Life feels so much better when it doesn’t get dark at 5pm and the trees are starting to eat again and when you send me your deepest, darkest secrets.
I fucked my wife at her mother’s house the other day, and she kept hushing me and trying to stop the headboard from thumping. Admitedly, the next guest room over was her older brother’s bedroom, and this was early morning. Dammit, I want that headboard to thump the wall so hard that no one in the house will make eye contact for the first hour that we’re up!
Have you considered the possibility that the hushed, surreptitious nature of the sex may have added to the hotness for your wife? Because I’m considering that right now and it seems like it could potentially be legit.
I was the first poster here. Oh guess what? He was fucking guys behind my back the whole time and lying about it.
Cheating shows an appalling lack of creativity.
my best girl had her final chemo treatment 3 weeks ago (she’s free and clear and clean for now, thank everything!) and in celebration of that, she let all of her hair grow back; head, underarms, bikini and all. turns out, due to some body chemistry changes, all her hair is growing back colorless–completely white. she always used to shave before, but i’m so enamored with her healthiness wonderful self that i’ve discovered that i absolutely love her fuzzy gorgeousness. now our latest sexy euphemism is usually something along the lines of “snow white meets the 7-inch dwarf!”
There’s the creativity I was looking for, and I hope your girl recovers like a boss.
I got tacit approval.
I want to use it. I’ve a wonderful, delicious, incredibly alluring potential partner, who wants to engage in peaceful, safe, harmless sex that we know could await us. It would be epic.
But if I have to lie about it, then it feels like cheating. And that’s the thing: my spouse said, when I got the approval: ”If you ever do it with anyone else, I don’t want to know about it. Just don’t bring home any diseases.”
I can’t lie to my spouse. I’m in this relationship forever.
I will also regret, forever, not doing this.
Integrity? Or loss of incredible, explorative, loving, meaningful sex?
It’s not that I’m disturbed by non-monogamy. I’m disturbed by non-straight-forward sincerity, with my spouse. Just because my life mate is mostly non-attentive sexually does not mean that I may make presumptions.
This sucks. I want a do-over.
I don’t get don’t ask/don’t tell relationships. Will someone explain them to me? Does anyone have an relationship configured this way that they consider emotionally healthy? I am trying to imagine it and it just seems avoidant, but maybe I’m missing something.
Plus, you miss out on all those hot recaps and squeeing together after dates and stuff.
My boyfriend takes *forever* to cum. And by forever I mean routinely over an hour. We’re both really new to sex in general and I don’t know how to deal with this (needless to say, not the problem I was expecting!). I just get so tired and he ends up taking care of himself while I lay there. Any advice? The internet doesn’t consider this a problem, apparently…
I have not run into this, but I definitely see how it could be frustrating. Any advice, quizkids?
I left a confession about 3 months ago disclosing that I had managed to orchestrate a friends with benefits deal with a friend for many years. We tried sex on psychotropics (LSD) and had an incredible time (she felt like a Dianic sex-goddess, and I had an incredible full body orgasm).
More recently though we bought a feeldoe (I linked her to your various feeldoe posts which met with great approval) and have had a lot of fun incorporating that into our play. Unfortunately neither of us feel comfortable bragging about our feeldoe play to any of our real-life friends (who would pass judgment on us – prudes) but luckily on the internet you are here to brag to QP(!).
At one point I had her insert the feeldoe and wear it out whilst we had dinner at a local dining establishment. Afterwards as we walked home to my place we found a nice dark alley and I gave her long passionate blowjob and jerked her off whilst she grabbed my hair and stroked my head as I sucked her. Then she reciprocated the blowjob whilst stroking her cock. When we got home we fucked for ages and I came a second time with such intensity that I could barely remain standing.
I must brag also about what a perfect match we are; the fact that after exposing her to futanari pornography that she loves it as much as I do, even identifies and longs for that body type. And just thinking about that makes me hard for her. As a bisexual cis-male that notion is to me the best possible thing in existence and I love talking dirty to her and walking her through the male sexual response whilst we both jerk each other off.
We’re still hoping to find a willing female partner to have a threesome with, and we’re looking at buying the feeldoe stout to add to the collection and give us more options when it comes to strapless cocks.
Okay, wait wait wait. This is some motherfucking creativity. Also, I now want to use my feeldoe while on acid. Badly.
This last summer, prompted by both your urging and my recent breakup, I bought my very first dildo on BAST day! It is rather classy, opaque black glass, voluptuous and slick-smooth and ohmygod I love it…
And I rather surprised myself by discovering an oral use for it… One of my favorite submissive fantasies is being fucked by one man while another holds me down and makes me suck his cock. Quite often I will get out my new toy, and it never makes it to my pussy, because even having something even vaguely penis-shaped filling my mouth (in addition to my usual manual method) is enough to give me a more intense, trembling and breathless orgasm than I ever had before.
So, thank you for convincing me to buy a sex toy… Best Purchase Ever. :-)
(though I may have to invest in something softer for my oral fixation… one of these times I may get carried away and chip a tooth…)
This is so awesome that I will light a phallic candle for your continued dental health.
Stats: Cisgender, black, pansexual, early-20something female.
I consider this a breakthrough. It isn’t big, but it could lead to big things, so I’m counting it as such. Here goes:
So I’ve been concerned about the way I’ve always masturbated. Not because I have any issue with getting myself off (far from it) or because it was unusual in any way (ditto), but rather because I had gotten so comfy with the position over the years (on my back, legs locked straight, index fingertip rubbing the left side of the clit) that I found it flat-out impossible to get off any other way.
Until last night! I was still on my back with my legs locked, but I used my middle fingertip this time, and it actually worked (I had tried other times a bit halfheartedly with no success). Such a small difference, but it’s progress! And though it might have just been the novelty of the situation, I felt that when I came, my spasms were slightly stronger than usual. I’ll have to do a side-by-side comparison to see. *puts on lab coat and goggles*
My master plan: Practice getting proficient with each finger on my right hand (the hand I’ve always used). Then do the same with the left. Then try multiple fingers and/or different motions. Then change the position of my legs. Then try to get off my back (I’ve always wanted to be able to do it sitting up on my knees). Then mix and match various fingers, hands and positions. Then (and this is a biggie) shift from pelvic passive to pelvic active if I can.
I’ve also considered how this might affect partnered sex and intercourse. And how toys might add to the mix … but one thing at a time. Don’t wanna jump ahead of myself. I’ve never felt so on fire with my own body’s possibilities.
Wish me luck! I love your blog!
Wishing you lots of luck! One thing I have noticed about people is that we usually figure out what (if anything) gets us off one way or another. We’re phenomenal that way. We’re not always honest about it, we don’t always like the fact that it gets us off, and it might take some of us a very long time to figure it out. But we eventually figure out all or most of the things, given enough heartbeats.
Or do we?
Have you ever gotten a message from a guy on OkCupid and your immediate gut reaction was to send him the urban dictionary link for Nice Guy Syndrome?
One of these days I might do it, so help me.
Can we just talk for a minute about how hard it was for me to go through last week without a new episode of Rupaul’s Drag Race? Because it was moderately difficult, and I also may have strep throat. Again. But I see now that the logo website has uploaded last night’s episode now, so I can watch it whenever I like. Which will be soon because I’m not getting out of bed until I absolutely have to.
Someone invent a bathtub bed immediately! And bring drag queens and epsom salt, please.
The thing about boarding school is that someone might just drive up next to you while you’re trying to have sex with your boyfriend outside in the grass. Whoops.
I feel like this would be as dire a hazard if I’d tried to have sex in the grass outside my public high school as well, but maybe I’m missing something…
I just got a new roommate. He’s tall and cute and has an accent. We cooked dinner together today and he stood just a little too close the whole time. He would sort of brush by me, barely touching my ass with his arm. I know that having sex with roommates is dangerous business, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.
You guys are totally going to do it. I get enough confessions in which people bemoan that they’re not having sex with their roommates (isn’t that more or less what a partner becomes after the sex dries up?) that this is novel.
Anti-anxiety meds are awesome! Except they make me take twice as long to come without affecting my sex drive, and given that my libido’s a fairly ravenous beast, this has been… less than fun, shall we say. Couldn’t even be certain I’ll be able to get myself off for a while, which was kinda awful for me.
And do you know what helped? Fantasizing about someone used sexually and prevented from coming. Ah, my contrary brain, I heart you so when you’re not been a panic-attack prone dick.
Yay for managing anxiety!
Sometimes when I’m masturbating I imagine finally– finally– being sexual sated for a while. It’s one of those fantasies that I’m well aware will never happen, like sex in space.
i want to send you a confession, but i have a problem. it involves a very specific set of circumstances and those involved read contuesdays, something for which i can only blame myself. so, instead i just lie here, naked in bed, frustrated but unable to confesss why, reading sexy confessions and wanting to add my two cents to the confessions, yet unable to do so and so getting more frustrated…. if this goes on much longer i might explode :P
but on the other hand i now understand why some people like being sexually frustrated, of course it does make paying attention to lectures at uni a little more difficult…
Okay, you guys. It is only polite to pretend you don’t know who submitted ConTuesday confessions, even if you totally know. (It’s also polite to pretend that I’m a sex goddess and everyone wants to do me, but that’s unrelated.)
I used the Cardiograph app on my phone to watch my heart rate as I brought myself to orgasm and then came down from it. Science is fun!
As if graphs weren’t erotic enough on their own!
I’ve known I was kinky since I was 12, but I just had the best sexfest EVER with a guy who’s totally new to BDSM. He didn’t let that stop him; I’m pretty sure he didn’t even let that slow him down, because he did things to me I didn’t even realize were possible and not just like, mythical things people who claimed they had good sex lied about. New guy’s completely recalibrated all my sexual barometers, is what I’m saying. We had sex so many times over the course of three days that by the end, neither of us could really even get aroused any more, much less orgasm.
That’s not really the confession, because, well, it was great but it’s not juicy. The confession is that my long-term ex who previously held the #1 position–well, he recently said some truly shitty stuff to me and I had to cut off contact with him entirely–and now I’m very tempted to get revenge. New guy seems to be way more awesome, and he’s nine billion times better in bed (rough estimate). Ex couldn’t fuck me for longer than 20 seconds without premature ejaculation (seriously), was too lazy to ever explore more than the ‘usual’ bdsm stuff I specifically asked for, and his dick was tiny and he hated oral and basically, he was a lazy fuck.
I am extremely, EXTREMELY tempted to send a text to my ex that says: So sorry, you have been DOWNGRADED. All those times I said you were good in bed? I realize I was unintentionally lying, because I’ve now experienced truly transcendental fucking. Have fun finding someone who’s willing to overlook your tiny quick fucking-selfishness, because I would rather just revisit my memories of the guy I just met than ever see you again.
Unfortunately, that’s way too long for a text. Suggestions on how to cut it down? :P
You know how they say that living well is the best revenge? Fucking well is specifically excellent in that regard. If you tell your ex any of this, though, it’ll give him an excuse to forget you cut off contact. I’m sure you know this because, well, you’re saying it here.
Also, why haven’t you lost that jerk’s phone number, though?
I have a great (open) relationship with my boyfriend.
I also love my friend, and he loves me. Platonically. Yes, platonic love is a real thing, not a euphemism. He’s not my type, sexually, and I’m not his. But I yearn over him, every thing I think or experience I imagine what he would say, the sight of him unhappy is devastating, and his company may be my favorite thing in the world.
I don’t know if this is disloyal to my boyfriend, or totally crazy, or what. But I can’t pretend it’s not the case. I think of my friend and I as Heloise and Abelard, though hopefully with a less gruesome outcome.
Your friendship makes me smile and I think its awesome. I think Heloise and Abelard were kind of each other’s type sexually, but I don’t know. I’m wrong sometimes.
My boyfriend and I have been together for two and a half years, but the last year has been horrible. We haven’t been having sex very often–maybe once or twice a month. And I’ve tried talking to him about it (because, frankly, that’s not enough for me). But last week he says that he’s by sex and that he doesn’t ever feel aroused. But, those sound like two different things to me. I really want to fix things between us. He just shuts down when I try to talk to him. I don’t know what to do.
People scattered all over the world are noticing the missing word and going “He’s what by sex?” but I guess it doesn’t really change the gist of the confession. I hate telling people to nuke their relationships because it seems so myopic, but if you’ve been miserable for an entire year? And he’s not talking to you except to tell you that he doesn’t want to have anything like the sex life you want to have? I’m really sorry, but what are you actually trying to save?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch drag queens bicker.
I’m sorry that I’ve been such an asshole that you felt the need to off yourself a couple thousand years ago. I guess I didn’t realize that the things I was going to have done (e.g. wanting to learn about science and mistaking the sex drive you gave me for a characteristic rather than a complicated test) were going to bother you so much. I suppose I just figured you had better things to do than worry about these things that weren’t strictly hurting anyone, and don’t really have anything to do with you anyway. Even now it seems an overreaction; I’m just spitballing here, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say the whole thing was more about dramatizing the ebb and flow of light throughout the solar calendar than my personal sins. But I totally didn’t mean to drive you to suicide or anything. Anyway, I’m glad that whole immortality thing worked out for you. If you want to talk things out or need a hug or just whatever, you know where to find me.
If the subject of gay marriage always elicits a “Why is the government even involved in marriage anyway? Let’s just stop doing that, okay?” from you, and you don’t stridently bring that up whenever your straight friends are walking around getting married and being married, I think you’re derailing from the basic issue of giving people their civil rights. If you were never all that fussed about the government sanctioning unions before gay marriage became such an imminent possibility, I question your motives in fussing about it now.
If, more generally, you don’t think it’s important to fight for the civil rights of people being deprived of theirs simply because it isn’t your personal pet cause, I think you’re dearly in need of perspective. Figure this shit out and catch up. We’re trying to make the world suck less. It will not stop sucking, and some people will still be left out in the cold, and that is not okay. But we’ll be another step closer to optimal sucklack.
And sucklack is a fundamental American value that our founding fathers were pretty jazzed over.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but marriage equality is kind of a big deal in the United States this week. Today the U.S. Supreme Court heard a case challenging Proposal 8, a law that delegalized same-sex marriage in California. Tomorrow the court hears another case challenging the hilariously-named Defense of Marriage Act. If these laws are successfully overturned, the government will have slightly but significantly caught up with the reality that anyone worth their trace minerals already understands: Civil rights are non-negotiable, no matter whom one thinks one’s sky daddy is mad at.
So here’s a ConTuesday all about the manifold ways different people are doing– or want to do– marriage. Can we stop pretending it does– or is even supposed to– mean just one thing?
I don’t want to come out as a lesbian to my closed-minded conservative family until I’m married to my amazeballs girlfriend. Because then they won’t be able to dismiss my romantic/sexual orientation as “just a phase”. Because then they will have to deal with the fact that the government considers my relationship as real and important as my parents’ 25 year marriage. Because it’ll piss them off SO MUCH harder. ;)
At a certain point people are just choosing to be pissed off, and it’s our prerogative to troll the shit out of them by being fabulously, blissfully happy.
About two years ago, I met a man and, at the time, there was some serious flirtation and obvious sexual chemistry. It was a one time deal (meeting him. nothing happened.) or so I thought.
Fast forward about a year and this man ends up being my kids soccer coach. I see him all the time at functions, some of which include alcohol (fund-raisers with no kids present). Conversations have gotten more and more sexual. Flirting has gotten more blatant. Offers have been made. Through the magic of social media and it being socially expected that you ”add” everyone you know, I’ve come to realize our kinks mesh perfectly and he is likely a ”swinger”. I too am in an open marriage, which he is not aware of, although I know he suspects it.
Now the conundrum…what to do? Whenever I meet someone I’m very attracted to my fantasies tend to revolve around pleasing them in very specific ways. It would be easy enough to make the offer and give him head he’d never forget. We’d both love it and I don’t think it would be an issue for either of our spouses. I know it wouldn’t be for mine. However, what if we were found out? To say the proverbial shit would hit the fan would be an understatement. This is a big part of the reason I have resisted telling him that my husband and I have an open marriage, despite the fact that he’s asked.
I know I shouldn’t let it happen. I know it could blow up and be a very bad situation. But, every time we’re together and he catches me alone or we put ourselves in a situation where we have a bit of privacy, I can’t help but think how easy, and how incredibly hot, it would be.
Within minutes we could be alone, making out, then his cock in my mouth, hearing him moan, his hands wrapped in my hair while he forces his cock farther into my throat, holding me there while he shoots jet after jet of cum down my throat. Ten, fifteen minutes tops, and it would be done. We’d straighten ourselves up. I’d leave him to collect himself while I slipped back into the crowd then, a few minutes later, he’d do the same. Mostly no one would notice and, if anyone did, they’d never be able to prove we were together. It would be so easy to get away with but, what if we were found out?
It’s that damn “what if”, and the backlash, even though our spouses wouldn’t obejct, that keeps it from happening.
The situation here is that the four major people involved in this situation would be cool in degrees ranging from “why not?” to pleased as delicious sherbet punch. But they have to worry about what completely other, uninvolved people think. Please stop cockblocking us all, scandalmongers. I’m fucking serious.
I want to keep my spouse as my beloved life-long partner who i share my life and family with. I just want to fuck somebody else. Sadly, this has occurred to me 10 years into marriage, so negotiating it is next to impossible.
Sometimes marriage means you get to fuck other people, and . This is true of more straight marriages than gay marriages because guess what? There are only a tiny fraction of the gay marriages there should be in the first place!
But to shift soap boxes slightly, if we could get non-monogamy to the point of mainstream acceptance I think we’d really have a chance at that sex utopia I keep dreaming about.
Okay, well probably not.
When I got married to my partner years ago, I never never imagined I could fall in love so hard again that I’d want to marry someone else. And here I am–having the best sex ever, looking deep into eyes that are not my husband’s. I am seriously pissed that our culture does not condone multiple marriages. Then again, the whole legal concept of “marriage” is fairly ridiculous. Maybe I will get divorced from my husband now just to prove a political point, and then maybe I will just ask my second (new) partner, a woman, if she wants to be my life-partner too. Then we can all three of us live in happy bliss…this is my dream, quizzicalpussy! This is my dream!
My dream too, quizkids. In my lurid sex utopia you’d be free to share legal rights, benefits, and social status with any family you built in its entirety. You wouldn’t have to pick a legitimate love and a secret (or secondary) one. Your life could reflect your heart, and mine could reflect mine, and Charlton Heston’s could reflect his. Shocking and tawdry, I know.
I love my husband so very much. He really has been a wonderful force in my life and I would have never been able to start my own business without his support. But I’m feeling like I love my boyfriend more and more, more than my husband.
I know a lot of it is that Boyfriend is better at reading my moods and not overly pressuring me for anything. The husband is completely oblivious 95% of the time.
Thing is, if I say anything, then everybody feels bad. Husband’s last wife left him for her boyfriend she had while married to him. Boyfriend’s been married twice and both women left him for women they were seeing behind his back. He would also feel horrible with even the slightest idea that he was “stealing” me.
So I say nothing. I remind myself often that I’m lucky to have two men who really do love me. And I count the days between visits to the boyfriend.
Sometimes parents have favorite kids. Sometimes things like that are just temporary. Things happen. Love is a weird thing to try to quantify.
I got married for the financial security and health insurance, and I will get unmarried if the real thing ever comes along. I’ve never explicitly told my spouse the degree to which I’m using him.
This has been happening for millennia, basically, except we really have made exceptional strides in healthcare in the last couple centuries. It’s amazing, really.
I think that getting married may have been a mistake. Ostensibly, there’s nothing wrong. My husband is kind, funny, a good person, and one of my best friends. We even have an open relationship so I can have other relationships – I have a boyfriend that I’m intensely in love with.
The problem is that loving my boyfriend this much has made it very obvious to me that I don’t love my husband in the same way and sometimes I don’t think he loves me that way either.
My husband and I haven’t had sex in weeks and weeks. And even when we have have sex in the last 6-8 months, it’s been spotty and not very good. He’s gained weight and is depressed about it so he has been having trouble gaining and holding an erection (but never wants to talk about it or see a doctor and has forbidden me from saying anything to anyone about it). So, anytime we have sex, it’s this rush to take advantage of the erection before it’s gone which leads to sex being a routine of me getting him hard with my mouth or hands and then him sticking it in. I couldn’t tell you the last time he went down on me or tried to please me in any way. So, why bother? Funnily enough though, he still has sex with his girlfriend.
On the opposite end of this spectrum, my boyfriend can’t get enough of me, tells me I’m beautiful all the time and finds me so sexy that even being near me gives him an erection. Sex with him is multiple orgasms, epic oral sessions and him teasing me until I’m begging to be fucked. Spending time with him is him actively showing me how much he loves me and making me feel cherished.
I’m trying to keep in mind that I’m caught in the middle of a lot of NRE, but I’m finding myself so ambivalent about my husband and marriage and this is not the first time I’ve struggled with feelings like this, which is why I’m starting to think that marriage was a mistake. Sometimes I think we’re still together simply because we never had a good enough reason to break up. At the same time, I don’t know that I necessarily want a divorce and the upheaval that would cause, plus I don’t believe in just walking away from that kind of commitment. I’m finding myself fantasizing that he’ll leave me for his girlfriend though.
I don’t know what to do, but I haven’t been able to fully tell anyone how I’m feeling so it feels good to get this out.
On one hand, if you don’t actively want to be in a relationship, and this feeling persists over time, that’s something you should take seriously. You see, if we’re lucky, we have a handful of decades to have the most vivid and magical experience we can have here. If your partners disrupt that journey for you, you are making a daily choice to waste 24 hours while joy lies dormant. This is how I see things.
On the other hand, NRE is crazy and can make us crazy, and it might be a good idea to wait until it subsides before making drastic decisions. Comparing a mature relationship with the frenzy of new love isn’t really fair, is it?
On the every hand, I’m not really qualified to give relationship advice, and I’ve never been married. Not even for like a second.
My relationship with a very nice, pretty, gentle, utterly straightlaced and almost asexual man ended recently.
As the relationship was coming to an end, I stopped fantasizing about getting married, and started fantasizing about finding a dominant, kinky man that would fuck me until I was sore, then do it again the next day.
FOUND HIM! More confessions will be forthcoming, definitely.
First thing: ::internet high five::
Marriage isn’t for everyone. It should just be up to the people involved– and only them– to decide whether or not they are among the people it’s for. Go go gadget equality!
ConTuesday is happening. Look out.
Jesus fuck. I bought my first vibrator and all I can think now is WHY THE HELL DID I WAIT SO LONG? Seriously.
I cried, man. I literally cried when I came. It was bloody awesome. I’ve never done that before.
Life is so damn awesome right now.
I want everyone to have so many moments like this. Whether it’s down to staring up at the cosmic dance of the stars or skimming flesh against flesh or diving into fractals or pressing a little motorized beast against your nethers, I want it for you. I crave it for you. Life needs to show us its awesome, and we need to let it.
Giant fan here (in spirit not size). I have a lame confession that also plays the odds. I’ll phrase it like a letter:
Dear girl in my Modern Physics class,
You are supremely attractive. I hardly listen to the lectures some days because you’re in my head gettin’ weird. I would do, truthfully, anything you wanted me to do, so if you’re in a class where a weirdly silent guy showed up sporting a bad mohawk, green sunglasses, a shirt that reads “#1 Dad,” and the tail end of a two day hangover, you should check me out. Give me a thumbs-up and we can get a coffee.
P.S. You straightened your hair. Fantasies have been updated. Some guys notice the little things.
P.P.S. Other girls (and guys) in that class: You guys are great too, don’t worry.
It’s not often that I think “Man, I wish more people read my blog” because I’m actually not as megalomaniacal as the liberal media would have you believe, but now is one of those times. Please, blogging gods, let’s get some supremely attractive, be-mohawked people laid, can we?
The sexual tension is back. A dirty note here, a lingering hug there, a veiled reference at any possible time. I want it, he wants it, and we both know we shouldn’t do it. I’m turned on all the time and I’m fairly certain it’s only a matter of time. If it happens I will enjoy it thoroughly for what it is. He and I both know it can’t be more. I still hope it happens.
Where does sexual tension go away to before it comes back? It is a mystery.
This article claims that the moving tentacle that plugs into your hard drive “doesn’t actually serve any useful purpose.”
But we know better, don’t we, QP?
Are you by any chance referring to this thing? Thinkgeek, that is straight up a sex toy and we all goddamn know it. Will you let me have an affiliate link now?
I’m 23 and work at a newspaper. I have this weird crush on a kid at a middle school… he’s kinda cute and always in the paper for writing and orchestra and dressing up in historical costumes. Basically all the nerdy hobbies I love. He looks older than he is, glasses and long hair, and I’ve met him once.
I officially have no judgments about whom anyone has crushes on, but whatever you do, mate, don’t “he’s very mature for his age” yourself into child molestation. Promise me you will never do that.
I’m coming to terms with the fact that my ex was coercive and abusive. Sure, he didn’t know he was doing it, he got anxious and he came from a dysfunctional family–all excuses I keep giving myself–but he made me constantly afraid to say no, and I had panic attacks at the thought of seeing him.
My girlfriend, on the other hand, is great. I’m slowly getting comfortable with her touching me–yesterday she tickled me for hours, and she ended up straddling me, and it was great. I didn’t feel afraid, just attracted and with only the mildest remnants of discomfort. I felt like I made real progress.
Today she came over and held me while I cried for ages. I guess I didn’t make as much progress as I thought. I’m so tired of feeling this way. I just want to hold her, and not feel uncomfortable and sick about it. My first relationship fucked me up big time! I know it won’t fuck up this one, but it’s so depressing to think of all that time designated “recovery” stretching out ahead of me, all of this effort to detox the shit he put me through. I really do love her though.
You are doing everything right, and your ex deserves to be nothing more than a distant, foul-scented memory. Love her hard, and accept every ounce of respect and devotion that she gives you because you deserve it.
My spouse and I have plenty of (ok) sex. It’s the kissing and cuddling that is missing. Sometimes I want to cheat – with my best friend – and have some amazing cuddles, fully clothed. Why is this so hard????
Okay, monogamous people. I’m not mad. I’m not. But why is cuddling cheating? Don’t we have to draw the line somewhere with all this dyadic hysteria? I’m sorry, but someone had to say it.
I started this blog determined to never apologize for not posting. The main reason for this is the sheer hubris of the idea of assuming that people care all that much whether I put a thing on the internet or not. But also, I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I felt I had to do something as non-vital to anyone’s survival as type naughty words. The very idea is silly.
But then I made an express commitment to post the things you send me once a week, so I owe you this explanation for the recent two-week ConTuesday lapse: There was just no fucking way, you guys. My health has been a bitch, then I moved to a place that has required a great deal of work to make even borderline habitable. Then came a massive shift in my personal life. I love you and I love this blog and I love ConTuesday, but there was no fucking way.
But here I am, back, as you always knew I’d be. Typing naughty words.
To come, I need a narrative; so much so that I’ve got a major hobby in writing smut, and much of it reflects the stuff that I invent and refine trying to get my rocks off. That can be tiring and time consuming, so normally it takes me a while to get there.
But it turns out, I can also come just fine while watching hentai. And very, very quickly, since I don’t have to hold the narrative all by myself. w00t! who said girls don’t like visual porn, again? :D
People who say that girls don’t like any particular thing are necessarily wrong. Some people look down on using equivocal language, but I’d feel so horribly inaccurate without it! Also, though, yay for getting off! I quite like it myself.
I waxed to please my partner and now I’m disgusted by my body, have zero sex drive, and am grossed out that he thinks it looks good. ….help…..
You tried it, and waxing is clearly not for you. It grows back eventually, and I hope it does so swiftly and decisively. If your partner is making huge deal out of it, I would think a conversation about how much you hate being bald is in order. If he’s just enjoying it but not pressuring you, try to remember that he’s used to seeing naked genitals as much more sexualized than natural ones. Doesn’t mean your genitals have to fall in line with that or that he can’t tweak the common societally ingrained fashion-based reaction; it’s just that it’s not necessarily personal. But of course, neither is getting turned off by the fact that he’s turned on by something. Maybe that’s a deal-breaker, and that’s valid.
I’ve been reading your archives, and I masturbated to your descriptions of abuse by your ex-boyfriend Reginald Sleeth. (I’m really heavy into D/s.) I’m absolutely horrified by it and for that reason it turns me on like crazy. Sorry. (I’m a young woman, if that matters.)
You know what? I’m really just happy that that stupid, senseless farce of a relationship is now doing something useful for someone. Everyone has my permission to masturbate to my horror stories as long as you promise not to abuse your partners. I think that’s fair, right?
So I hope it isn’t terribly terrible (but only rather terrible) of me to make this about me, but thank you for your writing about Reginald. Even though my own experience didn’t involve physical violence, I feel validated in calling it abuse. I also feel less alone in how fucked up I am because of it. Also maybe a little less convinced it makes me a terrible person, because you seem pretty awesome, so.
I’m posting this as a companion confession to the one above because I feel like they’re two sides of the same silver-lined coin. It isn’t terrible at all. I mean, it’s terrible that you’ve had to deal with abuse– I really hate that part. But if reading about my experiences has helped you come to terms with that abuse (which doesn’t reflect on you as a person whatsoever, just so you know) in any way, that is quite honestly the best reason I can think of for continuing to write about them.
When I write about things like my ill-advised soda bottle dildo experience I sometimes forget that the Reginald parts of the story are horrifying. I’ll think, hey this is kind of a funny story, and what about that wacky Reginald acting in typical douchebaggy Reginald ways? Classic Reginald! And I don’t concentrate much on how fucked up the whole thing was. This may be part of the reason I’m still not amazingly good at relationships and trust and stuff. Because it was fucked up. Incredibly fucked up. And just because that was how I learned to relationship doesn’t mean it was or is acceptable. I want us all to learn that.
I’ve just started seeing a guy who can push all my buttons in the best possible ways. Orgasms of a frequency and intensity I’ve never experienced before. Internet high-five, right? Not quite so much.
See, I was raised with”good girls don’t”. My brain wants to think that’s total bullshit, but I can’t quite seem to stop believing it. I enjoy the sex while it’s happening, but afterwards I feel self-conscious and a little ashamed. I hate it and I want it to go away so I can enjoy my sex in peace!
Good girls are mythical creatures who are born to embody parental wish fulfillment. People are multidimensionally good and bad and fucked up and strong and ecstatic and silly and getting closer every day to ending this go-around. People deserve–and are enriched by– amazing sex. I could not care much less what good girls do or don’t do any more than I care what manticores eat for breakfast. (Okay, I care a little what manticores have for breakfast, and I think it’s probably Special K in warrior blood.)
In my long-standing tradition of giving advice where it isn’t expressly asked for, I think you should keep in mind that you’re people, and no one is a good girl, and you are worth more than having to try to be a mythical thing that doesn’t–and will never– exist.
And I’m just going to fucking ::internet high five:: you anyway, so deal with it.
I am in school studying for a career in the medical field. Recently I ran into another older student I recognized from last semester and asked her if she’s studying to become a nurse. “No.” she tartly replied. “Bodily fluids. I can’t do bodily fluids.” I managed to rein in my urge to blurt “Shit. I must’ve drunk GALLONS of them by now.” I’d hate to freak out a future colleague, now, wouldn’t I?
Gallons, huh? I think I’ve fallen behind somehow…
I bought my first vibrator, a cheap one from the drugstore, a couple of months ago. It’s been much appreciated but it’s at the end of its life. While before, I was hesitant, now I am super keen for more toys. I was browsing the internet for toys and now I want more than I can afford! Do I get a cheap-ish bullet and kegel balls first and then a better set of varied vibrators or the set of vibrators first and then the kegel balls?? Do you have opinions on Leo Luna Love Balls? I could do with more reliable orgasm (sometimes it just doesn’t happen :( ) and I’ve heard good things about them. Plus the idea of walking around in public, going to classes and for drinks with them inside me is super hot. Too many decisions.
I haven’t tried the Lelo balls, but I have the Fun Factory Smart Balls, and they’re lovely, especially to wear about town to make yourself a little crazy before a hot date (with lover or toy). Careful, quizkids, sex toy collecting is a serious addiction and I totally suport it.
Memo to self: stop jerking off right after taking anti-depression meds, at least if you’ve already jerked off once that day. Twice now the 45-minutes-of-trying-without-
relief-before-giving-up has happened, you could really stand not to experience that again ever.
I don’t think that sounds like much fun, no. I wish I could donate orgasms to people. Not in a creepy way!
Hey QP! My girlfriend (and fellow QP reader) and I are in a long-ish distance relationship, with us going to universities in different cities. While it’s a bit tough being apart a lot of the time for school, every time we get together it is just absolutely awesome. Just this last weekend makes for an awesome example…
The two of us had just done some sexy times and in our pleasant state decided to snuggle up and just enjoy holding each other. My hands started to get a bit antsy so I started softly caressing her back, hearing her sigh and moan softly as I moved them along her skin, paying attention to any spots she seemed to especially enjoy having my hands on. We ended up going for over 20 minutes of just being next to each other as I caressed her. Felt so damn good and I think she’s inclined to say the same!
Long distance relationships are tough, but those times when you do get together are so worth it.
And this week we close on a most triumphant ::internet high five:: because that is what we like to do here.
I wouldn’t say I’m proud of this, but for a short time in my feckless youth I used to use a Ramune bottle as a dildo. I know I just got finished telling you I seldom introduce penetration into my masturbation routine, but seldom isn’t never, and yes, I put a soda bottle in my holy of holies.
Note: It was an old one I’d kept from my even earlier youth when they’d had a slightly slimmer-at-the-top bottle design, but even that was still uncomfortably large for vaginal insertion1. I’m telling you this in case you’re curious because you should NEVER, EVER try it yourself. And I will tell you exactly why not anon.
I would usually use it while on the phone with Reginald Sleeth, my long-distance boyfriend. The little marble inside the bottle would clatter around while I fucked myself with it and he purred in my ear. Masturbation sounded very distinctive in those days. This is exactly what was happening when it broke inside me while I was on the phone with him.
I heard the shatter, dropped the sturdy dorm room phone, and gave a little shriek. You know that hiss cringe that issues from your face when you collect shards of glass and drops of blood from your pussy? I do.
Reginald Sleeth doesn’t always appear in a great light on this blog. I’m aware of that, and I’d like to be more charitable. I’d like to inform you that when I picked up the phone and alerted him to the situation he was a comforting and concerned, and tried to help the situation from miles away even though he felt helpless. Instead, I’m stuck telling you that he yelled at me and told me I was being overdramatic and I ended up apologizing to him for injuring myself.
It is very often stupid to fuck yourself with things that aren’t supposed to be sex toys. It is always stupid to date abusive douchebags. My stories don’t always have aesops, but yeah. Pretty clear here.
Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure the dildomaker would actually be smarter than either thing as long as you used it on material less dangerous than asbestos, or that glowing piece or radioactive matter that Homer Simpson throws from his car in the opening credits.
Apologies to (image source). You didn’t sign up for this shit.
- Disclaimer: Vaginas may vary. [↩]