com.

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.; @fakedansavage on Twitter; ITMFA.org.

Published in Savage Love

On this week's explosive Independent comics page: Jen Sorenson wonders why there should be more guns on college campuses; The K Chronicles celebrates more of life's little victories; This Modern World is wowed by the invisible hand of the free market; and Red Meat battles depression.

Published in Comics