Esquire's Chris Jones, who has won two National Magazine Awards but earned many, many more, has taken to the pages of his magazine's sex issue to ask an important question: Why don't women fuck me better?

There is a spectrum of female lovers just as there is of men. The trouble is, most women act as though they're sexual Olympians, as though they're doing the men in their lives the greatest of favors merely by presenting themselves like a downed deer strapped to the hood of a car. Some of you are deluding yourselves. Sex is not like pizza. Only blowjobs are.

Jones' plea for more quality fucking—"maybe grab a mirror and spend some time learning how your own body works"—is nominally directed to every woman, ever. But I have to assume its actual intended target is the one he (presumably) fucks with the most frequency—his wife Lee, whom he married in 2003, with whom he has two children, and about whom he writes regularly.

So Lee: read up. Grab a mirror. Lose "the terror clamp" every time two-time National Magazine Award-winning magazine writer Chris Jones attempts to perform cunnilingus on you. And stop treating his "semen like it's battery acid." Would it kill you to rub it around your face every once in a while?

There's a chance, of course, that Chris and Lee have separated, or enjoy an open relationship. In which case the answer to Jones' query is simple: That's what sex is like when the only reason women are sleeping with you is that they think it will advance their careers.

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