What’s up guys, Coach Xavi here. This was meant to be a video for the Locker Room, but due to some technical stuff, we decided to roll it...

You made the mess, you manage the mop. You just came in or on another human. Congrats on your brief fireworks show. The next three minutes decide whether there’s an encore. Consent didn’t stop at the finish line, and neither did basic decency. The quickest way to tank the mood is to go limp and useless while your partner is literally dripping. This is not complicated. Have a plan. Move first. Make it easy for the person who just hosted your bodily fluids to feel comfortable,

G’day All.Paul here again, yeah, The Grown Man! Funny, I’ve always had imposter syndrome. Doesn't matter what area of my life, sometimes it has a strong impact, sometimes it’s just a vague feeling, but almost always it’s there in my mind. I feel it right now! I mean, Paul, FFS, who’s gonna want to read about you and your di**k? By the same token, I KNOW what I’ve achieved and I’m damned proud of it so I’m going to punch through the imposter syndrome stuff and write this one t

In 1972, Dr Abraham I Friedman made headlines with a simple catchphrase, “reach for your mate, not your plate.” His book How Sex Can Keep You Slim landed at the perfect moment, when fad diets, exercise crazes, and anything to do with sex were selling out bookstores. The idea was bold enough to grab attention and playful enough to make readers curious. But could it actually work? Friedman pointed to one patient, “Sally,” as proof. She developed a sweet tooth after her husband’

By Coach Xavi Let’s talk about a small, boring-looking medical gadget that can save a lot of drama for uncut guys: a set of progressively wider silicone cones (often sold under names like Phimostop, CE-certified in Europe). Not sexy. Very useful. If you’re uncut and your foreskin feels tight, or you’re considering fillers and want to avoid getting “locked in”, this is worth knowing. What we’re dealing with: phimosis (and why many jump straight to surgery) I was born with phim

I was thirteen when my dad sat me down and told me how to get laid. Well, not in those exact words. He said something like: “Son, one day your nuts are gonna feel like they’re on fire. And when that day comes, I want you to have the tools to put ‘em out properly.” We were in the garage. He had that big yellow fan running, the one that sounded like a helicopter stuck in traffic. I was pretending to change a bike tire. He was drinking something, leaning back in a lawn chair lik

The next time you find yourself scrolling for something hot, maybe don't collapse onto the bed or slouch in your chair. Try standing. That’s what Joseph Kramer, sexologist and founder of what he calls porn yoga, would tell you. Not because it burns more calories, not because it’s trendy, but because it changes everything. Porn yoga isn’t about downward dog or trying to keep your balance on a mat while stroking it. It’s a practice designed to bring your attention back to your

Ashwagandha has been called a lot of things lately: a stress reliever, a testosterone booster, a cure for modern malaise, and, in some corners of the internet, a natural aphrodisiac that turns you into a walking, talking erection. TikTok wellness bros swear by it. Reddit threads are packed with horny testimonials. Gwyneth Paltrow probably rubs it on her temples during tantric retreats. But strip away the hype, and what are we really talking about here? A plant. Specifically,

Some guys want more out of sex than the usual peak and drop. They want longer, deeper, maybe even different. For a few curious minds online, that means going after something they’ll never biologically have, a female orgasm. And their path there? Erotic hypnosis. These aren’t guys with gender dysphoria or secret transition plans. Most are men who love their dicks just fine. But they’re fascinated, sometimes obsessed, with the idea of what it feels like to come as a woman. No r

By Erin Alexander I remember one couple vividly. Let’s call them Jess and Tyler, mostly because those aren’t their real names, and partly because they remind me of characters from some cheesy Netflix rom-com. Tyler, with his military crew cut and a look that screamed, "I could survive two weeks in the woods with nothing but duct tape," and Jess, who radiated a chill yet slightly anxious energy of someone perpetually checking to see if they left the oven on. They came into my