quizzical pussy

I need some help keeping myself from moping today. My car hasn’t exactly been working this month, which makes my life 72% more difficult and 88% more frustrating. Also, they’ve apparently discontinued my favorite brand of hair dye, and as a result I’ve just dyed my hair a completely different color than I originally intended. These are minor problems in the scheme of things, I’ll admit, but I still think I need an inspirational quote or something to cheer me up a little. Hey, you know who always comes up with clever aphorisms? Anonymous. Lay it on me, people.

I’m happily married and I get a lot of real, live, two-party, human-with-a-pulse sex. Still, I would love to fuck a RealDoll. That fact has me feeling pretty dirty.

I’m not sure I’m inspired; their eyes always look dead to me. But I hear there’s an intriguing suction effect. Also, I’m not saying it’s a problem to be into dead eyes, or indifferent to them.

Tried the “folded deckchair” with my girlfriend a couple nights ago, due mainly to reading about it on your blog here. Three words: Epic. Freakin. Oragsms. Thank you thank you thank you. She came so hard and so much her abs hurt afterward. You are awesome!

This was roughly the experience I had! Of course, this wisdom isn’t universal, but it has much to offer us.

Best argument ender ever: “Shut up and put your cock in my mouth!”

I see your point here. It always worked with my high school principal whenever I had to go to his office for having hot pink hair¹. Back when I could get decent fucking hair dye.

I feel like I have been wanting more from my boyfriend than he has been giving me. I then realized I had to appreciate the things he already did before I could ask him to improve on anything I wanted above that. Since implementing this into our relationship not only have I been happier, I also realize that he does little stuff all the time that I was overlooking. I feel much more loved now and all I had to do was open my eyes.

Snap. This is goddamn inspirational and wise and hope-giving! Score another one for Anonymous.

I want an illicit make-out affair. I don’t want to actually have SEX with somebody other than my husband, I just want to have (possibly sloppy) makeouts with a man (or woman, or men or women or both), preferably in a darkened office or a library. And then go home and fuck my husband. Is that REALLY so much to ask?

I don’t know. Depends. Have you asked? Monogamous people: are you allowed to ask things like this?

Or maybe the “illicit” part is important and it needs to be a secret. I don’t know, Anonymous. You are as complicated as you are sexy.

I’ve started squirting lately. It’s small, not very pornstar worthy, but it seriously freaks me out. I know it’s not a bad thing and the boyfriend loves it, so I don’t understand why I can’t see it as okay emotionally. I just feel dirty and weird in a bad way.

Are you associating it with porn? Possibly porn you don’t like? With pee? With something negative someone said one time? It seems like your brain is okay with squirting, but your emotions have to catch up. So maybe you can trick them. What if every time you squirted you said out loud “That was so sexy!” or something similar. I feel like our emotions always catch up with what we tell them, sooner or later.

Sex is always best after skiing. I’m really tired but for some reason being on the slopes all day makes me hot and bothered.

You rich people should stop skiing and start buying poor people new cars and better hair dye.

Just kidding. Enjoy your cocoa and orgasms.

I’ve never been honest about my number. Ever. I tell people it might be around 12 or so, but really it’s more like upper 30’s. I occasionally feel bad about it, but I don’t regret a single one of my 30+ sexual partners. They were all very special. Thanks, guys and girls!

I think this is kind of inspiring because you’ve found over 30 special people to connect with in very powerful ways, and you have no regrets. I want to be able to say that someday. And I’d like to live in a world where I felt like I could say it, and not have to revise it or be judged.

My boyfriend and I just started doing sexy-type things and I gave him oral (which I’ve never ever done before) and it was awesome! Penises are awesome! Blowjobs are awesome! I feel sort of strange about this since I’ve always thought girls weren’t supposed to like it, but ohmygod so fun! Luckily, he’s sweet and (very, very) okay with it. Is that weird?

It is so very not weird. I know we get told a lot of bullshit about this stuff, but girls aren’t really supposed to like or not like anything in particular. There are a lot of people of all genders who love giving blowjobs, and many others who hate giving them. Enjoy, and take care of yourself.

Sex Confessional

1. May not have actually happened in reality. [↩]

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They do say Britain and America are two countries separated by the Atlantic ocean, and it’s true. – Eddie Izzard

They say other things too, and sometimes those things are also true. Or at least, if you believe that there is no real truth or some other loophole thing, feel correct. For instance, they say that doing something is making a choice, but doing nothing is also making a choice.

I’ve never been to the Atlantic ocean, but I fell in love once with the Pacific. Have you ever been to the ocean? Have you felt the electric ozone air spin around you and seen the stuttering waves beckon you? Staying where you stand is a choice, and so is plunging in. I mean, I know you might not have your bathing suit on and the water might be cold or hide sharks in the depths or display garbage on the shore, and all that might inform your choice. But you’re making one.

Is it the choice you’ll want to have made in twenty years?

Christ. I work in a law firm. I had drafted up a confessional about telling my partner that as much as I love the sex we have and as close as I feel to him I ‘hide’ some of my pervier fantasies and desires out of fear it will change things between us, and how after that we had the most spectacular sex because he was not shocked, but turned on, and because we knew we could really play because we’d discussed boundaries first. Anyway – it was this LONG confession about how we ended up playing with submissiveness and how great it was to be on all fours in front of him with my hands bound and licking and sucking his cock while he held it out for me with one hand while stimulating me with the other, and how we had such incredible sex that later I skulled about a litre of water because my mouth and throat were so dry from all the heaving and panting and groaning, and how just the feel of his face on my skin afterwards when I’m all post-orgasm electrifie d was amazing. Then I remembered I was at work and needed to make some amendments to a document and send it out a.s.a.p. Tried to shift a legal paragraph up in the document, and suddenly there’s my sex confessional in the middle of a letter to Council requesting a transfer of a strip of land. Glad I caught that in time. Just wanted to say I am so going to enjoy exploring previously unspoken desires with my partner, and stumbling across your blog was a big part of me saying ‘No. He knows so much of me, if I don’t show him this I don’t get to enjoy someone knowing all of me’. And joy of joys he was not shocked and appalled but entranced and excited. Safe, supportive, wonderful, sexy play. I’m so happy right now! :)

Every part of this confession makes me happy, perhaps especially the part where you don’t send your sexual fantasies as an Easter egg in legal documents.

I’m a 20-something bisexual girl. I have a wonderful fiance, and I love, love, love women. But it’s not something I share with many people–just those close to me. I’m not ashamed of being queer. But lately I’ve been wondering if I should come out to my family. I don’t feel like it is any of their business, and I know my mom who is a judgmental Christian will react poorly (she has every time I’ve stood up to her). The only reason why I would want to do this is because I think it may give my younger brother the courage to come out as well. I want him to be happy with who he is.

Sometimes coming out is purely an act of courage and love and not at all of necessity. I feel like this would be one of those times, and I want to give you props for considering it, whether you end up coming out to your family or not.

I wish my wife would have an affair.

And that I could catch her doing it.

It would make all the time I’ve been fighting for her, loving her, giving up so much for her, only to realize now that it can’t work and she’ll never change because she doesn’t really want to (no matter how much she’s sworn otherwise) so much easier to swallow. Because the break could be quick and simple. And easy to explain. No one questions when you end a relationship because one was unfaithful. And I’m so tired, I just don’t want to deal with questions. I just want it to be done. It would hurt, but it would be done. I find myself fantasizing about it. The relief I’ll feel when the divorce is final (because, affair or not, there will be one) is sometimes all that gets me through the times I’m with her. It was beautiful and I was optimistic once, but now I’m broken. And if she could just go out and fuck the shit out of someone, it would be so easy.

But if I’ve learned nothing else from this roller coaster, it’s that nothing about it will ever be easy. I look desperately forward to the day the decision is made, and even more forward to the day it’s over. The awkward conversations, the anxiety of just being in the same room, the mess of divorce, of one (or both) of us moving out. Things will be hard for a while; any change is an adjustment, but I can almost taste the relief. And no matter what’s difficult (emotional reminders, loneliness, losing friendships/family, money), my life will be so much better. I can be happy again. I need to stop this cycle; I’ve given it my all and more. And that’s all there is.

But the next few months will be difficult and complicated and, hard as I try to avoid it, full of blame and angry words and fighting. But at the end, I can start the rest of my life.

But man, it feels like if she’d just go cheat, I could skip a lot if it.

I wish you an amazing new life, whether you get to end your current one as “the good guy” per public perception or not. But really? Fuck public perception. You deserve to be happy today, and so does she.

Since I got a copper IUD fitted, my periods are twice as heavy as they used to be. Fortunately, my boyfriend isn’t squeamish about it – he’s perfectly happy to fuck me at my goriest. What I haven’t told him is that I actually like the blood. The intimacy of it, and I find the sight of red blood on pale skin weirdly beautiful.

“Fuck me at my goriest” may be the best phrase that’s ever appeared on this site, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

So for the longest time I’ve had this crush on a super hot sex blogger (I know this because I know her secret identity. The only reason I visit Google+ is to see her profile picture. It’s just her face, but daaaaamn. Anyway).

But she’s *just* broken up with her boyfriend! I have no idea how to proceed! Do I start getting more involved in the blog comments? Do I jump right to emailing her penis pictures? Buy her a sex toy? Is it too soon to tell her, or do I risk waiting and some other admirer beats me to it?

HELP!

Okay, I’ve got to be honest here: Based on when I received this confession, I almost suspected that it could possibly be about me. But then I realized how easy it would be to anonymously ask “Hey, how does one successfully hit on QP?” so I will assume it’s about another, even hotter sex blogger who broke up with her boyfriend at about the same time. And I would say that maybe you should talk to her on Google+ because at least there you’ll have some privacy.

Zing!

P.S. Do not send her a picture of your penis. This almost never works.

You probably hear confessions like this all the time…
I’m a married female who hates giving head. I can count on both hands the number of times I have gone down on my husband, and I have never been down there long enough to get him off.
Lately I’ve been fantasizing about surprising him with an anonymous woman (an escort? a random woman from the bar?) whose sole purpose would be just to give him head while I concentrate on the rest of his body. I think it would be very intimate and very hot, as long as she was not involved in any other way except getting him off and leaving. Selfish? Unrealistic? I don’t know. But I can’t stop thinking about it.

I can’t help thinking how much better so many people’s sex lives would be if prostitution were safe, legal, unburdened by its current crushing social stigma. What would be so wrong with bringing in a pro once in a while?

Hey, so confess things!

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Of all the rottenly rotten positions I’ve experienced in my life, stagnation is among my least favorite. Maybe because I have a low tolerance for boredom, or maybe because I resent being in a situation where I’m not learning anything. Not that change is always for the better, but so often it at least holds the opportunity of better. We all deserve at least the opportunity of better.

Especially when we’re not getting nearly laid enough.

Boyfriend says he’s attracted to me but hardly touches me below the waist. I don’t believe him. Do you?

There are different kinds of attraction. It’s possible to be romantically attracted to someone but not sexually attracted. But on an emotional level? If I were in your position I probably wouldn’t believe him for a second. In fact, I’ve been in a similar position a few times, and it’s damnably hard to see past the pain of continuous sexual rejection.

And I’m only going to say this because I wish I had heard and accepted this myself: Maybe you’re just not compatible.

My partner is on psych meds. Sometimes he takes them; sometimes he doesn’t.

I don’t know a polite, kind, non-ableist way of saying ”when you don’t take your pills you’re impossible to be around.”

But he really is. I love my partner when he’s medicated. He’s a different person when he’s not. (He’s not violent or hostile, but he’s hyper, incoherent, and has terrible judgment.) Sometimes I fret about whether that means I don’t love “the real him” but mostly I fret about how I can get him to take his goddamn pills.

I don’t believe that preferring him unmedicated and struggling would amount to loving “the real him”. If he feels like the medication is somehow crossing his own purposes and wishes to stop taking it, that’s a different conversation. If you both agree he is better off taking it regularly, I, stranger who writes shit on the internet, think you’re in your rights as an interested party to communicate your concern when he skips.

I find it rather difficult to have an orgasm – I have almost never had one with my partner present (maybe once or twice with a lot of concentrated self-touching) and even with my own fingers (or a VIBRATOR for godssake) it takes a very long time to get off.

You didn’t ask for advice, which is good because I really don’t have any advice on this topic. I dearly wish I did. I would love to read more experiences and perhaps tips from people who don’t orgasm easily.

So I’m married – happily, monogamously, for two years. My husband rocks.
I am also attracted to other people because, y’know, ain’t dead. One of them has become my cuddle buddy some time ago: this is known and consented to by all involved parties, including cuddle buddy’s girlfriend.
I am kinda high-libido, and my husband can’t keep up with me. I don’t think anyone could, really, given that I need to have a job and shit and occasionally leave the bed, but something in addition would be awesome.
I’d never cheat on my husband, but I daydream in hope that we might form an Arrangement with my cuddle buddy and his GF – possibly a swinging-ish thing.
I think it’s plausible GF is attracted to my husband, I know cuddle buddy is attracted to me and he knows I am to him. I’d also gladly make out with the GF, with or without my husband or the cuddle buddy watching. Discussion with cuddle buddy has revealed that his GF might not be averse to some less-than-monogamous forays.
Have no idea if husband is attracted to GF, though, and terrified of asking because I tend to spend long hours with cuddle buddy while my husband waits for me at home; I know he trusts me, but I’m worried it might upset him to know I’m interested in such a thing even if I’d never do it without his consent.
(Husband is fine with me having sex with other women, but men are upsetting to him.)

You may identify as monogamous, which is awesome, but I feel like if your husband is okay with you having sex with other women there’s some non-monogamy thrown into the mix here. If it were me I’d probably talk about the details of that openness as a conceptual, hypothetical thing (e.g. “Would you ever want to try swinging with a couple we were both attracted to?”), provided I hadn’t already gotten around to that, before bringing up specific people.

The only thing that has convinced me to go back on my anxiety medication is that my panic attacks are interfering with my sex life.

Hope things are going better for you in much more than just your sex life.

Today at noon, my best friend/the girl I love told me that she isn’t comfortable with hanging out with me after 4 years of friendship/occasional dating, because two weeks ago I told her I loved her (did a whole “John-Cusack-boombox thing”).
She told me right before I had to go to lecture, during which I felt sick. She was so far the only one I had true feelings for (and the only one who got me the closest to ejaculation).

But now I’m ready to hit the town again, after having stupid, teenager-y woes for a year with and about this girl. I’m ready to end my involuntary 7-month celibacy. So yay for me.

Although I did tell her I still wanted to be her friend, which is true, but I forgot to add that I would need about a year of not thinking nor talking to her just to get myself ready to be just her friend. So that’s that.
Sorry about not really having a sexual confession.

This confession totally counts! I hope you’ve ended your celibacy in the hottest, most joyful way possible. And I hope you can eventually find a way to rebuild the friendship you lost, or at least find that your life is better without it.

I have no trouble getting laid. I know that men find me sexy and I have great sexual relationships with some. But no matter how hard I try I never meet anyone who wants to commit to me. I always get the ”I just don’t want a girlfriend right now” speech.
Some of my friends think I need to stop having sex right away and wait it out to see if they really like me or whatever but then what do I do about sex?!?!? I love sex! And I love casual sex! The excitement of experiencing someone new for the first time, discovering their body and in so many cases learning new things about sex and about your own body! It just gets really lonely sometimes.

I feel like the whole idea that having sex quickly after meeting automatically nixes the potential for a relationship is fairly busted. I know that some people have that mentality, but not everyone does. My question is, would you be happy with someone who was willing to write you off just because you didn’t want to wait until the third date or whatever to have orgasms?

You’re not just asking to be loved; you’re also offering to give love as your amazing, unique, and irreplaceable self. You deserve to be picky too.

Sex Confessional

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There’s apparently some kind of old school tradition that women can propose marriage to men on Leap Day without everyone involved melting in a Raiders of the Lost Ark type scenario. One has to wonder if anyone back in days of yore ever took advantage of this single, once-every-four-years loophole in a culture of crushing sexism, and if they did, what the neighbors said. I have my suspicions that people don’t stop being dicks just because the calendar tells them to, which would explain why I’ve never gotten a pony for my birthday.

Now that women are technically allowed to ask questions nearly every day of the year, and we queers are ruining marriage for everyone anyway, isn’t it time we let Leap Day mean something else?

I vote that Leap Day is the day people of all genders can magically tell their crushes they want to bone them without things being weird afterward. That would be cool.

Although if you develop a crush next week, waiting nearly four years to talk about it sounds like torture. It also sounds like a longer time period than most crushes last. Maybe eventually we’ll have to make this a “Wednesday” thing rather than a “Leap Day” thing.

(image source)

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I get a lot of sex secrets. Sometimes if I’m not ready to use them yet I stick them in my laundry basket, hoping they’ll stay put, that they won’t wiggle away through the holes. But never, never have I met a fully domesticated secret.

They bleed onto the wooden floor of my closet. They flit around, nipping off shreds of my 2012 Baby Animals wall calendar. February’s infant orangutan? Almost unrecognizable.

I almost always eventually find them camped out under the bed. I think the masturbation sounds help them sleep.

I think I’ve got an insemination fetish.

My wife and I want kids in a few years. She’s infertile, so I’d be carrying, and we’ll probably be using frozen anonymous donor sperm, or asking a friend to be a known donor. Not a lover or ex-lover or potential lover. Most of the guys on the short list to ask are gay or monogamous or both. We’ll be conceiving our kids with careful deliberation, genetic tests and charts tracking my fertility and speculums and needle-less syringes. It makes sense. Bringing kids into the world is a big thing, and we want to do it carefully, thoughtfully, deliberately.

My pussy disagrees.

Ever since we started seriously talking about this, since it became a question of when and how not if, I’ve been having these fantasies. I want to feel a man come inside me, feel his semen in my cunt. (Can you actually feel that? I have literally used a condom every time a man’s penis has been in my vagina. I will probably never find out first hand. Roads untaken and all that.) Lately, when I’m alone and jilling off, nothing gets me so wet as thinking about hot little sperm making their way past my cervix.

I’m not pining for the heterosexual marriage I didn’t wind up in. It’s nothing like that. I don’t want to conceive while making love to hypothetical husband I’ll never have.

No, what I want is for a stranger to press me against the wall, shove aside my panties and enter me bare. I want my womb to take that man’s come and make life out of it. I want to be bent over a table, as one man after another, men I can’t even see the faces of, let alone know the names of, fuck me one after another, semen dripping out of my pussy. Every time another man adds his genes to the lottery I come again, cunt spasming around his cock, drawing his semen in. He withdraws, stands aside to watch the next man fuck me hard, his cock sliding sloppily through what the five-ten-fifty men before him left, panting and thrusting and trying to just enjoy the feel of cock in cunt while hoping against hope that he’ll be the lucky one.

Stop. Scene changes, I’m alone with just one man again. ”It doesn’t matter,” he says, all self-assurance and possessiveness, as he holds me close, one hand around my neck, as he thrusts into me slowly. ”It doesn’t matter how many other men you fuck, because you are mine, and you will carry my heir.” He could be many people, those men I keep in the deep of my subconscious, nothing like any of the men I might have married but didn’t, nobody I’d want to share my life with out in the real world. He’s dangerous, he’s powerful, he owns me. Sometimes he’s a medieval king, or a cliched evil overlord*, or a demon, sometimes generic and sometimes from a book or movie or game or something, but usually his identity slips and slides until he’s just an archetype, a platonic Master holding me, fucking me down, taking me, marking me as his, and I want nothing more but to conceive his child, and when he finally comes I feel it happening, feel his sperm invading me, and I orgasm so hard my vision goes black.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell this means, whether I’m sublimating my feelings about donor insemination and pregnancy in general and blah blah blah. Not today, though. Today I’m just going to appreciate the mind-blowing orgasms.

Even the ones that happen while I’m fantasizing about getting knocked up by Bowser from the Super Mario games.

Oh yes. Yes, you can feel it. Absolutely. It feels, I imagine, not unlike Sushie’s “squirt” move from Paper Mario.

i like to take sexy photos of myself. It makes me feel pretty and seductive and ok, maybe a little bad (in a good way). Sometimes I send these photos to a friend a few states away. Hey, he likes porn, I like validation, everyone’s happy. Until my exboyfriend hacked my email and forwarded the photos to himself. Bummer! I’m worried what he’ll do with them, but mostly I’m just angry because they’re MY BOOBIES and I’ll show them to who I want, when I want. So there.

You have every right to be angry. I would characterize this as going beyond “bummer” and going straight to “massively creepy stalker behavior” with a side of “egregious privacy violation”, for what it’s worth.

This past year, I got fed up of trying to be sexually satisfied with my workaholic partner alone, and decided to devote some time to pleasing myself. I joined a porn site, I started writing smut, and I have taken my self-pleasuring to a new level.

It has been fantastic. I feel those same feelings you get when you are newly in love- the constant drive, can’t-take-my-hands-off-you, stay up all night making-out sort of feelings, except by myself. As a result, my sex life with my partner has increased dramatically. Even though he is often still too tired to have sex as much as I want, I am perfectly happy if he lets me go down on him and then I can make myself come.

Not having my sexual satisfaction depend on anyone else has changed my life.

I feel inspired by this, to always use my computer for smut and never for hacking.

Also to develop a giggly, gropy crush on myself. Both good ideas, really.

I think that fucking someone in front of a bunch of other people would be really hot. Man or woman, but I’d want the people watching to be older men in suits, sexy sexy suits. Maybe they’d all take turns using me. Pretty basic fantasy I guess, but damn does it get me wet.

Also, the only person I’ve really had sexual relations with was this nice Jewish boy last semester. I’d suck his dick, he’d go down on me, call me names, hit me with various kitchen implements, all those nice things that nice Jewish boys are good at. But we never had penis-vagina sex, which makes me feel like other people think I should still call myself a virgin. But after having a binder clip stuck to my nipple, been spanked with a spatula, been fingered up the ass, etc and so forth, I just feel a lot less virginal. No idea why.

Also…I really really really really want to see what he’s up to this year. Damn you, sexy Jewish boy. Damn you. My own hand can only do so much.

I’d like to teach the world that virginity is a weird, made-up concept. It’s not even spatula-solid, really.

I do not understand why someone would be monogamous when there’s a chance of orgies on the table.

…Particularly when they then proceed to steal your sex toys.

Dear monogamous person/s,

Why would you steal my sex toys? What is wrong with you?

P.S. That would put all my sex toys into multiple-partner status.

P.P.S. Orgies!

Last summer, I visited the Southwest; there was no privacy, so I couldn’t get off at all, but my hormones were raging. Thus, a state of constant horniness ensued. Then one day, as the week-long heat was at its peak, I escaped to a pool which was deserted because of an oncoming storm. It was blistering, but strong winds had started to blow, and as I dropped my frustrated, overheated body into the pool, I had a sense that the moment was special, set aside from the rest – the moment before the break. I quickly discovered the water jet, planted my arms on the side of the pool so it looked like I was casually relaxing, shifted by pelvis against the jet, and came like fireworks as the rain began to fall. Then pushed off and floated, weightless, listening to the oncoming storm.

Whoever says masturbation can’t be meaningful and significant is wrong.

Never underestimate the transformative power of orgasms or weather patterns or water pressure.

Or secrets.

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I bet you think I’m going to be all bitter about Valentine’s Day right now: partly because I’m generally snarky and churlish about it, but also because of the “my heart being recently hulksmashed” thing. You’re so wrong, though. You’re so very wrong.

Know why? Because the bottom line is I love love. I believe in it. And I want everyone to have it in one way or another. If romantic love isn’t your thing, then I want you to have the greatest platonic friends money can’t buy. If it is, I want you to feel like you’re floating three inches off the ground, minimum. Today and every day.

Love is the shit. Happy V-day.

My gorgeous girlfriend is an electrician by profession and I think watching her wire equipment is about the sexiest thing in the world. She’s in the middle of a project now, and when she’s done I fully intent to jump her.

If you live in a porn flick, it’s the most adorable one.

My boyfriend moved in with me a week ago. Yesterday we finally had to give in and take a day off from sexy fun times because we were both too sore. Today we didn’t get out of bed until 7:30 pm. So much for recovering, neither of us can walk straight again.

Too much sex to walk right seems like the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. Surprise someone special!

I normally take ages to orgasm, and because of that sometimes it doesn’t happen at all because I plateau and then get stressed out about whether my partner minds how long it’s taking, or if it will happen, etc etc. As such I am quite uncomfortable with being on the receiving ed of oral, it doesn’t usually work.

I feel the need to tell you my fantastically awesome (in all other ways too) boyfriend gave me the most unexpectedly perfect oral the other day and I came in five minutes flat, maybe less. High fives all round?

Exactly fuck yes high fives all around! Good guessing there.

I’m poly, and my girlfriend is married to a man.

I harbor a secret hope that they’ll decide to have children because as hot as my girlfriend is, I think my head might explode from how incredibly sexy she’d look if she were pregnant.

This is really sweet and all, but I also can’t help thinking how depressed I’d be if a partner never found me sexier than the six or so months leading up to a traumatic shredding of my vulva.

But happy Valentine’s Day!

hey

well ive never actually really read any blogs regularly but i gotta say i love the combo of sex / intellect / humour and complete randomness! anyway this is from a couple of weeks ago. i hadnt long started a new job and only get 36 (yep, 36!) minutes a day for my lunch. i have enough time to drive home eat lunch made my hubby (hes not working just now) and scarper off back to work…until one day. he gave me a cheeky smile, dragged me through to the room….and made me come just as the alarm in my phone was going off for my time to leave for work! i might have been hungry at work but had a massive smile on my face for the rest of the afternoon! :) just had to share!

Okay, people. Basic human rights shit here: A lunch hour should allow enough time for a proper lunch and a quickie. 36 minutes!

I am moving in with my boyfriend on Monday. This is awesome. I had what was probably the best sex of my life last Saturday. (Er, with said boyfriend.) This is also awesome.

I am not going to see my boyfriend again until Saturday. I have already packed all of my porn.

This is less than awesome. (Time to read sex blogs!)

There’s an awful lot of smut on the internet. And hopefully a lot of one-upping the best sex of your life in your bed on a regular basis.

Since breaking up with my ex boyfriend I can’t stop fucking my friends. And it’s FANTASTIC.

Maye fucking one’s friends is the happiest, healthiest kind of relationship of all.

…Okay, maybe I’m just the tiniest bit bitter.

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Thank you for trusting me with your confessions. Especially the really bizarre ones. But also the sweet ones, the wistful ones, the confessions from crisis and the lurid missives of lust. All of them, really.

I have no idea who you are, but your minds are delicious.

My boyfriend and I are doing some anal play, with an eventual goal of anal sex. Unfortunately he’s a rather girthy guy and the pretty little butt plug I bought simply doesn’t come close to approximating him. Yesterday we went to the toy shop and did some looking for an intermediate step, or something slightly larger than he is, to keep working toward our goal.

All I could think was how intimidating the buttplugs look! The ones with gradual girth increases are all slim enough to not be useful and the rest either get fat really fast or incorporate some shape that frankly looks scary as hell.

We wound up getting a silicone dong that starts about where the plug leaves off and has a very gentle girth increase until it qualifies me for his lovely cock, and then some.

Plus, it was way cheaper than the ” anal trainer ” toys.

Am I the only woman out there who doesn’t really care about the toys (although I thoroughly enjoy myself when we use them) except as a means to an end? I don’t want it to vibrate or oscillate or be beaded or engraved or whatever else those things were. I just want it to be what I need, a way to allow my body to adjust to the point where I can give my love something he really likes.

This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever read that incorporates the word “dong”. I hope your system is paying off in anal orgasms and a sex life that gets better by the day.

I’ve found myself in a crisis situation. I have to have strong vibrations to get off, and my vibrator just broke. I go to school in a tiny, rural town without a sex-toy shop. My credit card is still under my parent’s account, so I can’t use it to order a new one off the internet. And I won’t be in a big city again until Christmas break.

Hopefully you already found a replacement, but if this happens again, remember that Amazon has sex toys. Who would question an innocent bookstore charge on a credit card statement? All you ordered was a package of AA batteries to go with your, uh, kitten calendar. Yeah.

I have fancied a guy for a while now and when we see each other we tend to flirt a bit / a lot depending on the occasion. Last night I revved myself up for a good night out with him present and hoped I could take things a little further. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long and I ended up flirting with another guy I barely knew before.

Now I can’t decide what I want.

Well, I actually do know what I want. I want to keep flirting and kissing and snogging and possibly more both of them. At least for a little while. Because in the end, I still think I’m monogamous. But a girl’s gotta have some fun. With a little luck, they’ll both be up for some non-exclusive fun.

I have never been able to wrap my mind around people who expect exclusivity while casually dating, before making an explicit agreement to be exclusive.

Whenever I read confessions from married/attached people about having very infequent sex I think ”I can sympathize. I know exactly where you’re coming from” and then, invariably, they complain because they’re only having sex like once a week. OH the HORROR. You poor thing. What I wouldn’t give to have sex once a week. In the last 7 weeks I can count, on one hand, how many times we’ve had sex. In fact, I can count the number of times on one hand, that had a freak farming accident, and had 4 fingers amputated. So, quit bitching about your once a week sex life and consider yourself lucky. (but I’m not bitter).

I feel your pain. Intensely. In another week I’ll be able to count the sex I’ve had in the last seven weeks on zero hands. Which is good, I guess, because those hands are occupied with furiously fapping and flipping off my life.

Of course, if I ever get married or have a live-in partner again, I do hope it will be with someone who wants to bone more than once a week. I really and truly do.

I have developed a huge crush on a co-worker. She’s pretty much amazing, as far as I’m concerned. I sat in my meeting today imagining all things I want to do to her and all the hot girl sex we could be having. Her style is super edgy and I don’t know if I’m judging her personal sense of style (which is incredibly ”non-normative”) and applying that to other aspects of her personality or if I might be pegging her as possibly queer because I want her to be queer as a consequence of my super big crush. A part of me feels like a judgmental jerk. The other part is still super turned on. I’ve decided not to press the issue and actually find out her orientation. I think the fantasy would be ruined should I discover she’s super super straight.

Wait, let me get this straight: you feel like a judgmental jerk for having had your gaydar tripped?

You know what is a good remedy for guilt? Hot girl sex.

Hey, guys! Visit the Sex Confessional!

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Life is full of little disappointments, isn’t it? Well, not so much for me; I got a unicorn horn dildo for Christmas. But for you people? Lots of little disappointments. They’re unavoidable.

But may the good stuff make up for them twelve times over this year!

Every week, when I read the confessions, and mine aren’t there (I think I’ve sent in 3 over the past several weeks) it gives me a sad.

I hope this brightens up your day. The only confession of yours that I know to put up has made it into the very first ConTuesday of the year!

If you’re still disappointed, fear not. I have a tingly sensation in my earlobes that tells me I’ll get to the others before too long. I’m practically the groundhog that way.

I am starting to feel like a Nice Guy.

I’m a sadistic top, and there are few things that get me wetter than tying someone up and torturing them (consensually!) for an hour or more. My relationships don’t always allow for this sort of play, so I sometimes play with different people (again, with the knowledge and consent of my partners).

I swear to everything that is holy, submissives are the most goddamn annoying group of people I’ve ever met. Since I’m still “young” by BDSM terms, most of the people with whom I play are fairly new to the scene. In between navigating “Tigger Syndrome”, daddy issues, and bizarre and creepy relationship requests (I agreed to hit you, that does not mean that we’re engaged or have a deep emotional connection, or, heaven forbid, that I’m the only one who REALLY UNDERSTANDS you.), I have to deal with people who find the idea of limits abhorrent.

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. I figured you could just tie me up and hurt me for a bit.”

“Okay, do you have any way you like to be hit? Caning, flogging, spanking…?”

*Pulls face* “You know, my PREVIOUS master didn’t ask questions. He just did what he wanted. Are you sure you’re really a top?”

Why yes, yes, I AM sure, and I’m sorry that trying not to kill you or cause emotional damage ruins the mood. (Spoiler: I’m really not.)

I get people complaining that I do things like check for circulation and breathing, or that I ask for a list of hard limits, or that I spend the first few sessions getting a feel for the bottom rather than just wailing on them until they safeword. The way I learned it, that’s how to be a GOOD top.

Unfortunately, it’s also the main reason cited when I ask why people don’t want to play with me again. Said people then go off to Creepy McWifebeater because he “doesn’t play with limits” and “provides the TRUE submissive experience”.

Ffffff… I don’t want to become a Nice Guy, but it’s equal parts frustrating and infuriating to see people my age care so little about their safety. I really worry about how “the community” seems to focus on going harder, deeper, longer than everyone else. It’s one-upmanship that’s not healthy, and I especially hate how I’m judged to be a “bad partner” for actually treating my submissive like a human being.

/sighs I get if you want that, but could you at least wait until the scene begins?

Maybe I’m not grokking the flagrant disregard for health and personal safety because I’m not very submissive (that I know of), but I can state as someone who’s beginning to explore BDSM as a bottom, you’re describing pretty much what I’m looking for in a top. I hope for my sake that you are not the minority.

Maybe– and this is just an idea– these people should try submitting to common sense, and see how that works out.

(Oh, and I should also note that I don’t personally know a great many people who identify as submissive at this point, but I can’t see the ones I do know pulling this rubbish. Yeesh.)

i’m bisexual. i’ve only dated guys so far and i’m currently engaged to the love of my life….who is also a guy. he’s monogamous, i have polyamorous tendencies but am content in monogamous relationships. i’m struggling a little in this one though, because, we are SO compatible and i truly believe we have the potential to be together forever – BUT HE’S A DUDE. i get so much shit for being bisexual when i haven’t so much as kissed a woman. i know i am – but what if i never get a chance to truly explore that side of myself? :(

I didn’t start exploring with women until I was in an open relationship, so I don’t have much in the way of advice for a bisexual in a monogamous relationship with someone of only one gender. Because you seem to really want to explore your attraction to women, part of me is sort of hoping that your fiance comes around to the idea of opening up things a little. But I don’t know if that’s fair. Sometimes people in open relationships are too quick to act like that’s the answer for everyone.

At very least, you need to get a female stripper for your bachelorette party.

My first lesbian experience involved a sexy, funny friend who was so stunningly hot that I still often imagine her pink nipples and orgasmic shudder when I masturbate.

My husband finds her just as attractive, maybe more, and several times per month we both arrive at screaming release while telling each other dirty stories about threesomes with this woman.

We both really want a threesomes with her.

The problem…neither of us are really into her boyfriend, and we don’t want to make things awkward in that way.

If you as a couple invite someone to a threesome and they bring their significant other, it is a sure sign that you’re dealing with someone who can’t count for shit.

I mean, you know she’s into at least one of you, so I think maybe I’d risk it and ask her what she thought about a threesome, provided she watched a respectable amount of Sesame Street as a kid.

You know your sluthood has jumped the shark when you’re making out with a guy on the floor, he’s groping your ass, and your roommates’ reaction is to continue discussing whether invisibility or flight is a cooler superpower.

That is just a waste. Flight is obviously cooler, and your roommates should all know that. Show me a person who would rather be invisible and I will show you one sneaky motherfucker.

Not that I have a problem with sneaky motherfuckers. They tend to have excellent confessions.

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ConTuesday is alliterative today! Watch out for cats, calliopes, and cauliflower! (Caution: May contain communism.)

I feel guilty about calling myself a bisexual because I prefer one gender over the other; sex with either is great, but kissing, and cuddling? Ah, they are only fun with one of them.

Sexual orientation can be pretty complicated, and what you describe sounds like a perfectly valid permutation of bisexual to me.

We want to have sex with the people we want to have sex with. We want to make out with the people we want to make out with. We want to have relationships with the people we want to have relationships with. Sometimes these groups overlap, sometimes not. If we’re lucky, we can find words to describe it, roughly.

At the cabin by the lake, we used the hose to rinse off the lake water from a swim in the lake. With a steel partition to block the view of prying eyes, we just doffed our clothes and washed off in the open sun. It was great being naked with the sun on us, and as I roughly scrubbed her body with my hands, I got an uncharacteristically huge erection, and pushed it against her belly as I kissed her mouth. I reached down and pressed my finger into her pussy, and found it getting wetter. ”Someone might see,” she protested, but she didn’t push away. She didn’t say know. She began to suck my cock.

Why did I think of a friend, at that moment? Why did I think of this other woman, not my wife, deep-throating my cock? I turned her around, and bent her over, and pushed into her from the rear, while I thought of our friend’s ass, wet from the hose water, which I pulled into me as I came, hard.

She hadn’t finished.

”You can owe me one,” she smiled.

That night, as she got ready for bed, I asked if I could give her oral pleasure. She said we could fuck instead, but I was adamant– I wanted to be there for her only. I put my all into it. I drew that clit out and sucked it while tonguing it, while finger-fucking her until the G-spot grew a hard knot, and her bishop was standing well outside of the pulpit. I pulled on the lips and ran my teeth along the precipuce, and used every oral trick that years of marriage to her has taught me to use. I know what her body wants. I drew it out, milking her almost to climax and then intentionally stopping short, and repeating this until she was begging me to put my cock into her, and I refused. This was soley for her.

When she came, it was loud. I felt her pussy rhythmically pulse at that amazing 0.8 second rate, forever. Seriously, it didn’t stop for a solid minute, while I left two fingers in her vagina, and slowly kissed the lips, mons, and clit (not too much!). She moaned that it was the best orgasm that she had had in about two years.

I was so glad. I felt like I owed her that, and more, having been thinking of our friend before. While giving her oral, I was thinking of no one but my wife. I do love her so.

You get a signature QP internet high five (I do a little flourish thing– totally trademarky) for confessing about great sex with a mega honesty bonus!

Despite several (ok, two and a half) drunken encounters, I’ve never made a guy come. Even through sex. I want to blame it on the booze, and say that they were just too drunk to come, but there’s still a part of me saying that it’s entirely because I’m just that ugly and inadequate. Especially since I’ve never once had someone express interest in me while either of us were sober.

They were too drunk to come. I’m about as positive as I can be without actually being all of those guys.

And please consider the possibility that you’re more approachable and flirty when you’ve had a few drinks. That is a lot more likely than the possibility that you are only attractive to drunk people, which is just… no. That is frat bro logic fucking with you.

Last night I had steamy hot car sex with my crush. I was staying at a friend’s place, but he had too many beers and passed out. My crush came over and we made out on the couch for a while. I didn’t want to get caught, so we went out to his truck and drove around the neighbourhood until we found an unlit street. We climbed in the back seat and got naked. The best part was when he had me bent over the back seat, was pulling my hair, spanking my ass, and riding me hard. We had to let the fans run for nearly 5 minutes afterwards to clear the windows enough to see to drive back. I don’t quite know how it happened, but I have a seatbelt shaped bruise on my thigh today :)

I just love car sex. I love car making out. I want a seatbelt bruise. I think I have confession envy.

I have a high sex drive…I mean, at least it seems higher than most people’s. Also, I just moved in with my boyfriend who is more ”normal.” We haven’t had sex much since moving in together, which is fine because everything has been so busy (living in a new city, he commutes an hour to work, I just started grad school). But lately, when I go to kiss him, he says he doesn’t feel like it. I think it’s because he thinks it will lead to sex, which he doesn’t want to have. But all I want to do is kiss. I miss feeling close to someone.

Now, I lay no claim to being nicknamed The Great Communicator any time soon, but you report that you think he thinks kissing will lead to sex. So you don’t know. So either you haven’t asked him or he is not answering. If you haven’t asked him, try to do so (preferably not right after you’ve just been rejected and emotions are high). If your partnership started out with physical contact, you have a right to know why it has come off the table just like he has a right not to want sex and kissing right now.

And good luck. This can be a very heartbreaking situation, and I hope you guys can work it out so both of you are happy.

Confess, my cronies!

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People send me anonymous confessions, I post them here, and you all read them. But what happens then? Do you get inspired to lewd, unspeakable acts that you can’t share with anyone so you send them to me as anonymous confessions?

Dear God I hope so. Let the cycle begin!

I was goofing off with my boyfriend and generally having a tickle fight, when I somehow convinced him to let me stick a vibrator in his belly button (his prime tickle spot).

I highly recommend doing this. You (probably) won’t get off, but it is hilarious nonetheless.

File this under ”Weird-Assed Things to Do With Sex Toys”. =P

It’s Monday night as I compile this ConTuesday, and I just had a huge dinner of homemade beef shawarma and hummus.  So I guess what I’m saying is that there is no way in hell I’m sticking a vibrator in my belly button right now. But I will have to remember to try this because now I’m curious and it sounds hilarious.

If anyone else wants to send suggestions for weird-assed things to do with sex toys, maybe I will try them when my stomach doesn’t hurt! Maybe.

When I was a wee lass of 18, I had my artist younger brother/bff draw me something pretty so I could get a tattoo. It was a flower, and after careful consideration of where I was and was not likely to gain/lose a lot of weight, I chose to have it done on the small of my back. Several years later this turned into a trend and became known as the tramp stamp. At first I thought ”fuck you guys, I love being a tramp and this is a very reasonable place for a lady to get tattooed.” But, over time, the idea of the tramp stamp has worn on me, to the point where I now feel ashamed to have this thing that I once thought of as a beautiful expression of affection for my brother. On top of that, I feel ashamed for feeling ashamed because I know it’s a sexist and ridiculous way of characterizing a piece of body art. Nonetheless, it makes me feel anxious about revealing my body to new sex partners. Ugh.

I bet it’s beautiful.

My boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me and it makes me so sad.

In other words, I have the most stereotypical girly-girl problem ever. If he found out how much it means to me he’d feel bad but he’ll never change his mind, so what good’s telling him? I don’t have anyone I can confide in. Which of my badass feminist friends, some of whom can’t even legally marry their partners, am I supposed to bitch to about this one?

Straight people and gay people and even badass feminist people are allowed to want to get married to the people they love. It might never happen with your current partner if he really isn’t interested in marriage, and that will either have to be okay or a deal-breaker eventually, but your desire is valid and there is nothing wrong with it. Also, I think good friends have the ability to care about your problems in the context of your life, without needing to necessarily compare situations. They want you to be happy, right? And this is making you sad, so I suspect they’d be there for you on this one.

A while ago I had a crush on this guy who was really into X-men. Wolverine was his favorite. It never went anywhere, but I did have this reoccurring fantasy about blowing him while he was watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine (the movie made to make Hugh Jackman take his shirt off) since that was the closest I would I ever be able to get to a threesome with him and Wolverine. Sadly, I don’t think he would have appreciated my line of reasoning.

I bet a lot of guys would secretly appreciate your line of reasoning. If you want Wolverine in addition to someone rather than instead of them, doesn’t that mean they can, in one sense at least, hold their own against Wolverine? And isn’t that pretty boss? Or is that just my twisted nerdy sex logic?

Tell the world something about your sex life. Who knows what (or who) will come of it?

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