08 Oct

ConTuesday! Live from crippledom

I’ve been shamelessly neglecting ConTuesday, I know. The thing is, I’m not doing well. I’m trying my best, but my health has been a bit of a nightmare lately– actually for a while now, and this affects me on every possible level, including the feeling-able-to-blog level. Particularly odious is my brain chemistry lately, which has left me uncertain of what to write anywhere besides “OMG COULD SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE THIS IS HORRIBLE I DON’T EVEN”. I suspect, though, that that is not what people come here to read, so I shut my face and restrain my fingers and hug a lot of pillows because being all alone and in this kind of health crisis makes affection even from pillows very desirable. Luckily, I’m poly, and have like five pillows on my bed.

But this week I want ConTuesday to happen, and I want it to happen, like, on Tuesday, and this is it. Here goes…

After ending a four-year (sadly) monogamous relationship, I am now seeing a man who not only allows me to mess about other guys, but wants to hear all about it when I get home. This is the best thing ever, and and I love that when he hardens whenever he discovers a new bruise from those encounters. We always have the best sex ever when this happens!

::Internet high five!::

(You knew it was coming.)

In a perfect world, I’d be gently nudged awake by a very hard cock pressed against my ass, his powerful arm encircling my waist, his breath hot on my neck. I’d come into full consciousness as the honeyed folds of my flesh yielded to his rather insistent demand for entry. It would start sweetly, but end in something primal, animalistic. He would fuck me until I begged for rest. Then he would fuck me some more. I would be a very happy kitten.

The world is imperfect.

There will be a moment when it seems perfect, though. The world does that sometimes, and it can be pretty mindblowing. You’ll see.

My best friend sends me naughty pictures and videos of himself, and has done for years. I’m pretty sure he gets off on the exhibitionism and he’s my friend enough that I’ll indulge him, but I’ve never asked if that’s really the reason. Recently he’s ramped it up big time – I got about ten pictures and a video of him masturbating today.

His girlfriend doesn’t know that he does this, and I doubt she’d approve. I feel my friend-loyalty belongs to him, but I don’t want to be complicit in something that she’s uncomfortable with. Halp!

This is complicated because it’s hard to understand how one could justify saying the image of his naked body belongs to his romantic partner, but at the same time, he’s clearly expressing his sexuality and might have an agreement to only do that with her. Have you talked to him about why he hasn’t discussed it with her? It seems like if he feels comfortable enough with you to be digitally naked and fapping and stuff you deserve to be comfortable enough to ask some serious questions. Because it seems like a stretch to call that cheating, but people define cheating in all different ways, and it varies depending on the relationship (and sometimes, unfortunately, depending on whom you ask in the relationship).

I honestly can’t decide which orgasm was more perfect- fucking his brains out after he confessed to seeing a hooker while I was asleep in our rented flat in Amsterdam, or months later on our honeymoon sharing a delightful threeway with a darling cathouse gal.

Either way, getting to think about- or better yet, getting to watch- my husband with another woman is so arousing that I’m getting wet just thinking about it.

Orgasms are like puppies. They can each be perfect in their own special way. And sometimes you need a lot of towels.

i shouldn’t have started messing around with you, and I really didn’t want to end it… but you know why I had to. It wasn’t fair to your girlfriend, and pretty soon I would start thinking it wasn’t fair to me either. I don’t mind being one of a group, but if you have someone you officially call your girlfriend, she comes first, and I’m not going to be second place. But I still think about you all the time, like that time in the park at dusk when we stopped to make out in the garden where someone had had their wedding, unable to keep our hands off each other; our first kiss watching despicable me when we got into a tickle fight and I knew exactly where it was heading and didn’t stop it… Every time we messed around, and the one time we had sex, you were amazing– I love the way you bite your lip, the dirty things you murmured to me, the way you were insatiable enough to do it twice in a row every time, the way you stroke d my hair afterward. i miss you. i really wish you would break up with your girlfriend and go out with me, as horrible as that sounds. But mostly I wish I hadn’t turned you down the first time you asked me out, before she came along… dammit.

Dammit is right. There are amazing things ahead, you know, and I hope they’re imminent.

ATTENTION:
There are few things more sexy than waking up to your lover’s hand on your cock.

That is all.

IS THIS TRUE? Because I can do that and then I would be top level sexy? Awesome.

I’m really sick of the concept of ’real sex’. I’m a bi girl in a monogamous relationship with a (cis)guy, who is AMAZING and I love him to bits– and we haven’t had PIV in months… and successful PIV in even longer. Yet we still get up to happy sexy fun times on a very regular basis. Admittedly, there might be an actual problem going on (with me), but we’re having such fun in the meantime…why rush to fix it if it ain’t broke? I just wish I didn’t have to keep encountering this total bias towards ‘it’s only real sex if something goes inside an orifice (and mouths don’t count)’.

Sorry for the little rant. I really enjoy your blog, and just wanted to talk about this to someone without any expectation or fear of judgement.

Straight people are weird. They also think it’s a really big deal that the guy is taller than the girl, and pretty much any queer person will agree WHAT THE EVEN FUCK?

::Internet high five:: for your awesome sex life!

Confess things, you guuuuuuys!

18 Sep

ConWednesday! Sometimes it’s ConWednesday…

Okay, so I understand that ConTuesday sounds a lot better than ConWednesday, but this is what’s going on right now. I hope you can dig it.

Old friend/ new partner confessed a sex fantasy to me about controlling me via verbal commands in public that I was a little uncomfortable with at first because of *baggage*. But, we’ve established our relationship from the start as one of open communication & non-judgment (about sex & other stuff), and in talking about what made it scary for me, I was able to separate the baggage from the proposed act and am now really excited to try it! I love my relationship!!!

Seriously, you two get massive points for communication and intent to non-judge, and basically I think you’re incredible and I hope you have so much fun!

I am a big girl. Like, 270 lbs big. I’ve always been a big girl, but never quite this big before.

What I find interesting is that, at a time when society tells me that I should be ashamed of my gross fat body (and I do have thoughts like that sometimes) and that no one could find me attractive – I am having more sex than I have in years. And I am getting hit on like no one’s business.

Seriously – there are 4 men and two couples that are actively pursuing me at the moment. It blows my mind sometimes, but it is doing wonders for my ability to shut down my negative self talk and see myself as others do – as a sexy, sexual, beautiful woman.

All the searingly hot sex doesn’t hurt either. ;)

Well damn, girl. I’m just glad you have so many people in your life who appreciate your obvious hotness because sometimes I worry about people, but nope, looks like they’re good!

Good news? You posted my secret, yay! Bad news? It was the second one here and the appointment did not go well. Apparently Wellbutrin’s only licensed for smoking cessation in the UK, so nope nope nope, and I have been through all the others so basically, go home, take your doom meds and STFU. Have you guessed what happened next? If you picked a) I went cold turkey off fifteen years of top strength antidepressants, you were correct! And yeah, I know that’s a pretty stupid thing to do but I just could not take one more doctors appointment. So I have some great friends keeping a close eye on me and lots to look forward to, which hopefully negates the immediate suicide risk.
But you know what’s worth it? Orgasms. Like, minimal effort, not cresting and then struggling for an hour and giving up but actually ‘hey this is nice, this is working, I’m going to come, no really,’ BAM. Not feeling awkward when things that you know WOULD turn you on don’t and that feeling really grates. Feeling comfortable cuddling with people who can be more than friends because if it progresses, not only will I not have to make excuses or explain the whole “it’s not you, it’s meds” thing but it might ACTUALLY be enjoyable. It’s been a fortnight. I’m tearful, paranoid, jangly and brain-zapping all over the place but I’m alive, and it feels like I mean that in more senses than I would have done a month ago. I am going to be okay.

I wish I could offer actual hugs over the internet (totally only if wanted, of course). I’m glad your sex life is in a good place, and I hope your mental health life falls into one as well. It sounds like you have a great support system, but I really hope I hear from you again soon just so I know you’re okay.

Also, it bothers me that you’d apparently have to take up smoking to get to try the medication you want. Really a lot.

My boyfriend is so fucking hot. I’ve had sex with three other people before him, long-term relationships with two of them. Those guys were all super good-looking and I was attracted to them, but I’m realizing now that I haven’t REALLY felt that powerful, overwhelming kind of attraction that makes people do crazy shit until now. I haven’t done anything crazy, but I get it now. I’m just happily fucking my boyfriend as often as I can and masturbating to thoughts of him when he’s not around. He’s so into me too, and he tells me amazing things about myself and our chemistry that make me so goddamn wet, in addition to feeling totally desired. It’s great.

But it’s also really scary, because I feel like I can’t entirely trust my own emotions anymore. I think I might be falling in love with him, and I’m scared. He’s a wonderful person, and us being in love would be incredible. But I don’t want to confuse lust for love, and I’m afraid he won’t fall in love with me. He’s worthy of my love and I’m worthy of his… but I think it’s too soon to be thinking about this, and I’m becoming way too vulnerable.

I cannot wait to fuck him tomorrow, though. When he kisses me, he wraps his arms around me so tight I feel like I might break, and it is so hot I can’t think. I want to be wrapped up in him and overwhelmed. Even if I get my heart broken somewhere down the line, this will all be worth it.

Feeling discomfited by falling in love is so normal that there’s a word for it: limerence. But the good news is it’s normal and it passes, and you’re quite obviously having some of the best sex ever and all signs point to “this is only going to get better”, so ::internet high five::.

Publish or delete, I think you’re damn sexy. You, wonderingamazeful person behind this site, in case of any left-over ambiguity.

Roses are smelly
Violets arcane
The thought of you above my belly
Drives me insane
;)

Publishing this because you know what? It’s adorable and made my day. Sometimes it’s nice to learn that someone thinks you’re sexy.

When I was a teenager, I played around with my friends. We didn’t have any labels. We just did what felt right with the people we liked/felt comfortable with. When I went to college, playing around with friends became something wrong and generally frowned upon. Because of that I’ve been celibate for almost five years with moments of uninspired/lackluster sex.

I’ve also been paranoid to the point of denying myself and my friends almost any type of physical closeness. And when a friend does try to initiate anything more than a simple hug, I get nervous and freeze up. I really miss being able to exchange affections with friends and having someone to play with. I just feel like I don’t know how to relax anymore. And what’s worse is that I’m terrified to talk to anybody about it because I’m afraid of what they will say or how they will treat me after.

Damn, college kind of did a number on you, sounds like. I’ve had great success having sex with friends, and I’ve also slightly fucked up a friendship or three that way. Either way, if it’s consensual and everyone is more or less adult about it, there’s certainly nothing wrong with it!

I am a teacher and I regularly have gold stars on hand from giving them out to students. One day I had just had awesome sex with my partner, with whom sex is generally awesome, and I decided to give him a gold star for every orgasm I had. Pretty quickly I came up with the idea of an orgasm achievement chart – a competition to see who could fill up a whole grid of stars first, with prizes for finishing the chart. It was an excellent idea! We are each on our second chart now. The sex just keeps being amazing and now we have a playful competition for getting each other off. This is the first time I’ve been with someone who sees sex the same way as I do – fun! – so I am soo excited that this idea worked out so well.

You guys are too adorable. I can barely stand it. Also, I would always always always lose this game because I’ve never met anyone who gets off as quickly and easily, I don’t think. If and when I meet that person it’ll be like The Singularity of gold stars!

 


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11 Sep

Geeking kink. It never ceases to delight me.

Geekery and BDSM have long since become handcuffed together in the basement dungeon of my mind. They share a lot of core values, like reverence for toys, the veneration of skill, a DIY ethos, and a passion for corsetry. In my experience, it’s hard to find a kinkster who cares nothing for fantasy, sci fi, or programming languages, and most of the geeks I know are at least a little deviant.

Okay, the longer I live the more I suspect that everyone is a at least a little deviant, but I’m sticking by my point anyway.

So this treasure trove of geeky kink instruments I found, including lightsaber floggers, a TARDIS flogger, a Dalek flogger, and My Little Pony paddles is for my kinky geeks and geekey perverts out there. You know who you are, and which you are. And you are marvelous.


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10 Sep

ConTuesday! Choose your own adventure

I think there are probably people out there for whom it is never difficult to make choices and follow a unique snowflake kind of path without wasting a thought on what other people think or the things society has told them are true, right, and natural. Actually, scratch that. I highly doubt that there are those people. And I certainly know I’m not one of them. But I’ll be damned if I let those things make my choices for me, and I love the fact that I know so many people who feel the same way, and usually implement it better than I.

I am really sex-positive and will proudly wear the label of “slut”… but lately I’ve realized that sex/kink/relationships are actually taking up way too much of my time, and that I actually have very little sexual self-control, and this all leads to awkwardness with friends who give me pantsfeelings but I don’t actually want to date. To top it all off, I discovered a genital wart last week (I know, as STDs go, that’s one of the least worrying ones to have).

But cutting down on the amount of sex I have doesn’t make me a bad kink-positive feminist. I think. Right? (I have to keep telling myself this.)

I think that owning your relationship to sexuality and listening to your intuition about how much sex you actually want to physically have is not only feminist, but incredibly sex positive. For me, the entire point of sex positivity is honoring individual choice and individual agency, and when you’re approaching your sex life with thought and intention and self-respect, you’re right on track. Any ideology that places requirements or limits on consensual, healthy sexual expression in any amount ranging from none to all of it ever is busted, to my mind.

Hope you stay happy and healthy and completely unconcerned with what anyone who doesn’t matter might think.

I’m a (secretly) probably almost entirely exclusively kinky young woman, who has never ever fantasized about anything other than submission. And the 3rd confession in this post (from the sexually dominant partner) just blew my mind. It’s not like I don’t KNOW that there are dominant BDSM-people out there, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to really BELIEVE it on an emotional level. I’ve just been such a fucking sub, that I just can’t imagine anyone being turned on by dominating. But that post really makes me believe that it’s possible! That maybe I could actually find someone, who’d be truly willing and as turned on by dominating me, as I would be to be dominated by them. So thanks poster and thanks QP for the confessional!

ps. this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about my sexuality being kinky! Yay for starting on the path of being true to myself and others!

I’m really excited for you because I’m pretty sure that your life is just going to get more and more fabulous from this point on. I wouldn’t be surprised if your future dom is masturbating while thinking about someone like you right now.

My fuckbuddy/boyfriend is a big dom and we’ve been talking dirty a lot about me being his sex slave and him hurting me (which is awesome!!!). Yesterday we were having sex and he was slapping me around and I said something like “Treat me bad baby, hurt me” and he was like “Ok but I’ll also treat you nice when you want me to, and I’ll always be here for you” and it was such a sweet mixture of feelings!

This. Is. Adorable.

I miss you.

You have beautiful eyes. I miss touching your hair. I miss your ardent spirit. You were like a flame in a darkened room.

“What’s wrong with me that I like this?” I said. “There is NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU,” you said.

God, you were something else.

But I had no *time*, dammit. I have two jobs and a primary partner. I can’t promise a relationship if I have to cancel on every date. I wish I could clone myself, or time-travel, or something. I miss hell out of you.

One of the frustrating things about non-monogamy is that the world becomes rife with possibility, but there’s absolutely no way to pursue them all, what with time and energy and many other resources being finite and spread thinner every time you accept another person or other responsibility into your life. But I prefer self-constructed limits to society’s, of course, and I always will.

And I’ve decided that I believe everyone needs at least one lover in their lifetime who says “There is NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU” when confronted with those weird and freakish sexual idiosyncrasies that we each have, however tamped down and secret they are.

How submission can be
me
washing his body
a great and precious
and terrible creature
I am lucky to be allowed so close
to touch him so familiarly
to help him
when he refuses the help of all others.
If not you, no one.
How domination can be
him
washing my body
a great and precious
and terrible creature
He is lucky to be allowed so close
to touch me so familiarly
to help me
when I refuse the help of all others.
If not you, no one.

This. Is. Also. Adorable. And I love it.

The first time I had an orgasm, I descended into shivering and violent sickness. It turned out the successful session just coincided with the onset of gastric flu, but until I realised that’s what was happening it was HELLA weird.

I am so glad that was just a coincidence because if my parents had neglected to invite a fairy to come to my christening and she cursed me this is the EXACT CURSE I wouldn’t want.

So my wife of 2 years just left me claiming that she finds me completely unattractive and is does not want to sleep with me. Ever. In a fit of depression I logged on to an internet dating site “just to look” and got messaged by a hot lady I ran into in last year’s pride parade. One thing led to another, and I went out on an awesome date with her, ending with some sex hot enough to almost break my bed and being late for work since we had some seconds the morning after. God, how I missed this type of “we can’t keep our hands off each other let’s have a ton of sex now” sex.

Okay, this is excellent supporting evidence for a point I try to make pretty often. If you’re in a relationship that you know isn’t right for you, the correct and humane and honorable thing to do is break up with your partner. Your reasons for wanting to stay in the relationship are almost certainly selfish, even if your rationalize them as wanting to save your partner pain. You know what tends to hurt more and longer than breaking up? Being in a shitty relationship. If you do the right thing and break things off it’s going to suck for everyone for a while, yes. But you’re giving your now-ex-partner the gift of the possibility of finding the joy you’ve lost in each other elsewhere, and I think this is true whether you’re monogamous or not (see: limited resources).

Confessor, I’m not trying to minimize the pain you felt from the breakup. I know that it wasn’t easy, and I’m sad you had to go through it, but the fact that you’ve found something exciting and joyous on the other side of it is amazing, and not because of its rarity. It isn’t rare; I think it’s the way things are supposed to work, in a way.

Go forth and dump! Or don’t fuck! Or do! Or be kinky. Or whatever you goddamn want, you glorious creatures. And then tell me about it, natch.

03 Sep

Dear.

Dear Lucian,

The night you died I was having a blast at an absurd, surreal spaceship party with Viola, whom you would have adored. In fact, if she’d gone to high school with us you’d have tried to date her, and maybe now we’d be on the spit chain together, as only seems right somehow.

It’s sort of weird, isn’t it? That we never went ahead and had that fling that kept crackling between our eyes ungerminated ever since I was 17. I had such a crush on you back then, though you were dating my best friend (and then my other best friend). You dated everybody but me, but even I, clueless dork, noticed that when you looked at me you were somehow seeing pure, unadulterated sex. I don’t know how or why, but you thought I was remarkable, and I could tell. To a walking awkward phase who felt invisible to guys, it was a revelation to feel attractive like that to someone. And you weren’t just anyone; what with your charisma and all, it wasn’t like you were hurting for attention from hot chicks. But for some weird reason I stood out to you.

Senior year I wrote a love song about you. I later sang it for Reginald and told him it was about him because I desperately needed the get-out-of-abuse-free points right then, and it only seemed like justice to hoodwink a pathological liar that way (he gave every girl the same six love poems and we all knew it). The song probably saved me from getting hit quite a few times, so it served a purpose, and you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, if you’d been in on the secret you would’ve laughed your ass off while melting visibily. But it was a fucked up thing to lie about, anyway. We were all pretty twisted and unjustifiable in those days. Even though it’s a little overwrought, it’s not a bad song. My voice teacher at university thought it extraordinary. Again, I don’t know why. Maybe it absorbed some of the weird electricity we had. Maybe our energy snakes through it yet.

Whatever we had– and beyond our friendship we never had much of anything substantial; it all ran on chemistry and mythos, really– was durable in its way. I got over my crush shortly after the ink dried on your song, but you were always important to me. And over the years it slowly dawned on me how much I really meant to you. Sure, you treated all your friends like we were special; that was part of why everyone loved you. We didn’t see each other often, and I’m under no illusions that you pined. I’m not pretending I was an obsession, or that torches were held. But when you told me– and you told me often– that you’d do anything for me, drop anything, move geological landmarks just to see me smile, I knew you kind of meant it. When I found out you got drunk at a party and told our friends that what you wanted most of all was to whisk me away and take care of me forever, I knew that it wasn’t entirely the booze talking. I guess I eventually figured that I was something like your “one that got away”, even though you’d never gunned for me very hard and I’m sure we both realized it wouldn’t have worked in three-dimensional space. We had so little common besides shared history and a spark.

But damn, Lucian, I loved you in a weird way. I think you knew that. It was hard to say it with actual words because it could hold no promise and bear no fruit, so instead I did that affectionate-but-distant thing I’m so good at, and we grew apart while wishing each other monstrous well. But I think you always knew you were dear to me, just like I knew I was dear to you. I miss you already, dude. I miss you for yourself, and I’ll just be honest: I miss you because one fewer person on this planet loves me, and I wasn’t ready for that kind of downgrade. I wasn’t. I’m not.

Fuck. We’ll always have narwhals?


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29 Aug

The truth about my glamorous sex life.

The fact that I’m a bisexual polyamorous chick with a decidedly slutty ideology is reason enough for most people to assume I get sex like kittens get cuddles. Which is a lot unless you take into account all those underprivileged homeless kittens out there with no one to cuddle them, and I was ignoring them just now. I’m sorry, little match kittens.

Viola and I were talking about sluts the other day, and how we love them. “…and people like you are awesome too,” she said, “because you’re not a slut, but you get it.” This is basically true. Of course I’m a slutty slutty slut slut compared to some people, but it bears mentioning that these people are really and truly not having very much sex. I get to see Oren for great sex pretty regularly, and Viola is, as ever, my fuckbuddy for life, but I see her much more sporadically. Most weeks my sex life looks like that of a fairly average monogamous heterosexual person, despite the fact that madcap sexual adventures are encouraged by everyone involved. And compared to most poly people I know? Let’s just say I do a lot of masturbating.

There’s a cultural trope that it’s easy for women to find sex. And maybe it is, but finding someone to connect with isn’t easy for all of us, and that’s a huge limiting factor on the sex I’m having, at least. Basically, here’s why I’m not having as much sex as most people probably think I’m having.

  1. I am picky. Seriously, my hormones just don’t flow like that for most people. I wish this were different, and I sometimes wonder if it’s not my own fault because I’m too reserved and awkward. It probably is, but somehow I can’t make myself magically less reserved and awkward any more than I can force myself to want your roommate Ethan’s penis in me.
  2. I am also, as the link above indicates, not so good at flirting. I assume everyone wants to be my friend (because duh) and no one wants to bone me. There is a kind of dance, with steps of vulnerability, of give-and-take, that people perform while wending their way toward consummation. I have never quite caught on to the rhythm of it.
  3. Bish, I am tired. I am exhausted pretty much all the time. Lately, just thinking about dating exhausts me. I hate that it’s even possible for me to be at this point, but sometimes pursuing sex (or even having sex) just takes too much energy. And sometimes I’m focusing too hard on not disintegrating under the pulverizing crucible of chronic pain to seduce anybody. So if I’m going to sign up for sex these days, it’s going to have to be sex I’m 90% sure is going to be terrific, understand? Oren and Viola? Always worth it. Ethan? Dunno. No ATP to spare for wildcards.
  4. I’m often told I’m intimidating. No idea if this is a pervasive thing, but it comes up enough that I assume it nets me fewer chat-ups and sexual possibilities. Sorry I’m not sorry if I’m scary, everybody. ::dinosaur face::
  5. OH GOD IT’S BECAUSE I’M UGLY, ISN’T IT??? (Just kidding. Usually.)

I suppose I’m doing the stereotypical feminine thing now where I want to have sex with connection, with meaning, with intent to build something– even if it’s not a traditional relationship or whatever– with the other person. Of course, party sex still has its place, and sometimes I get in a mood where I’m game as fuck for it. But it’s probably not today, and you should believe me when I say that everybody at that party better be vetted the house down.

I’m not a slut so much as I’m slut-compatible. For now, at least. Nothing ever doesn’t change, so that might.

(image source)

27 Aug

ConTuesday! Getting more laid.

ConTuesday is go!

My goal is to have at least 1 sex partner for each year I’ve been on this planet. I am currently 4 behind and haven’t had a new partner in over a year. This makes me, and my vaj, sad. My birthday is next month and I hate that I will now be one more partner farther from my goal.

I’ve met a lot of men in the past year. dated a few of them. I’ve even been physical with a few of them but I just can’t close the deal (I’m only counting PinV partners). Now, to make matters worse, I have a ”gentleman’s wager” with a girl at work who is trying to catch up and making quick progress.

Whoever thought it would be this hard for a vaginally gifted person to find some new D?

Are you by any chance picky about such things? Because I am, and if I only count penis-in-vagina sex, my number suddenly plummets, which doesn’t help my street cred. But on the plus side, I’m not putting any penises where I don’t want them, which I consider more important. But I wish you all possible luck finding appropriate candidates.

If you want to game your system you can consider changing planets, I suppose. May take the pressure off?

My love is halfway across the country. We haven’t seen each other in months. Before we had to go long distance we were working (slowly) towards anal sex, with toys and such. It *really* turns him on, which is good enough for me on non-painful things but the glorious orgasms he’d give me to augment anal play have trained my brain into equating something in my ass with a happy thing so while I don’t get off from it it is a nice sort of horny glow.

I’ve been working on it on my own since we’ve been separated because I don’t want to have to start over when we finally get to be together again, and I’ve discovered a couple of things:

1) A plug in my butt and something in my pussy at the same time is really hot, and

2) The idea of turning him on that much from halfway across the country is so fucking hot for me that I’ve been mildly wet since I ordered a new plug that I’ll be able to progress further with and wear more comfortably for longer a few days ago. And refreshing the tracking page madly. Hurry the hell up already, package!

Seeing someone so into their partner’s pleasure and sexually giving is warming the cockles of my heart. It’s like those little books with inspirational quotes, but for perverts. Keep being awesome.

You know what would be so very cool?
If, like, to play a joke on all of us, you just kinda inserted a professionally-done picture of a nude woman, like you do lots of times in your posts, and then didn’t tell anyone for a long time that one of the pics that you had put up was of you. So it’s like putting yourself on display, but not really, because you’re not letting people know that it’s you.
And really, that would be quite hot, knowing that we’ve seen you, and likely been turned on by the sight of you, but not knowing which or how or when. So there’s that to contemplate.

Woman has sex blog. Says she’s not going to get naked on her blog, even if it makes life seem harsh and cruel. Says public nudity is threatening in a world and seems vague and uncertain. Readers say, “Solution is simple. The nude model Pagliacci has lots of pictures online. Go find and use those. That should prick us up.” Woman bursts into tears. Says, “But, readers… I am Pagliacci!” Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drums. Curtain. Fade to black.

I started sobbing right after I read your post, “We’re Not Fucking Like People Today.“ It is everything I want and everything I’ve been feeling for years. Effectively I haven’t had sex in five years and that was with the person to whom I lost my virginity. The dry spell was due to a combination of opportunity, passiveness, an assortment of hangups (some valid some not), and general ‘fraidy-cat-ness. I was crying partly out of hunger pains, but mostly out of the profound relief that I may soon break this fast.

I want to punch everyone in the goddamned face who thinks I’m a “nice girl” because I’m inexperienced. I want to take a sawed-off shotgun to people who think “an attractive girl like [me]” can just get it whenever she wants.

I’ve held a candle for a friend of mine for years (and he’s felt the same way all this time) and we finally started dating a few months ago. He’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met. Quarterback-of-the-football-team handsome, chiseled features with blue eyes. He’s all of six feet and exquisitely muscled. I’ve fainted from his beauty, jumped flustered from it, and laughed at it, the ridiculous smoothness of his golden body. When he wants to kiss me he does this thing where he cocks his head like a submissive wolf and kisses me from below. He gets that playful look on his face which I now recognize from when he first tried to kiss me three years ago. It was the day before Thanksgiving and I had stopped by his place to drop off a donut for his roommate. He made me a cup of tea, and we sat down and talked about our families. He rubbed a kink out of my neck. I finished my tea and washed the mug as I hummed a few bars from the song Fever. I dried my hands on my baggy corduroys, put on my backpack and held up my hand for a high five. That look. He cocked his head like a submissive wolf and leaned in. I turned my cheek because I assumed he was aiming there. He never let on that he was trying to kiss me though. He just wrapped his arms around me and my backpack and swung me around a bit before dropping me off at his front door. Now I know what that look means and three years later, I’ll never make that mistake again.

So far our making out has felt like a time portal to a teenage life I’ve never had. He’s far more experienced than I am and he’s my age (mid twenties), but he feels so young when we’re making out. His fingers fumble at my waist and all at once he’s eager but unsure. His kiss jumps on me and sweat pools in the small of his back. He breathes hard and his eyes are screwed shut. He lets me leave hickeys on him. He’s not my usual dominance fantasy, but there’s something innocent, sweet and deeply sexy about how turned on he is when I kiss his shoulders and slowly grind on him. We tend to giggle when we tumble into his bed together like we’re still stunned by the idea of finally touching each other. “Is this really happening?” I have a feeling we’re both thinking it.

He has no idea what I like in bed, I think he assumes and he’d be wrong. I have no idea what he likes in bed, I think he’s vanilla but he could just assume I am. We have yet to be naked in front of each other. I want to fuck him. I want to know what drives him insane and I want to see if he’s game for what turns me on. I want to see the look in his eyes when I tell him. I want the thrill of seeing him reach for a condom. I want our half-drunk mugs of tea and pretense on the nightstand to turn cold as we feverishly screw until the wee small hours of the morning. Maybe someday we’ll even have sex like your post. I’m seeing him tomorrow. The anticipation is killing me.

Wait… you actually fainted because he’s so hot? I’m so fucking happy for you I’m not even going to express concern about your blood pressure or anything. Come over here and get your ::internet high five::, champ.

I used to use sex fantasies to deal with chronic pain.

I don’t actually get off on pain, but since it’s already there, I thought I might as well sexify it. I used to have all kinds of glitzy wank-fantasies where I was The Most Gracious of Painsluts and there was a kind husky-voiced dude was telling me it’s going to be okay.

Then I fell in love with a kind husky-voiced masochist, and now, when my pain meds don’t work, I ask if I can beat the shit out of him. Usually, he lets me and LET ME TELL YOU, QP, THIS WORKS SO MUCH BETTER.

(and then we cuddle like the sore sex creatures we are, and tell each other it’s going to be okay)

Your creativity is inspiring and marvelous, and if beating people didn’t sound like a prohibitively tiring approach to my chronic pain issues I think I’d start looking for a masochist to call my own with a quickness. I think I’d like to try cunnilingus as a treatment option, though…

MORE CONFESSIONS! GIMME.

20 Aug

ConTuesday! Racing the clock. I mean the battery.

I sit here today in a bookstore with free wifi compiling ConTuesday on a laptop with 57% left on its battery and having forgotten my charger at home. I just got finished convincing a Planned Parenthood clinician that my migraines with aura are no good reason to disqualify me from taking combined hormone birth control. My nerves are a bit jangled from experimenting with a new medication last night that I will not be taking again.

Oh, but I should mention that everything’s actually pretty okay. Life’s been tough lately, and I’m never really going to have things under control, but if my lifetime thus far has taught me anything it’s that I can handle whatever you throw at me. Anything. And I’m pretty sure you’re a lot like me that way.

Now to hurry up and do this thing before my laptop slumbers.

Apparently, my boyfriend has (very quietly) named my left breast ”Charles Boobbage” and my right breast ”Sweeney Tit”. I don’t know how to feel about this.

I’m whole-heartedly enjoying it from over here! There’s something very special about someone able to render something ridiculous and sexualize it at the same time.

So a previous ConTuesday got me thinking of expanding my toy collection (currently one). The one I’m looking at seems really fun, but I’m debating on the wisdom of the purchase for a couple reasons. 1) The somewhat recent discovery of happy phone fun times by the boyfriend in another state and I has resulted in my vibrator being largely forgotten. I’m worried this one will experience similar neglect. 2) Even though I found it on sale on amazon, I’m still a very poor person. 3) Currently I’m living at my mom and stepdad’s house. Even though they are in another state because of his job, I’m worried that the package might go to them since all the mail is being forwarded to their current address. 4) The closest mailbox I could conceivably borrow is a friend’s house about an hour’s drive away. Almost every time I visit, my ex is there. While we’re cordial, this isn’t the kind of package I’d want to open in fro nt of him.

I feel trapped between a rock and a hard place (not the good kind).

What if you ordered something very cheap from amazon in addition to the vibrator that will ship in the same box? Then you can explain what’s in the package without lying and also eat the cake. I mean the vibrator.

Source: Years and years of lying to my parents.

I love nipples. They used to just seem decorative. But now I feel the pipeline between them and my cock. Sadly, my partner, who has some of the most amazingly reactive and varied-in-appearance teats that I have ever seen, doesn’t care for nipple play at all. Sad.
I like when she sucks mine with some teeth while I plunge deeper into her pussy. A long easy-going bite tends to make me come, pretty easily.

Interestingly, other men’s nipples do nothing for me. ALL women’s nipples are of interest to me. How strange, we straight mammals are.

I can’t bring myself to be too surprised that the (sometimes) erogenous zones of a population you’re not sexually attracted to don’t interest you, but something about the fact that you find it remarkable kind of gives me hope for the human race, in a way.

It could be the combined hormones talking, though.

I wish my husband had a twin because then instead of going on vacation for two weeks, we could just tell everyone we did that, and the three of us could remain in our bedroom, and they could keep me skewered tight and hot the entire time.

Unf.

Is it weird that I’m always very forthcoming about the fact that I’d fuck a clone of myself (thoroughly!) but I don’t go around trumpeting that I’d like to fuck my own twin. Because incest is worse than Sci Fi? I guess?

But I sometimes think I still would.

I don’t know if this is sexual enough for this forum, but I recently got in to poly. A few days ago, my girlfriend and my boyfriend came running up to me and declared that they were going to spend more time together because “we have the possibility of being the best friends EVER! and we can think of more ways to torment you”. I love them both so much, and I’m thrilled that they like each other. Slightly worried about the torment, though…ee!!!

This is definitely sexual enough because it’s adorable and my life would be poorer for not having read it. These are the kinds of moments that, for me, crystalize the fact that poly is, well, pretty awesome.

Recently, regulations have changed regarding my life, and the life out thousands of new Soldiers across the Army. And by new I mean “I’ve been in a year and a half but still somehow count as new”. We now have an early curfew, every night. We aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone. I’m devastated on a personal level, because of my awesome relationship. Mostly because the idea of not being allowed to sleep in my dominant’s arms again, or beside our girlfriend, potentially ever, has had me cry myself to sleep twice now.

But on an attempting to be positive note, maybe now, more people on my post will learn the joy that is poly and threesome and moresomes. Because we either have to travel in same gender pairs our groups of three or more. I’m of the opinion there’s a simple way to get around the problem of not having sex.

But like, what the fuck do they expect you to do about the whole “I’m a human being and, as many of us do, need sexual contact to feel fulfilled and healthy” thing? Ugh. I hope you have scads of multi-soldier poly sex. But, you know, that’s probably not allowed either so idk. FUCK.

I have a long distance boyfriend, we haven’t been together long, but sparks went flying and we’re just going along with it without too many worries about the long term.

The second time we had sex on camera (well, masturbated on camera, but in my head it’s ’sex on camera’) I spanked my ass. I’d never done that before and we hadn’t talked about it at all, but somehow I had this gut feeling that he would love it. And boy was I right. I’m pretty sure I’ll never see anything as beautiful as his completely stunned/delighted face. Luckily, it turns out I really like it too (though probably the fact that he loves it so much has something to do with that). Afterwards, he wouldn’t shut up about how he had wanted to ask me to do that but he was waiting for the right time and he couldn’t figure out a way to do it that wouldn’t possibly offend me and I was so amazing for reading his mind etc etc etc. The lesson:
Asking someone to do that thing you love and having them say yes: pretty fucking awesome
Having someone do that thing you love spontaneously before you’ve even asked: there are no words

This isn’t the best moral for the virtues of frank and open sexual communication, but seriously, it’s giving me too many feels for me to quibble. Also, I now want to be a sexual intuitive, where I anticipate my partners’ needs like I’m Deanna Troi or some shit. Seriously, I bet she did that.

46%, you guys. We did good work today.


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12 Aug

See, you start with some spooge…

I’m reading a lot about alchemy lately, which perhaps I’ll get into in depth later because really, it’s fascinating. But for now I’m just going to leave this recipe for a homunculus (attributed to Paracelsus, alchemist and father of toxicology) here and back away slowly.

That the sperm of a man be putrefied by itself in a sealed cucurbit for forty days with the highest degree of putrefaction in a horse’s womb, or at least so long that it comes to life and moves itself, and stirs, which is easily observed. After this time, it will look somewhat like a man, but transparent, without a body. If, after this, it be fed wisely with the Arcanum of human blood, and be nourished for up to forty weeks, and be kept in the even heat of the horse’s womb, a living human child grows therefrom, with all its members like another child, which is born of a woman, but much smaller.

This used to be science. Just think how all the things we think we know and can easily observe now will look in a few hundred years. I think I’m going to start laughing at everything early just to get a jump on things.

09 Aug

The question.

As a chronically ill person I constantly struggle against the belief that I’m not worth as much as a healthy person. I write here about my disability from time to time, but I don’t know if I’ve ever explained how much it affects me day to day. Pain and fatigue are perpetually with me, and have been for about a decade now. I have to spend a lot of time in bed. When I’m not in bed it’s with the understanding that I will have to buy back that time with being stuck in bed even more than usual. This isn’t “in bed” in the fortune cookie sense. My sleep, my concentration, my coordination, and my brain chemistry are all disturbed by this illness. It’s tough going, having this body.

Some days I can’t walk normally. Some days I can’t drive. Most days I can’t work because the pain and exhaustion are impossible to power through. The tireder I get the more confused and clumsy I become, until my body shuts down despite any and all efforts. All this is frustrating and depressing, both chemically (because the illness makes any physical, mental, or emotional balance uniquely delicate) and situationally (because, um, obvs). It’s overwhelming to think that this is my life from now on, but as time goes on I’ve had to become more and more resigned to that possibility.

Apart from the obvious difficulties I have just, you know, living– at all– I wonder a lot what I actually offer as a partner. Intellectually, I know that I have a fairly interesting personality, and to some I’m even compelling. I love furiously and unstintingly. I look okay if you’re into pale girls with crazy hair. Sometimes I suspect I’m actually pretty great in bed. So I do see what I offer as a lover, but I worry more about the partner part. I may never be able to contribute much income to a household. I’m poor and sick– hell, if anyone out there has excellent health insurance, will you please marry me immediately? Because I’m too destitute to get consistent and adequate treatment for my illness, and I know how to make delicious homemade toum, so I think we could call it an even trade, right? And while I really like the idea of growing old with someone, I might very likely die early. And there are days when I can’t do anything. It’s boring and it’s not fair to the people around me. I hate it.

As an added bonus, as someone who’s been abused and raped, I still constantly struggle against the belief that the reason these things happened to me is because I’m intrinsically worthless. That’s just something the human mind tends to do after going through trauma of that flavor.

Of course, there’s more to it than all that. I think that would be enough, but there’s definitely more. I hear people say they feel worthless all the time, even though they’re healthy and don’t share my history. Is there a neurotransmitter that’s responsible for self worth and some of us are deficient? Is our society so fucked up that it’s working against our birthright of feeling like we matter as much as anyone else? Do we all just need to do a lot more cocaine? I hear cocaine makes you think pretty highly of yourself.

There is no doubt in my mind that there are people to whom I’m worth a hell of a lot. I’m so lucky that way. Sometimes I just wonder how that even works, considering. And I worry what will happen if my health gets much worse. I don’t want to be a burden, and I wouldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to assume one if they could avoid it.

I know on a very fundamental level that I have innate worth. I’ve peeked through tears in the fabric of consensus reality and realized what a joke all these details are. They’re not what define me; they’re cobwebs in the doorway that is myself. Even if I can never brush them away they are not structurally important, except to arthropods. But still, I wonder what I’m worth on a more surface level if I can’t achieve even modest economic success, or have a “normal” life, or keep up with the cool kids, and that’s harder to answer. What am I worth? I can tell myself “That’s easy. I’m worth the whole fucking universe!”, but sometimes I’m stopped short. What can I say? I’m greedy enough to want more than the universe. I want the world too. At least a nice, comfortable chunk of it.

I would gladly share.