SEX POSITIVITY

Sex isn't (preferably) a 100-meter sprint. It's a high-stakes endurance set: long, sweaty, and if you tap out before the main event, you've fundamentally misunderstood the assignment. But let's be honest: premature ejaculation isn't a moral failing. It's just bad wiring, fixable with some mechanical updates and a bit of nervous system recalibration.

Words go deeper than most toys in your drawer. A well-placed phrase can reduce someone to a puddle faster than any rope or paddle, and the beauty is, you don't need gear, a dungeon, or even privacy. Just timing, delivery, and a tongue sharp enough to make someone rethink their entire existence.

Most people think they know how to use their hands. They're wrong. Fingering isn't just "sticking fingers in and hoping for the best", it's a technical skill that requires actual knowledge of anatomy, rhythm, and the ability to read feedback that isn't always verbal. Think of it as playing an instrument that doesn't come with sheet music.

3 AM has a specific texture: dry mouth, dim screen light, and the sudden conviction that your body is a design problem you could solve with what’s already in your drawers. Not “horny” in the sentimental sense. Horny in the way a bored engineer gets horny for a prototype. The market does not need your help. Sex toys are already high-tech, art-directed, and aggressively competent: app-controlled, air-pulsing, heating, rotating, ergonomic, and sterile enough to survive a corpora

Public humiliation is where etiquette gets weaponized. It lives at the intersection of performance art and nervous-system chemistry: a controlled leak of status, composure, and self-image—performed under lights so flattering they feel cruel. The best versions don’t rely on obvious spectacle; they rely on social friction and psychological exposure, the kind that makes a room full of rich strangers suddenly feel like a jury.

A whip crack is auditory foreplay with teeth: a micro-second that turns a room from chatty to obedient. The crack lands like a command. And yes, it’s also a sonic boom. Not metaphorically. Literally. The business end of your whip goes supersonic and the air complains loudly. This isn’t a beginner pep-talk. This is professional-level reality: if you can’t control mechanics of power—distance, timing, kinetic energy transfer—don’t pick up the whip and point it at a human. You’re

If you've spent more than three months in Berlin, you've heard someone wax poetic about Vabali. The Balinese-themed wellness temple tucked into the Moabit wasteland, where stressed-out consultants, burned-out techno DJs, and polyamorous product managers all go to forget they have a LinkedIn profile. It's the city's worst-kept secret, a sprawling FKK (Freikörperkultur) spa where you're required to strip down, soak in saltwater pools, and learn the most German lesson imaginable

Steal these scenarios, customize the scripts, and make them yours. Whether you’re looking for a subtle verbal sting or full-blown physical objectification, this is your blueprint for finally turning off your overactive brain through the art of the 'lesser-than'

You’ve seen the small brown bottles at the sex shop. You’ve clocked the discreet hand-offs in dark rooms. Maybe you’ve already tasted that sharp, chemical sweetness cutting clean through bass and sweat—the unmistakable signature of an olfactory indulgence that’s equal parts erotic and industrial.