Coming of Age Novel Released

The second edition of Only Tim Sent Flowers, the first of the three-volume Tookie series (so far), is being released this coming Saturday by publisher Black Opal Books in both ebook and print formats. Heavily revised to focus on Tookie’s coming of age, this version should appeal to younger (meaning over 16) readers in and about to enter their New Adult period as well as traditional readers of books with female protagonists. Told in first person POV (Tookie’s perspective) from an intelligent high-functioning Asperger’s who lives in her head, she shares her innermost thoughts (that she seldom reveals to others) with the reader.

Books may be pre-ordered from Black Opal Books and Those interested in writing reviews can contact the author at

Manuscripts for the second and third titles in the series, Finding Mr. Wrong and Tookie Goes Undercover have been completed and were recently sent to the publisher. No release dates have been set. With that writing, editing, rewriting, editing, etc. complete—at least until a publisher’s editor gets her hands on them—I should have time to tend to my blog more faithfully, especially since the newspapers have been filled with so many topics with potential.

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Big Brother Monitors Women’s Orgasms

A recent article on reveals intrusion into private sex lives that even Orwell didn’t think of. Fortunately, the government, in this case, didn’t outlaw sex and wasn’t doing the spying. It was a private company. In fact, an Illinois court (always a good place to file a product liability suit) fined Standard Innovation, maker of We-Vibe 4 Plus vibrators $3.75 million for its spying. That’s has to be enough to get the manufacturer of a specialty product’s attention.

It seems unlikely that all $3.75 million will be collected from the class-action suit because individual customers may not be willing to identify themselves to claim the $199 due those who simply bought a We-Vibe 4 Plus. Users of the accompanying We-Connect app may be more willing because they are due about $10,000 each. Why the difference, you ask?

The app allows the vibrator to be controlled via cell phone with a Blue Tooth connection. Such things as mode and intensity can be adjusted from the cell phone screen. For a better explanation see:
Where the company got in trouble was for intercepting and capturing on their servers data regarding customers’ use of the vibrator such as when and for how long and which settings they selected.

How many people, especially women, will be willing to publicly acknowledge that they not only use a vibrator but which model they use for a mere $199. App users may find $10,000 more enticing. One would expect that there will be more takers for this amount.

Recent Wikileaks releases suggest that the U.S. government may have the ability to gather the same, if not more, data than did the Canadian company that sells its vibrators worldwide.

Hackers Goldfisk and Follower demonstrated at Def Con 24 conference in Las Vegas how the We-Vibe 4 Plus can easily be remotely activated by anyone who can intercept it with a paired smartphone because the Bluetooth communications between the device and its controlling app aren’t secure.

By now some perverts in the government have already hacked these devices to make mischief. Spies will soon be intercepting the same data that is being sent to the company’s servers and using it to blackmail or at least embarrass people.

New Novel Completed


My second (third chronologically) novel in the Tookie series, Tookie Goes Undercover, has been completed and submitted to my publisher. This humorous women’s lit with sex and adventure starts with Tookie leaving her emotional wasteland of a husband of twenty years. Love affairs don’t work out and downsizing from the job she loves, leaves Tookie vulnerable to demands from the company and the government to put her numerous skills to work in an undercover operation.

Comments from beta readers have improved it immensely. One reader who enjoyed it asked me how many euphemisms I used for vagina in this book. Having no idea, I perused the text and recorded them on a spreadsheet. Noticing that I’d used numerous other euphemisms as well, probably because Tookie is such a sexual woman, I also logged all the words used for penis, breasts, intercourse, oral sex and masturbation. The first page of the spreadsheet has a column for each category with euphemisms listed in the order they appear in the book. Each category has its own sheet with its euphemisms sorted in alphabetical order. Open the spreadsheet here:  euphemisms

If you’re interested in reviewing Tookie Goes Undercover email me at While I wait for a contract from the publisher to arrive, I must get back to writing the third (second chronologically) Tookie book, working title Finding Mr. Wrong.

The Great Bra Size Inflation Mystery


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For reasons known only to themselves, news sources have chosen to publish articles on women’s bra cup sizes, possibly to increase their readership with teenage boys. No other reason comes to mind other than under-the-table payments from plastic surgeons. Perhaps the most illustrative of these articles comes for the UK’s Daily Mail.

The first question I have is something very fundamental: is there an international standard for bra cups sizes? My guess is, like for other clothing sizes, national or regional standards exist but are not religiously followed by manufacturers. Why would bra cups be any different?

Assuming an international standard exists, personal observation suggests that the Daily Mail’s findings are grossly inflated. Their map shows the women from the Scandinavian countries and Russia as having average cup sizes larger than D cup. It would seem logical if so many million women needed larger bras, E cups or larger would exist and be listed.

My limited exposure to Western European women didn’t suggest that their breasts are smaller than American women’s. The vast majority of my observations of women from all countries were taken with their clothes on. So, if anything, my views would be inflated because I had no way of knowing if women wore falsies or other enhancements or not. If large numbers were employing such things, average women’s breast sizes are even smaller than I thought.

No way do I think the average Western European woman is a C cup or an American women a D cup. Teenage boys learn that A Cups are nearly flat, B’s are nice, C’s are pretty large, and D Cups are huge. Women I’ve dated were generally A or B cups. My personal favorite had perky B cups more nicely shaped than any I’ve ever seen on a pinup. Unfortunately, her personality didn’t match her mammaries.

Checking for other data on the topic, I found something on that seems more reasonable to me in response to the question, What is the average female breast size? Invigilator – 007, Senior Supervisor – Senior Mentor (whatever these titles mean) answered “35.9 inches or a 34B. Obviously breast size varies greatly from person to person, however bra manufacturers reported about 44% of bras sold ranged from 34B-36B.”

While B cup as an average for American women seems reasonable to me, there is apossibility for the Daily Mail’s results to be correct: bra manufacturers have colluded in a form of grade inflation as seen on college campuses. They have simply relabeled their bras. AAs are now As, As are now Bs, and so on. If bra cup sizes can be falsified, nothing is sacred.

Bra cup size map

Gingers Do Have More Skin Cancer


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redhead-770x500British medical researchers have found a gene variant associated with skin cancer. Lead researcher Dr. David Adams of the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute in Hinxton, Cambridgeshire has identified the MC1R variant as affecting the type of melanin skin pigment produced with the result that the person’s skin is more vulnerable to damage from the sun’s ultraviolet rays. People having this variant produce less eumelanin and more pheomelanin than others. The eumelanin protects skin from damage by UV rays but pheomelanin doesn’t. People with mostly pheomelanin tend to have red or blond hair, freckles and fair skin that tans poorly (read burns easily in my case).

Researchers found that even people with only one copy of the gene variant have more tumor mutations than those without any copies of it. On average people with MC1R gene variant have 42% more sun-associated mutations in tumors.

What all this means is that if you have this gene variant you are much more likely to have melanoma from exposure to the sun’s rays. Who are these vulnerable people? Red-haired people often have two copies of the gene variant burn easily and can get melanoma more easily than non-gingers.

The results of this study are more important to Brits than most people because 6% of the UK population are redheads compared to from 1% to 2% worldwide. It may be even more important to the Irish of whom 10% are estimated to have red hair.

It’s no accident that the British Isles have such a concentration of red-haired people according to the 2012 ScotlandsDNAproject which found that Celts’ flaming red hair is a reaction to gloomy weather. Red hair and pale skin are a genetic adaptation that allows the body to absorb more vitamin D on rare sunny days.

Another way of thinking about it is that red hair, freckles and personality traits that go along with them offset the cool, dank and dreary weather of England, Scotland and Ireland.


Seeking Early Readers

I’ve just finished a new adult novel about Tookie’s early adult life and am seeking early readers  to comment on it before I submit it to my publisher. A synopsis follows. If you’re interested in reading the manuscript, email me at

Shortly after moving yet again, this time to a small Midwestern working-class mill town in 1965, the then guileless teenaged TOOKIE beguiles the boy next door, both figuratively and literally. TIM, Mensa-bright but from a large dysfunctional family on her street, works in the machine shop at the bullet works after failing to  keep his scholarship at a large private research university, accidentally sees Tookie and instantly recognizes the bookish, red-haired, freckle-faced girl as the woman of his dreams.

Mary Louise (TOOKIE) loves her name but dislikes the nickname her doting father gave her for reasons long forgotten and by which everyone but her mother and Tim address her. Her father works as an itinerate cost accountant on a short-term heavy industrial project in the area before moving on to another project in North Jersey. He makes too little to afford decent whiskey, which limits the frequency of his binges, but her cash-strapped unhappy mother of five, turns on her drinking lamp every afternoon and guzzles beer from oversized bottles until she can hold no more. “I had a good mother until four p.m.,” recalls Tookie who never drinks anything stronger than cranberry juice.

Old-fashioned Tim feels wanted for the first time since fourth grade when his grandfather died. Tookie savors his attention and basks in his adoration. She thinks she’s very ordinary on the outside—and boys generally agree with her assessment—until Tim finds her devastatingly beautiful. She considers herself extraordinary because of her superior intelligence. Their bliss ends in six short months when Tim’s draft board reclassifies him 1-A. Two months later, in May 1966, he leaves for Air Force boot camp.

While Tim is overseas, Tookie moves to a wealthy North Jersey suburb in her senior year to find herself behind her new classmates who, if not as smart as she is, are better schooled and much more affluent. She frantically treads water to complete. Over the summer after she graduates, her only sister marries, Tookie turns eighteen and, Tim returns, still hooked. Tookie takes a clerical job and longs to enlist in the sexual revolution. Tim denies her sex; she withholds her love. ZELDA scoops up Tim and Tookie stays behind when her parents move to Massachusetts.

Free of parental and Tim’s limitations, Tookie moves into her own apartment and scrupulously studies The Joy of Sex. She seduces the first man from work to show interest. After dumping him, she hones her skills on young airmen on their way to Vietnam. She’s not excited about intercourse but delights in giving oral sex and quickly becomes a virtuoso. Seeing her meager earnings limited without a degree, she enrolls in a statistics program at the nearby state university. She sleeps across—not up, because she believes women who screw for advancement are whores—the roster of men at the pharmaceutical company where she works days while studying nights and weekends, alternating between textbooks and sex manuals. Squeezed between outstanding bills and little income, she accepts a shadowy businessman’s offer to be his sugar baby. Three years of monogamy and hard work lands her a B. A. magna cum laude. Life is perfect until her sugar daddy disappears without a word.

Tookie falls hard for the sophisticated middle manager, so hard she perfects the Shanghai Squeeze to delight Isaac at the climax of a week-long Las Vegas statistics conference. Isaac moves in immediately after returning from the tryst. His lawyer soon slaps him with the cold, hard facts of 1977 New Jersey divorce law. Isaac scampers back home to wife and country club life. Inconsolable after hearing Isaac say, “all the right things,” her phone rings. It’s Tim.

Tookie invites herself to visit Tim who, in the intervening years, finished his bachelor’s degree, ended a disastrous marriage to Zelda, and now operates a one-man office in Pennsylvania. Tookie seduces Tim with her world-class oral sex and leaves him reeling Sunday afternoon, thinking he’ll never see him again. On work on Monday, Tookie can’t bear seeing Isaac and returns to Tim. Apparently recovered by midweek, Tookie shocks him with stories, some true, of her sexual escapades. Now twenty-seven, with Tookie’s biological clock ticks audibly, she seeks a father for the daughter she craves. Could she convince Tim to impregnate her?

Sex Divas


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CurtsyI’ve never heard of sex divas and Googling the term isn’t productive because it just returns videos of divas and women who call themselves Diva performing various sex acts. No Wikipedia definition, no discussions of sex divas and relationship issues for people involved with them on more than a fleeting basis. This absence of information leads me to believe that I’ve coined a new term, possibly because there are too few sex divas in captivity to warrant having a label for them. For full disclosure, I’ve only known one sex diva and no other woman comes close to earning that title. I admit to having had a limited sample size on which to base many conclusions. However, the lack of discussion of them suggests that they are few in number and that I was unlucky enough to fall for one.

I fell in love with what I thought was a chaste girl next door in the mold of Wilma from The Best Years of Our Lives a few months before being drafted. I returned from Vietnam to a different young woman who no longer loved me.

Some years later, we connected briefly when she wanted me to comfort her after yet another man had hurt her. Shortly after arriving, she caught me completely off guard and seduced me, confident in the knowledge that I still loved her and that I’d always desired her greatly but had never attempted anything beyond necking and petting. She shocked me with the best oral sex I’ve ever experienced, before or since. I was afraid I would have a heart attack, it was so intense. Afterward, she trolled me for praise. After sex, other women have been concerned about how I felt about them, often expressing love for me and wanting me to confirm my love for them. Not her, she wanted verbal applause. She wanted to be told how great she was and how she gave incomparable blow jobs. Later, she asked me to watch her masturbate but broke off relations before we had an opportunity for her to show off her talents in that regard. She is surely a sex diva, something I think is in short supply outside the Nevada chicken ranches.

I’d love hearing about your experiences with such women?

My uh ahh Belongs to Daddy


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The Associated Press ran an article this weekend by Sarah Skidmore Sell about a topic I thought I’d reported on before but don’t seem to have done—Sugar Daddies. To put a finer point on it, since the article was written largely from the recipient’s viewpoint, I think Sugar Babies is more accurate. The reporter interviewed several people including an anonymous female grad student attending Columbia University in New York City. She has a scholarship to cover the vast majority of her tuition but none of her living expenses in the super-expensive Big Apple. She tried having roommates, working a minimum-wage job, and freelance work but didn’t make enough to cover her expenses and her grades paid a price. Neither taking on debt nor getting mediocre grades were acceptable to her. She explained, “That’s just not why I am here. I wanted to find the most amount of money I could make for the least amount of effort.”

So, she surfed the free sites Craigslist and before trying, whose creator, Brandon Wade, began offering students a discounted rate when he learned they were a significant market. The Columbia coed currently has two sugar daddies. To one of them, she is similar to a girlfriend (except for the part about being paid) and to the other she is more like a traditional kept woman. Not mentioned was if either knows about the other or what sugar baby arrangements she has had previously, how much she receives each month, or if she reports it on her income tax.

She has already decided to continue sugar babying after graduation, remaining officially unemployed to allow her to defer repaying the $70,000 in loans she accumulated before she started doing for hire what most of her classmates do for free.

More on “sugaring” next time.

S eekingArangements3in

Using Cell Phones for Birth Control


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Most of us are all too well aware of how the current generation of college students needs to stay connected all the time, generally via cell phone. However, we assumed there were limits to the extent of their connectedness. Now, a study conducted by University of Virginia psychology researcher Kostadin Kushlev led a study with colleagues at the University of British Columbia to better understand how people interact with technology and each other.

221 University of British Columbia students were picked at random and told to set all their notifications on and keep their phones at the ready for the first week of the experiment. They were instructed to turn notifications off and minimize interaction time with their phones the second week. That participants then reported symptoms similar to those of ADHD, even though they had not been diagnosed with it was not surprising. Either was reading that 95% had looked at their screens during social events or knowing that 70% had checked their phones while at work. What was surprising is that 10% checked their phones while having sex! Keep in mind that these students were 18 to 22 and probably in relatively new relationships. They couldn’t have been old married people who were bored with their mates. One would expect young peoples’ new sexual encounters to be so intense they couldn’t be interrupted by an earthquake, let alone a cell phone call or text message.

A British study of 1,747 people (adults of a variety of ages, one assumes) found that 62% of women and 48% of men had interrupted trysts to check their cell phones to answer a call (34%), read or reply to a text (24%), or an email (2%). 34% of those who said they had checked their phones during sex claimed their partners didn’t mind. However, only 4% used social media after pausing their assignations.  I’ll reserve comment on the quality of their sex.

Family planners can use this information to reduce pregnancies, wanted and otherwise. So can parents wanting to discourage their offspring from prematurely creating offspring of their own.


Tookie Wonders If She Can Get a Sex Robot Off


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Something this plethora of recent articles about robot sex doesn’t address is how much more difficult it will become for us Aspie girls who desire to get our hands on a hot breathing man who’s excited to drill deep into our caverns or, like me, to see their reactions when I unexpectedly pleasure them as only I can. I can’t imagine playing games with machines.  Their reactions would be…robotic at best.  I may be unusual for an Aspie because I like to play games with men, with their minds and aroused bodies.

I find myself attracted to men with poor social skills, often Aspie boys, perhaps because I can get away with things more polished guys wouldn’t tolerate. I don’t know how I could get the upper hand with a robot. It would do what I command without question, provided it’s in his repertoire. If it’s not—and many things I’d like to do but haven’t—wouldn’t be, I’d have to break it down step by step to basic actions he—yes, although I’m not a girly girl, I don’t need another vagina to entertain me—would have been programmed to do. I suppose I could program things into his memory by first telling him that I’m teaching him something new and giving it a name, then taking him through what I want him to do step by step.

A quick internet search tells me that sex dolls, toys and robots with vibrating, rotating tongues to please the ladies are already on the market. My Sidney will quickly learn to give me rusty trumpets without demanding I reciprocate. I will reciprocate in different ways—reciprocate isn’t the right word because pleasuring men gives me great pleasure. However, much of the thrill I get is doing them when they least expect it. But how will I get such reactions from a robot?

Dental Robot

Dental robot with working tongue.