quizzical pussy

I’m aware that I’m posting this ConTuesday when it’s nearly Wednesday, which edges it close to being an abomination or something. The truth is, the first half of yesterday was full of staying up too late, having mad orgasms, and waking snuggled up with Viola Sharqtipus, and the rest of it was spent telling my blog I had a headache or a tired or whatever. It is now like 10:30 PM. Oops.

You know I’m not going to apologize for great sex with a beautiful woman or anything that came thereafter. You do know that, right?

I think I’m finally going to tell the girl I’ve liked for over two years that I have a crush on her. I’m terrified, but it feels right. Wish me luck!

Two freaking years of crushing? Wow. I wish so much luck for you.

P.S. Write back and tell me you’ve been fucking for months now, please!

I met a guy at an out of town event and fucked him a couple of times, both of us thinking it was totally casual. Then I met up with him for a weekend, also intended to be casual and fun, but it ended up being super intense and deep, and I practically fell in love with him right then and there. We had an amazing energy and connection during sex that I really haven’t experienced before, and I’ve had sex with a lot of people. Then shit got all weird and fucked up, and it turned out that he was a jerk, and I had to break things off. Now I can’t stop fantasizing about sex with him. I spent last weekend with a FWB, and I thought about the other guy the whole time. The sex with my FWB was boring, and now I’m terrified that sex is only going to be interesting and exciting to me if it involves a connection like I had with that guy. I’ve always enjoyed casual sex and never even considered a possibility like this before, and I’m freaking out. What if I can’t find it again??

I guess it’s possible your palate has changed and casual sex is less for you than it was before. But the world being what it is and people being what they are, there are always amazing connections to be made with non-jerks. This is a fundamental rule of the universe, nearly as comforting as gravity.

I was reading through your back posts and I stumbled on the Dec 20th Con Tuesday post. Specifically the one where the confesser said that this picture made them heteroflexible and you responded with “She really is delicious, isn’t she?”

I clicked the link and turned bright red when I saw the girl in question….
Because if her nipples were pierced she’d be my twin from at least the neck down.

Hence, you’re delicious. Deal with it.

Forget the theory about going blind. I’ve given myself wonky teeth from masturbation.
How the hell? Well, I reflexively push my tongue into one corner of my mouth when I near orgasm, a bit like some people curl their toes or arch their back, and I’ve done this so frequently that yep… there’s a gap where I stick my tongue, and definite wonk to my teeth…a wank wonk, if you like! Ahaha! WANK WONK! I’ve only just thought of that as I typed it. God it’s been a long day.A long, hard day…o.0 …

You’re not alone. Chaucer’s Wife of Bath in the Canterbury Tales was famously gap-toothed, which was a trait that was supposed to signal a lustful nature at that time. Back in the present day, I’ve always been attracted to slight “imperfections” in grills (and to an extent, Japan is with me on this one, which is always comforting). I knew there was a reason, and so did Chaucer, apparently.

Last week I had the realization:
“Hey, here I am,
high as a kite,
a beautiful naked man and a beautiful naked girl in my bed.
This is the good life I heard about somewhere.
This is what they mean when they talk about sitting under your own figtree.
This is what you get if you’re a very, very good girl.”

What’s going to happen to capitalism when people find out that they can find the good life in their own beds? I’m not really that worried, to be honest.

So…I totally have the hots for a friend of mine. She is smart, unbelievably hot, and so amazing I can’t not smile when I think about her. I fantasize about making out with her for hours, and sometimes just cuddling.

The concern is that she just went through a break up, and I don’t want to pressure her in any way while she might be vulnerable. Also, any sexy funtime would have to involve my husband, and I don’t know if she would be down with that.

While I figure out how to proceed I think about fucking her while I run in the hopes of having rungasms;)

Tell me more about these rungasms. Also, you sent this in months ago, so I think it’s fair now to hit on her a lot.

For the first time ever I just had an orgasm that made me more horny. It was an awesome orgasm, too, not a baby one. I just want more- and since I’m not a multi-orgasm kind of woman, I’m definitely frustrated. But it’s a delicious, awesome kind of frustration.

The “I am a multi-orgasm kind of woman” version of this is the exact reason I can spend hours on end masturbating. I really never feel entirely done. It’s the best of all possible curses, I think.

Attention QPians! If you send me a secret I will post it on a Tuesday. That much I can tell you.

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So Barack Obama, current President of the United States, finally said yesterday that he personally thinks same-sex marriage is a good idea. (Video here.)

Now, the religious right portion of his opposition and its supporters already assumed this about him, and were going to capitalize on it anyway. Also, the vast majority of people with any possibility of reelecting President Obama were clamoring for it. Recently, harder than ever. Then when he capitulated, some of them called it brave, and I don’t know that it was. Maybe a little.

He was also careful to say that his conviction here is personal, and on a policy level he thinks the matter of gay marriage should be left to the states. It makes no sense to me to assume that his activism for this issue will go beyond saying “Hey, yeah, gay people are totally real people in theory.” Still, I am happy about this development.

Why? Because it’s an important step. There needs to be a first time the United States had a president say that, and it finally happened. Fuck. Yes. Finally.

I think perhaps the most heartening aspect of the whole thing is that whether he and his advisers are correct or not, they must have thought it was a good move politically for him to come out as pro-marriage-equality. The fact that it wasn’t terribly brave is actually a good sign: it means we are already winning.

So I am grateful to Barack Obama right now, but not nearly so much as the drag queens and butches and other outcasts who fought back at Stonewall. Not as much as the throngs of people who have actively fought for gay rights when it wasn’t easy. Not as much as the people who came out to their religious families, confronting them with the concrete reality of what hatred and prejudice do. I’m thankful to the thousands upon thousands of individuals who created a world where our president was backed into a corner and decided that the savvy thing to do was stand up for what is right.

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There are some confessions that come dressed in lemur-themed wrapping paper with matching bows and ribbons expertly curled at the ends. Some appear in grease-stained paper bags, still warm when shoved hastily into my waiting hands. Occasionally– so seldom it barely bears mentioning– they’re hurled at my window like tomatoes.

Sometimes it feels like they got splinched¹, or have ellipses dangling from them. They feel unfinished; there’s more to the story. This is not a bad thing, but add the fact that there is some not insignificant delay in posting some of these, I often wonder about them months later.

There’s this guy I work with – he’s handsome and scruffy in all the right ways, always has that twinkle of good-natured mischief in his eye, and the way he handles a guitar makes me want to rip his clothes off and throw him up against a wall. Come to find out he is 17(!) years older than me, when I wouldn’t have put him a day over 35. I can’t lie, honestly, the fact that he’s a sexy silver fox makes it even hotter. To be continued (I hope).

I don’t think it was, to be honest, and I also hope this went very, very well for both of you!

The first time I came with a partner, it was a slightly older, solid butch with beautiful eyes. I wanted to marry her. We played sexual games in the field behind our high school for months–touching, taking off, kissing here, kissing there. An hour a day every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, when we had an extra long lunch break. I remember how long it took us to think about lying down–we’d always stand up and grind against a tree, against a wall, switching dominance and submission, tying each other up with the ribbons I looped through my hair. But the lying down was even better. We didn’t have to worry about gravity, and it felt like proper sex. She’d growl, “I’m going to fuck you” or suddenly, sweetly kiss my neck till my legs buckled. So many feelings, QP. So many feelings. None of them–as far as I could tell–orgasm, but a huge portion of them better than any orgasm I’d ever had. Maybe they were actually orgasms. It’s hard for me to define them.

But then? One definitely was. Definitely. This time it was in the apartment she shared with her sister, on her mattress (no bed frame). We’d been fucking for hours. She’d lightly scratch my ass when we recovered from the strenuous bits, like she thought it was beautiful. We played a sexual hide-and-seek under the blankets. I think we took a break at some point to watch Best In Show, with much handholding and cuddling and flirting. And then we went back to bed. She knew, QP, that I adored having my waist and stomach nibbled and licked at; she knew because she was the one to find it out. She licked up the sides, pressed her tongue into my bellybutton, had me screaming. Then she nestled her mouth and very sensual nose into the softness just between my pubic bone and my navel.

QP, did you know I stutter when I come? I didn’t. But as I tried to tell her she was giving me goosebumps, all that would come out was ”G-g-goo-goose–” I remember being worried she’d be like ”what the fuck is up with this geese talk?” so I tried to start the sentence again. But–again–all that came out was ”G-g-goo-goose–”

Because I was distracted. I was distracted by the fact that my vagina seemed to be shaking. I did not know what the fuck was up; my masturbatory orgasms were all clitty. But this was different. Her weight on my legs and her tongue on my belly and all the sunlight and suddenly the blanket was velvet and there was an earthquake inside me–and what was happening? This did not feel like any come I’d had before.

QP, I was sort of raped when I was little. It’s okay now. It was with an object, and by a woman. I really don’t like being penetrated. I am not going to try it again. I know. And not ever having a g-spot orgasm seemed like a fair tradeoff for not being penetrated.

Fortunately, the universe believes I should never do anything I don’t want to, and I should get everything I want. Because several months later, reading “I…

Okay, this one makes me sad. You sent in this beautiful, vulnerable, open confession, and I’m pretty sure my Sex Confessional form cut you off. And I’m sorry for everyone involved.

I join the universe in wishing all sorts of happiness for you.

I’m going out of town to visit a friend in a couple of weeks. I’m tempted to ask if he and his girlfriend will have a threesome with me. I don’t think he’d say no.

This could be an erotic story prompt, I suppose…

i met this woman several years ago through a video game we were both playing at the time and we became good friends and continued to talk after we had both left said game, we were both married at the time but have admittedly fantasized about each other ever since, she is a high school teacher and i have always had this fantasy about being punished by the hot teacher for be a bad little student. we met in person a few months ago after my wife left me and we had the hottest most earth shattering sex every day of that week. i cant wait to see her again after i get home from the army.

In my personal experience, the first sex with someone is never the best sex I’ll ever have with them. So if you already had the hottest and most earth shattering sex with this woman, what the fuck next? Galaxy-shifting sex, I’m guessing, so enjoy that.

oh god, QP…oh god. my other half found us a playmate and she’s literally quivering with antici…pation. i’m terrified and excited and dripping and horny and oh god, what if she hates me?

i had to share this with you. i can’t share with anyone else. by the time you read/post this, our date will have happened, and hopefully i’ll be able to report back with good news. she might just be the unicorn we’ve been looking for. cross your fingers for us?

Your date has most assuredly happened, but my fingers are so incredibly crossed that you, um, got to ride the unicorn.

…I can’t believe I went with “ride the unicorn”.

 After five months of involuntary abstinence, I came home and booty called an old friend as soon as humanly possible. His response? ”I guess I might be able to find some time tonight.” Fuuuck that, mate. When he texted me again four hours later I was lying in a naked, sweaty, sated heap with a delightfully skilled, endowed gentleman with six-pack abs.

I have closed today’s ConTuesday with a confession that’s wrapped up nicely in a reportedly delightful package. I would never leave you people hanging. Unless I would…

Confess things to me!

1. Yep, totally rereading Harry Potter. [↩]

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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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Porn rockstar Drew Deveaux recently linked this disturbing, uh, thing, on twitter. It presents an email conversation between a lesbian activist and a trans activist. In summary, the lesbian activist asked the trans activist what the “cotton ceiling” was. The term, which was entirely new to me, deals with the concept that trans women are welcomed into feminist/lesbian spaces, but they are largely ignored as potential sexual partners in these spaces. Think the feminist concept of a workplace “glass ceiling”, but with panties. I’ll admit that I’m biased against any glimmer of transphobia, but to my eye, the conversation quickly descended to the lesbian activist more or less asking the trans activist “Why are you trying to force me to acknowledge you as a woman and touch your penis!? Eeeeww!” Of course, this is just my interpretation, but here’s a direct quote:

Lesbians are sexually attracted to females. This does not include trans women with penises.

Hold the fuck up there.

First off, hasn’t feminism– especially queer feminism– been dealing for over a century with how fucked up it is that other people try to define “correct” womanhood for us? Distinguishing between “female” and “woman” here may seem deceptively okay because “female” refers to sex and “woman” refers to gender. But sex is so much more than genitals, and I cannot imagine feeling comfortable telling anyone else what their sex or gender is. If you feel comfortable doing that, please spend the next month speaking as little as possible and concentrating hard on listening to the people around you. You are not the boss of the planet: you can certainly say that women with penises aren’t female, but your simplistic view of bodies and selfhood and reality is not fooling the rest of us.

Second of all, and I can’t believe there’s even a remote possibility that this is going to blow anyone’s mind: Some lesbians want to have sex with women who have penises. Yes, really. Accept it now. I’m a queer woman. I love women. I am absolutely open to dating and fucking trans* people, including trans women. You don’t get to dictate to me whom I am attracted to. You don’t get to tell me what girl love means. I realize that my bisexuality might cloud this issue, but let me assure you that there exist full-blooded lesbians who feel the same way. Let’s put it this way: I can also have completely male-free lady sex involving a penis at any time with a cis woman. It’s called a strap-on. A penis doesn’t make someone male; I speak from a place of experience here.

I don’t think the trans activist or anyone else was saying that all lesbians are transphobic meanies unless they go out immediately and find trans women to have sex with. Obviously, each of us has the inalienable right to be attracted to the people we end up being attracted to. At the same time, there’s a big difference between saying “You’re not the type of woman I’m into” and saying “I’m into women and you don’t count.” I suspect that the plea here is to fully acknowledge trans women in the queer community as women, as lesbians (if applicable), to acknowledge their partners as female-loving people, and to open up to the idea that female-on-female sexuality is more diverse than all vaginas all the time.

In short, stop trying to make goddamn rules about other people’s sex lives. Maybe even consider reevaluating some of the assumptions that led you to create rules for your own.

Feminism doesn’t get to be an exclusive club. Feminism is the anti-exclusive club. We will joyfully include everyone in our goal of equality– including men with penises, women with penises, marginalized groups of all kinds, and even people we don’t particularly agree with, or we’ve already failed. We’re either dismantling hierarchy or we’re just rearranging it.

(image source)

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ConTuesday confessions are go!

I would love to read one of your ”sex journal” type entries on here involving you, Viola, and your Feeldoe.

Viola and I were just hanging out the other day, and she mentioned she wished I’d brought my Feeldoe with me. And believe me, so did I. I think I should probably start carrying it in my trunk at all times, just in case. More importantly, I think we can make this happen.

I’ve never even dated a girl with tattoos, but I find them incredibly sexy. I like to look at pictures of women that have large and elaborate tattoos. I don’t know that I would want my wife to be all tattooed up, but maybe we should go to a tattoo convention sometime. I think it would be a huge turn-on.

My personal opinion on ink: it can be beautiful and sexy and add to a person’s attractiveness, or it can be meh. This all depends on design and placement. I wonder if people more tend to fetishize the type of person who gets tattoos, which might have once been “rebellious” or “alternative” or “adventurous”, but at this point seems to just be “a random sampling of everyone with skin”.

Not trying to talk you out of your tattoo fetish, friend. Just riffing.

I’m afraid to have sex.

My first sexual experience has a lot of awfulness and misery attached to it. And I had this weird sort of assault-y experience at a party. Since then, I haven’t had sexual contact with anyone. Besides making out. But it’s gotten to the point where just the idea of making out alone (even though I used to love it!) has gotten too scary because it might lead to other things that feel even scarier. And it’s starting to inhibit my romantic life too. I don’t know what to do.

Please, please do not take this as snarky or rude in any way, but my advice is to get counseling. You can often even find it free or very low cost, and though you may not find the perfect fit for what you want that way, it will be better than nothing.

I say this as someone who went through about two years of free therapy through a local university with various counselors who changed every semester. Even in that non-ideal situation, I still made a lot of progress working on my issues with past abuse and sexual assault. Shit used to be horrible, and now it’s getting better every day.

Another thing that helped me was starting this blog. I have written so much about being abused and being raped, and doing so helped me process a lot of things I had previously chosen not to examine, not to confront. You don’t have to do it publicly– although the supportive and amazing comments I’ve gotten have helped me too– but maybe journaling will also help.

I hope this helps. Please keep in mind that you’re not messed up; what happened to you was messed up.

I’m a top and I’m REALLY kinky, but humiliation is a hard limit for me. I’ve tried poking around dominant groups on Fetlife, but almost all the ones I see for female tops are anathemaic to me. I see a lot of people talking about how what the bottom wants isn’t really important, and how men are too cowardly to play with them, or some really awful verbal abuse that makes my skin crawl. Whenever I read it I feel out of place because I’m not masquerading as a sociopath. I actually CARE about my bottoms and whether or not they’re having a good experience!

Am I really so strange for thinking the people I top are people and wanting them to have as much fun as I am?

People who say they don’t care what their bottoms want are either posturing or just straight up dangerous. Those are the only two options, and even the posturing is dangerous in that it sets a terrible example even if the top is privately doing everything right.

That being said, some bottoms are actively into humiliation. It’s not for everyone, and clearly not your thing, but some people want it. If it’s consensual and negotiated, the person doing the humiliating is performing a service. As you probably know very well, sometimes kink isn’t what it looks like from the outside. So I understand your concern, but I feel like you’re at least partially conflating humiliation as a fetish and actual disrespect.

So, just discovered just how amazing my vagina con be. Masturbated for maybe ten minutes, soaked my panties, my nice skirt and the bedsheets, without even noticing until I was completely finished. The only downside is I can’t figure out how to explain to my mum that I need new sheets without a really awkward conversation…

Dear parents of the world: Please never ask why your post-pubescent kids are washing their own sheets. You probably don’t need to know.

P.S. Yay squirting!

i am 26 years old. i know how to do sex but i have a secrete whenever i do sex in that situation i want to put my penis gentaly to my girlfrends nose i want she just wipe her nose on my penis but she dont like this .but i never force her to do so. but my sexual attraction is her nose.i do normal sex also .but this is my sex secret..am i mentally sik ?…please send me some solutions

People with nasal fetishes usually learn, through using it early and often, the correct spelling of “secret”, but I’m not going to get hung up on whether you’re trolling me or not. I’m going to answer your question.

You’re not mentally sick, but you’re with someone who doesn’t share your fetish or want to indulge it. You may some day get someone to wipe her nose on your cock, but it’s probably not going to be her. Oh, and if you stay in this relationship and do nose stuff with someone else, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend would consider it cheating, but you would have to ask her. If you don’t ask and just do, that’s definitely cheating.

I think your solution is ultimately the internet. You can find people into anything on the internet. But use spell check.

Confess things here!

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Do you ever masturbate to something and when you’re finished think “I cannot believe that I was able to find that erotic a moment ago”. This has happened to me, but I have trouble feeling guilty about it. I normally say “Jeepers, but I’m complicated” and move on to the next orgasm.

Of course, maybe this means I don’t even know from sick and twisted, which I would also be okay with. Anyway, know thyself and accept thy darkness, even if thy darkness keeps a night light on.

I never, ever, being single, fantasize about women. But when ever I date a guy I start wanting to suck and plump lucious lady nipples.

In the 1950s and ’60s, the United States government ran experiments on human mind control on uninformed, non-consenting subjects. Using psychedelic drugs, electroconvulsive shock treatments, hypnosis, and other methods to manipulate mental states and actions. “MK-Ultra”, as it was code-named, was dissolved in the late ’60s and brought to light and openly condemned in the ’70s. However, conspiracy theorists insist that the government hasn’t given up on mind control, and the research continues in secret under a new code name: Monarch.

I am not saying they’re right. I’m not saying that you’re being controlled in any way. All I’m really suggesting is that it might be time to stop dating C.I.A. agents who want threesomes.

I had sex for the first time a couple of nights ago. I thought I’d really enjoy it, but when I look back at it, all I feel is this powerful sense of regret.

I kind of wish I could talk to someone about this. Hopefully an anonymous confession to a total stranger’ll be cathartic.

If you’re regretting it because it wasn’t very good or because this person wasn’t “the one”, I hope it helps to know that first-time sex that’s mind-blowing and with the person you’re destined to be with until death do you part may exist in real life. I have yet to meet anyone who has had that experience, though; I think it’s mostly propaganda.

If you’re regretting the sex because you weren’t ready for it emotionally or in some other way, that sucks. I hope your next experience with sex– whenever it happens– is better in every way.

My boyfriend’s sex drive just disappeared. He hasn’t felt sexual in months. We used to have a good sex life but he doesn’t even masturbate anymore!

He’s a changeling.

Or he’s on medication. Or he’s depressed. Or he’s got a medical issue. Or he’s a changeling. I don’t know, I think it’s pretty common for a person’s sex drive to wax and wane all throughout their life. This can make it pretty ridiculously frustrating to be a person’s partner, though, so my heart goes out to you.

I spent the weekend with my boyfriend’s family, and met his older brother for the first time. His older brother is 22 years older than I am — getting into early-old-age territory — and I found him so attractive that I had to distance myself a little from him in order to not give it away. I could tell that he found me attractive, too. I wanted to have both my boyfriend and his brother in bed with me for the entire weekend. The thought was so hot, but I know that if a boyfriend of mine seriously fantasized about me and my sister, and there was a mutual attraction between them, I’d feel more than a little insecure.

Yeah, I think the rule for  incestuous threesomes is that any non-related person involved should not be the one to bring it up.

I can’t believe I think there are rules for incestuous threesomes.

While visiting a friend a few weeks ago, I realized that she was my archetype of femme hotness. She’s what I’m looking for in a woman. It was…highly confusing, as a crush on her is what brought me out in the first place, and I had a threesome with her a few years ago that was really boring. And we’ve been growing apart over the last couple years, to the point where I’m not sure she even likes me all that much, more going along with our friendship out of habit.

She’s using a love potion on you. Run!

I think I love you. Because I know I can be whoever and whatever the fuck I want and there’s nothing wrong with me.

This is a good bottom line to end on. We can be whoever and whatever the fuck we want and there’s nothing wrong with us. I like that.

Confess!

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Have you ever had one of those moments where you’re sleepy and horny and cold all at the same time? You want an orgasm, possibly even more than you want to not move anything and just sleep, but getting out from under the covers to reach for a toy, or phone, or body, is another matter entirely.

Just then, your stomach growls. Motherfucker.

Also, internet confessions.

There’s a woman who… I kind of feel… Well, I, um, produce vaginal mucous whenever I think about her. Which is almost constantly. And I produce mucous in such copious amounts that it seeps through my clothes and I get really anxious about other people being able to smell it. So, I started wearing pantiliners, but it was spilling out the sides, so I started wearing sanitary napkins with wings every day of the month, and now my sexual frustration is compounded with more general frustration. JUST QUIT IT, VAGINA. SHE’LL NEVER TOUCH YOU. I ALREADY ASKED AND SHE SAID NO. AND WHY WOULD SHE SAY OTHERWISE? YOU’RE GROSS YOU EMBARRASS EVERYBODY WHO COMES NEAR YOU.

Hey, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you being so hostile to yourself and your vagina?

I wonder how messed up it is that I zone out on some clients and just start doing Kegels and fantasizing about their skills (or lack of them) in bed?

Sounds to me pretty much like it’s zero units of messed up. You know what’s truly messed up? Neglecting your kegels.

This is my most secret of secrets: I am terrified of passing gas during sex. I know that nothing bad would happen if I did, my lovers would laugh it off, but I’m still so scared of ruining something special.

So I clench. Which somehow tightens EVERYTHING in the process. Which makes the sex even hotter. Win/win?

Maybe I should just let go…what do you think?

If clenching makes you happier with your sexual experience, more power to you. But “happier” implies a comparison, so I have to ask: have you tried not clenching? Because I find that sex is an amazing interplay of relaxation and tension, and having a full range of both ends of the spectrum is where intensity really comes from.

Also, sex is not a neat activity. Fluid gets on things, air comes out of places, and all manner of sounds emerge from the beast with two backs. If your partner freaks out because you fart during sex on occasion, this would be a pretty strong indicator that said partner is not very experienced or realistic vis-a-vis fucking.

I’m not trying to tell you where your priorities should lie, but I feel like you’ll be missing out on a lot if this thing that really isn’t a big deal is your main focus every time you have sex.

I think I may have accidentally taken a 29-year-old’s virginity. I was lonely and horny, he was there, you know how these things go. It was awkward and absolutely terrible and went on forever (strange, right?). If I’d known, I could’ve at least bolstered his ego, done a bit of training, and not kicked him out of bed at the end of the romp. Ugh. Now I feel like a terrible person and I still didn’t get a decent lay.

Your guilt seems unnecessary. If a virgin wants The Virgin Intercourse Package, said virgin must declare virginity. That is really just sense. Unless you introduced yourself as a virgin-sniffing psychic or something, in which case shame on you. You’re better than that.

I hope you have been able to procure a decent lay.

I have a raging crush on a guy I sort-of work with. He has some of the most gorgeous, intense blue eyes I have ever seen, and long-fingered, sexy hands that I always find myself staring at because they’re safer to stare at than his eyes. And he’s a mechanic, and I always have a thing for blue-eyed, dark-haired guys who are good with their hands…

I have fantasies in which he is a sort of earnest, almost sweetly-dominant top, murmuring praise in my ear while I’m helpless under those strong hands… And I also have fantasies in which he kneels in front of me, smiling at me with those incredible eyes, and tells me that he wants ME to be the top– these were a surprise to submissive little me, yet I enjoy them just as much as the others ;-)

Unfortunately nothing will come of it… I’m in a very committed relationship already; and it would get both of us in trouble at work. Plus, I am the sort of socially awkward person who would die of embarrassment before I managed to finish communicating my interest to him. Or fail utterly to get my point across. Or just be mortified when he turned me down.

But I guess the real confession is that I wish I had him instead of my boyfriend of the past nine years. I feel like it might be time to move on. Not many girls have stuck with the same guy since they were 18, and this latest crush is making me wonder (again) what else I’m missing…

Fantasizing about other people aside, if you feel like it might be time to move on, it seems like in generally is. Relationships are hard enough even when you’re all in, you know?

Or I’m too idealistic. That also seems legit.

My roommate is showering with his girlfriend and making sex noises. I’m happy for him. But mostly I wish he’d finish up because I really need to pee.

The true horror intrinsic in this confession is the fact that it was submitted last October. You guys, what if this person is still waiting to pee? Besides the fact that nobody has a) that much stamina or b) that much hot water.

Confess things! To me! Do it!

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ConTuesday is a certain cure for a clean mind. Don’t even take my word for it…

I finally anted up and got a Feeldoe!

I love having a cock now!

And so does my boyfriend!

Yay! And I cannot stress this enough: it never gets old.

Both my roommates were out, so I decided to engage in some old-fashioned hedonism.

What resulted was a forty-minute long INTENSE fuck session with literally all my toys. At one point I was rolling around on the bed with four sperate vibrators going at once, combining and alternating them all like some sort of Mad Dildo Hatter.

It was awesome.

Okay, so obviously I’m picturing this in my mind’s eye. There’s no way that’s not happening. But there’s also no way I can picture it without you cackling maniacally. I just thought I’d let you know.

I have this aunt who has low-level but persistent biphobia of the “they don’t really exist” kind. She also happens to be a lesbian. When it comes up (which, in fairness, isn’t THAT often), I feel like I should maybe talk to her, but as a straight (cis, white, etc) male I feel weird about confronting someone who is actually gay (not to mention 20 years older) about social justice and sexuality.

I understand your reluctance here, since you’re coming from a place of privilege, as they say. But speaking as a sexual orientation minority, I wouldn’t mind you saying “My bisexual friends think they exist,” or something like that.

It should also be noted that I’m not exactly Yo, Is This Racist, so I don’t know, I’m not an expert on confronting people sight unseen on their xenophobia. But no matter how many times I’m wrong about shit, bisexuals will still exist.

I had what I’ve been calling an “incident” two years ago. I told friends about it, but they never characterized it as rape, so I didn’t either at the time. I’ve been uneasy about it ever since. What happened was, I sought out and had casual sex with a guy one night. A few days later he came to my place, presumably to talk to me, and began pressuring me to have sex with him. Typical fore-play activity ensued, but I kept insisting I did not want to have sex with him, and he kept asking for it. I eventually gave in and let him have sex with me, and the thought process was, “If I have sex with him, he will leave me alone.” So I guess I said yes, but it was a complete internal NO which I feel a more intuitive person would have picked up on. He had my verbal consent, so I’m sure there’s no way he would ever feel as if he raped me. But I don’t know what to call it, or how to feel about. I just don’t talk about it.

What your friends said about the situation doesn’t define it. What I say about it doesn’t define it. What he thinks about it sure as hell doesn’t define it. Only you can know if this man pestered and harried you into manufactured false consent, and if you slept with him just to get him off your back. I can tell you that coercive rape is absolutely a real thing, and what you describe sounds like it could very easily be a textbook case.

If you didn’t give your consent willingly, the sex should never have happened. Period. I’m sad that you went through this.

My boyfriend is a chemistry major, and I would really like to fuck him in his lab coat.

Really badly.

Okay, so obviously I’m picturing this in my mind’s eye. There’s no way that’s not happening. But there’s also no way I can picture you guys fucking like this without Thomas Dolby’s “Blinded Me With Science” playing in the background. I just thought I’d let you know.

It saddens me that every time i watch a tentacle hentai it is always rape, because if it were me I would love it. Just the idea of having something large, muscular and that have COMPLETE MANEUVERABILITY just sets something off in me. Also the idea of it holding me down (or up) gets me wet.
I am a straight female. I like boobs I do, but anything below the belt…not so much. i feel like its weird and cant discuss it with any of my female friends.

You might want to check this out when it’s finally published. Also, check these out:

octoboobs!

Hey, so tell me about stuff.

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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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