Yohimbe:

Yohimbe comes from the bark of a tropical African tree (Corynanthe johimbe), and is typically ground into a powder and ingested in capsule form.

It supposedly works fairly well as an aphrodisiac, mostly due to it’s causing a slight tingling sensation in the genitals.

Now, the chemical in yohimbe bark that really packs the punch is called Yohimbine. There is relatively little pure Yohimbine in ground up Yohimbe bark (less than 10%, in fact, and even that amount varies depending on how it was preserved) but it is the chemical we are interested in.

Why?

Because Yohimbine apparently increases blood flow to the genital area, both relaxing and widening the blood vessels to enhance circulation. Coupled with the light tingling sensation, it is a gentle boost to natural stimulation.

Yohimbine also works as a mild nervous system stimulant and enhances your breathing capability, so it allows you to have sex longer without as much body and muscle fatigue.

Now for the downside:

It may block certain neurotransmitters, making this a bad choice for manic-depressives or people on mood stabilizers. (Unfortunately, this includes me. I only took the capsules for a few days, and didn’t notice a difference, but still….)

Also, it may help relax the uterus, which is bad if you’re pregnant (possible miscarriages, and such) But good for female orgasms.

I tried it for a couple of days, as did one of my male volunteers. The consensus was that it helped speed up foreplay and sexual readiness, but wasn’t a substitute for it. You can walk around feeling a tiny bit warm and tingly (more so for my male volunteer than for me) but it’s not a “take me! take me now, you love machine!” in pill form.

A few days ago, I started thinking about all the silly things people have eaten, in the hopes that there is some truth to this whole “aphrodisiac” thing.

Since nearly the dawn of time, people have wolfed down anything and everything on this big, spinney planet, in the hopes of leading that special someone into uncontrollable circus-style sexual abandon.

Now, there has always been a raging debate as to whether many supposed aphrodisiacs even work. Many things are lumped into that sexy category simply because of a vaguely phallic or vaginal shape, in the hopes that semi-subtle erotic suggestion will stoke the fires. Frankly, I think the fact that we see MUCH more suggestive things on billboards, magazines, television, or the internet, has pretty much killed the novelty of deep-throating some asparagus.

So I’m going to focus on things that actually have a chance of doing something physical to your libido.

After all, we know Viagra and Cialis work because they actually cause a re-direction of blood flow. Isn’t it possible that some natural herbs or food combinations could create a subtle physical change as well?

Over the next few days, my daring assistants and I intend to find out that answer.

the dance started when my girl walked up to me, said “put out your hands” and squirted a generous amount of hand sanitizer into my palm.
After making me rub my hands together, she pointed to her bikini bottoms and said “well ok, let’s get to it.” and plunked herself down on my lap.

Now, even if I was a space alien newly arrived from a skank-less galaxy, I would know what she was intending.
She wasn’t going to give me a real dance; she was instead trying to make me pay for the great honor of fingering her.

Sorry, but no.

There was no way in hell I was going to fish around in her honey pot.
It’s just not happening. Not if I only just met you, definitely not for money, and certainly not after turning down the little hottie from O’Farrell who was actually cute.

When she sat on my lap, I placed my hands firmly down by my sides and awaited the dancing.

It never came.

She just sat there.
She never moved. Not a single bit.

I’m being 100% dead honest with you. No exaggerations, this woman sat on my lap, facing away, and didn’t move a single muscle for the entire song.

It was the worst dance I’ve ever gotten in my entire life, and let me tell you, I have had a wide range of dances to compare this to.
Was she just lazy? Did all her previous dances consist entirely of men trying to find her lucky charms?
If she charged me that much with the expectation of me digging around inside her secret compartment, I’m wondering what she kept in there.

Was there a secret prize stashed somewhere inside?

If I searched deep enough, would I find a pirate chest full of gold doubloons?

Jimmy Hoffa’s body?

A lost tribe of pygmies?

Now I’m almost curious. But really, some things are better left unknown.
I looked over at my poor compatriot suffering through the boney-ass lap-pummeling he was receiving from the homely dancer.

I felt no pity, despite his obvious pain and discomfort.

Hey, At least his dancer was moving.

The dance ended, and the girls asked if we wanted another.
Alas, we regretfully declined.

Later, my male friend told me that his dancer had tried to talk him into paying her to go down on me. She wanted him to hand over $500 for the act.
Now first of all, don’t you think she should have consulted me first before offering up my vagina for another person’s amusement?
After all, if I’m to be involved in prostitution for voyeuristic purposes, it’s only polite to ask me first.

Anyway, as it turns out, she also gave him a large list of sexual acts and the prices they would cost. Surprise surprise! The costs were all more then at the O’Farrell, and the goods of a less…ummmm… appealing quality. I have no idea if this menu applied to all the girls, or if this just applied to these two “dancers” in particular.
I spent the rest of the evening making little hats, clown noses, and finger puppets (out of dollar bills) for men in our bachelor party to wear.
I think my first impression of how bored the dancers were was accurate.

once the girls on stage figured out what we were doing, they started exclusively dancing in front of our section. Each new girl that came on stage would try and make a game out of finding new ways to snap up the transformed dollars.

It was kinda fun.

I’d say that the dancers at century ranged from stretch-marked and skanky, to kinda pretty. There was, however, a larger variety of the former.

Our second strip-stop for the night was the century theater.
This choice was made after we stopped off at a little neighborhood martini bar (for a few drops of liquid fortification) and had wailed our plight to another inebriated patron.

“Welllllllllllllll…..” he slurred. “You should head down thata way to the century. It’s cheap!”

That was all we needed to hear. What sort of fools would discard the advice of an old drunkard sipping a blueberry martini? Obviously, our course had been set.

The century theater was a step down from the O’ Ferrell theater. The façade on the outside was scuffed and dirty, the inside hallway was dark.
However, once we got all the way to the main dance area, we realized this was just what we wanted.

Pure, unbridled sleaze. Hurrah!

From the slightly depressed girls gyrating on the stage, to the porn films playing on the TV screens, it was guaranteed to terrify the poor groom-to-be into faithful monogamy.
Giddy as schoolgirls at their first gang bang, we virtually skipped to the V.I.P section and awaited the cascade of dance offers.

We didn’t have to wait long.

The first wave attacked us before we even had a chance to fully seat ourselves.
The groom was whisked off into the dark abyss, not to return for almost 20 minutes.
I was approached by a three-drinks-and-she-might-be-almost-attractive blonde and her homely friend. They both decided that the guy I was sitting next to would be a proper victim, and asked him for a dance.

He turned them down.

Calculating quickly, they decided to sweeten the deal.

“If you get a dance with one of us, we can do a double with HER” they declared, pointing at me.

“Wouldn’t you like to see her getting a dance, while you get one?”

“Why yes! YES HE WOULD.” I stated.

Damn it. I was intent on getting a lap dance. If I had to drag an innocent man into the jaws of death so I could achieve my goal, then so be it.
I and my poor, startled male compatriot were instantly hustled into the back room, and asked to pay.
Now, these “ladies” were crafty. They stood between us so we couldn’t see each other, but they could see the money exchange.

The sign at the entrance said lap dances were $20 each.

My poor fellow victim gave his dancer $40, to pay for both him and me.

I didn’t see him do this, but my dancer did.

Never the less, she then turned to me and said “a dance is $30”.
I paid, (not knowing she was blatantly ripping me off) but thinking “oh well, let’s see if this dance is worth it”.

It wasn’t.

to be continued…