quizzical pussy

I don’t know if I qualify as kinky. I don’t think about it much, to be honest. I mean, sure I like rough sex in the right context. Okay, actually I really love rough sex in the right context. And I just masturbated while watching Criminal Minds ((Which I feel is distinct from masturbating TO Criminal Minds, but still…), but I don’t know whether kinky is the right word or not. Some of you guys are  definitely kinky, though, you magnificent creatures, you.

My girlfriend and her husband are having loud kinky sex in the next room, right this minute.
They took a break a few minutes ago, and asked me to bring them some water.

This is pretty great, I think. I’ve had threesomes with them before, and I’m sure I will again. But sometimes it’s just nice knowing that we’re all so comfortable with each other that they can ask me to fetch things for them while they’re fucking.

I always have a water bottle at the ready, but you can’t have a threesome with a water bottle.

Although you kind of can…

I’m currently in a happy triad with an adorable, inquisitive budding sadist girl and an awesome man (the first guy I’ve ever been in a relationship with) who makes me stupid in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
Thing is… The sex is incredible, the conversations fascinating and entertaining and fun. He reads me scary well, knows me too well for only having known each other four months.
I think I’m falling for him, well and truly, and am half terrified of this. I don’t do the forever thing I’ve barely done the relationhip thing, and it’s not really an option for us anyway.
I’m leavng this place in a few months, and am currently attempting to work out a way to deal with the possibility of sub frenzy after I go (did i mention the subby masochistic part?). I know he’ll try and help me work that out, we have a mutual friend that will be leaving with me and will probably be the one to help. But I have no idea how to have this conversation, deal with the emotions or gods forbid even tell him what I’m feeling for him. Let alone how to deal with the fact that I don’t feel near as strongly for the girl we’re seeing.

So basically you’re going to learn a fuckton from all this, is what I’m reading.

I love your blog! I love the sex positive writing and how inclusive you are. I just put myself out there where my sexuality is concerned. I decided to post on Craigslist for a dom. I mean, this is a huge step for me, having always been a goodie two shows, repressing my need for submission, bondage and spanking. I was impressed by the responses. I am just going to let things unfold. Take the necessary precautions and see where it goes!

::Internet high five:: for you! Because you are a boss to go after what you want like this.

I’m a young male who’s just getting into kink; a brief but intense relationship I was in with a delightfully masochistic young lady woke up my dormant love of handcuffs and painplay, and though I sort of banked those urges when we went our separate ways a couple of years ago, I’ve found them quickly starting to re-emerge over the last little while. At this point I’m more comfortable with my leanings towards BDSM than ever before, and while I’m not actively searching for a relationship right now, I’m getting a better and better idea of what it is I’ll be looking for when I start to do so.

But I still had to suppress an embarrassed chuckle when I found myself standing in front of the rack of canes at the local drugstore, eying them contemplatively. Too thick. . . too short. . . got weird feet on it. . . ooh, that looks interesting – no, too expensive. . . I think my mutterings may have worried the nice older gentleman standing next to me a little. Sorry, Gramps!

So I guess I don’t actually have much to confess, except that I’m gradually getting more and more comfortable with the kind of sex I want. And hey, by all means tell me if you have recommendations for a favorite impact toy, because my subconscious is apparently in the market!

Hey, everybody, suggest impact toys!

I want to become an advocate for BDSM to teach people that’s its perfectly normal if its done consensually but I haven’t come out to anybody but my boyfriend about my kinks.

Coming out is super personal, and I’m confident you’ll get there when the time is right.

When I was a kid, from a very very young age I was absurdly uncomfortable (irrationally angry, turning red, squirming in my seat) whenever anyone had the hiccups. This was a problem when watching a lot of cartoons, or even in middle school and high school when in a class I couldn’t leave…

Until I was a year into my first serious relationship, 19 years old, having just started to be sexual and FINALLY learning to identify my own desire and arousal. Then suddenly I realized that I hated the hiccups so much because I was insanely, uncontrollably turned on.

Uncontrollably turned on when my boyfriend gets hiccups after eating spicy food too quickly? Awesome. Uncontrollably turned on when drunk friends get them? Awesome deposit for the fantasy bank. Uncontrollably turned on when my parents, siblings or babysitting kids/preschool students get them? REALLY, REALLY NOT AWESOME.

It’s not like I am particularly drawn to the person who has the hiccups; when someone I don’t like or someone inappropriate for my attentions has them, I just ignore the arousal. But it’s still INCREDIBLY uncomfortable. I am so glad I don’t have a penis or this would be so much worse.

This was fascinating. That’s pretty much what I have to offer here.

Coming here now hurts.

I started reading here a couple of years ago and love the ConTues. I have, over and over again, typed into the comment box below your posts. But I leave before I hit submit.

I want to come out here about my poly and BDSM. I recognize a few of the people that comment here and I deeply long to be accepted by them, but I also know that they would recognize me and then this would be nothing but negative.

I think I need the therapy of talking to people and QP would be a fantastic place to do that. Unfortunately for me that wont work.

Thanks for listening QP. I wish I could trust enough to comment on your excellent posts.

I wish you felt free to comment here. I feel like I should point out the extreme “glass house” position of people who come and read and comment and confess on quizzical pussy. I mean, clearly there here for a reason too; I wonder why you’re so sure they’d judge you, but I don’t know your situation. All I can do is fervently hope that you find an outlet to talk about this stuff. My email address is here if you want it.

I started dating a good friend and a housemate of mine that I’ve been crushing on for about a year. About a month ago, I ended up telling him about the crushing and his immediate response (which was, btw, the most flattering thing that’s ever happened to me) was to offer to break up with his (now ex) girlfriend and start dating me. So he did, and we are and I lost my virginity two days later.

It was awesome :) He and I have always talked a lot about sex and about our mutual kinks, so I feel completely comfortable talking to him about pretty much anything. We’ve tried some light bondage already (we’re working our way up and I’m going to buy a pair of handcuffs soon), I’m learning to deep throat, he’s learning to talk dirty and let his dom side out. Anyway, it’s amazing and right now I have some lovely, tender bruises on my boobs and am a little sore in the best possible way from being bent in half and fucked into my bed. Just wanted to share that my life is awesome right now, even though the sex is distracting me from school a little bit.

::Internet high five::! I can’t even explain how much I love it when I get “my life is awesome right now” confessions, and I love the sheer variety of ways people find to make their lives awesome even more, if that’s possible.

Anyway, confess stuff.

Share/Save

Sometimes I wonder how you like really know you’re in love.

You know you’re in love when there’s a moment during naked-snuggle-time where it’s appropriate to yell “Get back here so I can gum your nipple like a horny tortoise!”

I… does this mean I’ve never been in love?

I’m excited to go to the doctors tomorrow!

Er, wut? Well, I’m young, single, sociable and a total sex-clued, hedonistic, pleasure-seeking kink-friendly nympho… when I’m not medicated to the eyeballs. Unfortunately, due to general health issues (not all that dissimilar from yours, from what I can gather, QP!) it’s been totally necessary to medicate me to the eyeballs and beyond for quite a while now, and antidepressants in particular have taken a cane to my sex drive, and not in a good way. I’ve gone from losing my libido to inability to orgasm right through to not even finding anyone attractive anymore, because what’s the point. Ugh. So far, my attempts to raise this with my doctors have been met with everything from “meh, it doesn’t really matter, enjoying sex isn’t medically essential (Heavily implied: “…for women”)” to “I’m uncomfortable with this conversation… did you say you were getting headaches? Let’s give you something for the headaches!” oh and the ultimate classic “I’ve never heard of that as a side effect… (reading the patient leaflet I have just presented her which clearly states it as one, plus doesn’t like, EVERYONE know SSRIs inhibit sex?!) Hmm, no, I’ve not heard of this before, nobody has reported it. Perhaps you’re just not comfortable having sex because you’re not married. I’m sure you’ll be fine when the time is right!” Just… fuck the lot of them. Tomorrow I go to my new doctor, explain that I am unhappy with the extent to which this has affected me, and suggest swapping to Wellbutrin, and he IS going to listen to me, and I AM going to remember what it feels like not to cringe to the depths of my soul when somebody touches me. Wish me luck.

Holy dildoballs. I can’t even process how idiotic your previous doctors have been. I am wishing all the luck that your new doctor is competent and understands that sexual activity is a quality of life issue for many of us rather than some weird species of alien slime that one should never look at directly lest it infect one’s retinas.

The more comfortable I get in kinksville, the less comfortable I am in vanillatown. I almost don’t feel like I can be myself around my vanilla friends anymore. I find this unexpectedly stressful, and I’m not sure how to fix it. I can’t give up kink, and I don’t want to alienate my oldest friends. :(

If you’re not insisting on bringing floggers to their tea parties or making every conversation about your latest adventures in bite marks, I guess I’m just wondering why they can’t be happy for you. Of course, sometimes we grow in divergent paths from our long-term friends, and there’s really no one to blame for that.

About a year ago a whole bunch of my friends and I spent a few days on holidays together. We were all sleeping on the floor of the rumpus room and spent a lot of time chatting instead of sleeping. This made me pretty tired, so one afternoon I decided to take a nap.

Only I couldn’t fall asleep so I decided to get off instead. I was touching myself under the covers when my friend came in to get something from her bag, so I froze and pretended to be asleep. She left, I started up again, then another friend came in. It became a game, touching myself when no-one was there and stopping myself when they were, a self-administered orgasm denial scheme that stretched on and on until I was left alone long enough to come like a freight train. It was the best wank of my life.

This year, we were back up at the house and I had another afternoon wank in honour of that time. I think I could make this a tradition :)

P.S. Also, for some reason at the time I was fantasising about a Dom tormenting me by spraying me with ice cold water. I’ve never had that fantasy before or since. Libidos are weird.

And then again, it occurs to me that sometimes kink and vanilla friendship coexist just fine without actually interacting in any way. I’m only assuming these friends are vanilla because most of my kinky friends would likely pick up on this game and offer to enhance it in numerous creative ways.

My partner once told me of an… appreciation for lasses wearing animal ears. I looked everywhere when Halloween came, but nothing could be found that wasn’t ridiculously expensive.

So today I was out buying some random stuff, and what should I happen upon but a set of leopard ears (in the bachelorette party section, right). On the one hand, I reeeeeally want to see the look on his face.

But I can’t think of any combination of things I could buy with it that would make it less than completely obvious what I plan to use them for…

PS. I’m totally overthinking this, right? Fuck it, I’m getting ’em!

I want to tell you something, and I hope it’s reassuring. Cashiers don’t give a shit. They don’t. If they do because they’re still teenagers or because they’re extremely bored, you just made a life more exciting. You are a great person!

Hope you and your partner gleefully wear those ears out.

My confession? I love reading other people’s confessions. I look for new ideas, and evidence that other people are having awesome sex. It makes me feel good. Having my (previous) confession posted was also awesome, but I love everyone else’s confessions. And crazy hot sweaty monkey sex with my boyfriend and periodic guest stars. :)

I pretty much entirely agree with this except my sex with my boyfriend tends more toward the sweaty hot lemur sex, but live and let live.

Straight male, married almost 7 years, together for over 10.

Had amazing FF(Me!) threesome with wife and wife’s friend last night. Wife and I have been pure vanilla up until a few months ago, and she has only recently confessed to have some tendencies (and I don’t know how strong they are) towards bisexuality. Luckily we have an awesome like-minded friend to play with.

Getting fucked with a strap-on while fucking my wife was quite an experience and the shes and I can’t wait for more.

I totally understand that threesomes are not for everyone, but still, I get a happy, glowing feeling when I know that more of them are happening in the world.

Because threesomes are motherfucking magic. Now you know.

Share/Save

It’s a rare person who pair-bonds only once in their entire life, and probably even rarer to have only one sexual partner. This is probably somehow connected to the fact that we’re more closely related to apes than birds.

But we’ve built a social structure where being faithful to one partner is almost universally considered virtuous, and cheating is almost universally condemned. I totally get how lying to people is a sucky thing to do, but sometimes I wonder why we’ve agreed to direct so much ire toward people who cheat. There are worse things you could do to a partner than touch someone who is not them, aren’t there?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: humans are weird. Other animals too. You should see what my dog’s doing right now.

I have secrets that no one knows about. I lost my virginity at 14 and have been a sex addict ever since. I’m in a monogamous marriage but I go and see my playmate every month (not necessarily the same playmate each time). I love sucking cock and can’t get enough of it, how can I tell you how much I love them…

How much you love cocks or your playmates? Or all of the above?

Part of me wants to put a preachy thing here that says I hope you’re getting tested for STIs and that it’s kind of weird to say you’re in a monogamous marriage when it only, at best, appears that way to half the people in it. But you know what? You’re presumably a grown up and I’m in no mood to be preachy. I have no emotions related to this aside from a dim echo of happiness thinking that cock sucking really is kind of boss.

Next week I will try to be more judgmental.

I went to a New Year’s party with my boyfriend and some friends who we go out with sometimes. It was a great party, everyone was having fun and there was no drama. A friend of my boyfriend was there, a guy I knew from pub nights. We had talked lots before, but never so much as flirted with each other. He recently got married, I am happy enough with my boyfriend- there wasn’t even a question of something happening between us.

I went out with him and a group of people for a smoke which is something I usually do. But as they were going back up the stairs we made eye contact and just… lingered. I don’t even remember what we were talking about or how it happened… we were on the stairs to go back up and then his lips were on mine and his hands were up my skirt and it was pure, electric passion- for about 3 minutes, and then I lead him back to the party. We were making knowing eyes at each other from across the room all night after that, and he’d secretly grope my ass, or just innocuously put his hand on my waist as we talked. We had another brief encounter shortly after during a smoke break- hot whispering in my ear and hands everywhere. He tried to get me to go outside with him alone… I said no without hesitation. I was very clear that I wasn’t going to have sex with him, no matter how badly I wanted to, it wasn’t even a question.

I am not sure why it happened, or how. I will think on it. Usually that very clear “no” comes through before lips meet, and doesn’t wait around for the opportunity for actual sex to kick in. I think part of it was the permissiveness of the holiday- new years is when you get to kiss all those people you want to kiss the rest of the year. Most of it was drunkeness- but then, I have been drunk before and have never cheated on anyone, ever. And also, the fact that it was completely, utterly harmless helped. It meant nothing. It was just spontaneous sexual energy colliding in a stairwell. My best friend thinks it happened because I have been really unhappy with my relationship this past year (we’ve been together for 5). I trust her, but I don’t even want to think about what leaving my boyfriend would entail- I am entirely dependent on him financially and socially. I don’t want to be a cheater, but I worry that that’s the closest I can get to happiness.

This confession was actually really hot and then it was kind of sad. Conflicted.

repeat customer here. I’m the woman in love with a man who is asexual, not attracted to me, or gay. We are in a relationship, but I deem that if there ever was a covenant here, he has broken faith with me by denying the sex I have repeatedly begged for. At best, I get a single-event pity fuck and that’s it until the next time I break down crying because of lack of sex– usually 3 months later. Covenant broken= I’m not obliged to exclusivity here. A sexy man in town is pursuing me hotly and wants to give me the proper (and regular) fucking I so richly deserve, and with no strings attached. I think I’ll let him, and I don’t consider this cheating and I don’t feel guilty. Have (my own naturally abundant) lube. Will stray.

I condone nothing, but what is someone reasonably supposed to do in a situation like this? Actually, I probably do condone stuff like this. Or at least I can understand it. How is life not too short for relationships like this?

I have been in a polyamorous relationship for a few years now. Recently, that’s changed and I’m only with one of my partners; we’re very happy and may even get hitched soon. The thing is, I’m not really poly. I know I was with multiple people for a long time (and I thought it’d be longer; it was supposed to be a forever thing), but I never considered myself, nor do I now, polyamorous. It just sort of…happened? And now, I can’t even imagine thinking about pursuing other relationships. Not that I think anything’s wrong with that. But I just can’t fathom getting there. So I’m sort of stuck between two groups. I met a lot of people when I was in a poly relationship and therefore considered part of the ”poly community”, and it took a toll on the people I know/knew who had to adjust to something they didn’t know before I was doing it. But now poly people get all pissy about me posing as poly just because my experience was individual rather than something I feel like committing my life to for sure. And some of the people I lost over choosing that relationship still won’t talk to me, and the ones who will, I don’t want to talk to. They’re very “I told you so” about it and that’s just stupid. I’m just so tired of people needing to fucking label everything. I have been in several successful relationships in varying degrees of deep, weird, or out of the norm. I’ve been happy, I’ve been sad. I’ve had new-relationship tingly feelings. And I’ve gone through horrible heartbreak. Just because in at least one of those cases it happened to involve multiple partners, why the fuck does that have to change anything? I see all sorts of fucked up things in relationships between two people; and a whole bunch of fucked up things in triads or groups or whatever. Fucked up things between a mom and son. Fucked up things in a friendship. I’ve gone through many of these things. So fuck the hypocrites who want acceptance for being in some outside the social norm relationship, but then don’t even see what the fuck they’re doing when they criticize others. I just wish people would fucking leave other people alone and pay attention to themselves. Who I choose to fuck, for how long, and in what context are my own business. As is my choice to not put a fucking label on myself. I will respect your label if it means that much to you, but I have never felt it necessary to define someone by their label (or even know what it was) to have respect for that person or to like them. In a world with so many awesome people, I’m pretty tired of people en masse.

So essentially, a bunch of poly people are getting into a snit because you’re not, and were never 100% committed to defining yourself as poly. Like you’re not being monogamous enough with that fucking label AHAHAHAHA excuse me. Ha. Jackasses.

Seriously. Jackasses.

So I have the best girl friend in the world. We match up so wonderfully and together we will be able to withstand the hell that will be unleashed by my mom when I start poking out that closet door. Of this I have no doubt.

I wish that this thanksgiving could have been spent with her instead of at ‘home’. She was up at Hollins our school for the brake, I was down in Texas. Well I wasn’t really that involved with the family for a number of reasons but I did enjoy the diner. Good food and good thoughts. I spent the meal coming up with lovely fantasy list of things to do to her when I dom her things I want done when I sub and things that would be nice when we just roll around.

And then over skyp that night I had her tie herself a gag and then she did exactly what I told her to. (She was feeling sub and I was feeling dom). God she was so beautiful and sexy and such a good girl, doing exactly as she was told. Even if I couldn’t be there to do exactly what I was describing I’d do to her, it was wonderful watching her fucker her self with taylor (That’s what we named our dildo). I think I got her off about three times before she flopped back and was too exhausted to move in that “Fucking good sexiness just happened” kinda way.

I go home to her on sunday and then the door shall be locked as we make up for lost time. Till then, I have that wonderfully tired smile to think about.

Very sweet. I vote we all get carte blanche to cheat on our families every holiday and spend it with people who are awesome and sexy. That’s what birds do, you know.

She’s a good lady.
Of course, she won’t shave her bush, not even once. (She did for someone else, but not me.) She won’t do anal. (She did a couple of times, years ago. Never again.) She won’t have sex more often than, say, a couple of times a month. And then, it’s quick, because she tells me that she has other things to do.
Additional people in our bed are not permitted. Additional bed partners out of our bed would go against the monogamy that we have in our marriage.*

I know women who: LOVE to explore in sex. They like to play with their pubic hair shapes, colours, etc. They like or adore anal, and don’t mind exploring beyond a single bed partner. They enjoy sex several times a week. Sex is a banquet for them.

I’m going to die in a few dozen years. Likely, I’ll still be married to this same woman. So is this all that there is, for me?

I question the shit out of monogamy, right now.

Playing ape’s advocate here: I don’t think you should cheat on your wife, but I also don’t think that someone being a “good lady” is reason enough to stay in a monogamous romantic relationship with them.

I see so many people who seem to feel trapped in their relationships, and sometimes that has to do with monogamy and sometimes it has more to do with people just not working well together anymore. Remember how like a minute ago I said that life’s too short? I think it’s too short.

This isn’t a sex confession, but:
Sometimes (read: once a week or more), I get myself convinced that your website ends in .net, and then spend a good ten minutes horrified that something happened to cause you to take down your site… until I realize no, I’m just an idiot.
The moral of the story here: Love your site, QP, and glad I’m always wrong.

I have never been a cheater, and wouldn’t start by cheating on my .com with a .net. But right now the idea that there’s something I add to the world that, if absent, would cause horror and dismay to anyone on the planet is exactly what I need to hear right now. So thanks.

Confessional

Share/Save

I fully understand that there are some things you can just never say to people. What those things are depends, predictably, on the people. I fantasize a lot about how it would be if we could all just share all possibly relevant information with one another, at least with the people we’re closest to.

I don’t like the way you kiss. I want to build a future with you. I’m not in love with you anymore, but I don’t like the idea of losing you. I might want kids after all. I cheated. I’m scared you’re not in love with me anymore, but you don’t like the idea of losing me. I’ve been faking my orgasms, so can we work on replacing those with real ones?

And I pretend to think it would be terrifying for a couple weeks, but then we’d get used to it and wonder what the big deal was. I’m not sure I really believe that.

My boyfriend of three and a half years and I have very recently opened up our relationship, mostly due to my rediculously high sex drive, but also our mutual inexperience and bisexuality. We got together when we were both young teenagers, and settling down for a lifetime commitment when we’ve only ever touched eachother seems like a recipe for disaster. So! We’re exploring.

Im trying to resist the urge to run out and glut myself on all the pretty ladies, much as I have to resist eating the whole damn cheesecake at once. Self control, where for art thou? Help me! Guide me?

Communication and integrity are the Jachin and Boaz¹ of open relationships. And that’s not just with your partner, but with yourself. It’s a good time to figure out what sex and love mean to you, what you’re looking for, and what your personal code of conduct is. I think there’s value in making these agreements with ourselves first and our partner/s second.

But by all means, seriously, enjoy your cheesecake!

I’ve had sex 6 times in the last 4 days with 3 different guys. I love how different they all are and how they each make me feel great in their own way. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask 2 of them for a threesome: the one with the best dick, and the kinkiest one.

When it comes to communication, offering people sex should be fairly simple (spoiler: it is very often not). You ask for what you want to happen, the other party or parties respond honestly and without fear. Sex happens or it doesn’t.

This has very little to do with the world I have actual experience inhabiting, but I can’t for the life of me figure out any good reasons why that’s so.

Dear QP

Early this year I went to a music festival. It was amazing, and I met a guy there. Long story short, we ended up on the ground in some barely there shadows. I felt free and happy, even when some couple walked past, all I could ask was whether or not their mama ever taught them to knock. I ended up on my back, laughing for no reason and every reason.

Which lasted until he asked me WHY I was laughing. Couldn’t he just laugh with me?

So, that’s it. No deep and deviant sexual confession. No desire for a life-long partner (or a few) that share my every interest. I just want someone to laugh at the stars with, and/or deliver orgasms.

There are people in this world who don’t want to be asked the things that other people in the world will always want to ask. Neither of these groups is in the wrong, but sometimes they miss out on laughing at stars together, and that’s rather sad, isn’t it?

I’ve been dating an absolutely wonderful trans man for almost a year. I’m crazy about him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. The sex is great, I love his dick. The thing is, I love getting penetrated. That’s way to clinical- I love getting fucked, really hard. He does it with his fingers and I come like crazy, but… every once in a while, I really, really, really want to get fucked with a regular dick.

I can never, *EVER* admit this to him.

I see where you’re coming from on this one. Seriously, how would a person even try to get that information across without causing damage?

Also, though, prosthetics can be amazing, in my opinion.

This isn’t really a sex secret, but it’s messed up the sex life which used to be so awesome whereas now he rarely makes me orgasm. Boyfriend cheated on me while he was depressed but still loves me and through the insane drama of his ex, I find out he had a kid 3+ years ago that he didn’t tell me about (because that part of is life was depressing, yeah his life has been one shitty event after another but GEEZ). It feels like if the sex can be fixed, the rest won’t matter. I’m okay with bringing myself to orgasm, but I miss the amazing sex where we worked on it together. Maybe, though, the sex can’t be fixed until the emotional shit pile is dealt with. I’d really rather deal with the sex first.

Sometimes, sometimes, the sex stuff and the emotional shit are intertwined. It’s like those detective novels where the P.I. starts off working two cases, and somewhere near the end of the second act, he realizes HOLY SHIT THEY ARE THE SAME CASE!

So, yeah, talking might be a good idea.

I kinda have bad luck with girls. Oh yea, I can talk to them, make them laugh, even manage some awkward flirting, but a majority of the girls I talk to are strictly straight or otherwise in a committed relationship. And because I make friends with some of them, I have a lot of attractive girls in my life. My best friend is one of those girls. She’s smart, caring, funny, incredibly sexy, and awkward. The perfect lady boner combo for me.

I’ve always been sexually attracted to her, but lately it’s been more urgent than before. I really want to make her come. Multiple times. In my mouth. I know she likes penetration and I’m actually confident about my skills in that area, but I really want the intimacy of oral sex. I want all five of my senses tuned in to her. I want her to know how serious I am when I say I care about her.

We have already acknowledged that we love each other and that there’s something different about our friendship, but I don’t know if she realizes how much I want her or how she feels about me. She says she likes girls even though she’s mostly been with guys up until now. And she knows I’m mostly into girls. I’m suppose to take her out this weekend, right before Valentine’s Day. I’m going to try to get up the courage to tell her how I feel, but I’m afraid that I’m going to chicken out. I’m trying to tell myself that at worse she doesn’t feel the same and that she’ll just be that one friend that I masturbate to or she does feel the same and I’ll have a girlfriend (who I’m going to fuck senseless) for Valentine’s Day!

Grandiose confessions of love are unique in the realm of communication. They hold a special kind of magic. I hope you have a girlfriend now, and damned if you wouldn’t be coming up on half a year in about a minute here…

Sometimes I am slow to post these, people. I’ve been up front about this.

This weekend I was at a party where a lot of people wanted to have sex with me. And have sex I did, with some of them.

Today I am subjecting myself to the worst kind of slut shaming. See, in my head, none of these people wanted to sleep with me because I am attractive or interesting or kind or whatever motivates people, but because I *will* sleep with people.

Clearly none of them are attracted to *me* so much as anyone who will put out. And how unfair is that to everyone involved? Now I’m impugning their judgment as well as mine. Knowing that this kind of thinking is utterly ridiculous and being able to stop doing it are two entirely different bags of worms.

The worst part is many of the close friends I might have shared this with were kind of involved in the sex or at least the wanting. So, uhm, anonymous internet venting for the win?

Maybe stop being a dick to yourself and acknowledge the truth? There are certainly people on this planet sad enough to sleep with someone just because that someone is willing, but deep down, you know none of them were at this party.

But vent here any time. That goes for all of you. You are marvelous. I really can never say that enough.

1. Yeah, sometimes I make arbitrary Freemason references. What? [↩]

Share/Save

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there another reason people go to college?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sex Confessional

Share/Save

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. [↩]

Share/Save

So remember how last week I was weeping into my keyboard over the sudden dearth of that hair dye I like? And the fact that I tried to dye my hair with entirely other dye and it came out a color I was not expecting whatsoever?

I think that the unexpected color may have already gotten more compliments than any other color my hair has been in the history of hair. Some guy actually asked me if he could rip it off my head and wear it in a weird Buffalo Bill-type scenario.

…I said no.

I have never been more like Socrates. I am really beginning to understand that I know nothing.

My wife started reading your blog a while back, and I followed suit not long after. It’s been a big part of improving communication in our marriage, especially about sex. We’d been okay before, but things are amazing now. Thanks!

If quizzicalpussy.com had a mission statement, which it does not because this is the first time that possibility has ever occurred to me, it would involve roughly 50% making people’s love and sex lives better, 40% navel-gazing, and 10% jokes about genitals. This kind of confession? Makes me smile even more than free sex toys.

Hey QP! An update on my feelings re: slutshaming lout. I told him about them, he rejected me, and I felt…waves of indescribable relief. My life IS better without him! Without him, there is queer bike porn and naked dance parties and super mega hotties who don’t think being poly means you don’t have feelings. Good stuff, QP!

Your life isn’t just better. From what I’m reading, your life is awesome.

I just spent the evening hanging out naked with my girlfriend and our gay flatmate (well my girlfriend was too insecure to strip). We spent the evening giggling, making penis snails and sails while fending off wandering hands. When me and my girlfriend went to bed she finally lost her cloths while I made the bed, and teased me till I learned that being achingly hard isn’t just a porn cliche. I threw her on the half made bed and we fucked each other till we came together, in one of the best orgasms of my life. Now I wish that she liked to cuddle after sex, but she just don’t like cuddling that much. (Except with her dog :) )

OMG I wonder what happened with that?

…

…

(subtlety)

I confessed a couple days ago that my (gay) flatmate, girlfriend and I (I’ll call them Alice and Bob) hung out naked. It evidently introduced some sexual tension, because tonight we had a threesome. Bob and I both enjoyed watching each other fuck Alice. Unfortunately I’m much straighter than I thought: the hornier I got the less interested I was in playing with Bob. Alice put a condom on her vibrator and put it in Bob’s ass, which they enjoyed (anal smells funny). All in all it was kind of fun, Alice and Bob both enjoyed it more than me. Still many orgasms and cuddles were had, and none of us feel weird about it, so all in all I’d call the night a success.

I’ll call you Cameron. Exploration, cuddles, and orgasms sound like a pretty successful threesome to me, Cameron. Glad you had kind of fun!

Last week, in the midst of some very explicit, very dirty texts, I told my Much Younger Lover (who is back in town) about your blog. He’s now read all of my confessions. I’m feeling a little exposed, but also really turned on by how hot he thinks it is. I’m sure I’ll know as soon as he reads this one.

I’m pretty sure more people use ConTuesday to flirt than I know. Of course, I know nothing, so obviously.

To the gentleman who said that he catalogues his sexual activity. I’ve been using the site nOOkist. Easy to use and it has a great cataloguing system with different positions etc.

Sadly I haven’t had the chance to use it since June because of a terrible dry spell, but that doesn’t mean I can’t share a good site for people who actually are sexually active.

I wonder if they have a smartphone app so you can literally update in real time. You know, and never get laid again because that is the rudest fucking thing I can imagine.

As a FAAB¹ Queer submissive, I am wholly attracted to how Nice Guy (Jan. 3) presented himself. Limits? yes. Safeword? necessary. Both in kink and in life, I often want to scream at the top of my lungs: ”COMMUNICATION IS EVERYTHING. FUCKING TALK!”

Point being, if Nice Guy wants to play with a sub who gets it (and wants it), and you don’t mind playing matchmaker, I’m available.

P.S. I write smut: fuckmedapperqueer[dot]tumblr[dot]com

I hope Nice Guy is reading this and that you two don’t live continents away and stuff.

I’m also, on a personal note, hoping that people who insist on responsible BDSM play aren’t as rare as all that, but that this confessor mostly just really likes Nice Guy’s writing style.

Confess!

1. Editor’s note: I am reasonably sure this indicates “Female assigned at birth” here, as it usually does. [↩]

Share/Save

About ten years ago I read a book by some sex writer of some sort. I don’t remember who it was, and I don’t remember most of the book, but I vividly remember the part of it where the author was sitting on a airplane, having the kind of conversation you have on a plane with the man seated next to her. He asked her what she did for a living, she answered some variation of “I write about sex for a living, and you?” and the guy responded with basically “So do you have a connecting flight you have to make after this or can we go to my hotel room or possibly a public toilet and bone?”

Like saying “I write about sex” is some kind of strange airplane code for “I want to have sex with you”.

It’s interesting that the one thing I remember about this sex writer is not what she wrote about sex, but what she wrote some guy’s assumptions about being a sex writer. It’s also interesting and frankly insulting that no one ever asks me to fuck in public toilets after learning I have a sex blog.

Actually, no, I’m okay with it.

Question: Isn’t it common knowledge that after the end of a relationship, you are supposed to destroy/delete/completely get rid of any and all nude photos you have of your ex?

Maybe it is, but if it is I’m in violation. Viola Sharqtipus took naked pics of my ex Laramy Fuquerton and me last year, and as far as I know he and I both have a complete set of them. I’m not really stressed that he’s going to release them to one of those awful “REVENGE: My ex girlfriend naked!” sites. I personally keep them on my hard drive because they’re beautiful art, and because it’s a fun memory.

I think it’s common knowledge that if an ex requests you jettison nude pics of them, complete compliance is the only decent response. I think it is also common knowledge that any and all nude photos we have of our exes (also of current partners, friends, etc.) are for personal use only, and never to be shared without permission.

The last time my boyfriend was fucking me, it really wasn’t doing anything for me. Then I started imagining what it would be like to be the creamy center of a QP/Laramy sandwich, and I came and came. Yum. I suppose it really IS the thoought that counts!

Since we’re on the subject anyway, I am glad we could help. QP/Laramy sandwiches are a thing of the past, but the legend lives on…

Last weekend, my boyfriend managed to give me three of what were most likely the most intense orgasms of my life. I came so hard I had issues walking. I would try to stand and my legs would shake and shake like I had just run a marathon… it took a couple hours for the shaking to totally subside, but stairs were uncomfortable for quite a while after that.

It was hella impressive.

Sometimes sex is like this thing. Provided that thing is actually a thing that works in any way.

You know how sometimes when you orgasm, you get strange patterns and images floating through your mind/vision?
Yesterday I had an orgasm so intense that for a few seconds when it was over, I was beset (and absolutely convinced) by the notion that I had seven toes on one foot. I had to look closely at and physically feel my toes to check I only had five, and even then I didn’t quite believe myself. Then once the afterglow subsided, so did the… imaginary… toes. Yeah, has that happened to anyone else?!

Sometimes sex is like this too, apparently.

I’m so glad to have somewhere anonymous to boast! My husband is a research engineer, and, ahem, is brilliant at analyzing complex systems. As a squirting enthusiast, that son of a gun has figured out how to make me ejaculate at will. If I’m almost out of clean laundry, he can help me NOT ejaculate by touching me differently. *sigh* I love that kinky bastard.

Also, I just have to add that we’re a middle-aged married couple with grown children, and we look like Santa and Mrs. Claus. Heh.

Santa Claus, you are an evil genius and I love you. And I want a pony, dammit.

Okay – confession hog. I just read back over previous confessions where a woman wrote that she fantasizes about having sex like a man and where you both talk about the idea of having a cock. Sometimes when I’m on top of my boyfriend and the orgasm is being a little recalcitrant I find myself moving as if I have the cock and he has the vagina and I’m pretty sure he can tell what I’m doing and I have to say it gets both of us pretty fucking hot and bothered.

This ConTuesday, I think, no? To me, that’s very much what inverted missionary can feel like. With all the thrusting and stuff. Yum.

Just had my first threesome with my girlfriend and a mutual female friend of ours who was visiting us at college. I was kind of tentative going in, and we must have been the Most Awkward Threesome partners in the history of multi-partner sex (our friend fell off the bed at one point) but we had a COMPLETE FUCKING BLAST! Everyone got off, nobody had any emotional complications, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely.

I am, in part, confessing this because reading ConTuesday submissions about threesomes helped motivate me to broach the subject with my girlfriend. Thanks everyone, and especially you QP!

Yes, QPsters! You too can make yummy, delightful sandwiches. This is the message I would like to spread to people on airplanes everywhere.

Tell me a secret, you.

Share/Save

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.

Share/Save

It’s cute how I can’t just get a cold or the flu and then recover from it like normal people. No, that would be silly. Of course it becomes pneumonia. Pneumonia in the midst of life trauma type stuff.

That, kind and indulgent reader, is basically why there was no ConTuesday last week. This week, though? Different story. There is a ConTuesday. I may still have pneumonia; I may still be having a month full of turpentine, gristle, and mud, but guess what? January’s almost over and I’ve always had luck with Februaries.

Hey, former sex worker here.

Every time a guy talks about how he’s “so good” that even prostitutes get off with him, I laugh. I laugh long and hard on the inside (or outside, if it’s online) and shake my head.

Guys, seriously: That is what you are paying for.

I know some women can have endless orgasms, but the general consensus is that after about ten it starts to hurt. Also, the pounding, slapping, whateverthefuck thing you think you’re doing REALLY DOES NOT WORK. A body is a finely tuned instrument, and it takes repeated practice before you can tune it to accept your stimuli.

The “orgasm” comes standard with the moderately-priced intercourse package, which also includes insincere platitudes and expressions of disbelief that you’re a virgin. It’s what you’re paying for. Be honest.

Sex work is one-tenth sex, three-tenths customer service, and three-fifths human affection and contact. That’s what separates it from a fleshlight. Start being honest about what you’re buying.

And hey, maybe if we can, as a culture, accept that affection and reassurance is more important than sex, people will start treating sex workers with respect.

PS: None of us care about the size of your penis, big or small. We don’t care either way, as long as you use a condom.

If I had enough money to pay for sex, though, I’m sure it would be different with me. Right? Right?

Last night I had a threesome with my roommate and her fuckbuddy. It’s the nicest thing ever to be having sex with a guy while your friend is in the corner reading Sandman, and no one has any problems with this situation.

Yeah, until it all gets jumbled up together and somebody pictures The Corinthian while climaxing.

The best thing I ever did for myself …was get a genital piercing. When I listen to music that’s heavy on bass, I have a built-in hands-free vibrator. When I go to concerts and stand by the amp… well. I think I deserve some kind of medal for this weekend, or a spot in Guinness: most orgasms experienced while standing in three-inch heels is all mine.

I can honestly say I have never wanted to shove metal through my skin more. Things I need to know:

1. If you are a clitoris-having person. I don’t want to assume, but I want to know if your setup would apply to me.
2. What exact piercing did you get?
3. Am I really considering getting a genital piercing based on the anecdote of an anonymous stranger? (Answer: I’m not not considering it.)
4. If I do this, what song should I listen to first?

Why do more boys not make noise? The guy I fucked last night made the prettiest noises… a couple of times he just kept saying “wow.” It was the hottest thing.

Oh dear Anubis, yes. I don’t really share this often, but male voices are a particular turn-on for me. I wish there were an industry term that made it easy to look for porn clips where guys talk a lot and make sexy sounds while fucking, because I would use it in searches even more than I use “The Corinthian rule 34″.

Sometime when I bring up the fact that I actually like sucking dick, a friend will agree and say something about how it makes her feel powerful and she enjoys the feeling of giving pleasure to her man. I usually just pretend to agree with that, but honestly, I like it for itself. There’s just something unbelievably hot about the feeling of a cock in my mouth, especially the smooth, soft head. And as for power, it makes me feel like a powerLESS sex object, and I LOVE IT! Does this make me a bad feminist?

Nope.

My girlfriend spanked my vulva too hard and it left bruises. I’m trying to figure out whether the mind-blowing orgasms I had with her at the time are worth the three subsequent days of being too sore for any kind of sex whatsoever. For some reason it’s the not being able to masturbate that annoys me the most.

I’m not entirely sure it would be worth the three days of frustration, but I’d be willing to find out for myself. There is something about this confession that makes me all squirmy and speculative. Probably the vulva slapping, if I had to guess.

Confessional.

Share/Save