quizzical pussy

I’m posting ConTuesday rather late today because of sleeping rather earlier last night and later this morning than I originally planned. In fact, I might still be recovering from last Friday’s play party, which I will be telling you all about in the next few days. But here are the confessions of the week, better late than never!

I may take a nap later, actually.

Dear QP, how’ve you been? I’ve been looking at your sex confessional for so long now and it’s been looking back at me. Eyeing me. Tempting me with it’s portal to… your inbox, I assume.

So there’s this guy. I’ve known him for so long I’m not sure whether I’m in love with him or if I just love him the way friends are supposed to.

My main problem is that about ten years ago, we had a kind of relationship. You know how some people have fuck buddies? Well, we didn’t. We were more like make-out buddies.

I always think make-out buddies sounds a bit pathetic, but it was intense. I think partly because we didn’t do anything even close to having sex, even though I’m pretty sure we both wanted to.

So anyway, fast forward to today and I just can’t tell if I wanna nail him to find out what it would be like (ie, confirm my suspicions) or because I really, genuinely am in love with him.

But this isn’t my real confession, it’s just background details. My REAL confession is that everyone I know is getting engaged. My sister just got engaged recently. His brother got engaged earlier this year. He’s been in a relationship for five years. What if he decides to hop on the bandwagon?!

And it’s not even that I’m jealous of his girlfriend. I want her boyfriend, but I don’t hate her for having him and not me. But I can’t exactly confess my undying love to someone who’s in a happy relationship, can I?

UCK I feel sick.

The sex confessional does indeed want to hear your worries. I only wish I had some good or even marginally helpful advice for you. Can you confess your undying love to someone in a happy relationship? Absolutely. But it might suck for everyone involved. Maybe honesty is the best way to go anyway, but, it seems like you’re not even sure if you have romantic feelings for this guy.

The only thing I can say with certainty is that makeout buddies doesn’t sound pathetic at all. And I feel for you. This sucks.

I just had surgery and I haven’t orgasmed for over two weeks and if I start my period before I can finally get myself off I’m gonna pissed. This seemed like the only place for such a frustration to be vented.

I hope you’ve had a clutch if not a clamor of orgasms since you sent this in.

I bought the pill today (Lutera). I haven’t been on the pill in years. The last time I was on the pill, I didn’t feel like myself. I bled all the time, was nauseated, depressed, gained weight, had horrible cramps and no sex drive. My grades plummeted, I lost some friends (due to being so withdrawn and emotional). I was only on it for three months, but it was hell. That time, I wasn’t in a relationship (or even having sex at the time). I only took it to help with my endometriosis, but it didn’t work.

Now, I’m about to start a different pill. I’m in a happy relationship, and I’m scared that the pill will change me so much that it will ruin my life again. I talked about this with my doctor, but she said there was ”nothing to worry about.” I’m so nervous though.

I have been in a sort of not entirely dissimilar situation, and I was shocked at how okay I was on the new pill. Now that I’m not on any hormones anymore since my boyfriend’s vasectomy, I think I actually feel a little less balanced at certain points in my cycle, if anything.

So I hope you’re having a good experience with your new pill.

Last night I attended a party, among the guests were 5 men that I have slept with, all of whom work at the same bar and are friends. A couple of them are still total secrets as they have girlfriends or are my good friends exes.
Usually I feel proud of my sexual conquests and I don’t have shame in expressing that, but seeing them all together just left me feeling cheap…

You know what I think? Fuck slut shaming whether its origins are internal or external. I mean, who are we kidding, the demiurge of slut shaming is pretty much always other people’s bullshit hangups.

Vent, rejoice, confess here.

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ConTuesday is happening right now! Check it:

Last night was a singularly amazing night! After a couple semi-successful previous attempts, my amazing wife finally was able to be fisted, a feat I would not have thought possible given my hand size! I’ll make her a size queen yet…. mwahahahahaha

This is awesome. On a personal note, fisting still scares the shit out of me, but I would like to personally high five everyone who has accomplished it. Maybe there would be hand washing first.

Having never been given much freedom in the bedroom I’ve found that I literally lose my mind when the new guy I’m seeing growls “Tell me exactly what you want me to do” it isn’t submissive exactly but it’s so sexy that he wants to know what I want that every time I almost come on the spot and while it doesn’t sound like much but, well, really…it is.

Sometimes it’s the little things that get you. People growling things is sexy. People passionate about giving pleasure are sexy. Other things that are sexy include (but are by no means limited to) girls with pixie cuts, hula hooping, and devil-may-care archeologists in fedoras.

I’ve got this awesome friend who sometimes posts confessions here, like me. We don’t post every week, nor even every month, I don’t think. But there’s enough activity that we try to guess if the other has a Confession up, each week. If it gets to be past noon and we haven’t heard from each other on Tuesday, often a hint will get sent by one of us to the other. It is one of my favorite games.

I love this game! Can we make it a drinking game?

I don’t even drink.

I want to fuck my ex wife in law!!! I don’t know why but the last week she has been on my mind and in my dreams. She does things to me that drive me insane, to the point I wake up wet and feeling like I just came all over the place.

Not only is this so out of the norm for me but I have been thinking about not only fucking her but my ex also. Though he would die if I and his ex wife were playing with each other.

If scary P.S.A.s have taught me anything, it’s that you’ve already slept with all your partner’s previous sexual partners, so this is moot. And I sincerely hope you enjoyed yourself because P.S.A.s have also taught me that now that you’re sexually active you’ve completely destroyed your life.

And remember, kids, don’t do drugs! Also, confess things to me!

Just kidding. I want to fuck her too. But really, seriously confess things.

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Hey, there! It being Tuesday and all, what do you say we take a look at some internet confessions? That seems like it could be pretty sweet.

There’s this guy. We work together. He’s a nice guy but because I’m very shy and socially awkward, we never talk. A couple of weeks ago I noticed his body. I have known him for several months and yet it was one of those moments I never believed in. When you look at someone and suddenly realise… ”sweet!”.
He’s not my type. He’s the opposite of every guy I’ve ever (wanted to) shag(ged). And I don’t notice him the same way. I don’t want to jump him. It’s not the same feeling.
Instead, I want to kiss. I want to lie somewhere and kiss. Him. And talk. Nothing else. The thought of having sex with him doesn’t do it for me. And believe me, I’ve tried, just to make it a little less weird.
Just thinking these things, of how I want to kiss him, of how I definitely want there to be strawberries and cream involved (random, huh?), it feels dirty. Far more dirty than thinking about shagging that really hot guy who works a couple of desks down. And more intense. I want to kiss this guy more than I want to shag that really hot guy. Even if there are no orgasm involved.
Strange.

I have a theory that sexual orientation is much, much more complicated and gloriously varied than most people have the time or inclination to think about. This would be an example.

I hope you get a chance to make out. I hear that office holiday parties are good for hook-ups, so if that’s not just TV and movies making shit up like they do, you have a little time to screw your courage to the snogging place.

I like to play with myself after good p in v sex. Because really, what’s better than orgasms than more orgasms? There’s something awesome about getting another while he’s in the kitchen pouring our next drink, and I’m in the living room continuing the fun.

I can find absolutely no flaw in your logic here.

My wife asked me to fuck her.
In our pool.
In the backyard.
Outdoors.
At 4 p.m.
In full view of the neighbors.
Neither of us came, but it was enthralling nonetheless. She did, however, follow it up with jerking me off in the shower. Then later that night she jerked me off while massaging my asshole. The next morning I made her scream like a pot star while licking her clit. It was a GREAT weekend.

This sounds hot. I’m clean distracted, though, trying to decide whether I should assumptively correct “pot star” to “porn star”, or if it’s possible that the former is a real thing and I should get with the times. Best to just leave it.

I have a drama I want to figure out on my sex blog, only I can’t, because the guy involved reads it. AIIIIIEEEEEE!

I never realized how dependent I was on the blog for my processing until I suddenly couldn’t have it.

Sometimes I wish I could just write exactly what’s going on with my love/sex life, and be completely honest, and more vulnerable, and a hell of a lot dirtier on my sex blog. But at this point way too many people I know read it, and there’s just no way. So I really feel you on this.

ConTuesday to the rescue? I hope?

I’m the girl who’s having an affair with the guy who’s 8 years younger. I guess I should say ’had’ since I haven’t seen him in 3 months. I’ve still had more sex this year with him than with my husband. Is it bad that I’m counting?

You know, there was a time when women weren’t allowed to learn math at all! So no, it’s never bad to count. But I hope that either you and your husband have caught up by now or that you don’t mind the disparity. I hate to see people feeling stuck in sexually frustrating relationships, and I hope that’s not you right now.

Now go here, everyone, and spill your sexy secrets!

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Sometimes I’ll get a confession and think “This doesn’t need to be a secret! It would be pure double rainbows and gumdrop teddy bears if the confessor shared this with their partner. It would bring them closer as a couple and probably even help usher in a new era of collective debauchery and love!

But then there are the times when I’ll read one and think “Anonymity is indeed a beautiful thing.” To wit, “Here we have a secret that’s a secret for a damn good reason.” Not that I’m judging, mind. I obviously have secrets myself; I’m not an anonymous blogger just because I’m afraid of getting too much fan mail. For all you know, one of the following confessions is mine…

I have a very, very small crush on my brother in law, but ever since I watched a thing of polyandry in Tibet, I’m kind of obsessed with the idea of being in a relationship with my husband and his brother both. I’ve been fantasising about it all day, like who snuggles with who when someone gets up first in the morning, and how absolutely freaking awesome it would be to fuck them at the same time.

This one hits fairly close to home for me. My sisters and I fall into the same general physical type, except they’re all much prettier than I am. I’m not being modest by saying this; it is very simply true. Since before anyone even thought about wanting to date me I have lived in terror of learning that a partner wants to fuck my sisters in addition to/instead of me. I can’t even say exactly why, and I will not even pretend it’s rational.  Coming up short in comparisons over the years has made me a little too neurotic, I guess.

I doubt I’m alone on this one. This is why fantasies about siblings, though probably incredibly common, usually belong firmly in the “Excellent anonymous confession, potentially devastating personal admission” category.

Of course, I’m sure there are also people that would love to share a partner with their sibling. Some people didn’t grow up indulging the petty jealousies that I did.

When my ex and I broke up a year and a half ago, he had gotten another girl pregnant in a weird poly experiment gone wrong (where they did not have my consent to be fucking without birth control), he immediately moved in with her, and she had the baby. Then I ended up becoming friends with her, and we would hang out and talk all the time. He and I would secretly dirty txt each other, and he begged me to fuck him again many times, but I always resisted, because I felt I owed it to her to refrain due to our friendship. Then about a month ago, she found a dirty video I sent him and got very upset, and we decided not to be friends anymore. It only took a couple of weeks for me to cave to his pleas, and yesterday we finally got together. He beat the crap out of me with a belt (consensually), and we spent the afternoon fucking. It was awesome. What pushed me over the edge was him telling me about his secret girlfriend that his baby momma doesn’t know about and me getting competitive with her. The bad thing is that I really don’t feel guilty at all. The other bad thing is that I realized that I am still in love with him. To top things off, he wants me to have a threesome with him and his secret GF, and I probably will. What a mess!

The more complicated a sexual situation is, the fewer people you can tell about it without compounding the drama. I just now decided to call this The Circus Tent Rule, because once you invite an audience inside the big top, every act suddenly gets more dangerous: animals are less predictable, nets and safety mechanics that were used in practice may be removed, and jangling nerves come into play. As long as you keep your mess a secret you’re still in dress rehearsal mode, and that can save lives.

Not that helping someone cheat on their partner is okay, but does talking about it ever suddenly make it more okay? One (unsolicited) suggestion, though: When you’re a party to cheating, being extra-vigilant about getting tested for STIs and practicing safer sex is really the least you can do.

It’s probably a bad idea to choose people to stay with while couchsurfing based on how much I want to fuck them…right?

I’m going to be conservative here and guess that 15% of people do exactly that. It’s probably a bad idea to tell people you’re choosing to stay with them while couchsurfing because you want to fuck them, and it’s definitely a bad idea to expect to fuck them. But I don’t think people necessarily do much damage just by wanting to fuck someone. Unless, naturally, that someone is my sister. In which case HOW DARE YOU?

Sadly, my much younger lover has left town and (maybe happily?) my husband has returned. I’m scared to death to have sex with my husband because I want him to do all the things my much younger lover did that turned me on so much but I don’t want him to wonder why I want those things suddenly. QP, do you have any advice on how to ask for new things without arousing suspicion?

Oh, so totally blame the internet. That’s what we’re here for. “I’ve been reading about this and can’t stop thinking about it. Can we try it?”

Do you, my lusty readers, have anything you yearn to tell but need kept secret? There’s a very simple solution!

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So, I’ve been thinking. ConTuesday has, to my knowledge, never posted a confession featuring ghosts, werewolves, or Indiana Jones. Am I to suppose, then, that these things don’t exist?

We’ve had one or two about unicorns, though. That’s reassuring.

This week’s confessions:

I had an affair with a married man on a business trip. Emotionally he was just a friend with benefits (I don’t miss him or want more than friendship), but the sex was some of the best I ever had, and I can never tell anyone about how good it was, how sexy he was, how incredible that two-month affair was. God, it was good. I still see him at work, but we mutually agreed it was over and never to be spoken of again.

The most ironic part? He introduced me to his wife after the fact. She’s my best friend. Some days this bugs the shit out of me.

All that guilt, (possibly one-sided) awkwardness, potential drama, and no more best sex ever? Ethics aside, this is why cheating sucks.

So there’s this guy I met online– he lives about half the country away from me, but we really hit it off. We’ve been talking a lot– most of the day– and he’s been really nice, flirtatious, talking about sex, telling me I’m pretty and there aren’t a lot of girls like me. But he’s more experienced than the type of guy I usually go for (i.e. he’s hit on girls before) so I think if he REALLY liked me he would make some kind of move, and maybe he thinks the distance or the fact that we met on the Internet or my polyamory is a dealbreaker. Or maybe he’s this flirtatious with everyone and I’m building it up to be a big deal because I have a crush on him.

I know, I know, just fucking say it, what’s the worst that could happen, right?

He also mentioned a while ago that playing hard-to-get gets one more dates. Is this some kind of hint or something that he wants to chase me? Or is he just making conversation? I suck at hints, why can’t people just talk to each other?

I’m also stymied by the proper asking-someone-out method via the Internet. Do you send an email? Do you do it in chat? Maybe over Skype? (Does he even have Skype?)

Sorry for the marathon confession…

I bet I have a reader or six who have been in this situation, more or less, and perhaps they’ll have suggestions for you.

But really, email, chat, or Skype seems fine for confessing a crush. If I were into you too, I’d get all melty inside no matter which one you used. I doubt I’m alone in that.

So far the only thing I dislike about Roller Derby is that after practice my muscles hurt so much I can’t masturbate properly.

The sacrifices you make for being one of my fetishes! Thank you. A thousand times thank you.

I was watching a documentary featuring animator Nick Park creating a Wallace and Gromit film. It shows him working wtih the clay figures for the stop-motion animation and one little blob of clay was not quite doing what he wanted it to do. He sort of growled at it to ”do as you’re told” and I was instantly *wet*. ”Ooh, make me, Mr. Park. Pretty please?”

I like the way your mind works. That is all.

Have a confession, secret, boast, or lamentation? Give it to me.

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ConTuesday is a sort of gentleman’s agreement. I, being a gentleman, have agreed to post your secrets anonymously. You, being a gentleman, have agreed to make them interesting. Let’s see how we did this week, shall we, old chap?

I live in the dorms at my school, and the walls are paper-thin, and the girl next door has lots and lots of noisy sex with her boyfriend. I love listening to them. (I don’t feel nearly as guilty or gross about that as I think I should.)

I feel like there are unspoken agreements about noisy sex. One of these is that you have no right to have it if you object to innocent bystanders enjoying what they hear.

The beating quotient in my life has been low lately, and every time I get a really good, strong massage it feels so good on the pain/pleasure spectrum that I feel dishonest in my massage-getting intentions (even thought I’ve gotten them for years to combat bad posture and regular heavy lifting). How do I not feel like a sketchy skeevy liar?

Okay, I’m not a Licensed Massage Therapist, but perhaps one of my readers will give an LMT’s perspective on this.

Honestly, though? Getting pleasure out of a massage is very often the entire point of the venture. And even for sexual feelings, LMTs know that arousal happens. Sometimes it’s just an involuntary, purely physical response, but it still feels good. Your job is to keep that in perspective and not expect, suggest, or hint at any “extra” services. But if you’re getting a massage for physical pleasure and being respectful, I don’t really see a problem.

Again, people who do massage for a living (or don’t but have an opinion on the matter) are extremely welcome to comment.

My boyfriend (who is amazing, makes me come my brains out every time we have sex and has come close to making me pass out a couple of times) sometimes decides that I need to get off, but he’s fine, so he’ll get me off, and then cuddle up and go to sleep.

This weekend, it was the other way around, and I gave him a blowjob and then cuddled up. The conversation after that almost made me wet myself laughing.

”Are you REALLY going to sleep?”

”Yeah, I told you, tonight was about you.”

”But…. you didn’t come.”

”I’m fine, honest.”

”But…”

”Hush, go to sleep.”

”Fine. Meanie.”

”Wait a second, let me get this straight. I’m mean because I gave you a blowjob, and let you go to sleep.”

”Yes.”

”Just so we’re clear, here. I’m mean…. because I gave you a blowjob….. and let you go to sleep.”

”Oh shut up.”

I can’t even respond to this. I’m just absolutely appalled at how incredibly mean you are. I just don’t even… wow. Meanie.

She’s a friend of a friend. She got my number, and started sending me hot texts. I was fairly neutral with her, because I’m in a completely monogamous relationship.

Finally, one night, I spoke to her. The phone sex spontaneously erupted, steamy, explicit, and imaginitive. She is VERY good at it, and I found myself uttering things into the phone that I’ve never said to any woman, even while having real sex.

She put the phone to her pussy to let me hear her fapping as she moaned in the background, and that took me over. She groaned my name she came.

Have I cheated? I will never physically touch her. But the phone sex has been incredible. Is it just making excuses to note that I’ve begged my real life partner for more sex, and she doesn’t mind in the least if I masturbate while looking at pron?

I feel like there are spoken agreements that couples should probably have. One of those is deciding what cheating means to them. See, for some people having intercourse with other people isn’t cheating; for others, looking at porn is. Coming to your spoken agreement means, like, speaking to each other about it, though.

That being said, even if you’re not technically cheating due to the loophole of not having clearly defined cheating with your monogamous partner, what you’re doing is pretty damn cheaty. The real question, I think, is whether or not you’re okay with that.

Now, kind reader, please tell me all your lascivious secrets. I’d appreciate it!

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Beware them! They’ll kill your tyrants dead.

On a totally related note, I’ve arranged some sexy secrets for your reading enjoyment.

I’m having an affair. He’s 8 years younger and I’m only the second girl he’s ever been with. He’s so excited to be with me. He’s willing to try anything and really loves turning me on. I’ve had sex with him more times this year than I have with my husband.

Evidence I’m currently living in a little nonmonogamy cocoon: My first reaction to this was “If you tell your husband about that, maybe he’d step up the frequency a little. A bit of friendly competition!” Someone remind me how affairs work?

I love that, when I click ”send” after I type a confession, that the ”Ohhh, that’s a good one” message pops up. I always think ”I know, right?”.

It’s so nice when someone appreciates the little things.

I harshly judge everyone that has sex. I’m a virgin, by choice, and I think it’s disgusting for everyone else to have sex but me. If you have a threesome, you’re a sleezer, if you are a lesbian, you’re a skeezer, if you cheat on your partner, you’re a dog, if you have an ’open relationship’, you’re just keeping a good person from finding someone better than YOU. If you’ve ever had an STD, please die. If you’re a gay man, you’re great. I don’t judge you at all. I absolutely judge everyone. And the sad part is that I DON’T feel bad at all. I think that everyone is disgusting, and that I’m the only person left in the world with morals. :D.

I’m losing my virginity tonight to my boyfriend of six years. [:.

Um. I just… what… I just don’t even know… Okay, if you’re not trolling, I advise you to work out these severe issues you have about sex, but part of me still wants to tell you I hope you had a good time. Because I’m a skeezer, and that’s what I do.

Early this morning, I squirted more than I’ve ever squirted in my entire life. It felt like there was a river pouring out from between my legs. Some of it was even in a majestic spray-type deal like how ladies in porn always seem to get off.

Once I was satiated, I then realized that half of my bed was soaked. Through the bedding, through the sheets, THROUGH THE MATTRESS INTO THE FRAME. I ended up having to take the driest of the bedding and sleeping on it because I was so tired. The moral of this story is to get a towel or three before going like Ol’ Faithful.

There have been times when I’ve really wished my bed was equipped with rubber sheets. But damn, it’s been a while…

I am a woman, and I like being a woman, and I like fucking men.
But my biggest fantasy is to have sex like a man once. Not that sex with my body is unpleasant, but just to imagine the feeling when I enter someone else with my dick… drives me crazy.
I plan to find out if strap-ons come anywhere near it soon :-)

I relate to this so hard! To the point where just reading that revs me up a bit. I’m pretty okay being female-bodied, but I fantasize a lot about having a cock. And, you know, wielding it. And, you know, sheathing it. But not only once. Ever so much more than once.

Mmmmmmm. Confess amongst yourselves.

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ConTuesday is here! Let’s begin.

My current boyfriend is the first one ever that I haven’t cheated on.

You’re either growing as a person or your boyfriend is one sexy man. Maybe both. Sweet!

I’d rather fuck someone on a first date than blow them. I always freak out the first time I go down on a guy and I know panic attacks aren’t sexy. I have no such problem with women.

Having to go around the bases in order is boring anyway.

I’m the newly-married-certainly-not-a-

virgin-anymore!

To say sex is amazing would be insulting to sex! I think my head has blown off a couple times, hehe.

I did end up with a bruised cervix after 3+ times a day honeymoon sex, that wasn’t fun. Even now, most positions are a tad painful, boo. It’s still awesome though.

Yay for sex! :)

Congratulations! I think you’re the fourth confessor from this ConTuesday. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, and yeah, bruised cervices are super ouchy.

My stepdad is all happy because I’ve been watching football with him lately. Little does he know that I’m spending most of the time fantasizing about being gang-raped by a team of football players!

I think the bonding probably goes a little smoother that way.

I’m happily in a committed relationship with a girl I’ve asked to marry me. Now, I know that they say the sex stops once the ring’s on her finger, but her drive is strong enough that I’m not worried about that.

Thing is, I’m not usually much on going down on her. And as I think most ladies would agree, that’s high on the list of ”Yes please!”
I just can’t get into it.. unless I take my Ambien. Then I turn into an oral monster, going to town on her while experiencing what feels like a one sided opera argument in my head.

When I was done, she was unable to move and told me it’d actually hurt to come again. Anyone else have this sort of experience mixing hallucinogenic sleep aides and sex?

Aaaaaand I’m off to the pharmacy. Check you guys later.

Hit me with your best secret.

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The strip club wasn’t what I imagined it would be. I was expecting tacky. I was expecting neon. I was expecting a lingering whisper of sweat and booze. But I was expecting all that to be married to effort: a little velvet, a tassel or two. Some varnish obscuring the grime.

This was a pit.

Actually, more than anything it was like a small community workshop theater. A single room, the club was black painted wood with two pine platforms (also painted black) where the brass poles stood, dull and worn. There was a little neon. And there were men in g-strings.

Between the makeshift stages, a shower was built into the back wall. Wednesday was shower night, but the shower was broken. Of course it was.

I hear that female strip clubs– that is, those where the strippers are women– are more velvety. They try harder. Male strip clubs– specifically gay male strip clubs, I’m told, don’t bother with pretense. I have no idea if this is true in general. To this day, I’ve only been to one, and it was true here.

In we walked, a gaggle of females. The club was dead. We didn’t care. It was Miriam’s birthday, and she wanted to visit this pit on shower night, dammit, shower or not.

There were two guys working that night. Two. A short, wiry guy with a pretty face and a tall, beefier guy with a, well, a face. He had a face.

We chicks danced a little with the newly out dean of a local university. Then we sat down directly adjacent to one of the platforms, ordered drinks, and watched the guys take turns working our pole. It wasn’t until about five minutes into Wiry Guy’s performance that we realized he was wearing an electronic tether over his tube socks.

Classy. Classy is the word for that.

Beefy Guy, not to be outdone but lacking the necessary state-mandated hardware, was at a loss for a moment. Then he wrapped his flaccid shaft clear around the brass pole and seemed to feel better about himself.

Did I mention class?

As the night wore on I got a bit bored. It is a great shortcoming, but I can really only watch people I’m not attracted to writhe around naked for so long before I want to pull out my Nintendo DS. In retrospect, this is probably why Beefy Guy approached me.

“You’re very pretty,” he began.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” said my lips. I’m not giving you money, dude, said my brain.

There was some inane small talk on his part and some noncommittal nodding on mine until he saw some bruises on my arms.

“What happened there?” Beefy Guy made his face-which-he-had-yes-indeed look concerned.

“Just some horseplay,” I answered honestly. Clifton and I were hanging out fairly often at the time, and there was a lot of wrassling.

“No one… hurt you, did they?” We were really breaking the stripper fourth wall here.

“Not at all,” I assured him. “I pity the fool.”

“Good. Because I just couldn’t stand that.” Okay, Beefy Guy… oh wait, he wasn’t done… “I could never hurt a woman,” he told me earnestly.

I nodded.

“…except that one time when my girlfriend cheated on me. But she also stole my stereo, you understand.”

“Um. I think my friends are ready to leave. Now.”

I’m very likely never going to that–or possibly any– strip club again. I don’t care if they get the shower fixed.

(image source)

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ConTuesday! It is beyond, and by that I mean below, freezing where I live. I’m sick of winter. I decided to drain my battery yesterday using my amazing powers of stupidity and vacancy. You know what’ll cheer me up? Reading your dirty secrets. Yes.

This summer I met a guy at a music festival. The first night he danced near me and I could tell he was watching me, but didn’t have the guts to come up to me. Just as I was getting ready to leave, he walked over and introduced himself. I told him my name and walked away. The whole next day, I kept running into him and teasing him. By the evening, he had worked up the courage to dance with me. After the music ended, we went for a walk that ended in fucking under a tree by the local soccer field. He had the biggest dick I have ever had the pleasure of fucking. We moved from the tree to the picnic table, to the grass, to the chain link fence. It was the best public sex I have ever had. I couldn’t help but laugh the next day when I saw people eating lunch on the picnic table! When I went home to my husband the next day, my pussy was still sore from that night.

Note to self: attend more music festivals.

My significant other, to whom I am committed, simply does not come close to meeting my sexual needs. Of course I masturbate. But it’s not enough.

I consider making overtures to a friend, who has the same situation.

My S.O. has said, when speaking in generalities: ”If you have sex with someone else, I don’t ever want to find out about it.” Tacit approval?

My friend’s S.O. has basically said, when speaking in generalities: ”No.”

Half of my reason for not approaching my friend is my fear of rejection. The other half is my old-fashioned concerns about ”cheating.” (I never have.)

You just reminded of that three-part series on sex starvation in relationships that I was planning to write, and damned if I didn’t write only two. I’ll be addressing that soon.

Quite a few Thanksgivings ago, my wife and I watched an episode of HBO’s Real Sex that included a segment about women anally penetrating their men. My wife asked me if I’d like to try it, I tried to brush it off with a ”maybe” but the seed was planted in my perverted mind. Now all I want her to do is to take control and fuck me with a strap-on, but she wants me to lead the way on our endeavor. I’ve told her that I want it. I’ve purchased latex gloves and a sex toy for anal play. She will play with my asshole while I lick her pussy. But I’m frustrated that I have to make all the moves when I want her to dominate me. I want her to make me her slut. I understand that starting anal play involves communication, but I want to feel like her toy. I’m so frustrated.

Communication and feeling like a toy aren’t mutually exclusive. If you ease her into pegging you by initiating and walking her through it, she’ll have a chance to get comfortable with it on her own terms. Then you can start vividly describing how she’d take charge in your fantasies and take baby steps toward that. She might find a dominant top deep within somewhere along the way, or might at least learn to fake it once in a while as a special treat.

In my mind, this plan is going to work flawlessly. Good luck!

You know how they say an icicle is the best murder weapon, because the evidence melts away? Its also the best dildo when your mother is not only super conservative, but isn’t shy about searching your room. I found the pleasure of female ejaculation with a hunk of ice and an electric toothbrush.

Laramy, who looked over my shoulder a bit as I compiled this week’s ConTuesdy, says he can’t get the image of licking a frozen metal pole out of his mind. I really hope using an icicle as a dildo is nothing like that. Absolutely nothing.

Affordable electric toothbrushes seem like a godsend to young women who don’t have easy, discreet access to sextoys. Glad you’re having fun.

Send your sex secrets here. It’s anonymous and it’s highly gratifying.

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