quizzical pussy

I don’t often wax nostalgic about my sex life. So far in my life, sex builds on itself, getting better and better as I understand my body more and hate my body less and explore more facets of that ephemeral thing people call chemistry.

But there were moments. Numinous, they were. It cannot be denied that there were those moments. Little fairy lights that lace the past with unbearable sweetness: that’s how I want to remember my exes. My current, my future exes. May we all learn from the bad but remember the good.

I gave up my Much Younger Lover today. It’s mostly my own fault, I helped set him up with a great girl. They’re crazy for each other and it’s so cute to see. I’m happy for them, I really am, but my heart is tender and bruised. The sex was getting incredible. I mean crazy, mind blowing, screaming, gasping-for-breath incredible. Earlier this week when I fell asleep in his arms, I knew it was going to be so hard to give him up. I get to keep him as a friend though. If I had to give that up, I don’t know how I would manage. I can only hope he knows how much I’ve enjoyed our affair, how grateful I am for his discretion, how he gave me back parts of my self I thought were irretrievably lost, and how I will never forget him.

I think this is the classiest, most mature shit I have ever read about any illicit affair. I have never said this, but I think you may have actually done cheating right.

Not that I’m endorsing cheating. Just selfless love, mostly.

I broke up with my boyfriend. I have cried more than him. The thing is, I know that it kills right now but five years from now he’s still going to be the same person essentially and I will be leaps and bounds ahead.

I wish that he used our breakup as a turning point to realize his life is taking some bad turns.

He’ll figure out what he needs to figure out when he’s ready, and not a minute sooner. You can always count on people for that. In the meantime, go be awesome!

I feel silly saying this because there’s many more important things that I lost as a result of my recent breakup, but here goes in a secret place: I am worried I will not find someone as sexually compatible as he was with me. There were some issues towards the end re: mismatched libidos, but otherwise, we were excellent together in bed and I was totally comfortable with asking for everything I wanted and giving him everything he wanted. I liked his openness.

This is particularly related to his being a bisexual boy who wanted me to fuck his ass. Not sure where I’ll find that anytime soon, in high school.

If all else fails, college holds the rich promise of bisexual boys, boys who like to be fucked in the ass, and a capella groups with names that are also puns.

Is there another reason people go to college?

This happened years ago but one weekend of too much party time I had sex with four guys starting Saturday morning until Sunday afternoon. It was the most embarrassing and demeaning thing I have ever done, but I was in a perpetual state of arousement. As much as I was humiliated by what transpired I constantly orgasmed. Once I was naked I stayed that way and was constantly used and abused by these four boys. I gave oral sex to all of them several times and subjected to anal sex often as well as intercouse. I was sexually satisfied while as many as three of them violated me at the same time. There were possitions I was put in I had never thought possible and was constantly displayed to them in the most degrading ways. It only happened that one time and it happened ten years ago. When it took place and for many months afterwards I was totally mortified every time I saw any of those boys. Years later when I thought about the things they did to me it all the sudden had an arousing afftect I still today masturbate thinking about it. I think now that it was the most satisfying sexual experience in my life. The number of orgasms I experienced that weekend is astounding.

I may be mistaken, but it seems like this was a completely consensual experience, right? The word choices are confusing me, but that’s what I’m getting from it.

When I’m especially sad, my fantasies always turn subby. It’s not a bad coping mechanism, and actually it’s a pretty good way of tracking my depression. For the last couple of months, most of my fantasies were about kind but stern random people fucking me and beating me up. Wanking helped me relax and kept my thoughts away from the mess that is my life, but it didn’t make me happier.

Yesterday, when I was alone in the house, I locked myself in the bathroom with some vague background music, and had an epic, four-hours-long (later I transferred to the bedroom), extremely detailed fantasy about an ex-bf, my roommate, several fictional characters (including Kaylee Fry and Dr Tachyon) and the guy I currently like. I was kind but stern and I fucked them and beat them up. They worshipped me and we discussed ethics and at some points I was some sort of deity.

It was amazing. I came several times and I’m still feeling the aftershocks of euphoria. And best of all – my depression’s dissipating again! Hah!

Tonight I think I’ll be a pillaging pirate. (And tomorrow? I’m taking the guy I like to the movies.)

Imagination is the best way to engage sexually with exes. And vikings. And Dr. Tachyon. Whoever that is.

I am afraid that the combination of my inability to maintain strong boundaries and the partners I’ve had who have taken every inch they could get is destroying my ability to be sexual and enjoy my own fantasies.

There are people out there who aren’t douchebags. I just want you to know that. Maybe focus on regaining your trust in yourself for now? Past partners have no claim on your sexuality or your fantasies unless you invite them.

I lost my virginity on the floor of my bedroom the week before my 18th birthday. It was by girlfriend at the time’s birthday present to me. We started on the couch and made it all the way upstairs, but not quite into bed. I (not so) secretly wish that I could have sex that was literally all over the house again.

There are some moment from our sexual histories we really can’t revisit. This one? Seems more or less doable. Get thee to a couch, why don’t you?

Sex Confessional

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