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.

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It’s not exactly foreign to some of you guys, either.

…I shouldn’t be pointing it out like that, should I? I’m such a douche.

Had a hot, sweaty, sexy, awesome summer threesome with two lovely ladies once. Everyone was into it, everyone was into each other, and a half-dozen condoms later we fell asleep in each others arms. It was the perfect threesome.

All of us were poly, kinky, sex-positive, and dating others at the time. All three of us agreed to keep it to ourselves (and my housemate, who couldn’t help but notice). Despite this being one of the hottest things I’d ever done, I still feel a little guilty that we didn’t tell our respective other lovers. I felt even more guilty knowing that I’d have done it again.

With all the poly and sex-positivity in play, I’m curious as to why you kept it a secret. But no matter. I’m not here to judge. Say fifteen “Oh, God”s while masturbating to the memory, and thou shalt be shriven.

I don’t really get along with most of my co-workers, and I spend most of my time there yearning to be elsewhere.

However.

My supervisor is eleven years my senior, is tall and bulky, has piercings and a deliciously deep voice, and is an obnoxious, puffed-up braggart. I’m not normally attracted to men, and I can’t stand him, but I keep having these horribly vivid fantasies about him. Fantasies like locking up the training room, slapping him in the face, shoving him to the ground and forcing him to suck whichever cock I was packing that day, and then doing awful, degrading things to him until he cries. And then bending him over the desk and spanking him while I fuck him, and making him cry some more while I use him to get off.

I feel kind of guilty for thinking like that about someone I work in such close proximity with (apparently, I have a thing for humiliating and objectifying people who are much bigger and stronger than I am, physically speaking), but it certainly makes the work day go by more quickly…

Okay, I’m worried about saying this because then everyone I know will have to wonder whether I’m perving over them, but you have a right to have sexual and/or kinky fantasies about pretty much anyone and everyone you know. Very often, acting on it or even telling them about it would be crossing the line, but thought crime does not exist.

Unless it does. In which case I’m a monster and so are 98% of the people reading this, minimum.

I’m young, broke (but come from money), sexually rapacious and forced to live with a mother I can’t stand (we came within an ace of killing each other when I was 14), a father who could care less and a little brother I’ll miss when I finally leave this hell-hole. Now, onto the actual confession.

About a month or so ago, I was out with a few friends, ducking my mother’s return from a business trip in Boston, when I noticed that I was getting the once-over from a guy across the dance floor. I looked him over right back, he grinned and made a beeline for me. In a little under a half hour, I had danced with him, made out with him in one of the bathrooms, and gotten him nice and buzzed. Then I let him tag along with me and my girls (who also had a few guys of there own by the end of the night, so I wasn’t the only one).

We all crashed at my homegirl’s place, where the party continued … downstairs. Upstairs, in one of the spare bedrooms, my new friend and I were having our own party. I fucked his brains out until he fell into a deep sleep.

So deep he didn’t notice when I got curious and started rifling through his wallet. He had a lot of cash (mostly in 20 and 50 dollar bills.) I took three twenties and got the hell of there before my conscience could get the best of me.

Since then, I’ve been doing the same thing off and on: Pick up random dude, fuck him senseless, then go through his shit while he’s out cold (and I always leave ’em good and tired). If I find money, sweet. If I don’t, well … at the least the sex was good.

I’ve tried to feel guilty about this, but I need only to hear my mother’s ”you-have-shamed-me-merely-by-existing” tone to remind me why I feel the need to pick a lover’s pocket, why I can’t afford something as basic as underwear, and why I’ll never ask that sadist for a fucking dime.

I think this is generally referred to as a “sin tax”.

On a more serious note, I keep getting reminded lately that I should really and seriously never have a one-night stand. And why I should deposit the Christmas money that’s still sitting in my wallet.

Sometimes I kind of hate my boyfriend’s face. At proper angles/when he makes cute facial expressions/when his beard is trimmed, he can be the cutest fucking boy in the world, and once in awhile I do think he is just straight-up for realsies hot. But a lot of times I look at him and recognize that, objectively, he’s pretty fucking weird looking. Maybe even a little gross.

I would never tell him this, and sometimes it even works to his advantage – if we’re doing a rape scene, or if he’s just generally in Creepy Dom Mode, it really fucking turns me on to look up at his face and think, you know, ”oh, this ugly, weird-looking guy can do whatever he wants with me, and I’m completely helpless even if it disgusts me.” But sometimes, when we’re cuddling, I look at him and I feel like a fucking monster for thinking these things about such an amazing, sweet, perfect guy. I know I’m not perfect either, and I know it’s really shallow. But none of that stops me from thinking it.

Feel not guilty, my child. You should just hear the shit he thinks about you!

Totally kidding. I am such a dick.

Confess your sins and wins here!

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

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

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

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

I am starting to feel like a Nice Guy.

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

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

“What do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We both really want a threesomes with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I am so proud of the sex mirrors in my new bedroom! That is why people put mirrors on double sliding closet doors, isn’t it?

Sometimes I’m going about my business in daily life and I think “Hey, QP, you realize some people will only have sex with the lights off? That’s a terrible commentary on how society makes us feel like shit about our bodies.” And then I’m all like, “Whoa, self. I guess I didn’t think about that. I normally think of people as having sex with other human beings, but maybe you’re right. Maybe some of them do have sex with “the lights off”, whatever that means. Thanks for pointing that out.” Then, I refuse to talk to myself for the rest of the day for some weird reason. I am touchy.

But to answer your question, yes, sex is the reason for all mirrors! It also helps you figure out if you’re fucking a vampire, which can be helpful.

Have scads of lights-on fun, will you?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about wanting to get involved with other couples.. threesomes where I learn to suck cock, for the right motivation, feature prominently. But my wife, she’s not so into the other women thing.. at least, not yet.

Hooray for group sex fantasies!

That “yet” in the last sentence worries me just a little, though, so I’m just going to play devil’s advocate here. Some women are straight. Not bi. Not at all. No matter how many bisexual/pansexual/omnisexual/queer women you know, no matter what Alfred Kinsey said, some women are irrevocably and permanently not so into the other women thing. Period.

Of course, it’s very possible your wife has expressed bi-curiosity, is shy, and you maintain a reasonable level of hope that someday she’ll choose act on it. In that case, the paragraph above wasn’t for you. It is for anyone reading this who thinks they might be able to coerce someone into experimenting against their orientation. I feel inclined to point out, though, that even if your wife is straight she may well have no problem with the idea of an MFM threesome.

Hi! Thank you for publishing my confession– I nearly spit out my tea when I saw it, which would probably have alarmed my brother and father (they’re watching TV in the same room…we’re not that close as a family!). Thank you so much for your comments too, they were really kind and nice! And I wanted to let you know that since then, I’ve had a one night stand where the guy came around 4 times, and I’m now going out with another guy, and he’s, well, definitely happy! So thank you!

I think you’re referring to the third confession last week, and if so I am so happy for you! And I know these things are relative, but it sounds like you might be seriously awesome in bed, so you get a giant internet high five from me!

Dear QP–I just have to confess that I love to give my man a blow job in the morning. If it leads to something for me, I’m for that too, but sucking on him and bringing him to orgasm just starts the day out right.

This probably doesn’t have to be a secret, but I’m damn glad it’s a ConTuesday confession because I get to administer another internet high five! At quizzicalpussy.com, we adore generous lovers.

The pic you used for the ”Rubbing one out” post…girls like that are totally responsible for me identifying as ”heteroflexible”.

She really is delicious, isn’t she?

I like reading about group sex, one girl servicing several guys, but it’s not something I would ever want to try.

Here’s what we do: I will service several guys, write about it here, and then you can read about it! Everyone wins.

Okay, probably not, but I’m tempted.

At this very moment, my husband is asleep beside me with his arm around me, holding onto my boob. Every few minutes, he giggles in his sleep and starts to play with it. He sounds so adorable, it’s making me laugh and want to jump him at the same time.

This makes me want to hug one of those chow chows painted to look like a panda because that’s how cute it is!

I’d like to have raunchy phone sex with the guy who voices the character of Brock Samson from the Venture Brothers. In character, of course.

HOLY SHIT YES. I feel like it would be more shocking if you didn’t want to have phone sex with Patrick Warburton. I mean, do you realize you could have a threesome with Brock Samson and The (live action) Tick? You could even get some Rip Riley action in there. Heaven! brb fapping.

And while I’m busy with that, why don’t you send me a sex confession, dear reader?

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Many, many butts are perfect. And every perfect ever known to this world has had a but. Enjoy a few of each.

I started the SexLog as a whine to myself. She wasn’t having much sex with me, so every time she did, I would send myself an email about it, and put that email into a folder in my email. Every time I enjoined her to have a tryst with me, I logged it. At first, it was just a sad bitter little series of notes on the rare occasions that we had sex. But when the sex was great, I had to detail it, in fairness. When it was hot, I would detail the situation, how it started, and what positions we got into. I might mention what we said during sex.

Reading back over the last year, I see that we’re only averaging once a week. I wish it were more. But reading those times that we do have sex? Some of ’em are pretty damned erotic.

Once again whining is foiled by awesome sex! This happens a lot, I’m certain.

He makes me laugh until all the muscles in my torso feel sprung. He can make me laugh about anything — the crash and burn of my last relationship, the weather, my simultaneous lust for and terror of taking his clothes off, how mind-numbingly stupid bureaucracies are, what he wants to do to me with handcuffs and an order of Chinese take-out (extra sweet-and-sour sauce).

He’s outrageously, gratuitously beautiful to me, like sunrise in the Sangre de Cristos. The fact that other people seem to consider him either strange-looking or utterly gorgeous, no middle ground, only escalates that. It’s like being part of a secret club of people with good taste.

Every day I find something new to admire about him: His good humor about others’ assumptions, his damn-near epic determination, his delighted embrace of any kind of silliness that makes life a happier place to be, the core of stunningly improbable sweetness that underlies his nature, his playful and seemingly infinite patience with me.

It boils down to this: It’s harder for him to be just my friend than it would be for me to be his lover. But he’s making the effort anyway, because I am so goddamn scared to have sex with him, I damn near hyperventilate when he gets close to me.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want friendship; he’s been a good friend, including when I’ve deeply needed one. It’s that he wants to be more. When he says something or touches me in a way that leaves no doubt he wants me naked and writhing under him, it’s not news to him at all, but the bulletins are just starting to come in at my station.

It isn’t that I don’t want the sex, either. He makes my brain ache for it, never mind the standard achy naughty-bits. He makes me want to lick, bite, suck, pull hair, snuggle, see what his o-face is like, hear the sounds he makes (quiet? grunty? down-and-out nasty talk?). He knows all this, too; I’m pretty sure everyone who gets within 100 yards of us knows it. Might as well be tattooed on my forehead.

So what’s the problem? The past. Naturally. This is the sudden and unexpected beginning of the thing for me — and the end of a long process for him. He waited through my ill-advised relationship with his friend, and through my own blindered foolishness about the kind of man he is. Now he’s waiting through my absolute certainty that sex is going to ruin us, like it ruins everything else it touches in my life. It’s a good thing he’s patient; the more he’s my friend, the more we become something I don’t want to see ruined…and the longer his wait is going to be.

I hate that I feel that way; it’s not fair to him, and I’m religiously certain I’m missing out on an amazing lover, so it’s not fair to me, either. But I know that the moment the orgasms ended, I’d start counting down the days until I lost him — friend, lover, everything — just like every other time. And that thought is unbearable to me.

I hope you’ve worked through your past enough to look back on this confession and shake your head and smile, and maybe twitch a little from some muscle soreness from the mindblowing, love-affirming sex you had last night. Sex doesn’t ruin things; people do, and from how you describe it you are two people who are amazing together.

My friend and his wife really want to mess around with my wife and me.

I want to mess around with them.

My wife’s not sure. She hasn’t said ”No,” but she’s shy.

I don’t want to put pressure. The guy who puts pressure is That Guy. And we all know that That Guy sucks.

But any good partner should let his or her partner know what he or she wants.

So, it’s out there.

And I’m waiting. Tick. Tock.

Don’t be That Guy, no. But I guess you could always send her a link to this ConTuesday and tell her you thought she’d enjoy all the pics of nice asses, and oh, by the way, some guy wrote in about a foursome, so that’s interesting…

Send me a confession, won’t you please?

(image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4)

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We came to a consensus that however fun it is to give and receive them, they’re particularly good as a warmup for intercourse. This is how Laramy and I do them about two-thirds of the time, probably. But not always. I also love those times when I get to make him come.

Penis-in-vagina/ass intercourse is unique for me because it feels like we’re making us come¹, giving each other simultaneous and reciprocal pleasure. Sure, I normally get to have more orgasms, so maybe my partner feels differently, but I round up to Team Us. Most of the many fantastic and varied other kinds of sex tend to have less of that particular “simultaneous and reciprocal” element for me. They can still be awesome, of course.

I can get off just from giving a blowjob, but that’s a completely different feeling than climaxing through intercourse. The stimulation is less direct, largely mental. When I come that way it feels more like I’m really bringing myself there, although I’m getting some of my favorite sort of help with that.

Laramy, on the other hand, once told me he generally doesn’t get off from blowjobs at all. Liked them, he insisted, certainly wasn’t planning on turning any eligible offers down, but he just didn’t come from oral sex. He said this after the first time I made him come in my mouth, though. Surely he was rearranging his belief system by then. Because I’ve never known him to lie to me, I see no reason to think that it was just a line to make me feel like a god damn sexual Tyrannasaurus, although it did. Oh, it did.

Anyway, back to Viola’s bed. There are limits, she are I both agreed, on just how long we’re willing to suck cock. At a certain point you wonder what you’re doing wrong, and why your jaw needs to be punished for it. Perhaps we were making my boyfriend nervous. While Laramy can and does come from blowjobs, he admittedly tends to take a while to get there sometimes. This is part of why it can be preferable² to just transition to fucking. “It’s not like I take that long,” he reminded me.

“No,” I agreed. “Sometimes it can be a challenge, though. It’s not like I can get you off in, say, four minutes or something.”

That’s when Laramy started to remove his pants. Enthusiastically. “Let’s see!”

“I mean, I’ll suck your cock for four minutes, sure. Happy to. But I doubt you’ll get off.”

“You’re on,” he grinned. The pants were off, the penis rampant, the challenge accepted. One doesn’t say “I’ll suck your cock for four minutes” to this man and expect him to laugh it off. Viola offered to time us. Laramy reclined on her bed, pants abandoned, head in her lap.

“All right then!” I probably didn’t say out loud, “I came here to suck cock and chew bubblegum, and luckily for your cock, I’m all out of bubblegum. Because otherwise, ouch.” My eye was of the tiger. Four minutes wasn’t long, but I was going to do my damnedest to make sure it was long enough.

I’d never strategized a blowjob before. Would a little preliminary teasing help or harm the cause? Should I mostly suck and bob, or concentrate more on doing that thing with my tongue? I did my best. Laramy might have been playing with some Viola boob.

“It’s interesting to watch from this perspective. This is what I’d see if QP were giving me a blowjob,” I heard her say³. He was getting close at this point.

When Laramy came in my mouth, I got that little jolt of triumph I always get, even when we’re not going for the four-minute blowjob title. Giver of Orgasms and Swallower of Seed am I, and mighty shall be my reign! Rawr, bitches.

“How was that for time?” I asked Viola in an all-business tone as soon as the cock was out of my mouth. Laramy, still blissed out from his orgasm, found this hilarious.

“Just about four and a half minutes. I was going to stop you, but I knew he was getting close.” High fives happened all around. We hadn’t quite made blowjob history, but it was hard to call it anything but a win, considering.

Between you and me, though? I probably would’ve gone longer, if need be. You know, for the team.

(image source)

1. I’ve heard rumors that you can have sex without having or even trying to have an orgasm, and that it can be splendid. I honestly wouldn’t know anything about that. Sex without any orgasms seems like a frustrating endeavor to me.
2. For my jaw and inside upper lip.
3. Note to self: remind her that I willingly service strap-on cocks as well.

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She suggested out of the blue that we swap with them. Was I that easy to read? Of COURSE I want to swap with them. I’m all in. I’m somewhat sure that our lady friend would be, too.

But our man friend? Not a chance. Even to ask would be to lose that friend.

Dammit. Three out of four is a super-majority!

It’s a truth that can be devastating, or it can appear bright and pulsing with hope and redemption: sexual adventures are really only as good as the most reluctant participant.

Still, yeah. That’s a frustrating predicament.

I’m not the most overpaid person in the world, so when I was going to buy a vibrator this weekend, I sort of set a ceiling of $50. I came away for the shop having dropped $100 and change for a wiggly pink thing. Tried it out with my Significant Other last night and I was practically levitating every time I was racked with orgasms. I’ve come _a lot_, but never like that. What a fine investment! SO was grinning like a jackal every time he pushed me over the edge again. Yummy.

If you don’t mind, is there any way you can provide a link to this wiggly pink thing? Or even a name? This isn’t for me, mind. It’s for science.

Yesterday I discovered that if you make a girl cum for 7-8 times and don’t cum yourself…well….they’re not happy.

One thing that restores my faith in humanity when things are looking dire is the fact that we pretty much all want to give pleasure. We want to make other people laugh and smile and clap and come. I think that’s fucking beautiful.

It’s not your fault if you can’t come, of course. But this is probably the reason behind your discovery.

I’ve recently started really enjoying role playing daddy/girl scenes…the only problem is I can’t enjoy this with my Master because he already has a girl he enjoys this particular kink with, and I would feel like I was trying to take away something that was special and hers. But I don’t want to do this with just anyone. *sighs*

Have you talked to this other girl about it? Because, though it might not be the case here, I could imagine some little girls wanting a sister. Either way, good luck finding someone to explore with.

By the time this posts, it won’t have much meaning considering I’ll know one way or the other. But getting it out there before I know I think is important.

My boyfriend and I fuck like bunnies. We don’t use condoms but I am on the pill. He is very fertile (and has the babies to prove it) and convinced that I am pregnant right now. I’m one day late with my period, but that is just one day. I don’t think I am pregnant, but secretly maybe kinda sorta wish I was. It would be an awful time to get pregnant, but when is it ever a good time?

I’m hoping for an update on this one, and that you’re happy with whichever outcome you got.

Secrets go here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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If you, gentle readers, can figure out which past ConTuesdays hold the original confessions and link to them in the comments you will deserve a very special, sexy prize.

That does not mean you’ll get a prize, but by gum you’ll deserve it.

I wrote a confession a few days ago (not yet posted), about being the best my girlfriend has ever had, and I guess I’ve been pondering on that ever since. There are some expressions of self-doubt and uncertainty there, of insecurity – they’re genuine.

I don’t have enough experience to know whether I’m genuinely good or if she’s just saying that, and while she’ll tell me when what I’m doing is doing anything for her (if I ask), I do not know if she’d tell me if I were actually being bad in bed.

I could deal with being told I’m competent, or bad; I can improve on things if I know what I’m doing wrong. The ceaseless praise, however, has me totally off-balance, and counterintuitively leaves me in a state of more self-doubt than criticism would. If there were criticism mixed in with the praise, I’d know for certain (or more certainly) that the praise is genuine.

I’m not generally a self-doubting person, either; this is my sole realm of insecurity, perhaps instilled after my first relationship, in which the girlfriend in question continued to assert my qualities even while breaking up with me. (No, I am not a nice guy, in fact I do not believe in niceness. I am reliable and honest, however.)

How many people are in a state of self-doubt because they’re not being told they’re doing something wrong? Seems weird.

I probably wouldn’t tell a man that he was bad in bed; I freely admit that. I also wouldn’t tell him he was the best I’d ever had if he was bad in bed. That would be like, forgive the crude comparison, giving my dog a treat for chewing up my thong. Either kind, really.

Have some faith in yourself. In her.

I’m the gal who resolved to have anal sex with her boyfriend this year. Well! We got a butt plug and have used that and fingers weekly (or biweekly) for a while. Every time he would try to insert his dick, though, was met with immense pain from my rectum.

Last weekend, after an incredibly hot fucking using the butt plug in my ass and his cock in my pussy, he asked to try again. It…was underwhelming. He remarked that my ass felt very similar to my cunt, but smoother. I just preferred the way things were, with cock in my pussy and silicone in my ass.

Maybe my lackluster response was due to the fact that I had already orgasmed? Or perhaps I need to use that (condomed) plug in my pussy for the stimulation I’ve come to enjoy?

But at least it didn’t hurt!

For some people, anal might never not hurt. They might even enjoy it, but there will always be some pain (in fact, I might well be one of these people, but one never knows what the future holds). So you’ve got a pain-free anal session going for you! Have you made more progress? Maybe we need another update.

Some time ago I confessed about a dream I had in which I was having a three way with my girlfriend and someone else. I am not used to flirting with and fooling around with someone else that I am not in a relationship with, it was never something I did. Today we had a friend over and had some fun. We didn’t ”go all the way” but we did have a fun time with each other’s bodies. It was our first time doing it together so we took it slow and easy. Seeing my girlfriend passionately kiss another girl and then have them both take turns doing so with me was mind blowing. I spent a good portion of the time thinking I was going to wake up from a dream that I didn’t want to stop. We ended up spending close to two or three hours just feeling, touching, and kissing each other. I am now eagerly waiting for the next time we all get together because now were used to each other and can have even more fun. After it was all done I am not regretting it in th e least and I find I love my girlfriend even more. So I guess thanks QP, you kind of made this all possible, it was a dream come true.

So glad it has worked out for you so far!

So…I wrote a confession before, well two actually, about the boyfriend with the beautiful penis. And then the boyfriend who made me have faith again in humanity and you said that if he would like to offer any tips then to share them? Well he did. http://southeastsexandsanity.blogspot.com/2011/05/orgasmsrus.html I might be biased but it really worked for him/me.

There’s obviously no one-size-fits-all method for being good at sex, but damn, that sounds pretty good to me. I’m also really enjoying his blog, so he should definitely keep posting. Or else… well, nothing. I just like it is all.

Got a secret of a sexual bent? Submit it here and read it later. Highly gratifying!

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Some people just get to have more options than you do. Deal with it.

This public service announcement is also a ConTuesday that features people who really can (and perhaps even do) have it both ways.

I’m dying to have a MMF threesome, but my boyfriend has gotten into this rut of non openness and the idea of it being the death of our relationship. I don’t really think I would want him to be a part of it tho’, I would actually rather find an established male bi-sexual couple who want to play with each other as much as me. I want it to be fun and giving, and flirty. I’ve done it with toys, but I want the physical sensation of being between 2 warm bodies. Just the thought of it makes me quiver and get wet.

I’ve never had an MMF threesome, and it’s a huge fantasy. But I have to say, I’d rather have a “devil’s threesome” where no one felt like it was the consolation prize of threesomes. I’d rather just forgo it than have to deal with two guys trying to avoid each other trying to have a 100% heterosexual experience with me. So two bi guys? Yum.

I love my boyfriend. I love his personality, I love his quirks. I love how geeky he is. In bed, he’s perfect. He’s sexy, he turns me on, he’s ok with my sleeping with the ladies (because, you know, sometimes you just want boobs.), he likes being dominating, oh how I love being submissive. The problem is, I had a great sex drive… I was ready for sexy times at the drop of a hat… and he has health problems. Of the, sex is limited because ow my body hurts bad and I just can’t sort. It got to the point where it made me feel terrible to so much as suggest sex, much less actually having sex, even if he initiated, because it would put him out of commission the rest of the day. And then he’d feel terrible because I used to love sex, and now I just can’t get into it. And I’d feel terrible for making him feel terrible.

I’m not old enough for this yet. I love him, but I miss sex with him.

Trying to have a good sex life while working around your health issues can be really, really frustrating for everyone involved. Hope you guys have figured out a way that works for you! Also, ha you’re bi you exist ha!

So, over the course of an extremely raunchy (and fun!) marathon sex session last night, my boyfriend of 18 months came out to me that he is bi. He seemed a little surprised (and relieved) that I wasn’t squicked out by the fact at all.

Hey, I figure I’m bi, he’s bi, as long as we keep communication open and play safe, there could be a lot of fun to be had!

Bi-on-bi love is a beautiful thing. Also, in order to accomplish it you have to have two bisexuals who also exist. Just saying.

I had a friend who was a pre-op transsexual. I wasn’t attracted to him, but it was intriguing, the penis with breasts. I mean I didn’t find him at ALL hot, but his cock was huge and and there was something very sweet and accommodating about his way. That was some strange and singular sex. I think I was his last big hoo-rah, and I think I’ll never be curious again about sex with a man with boobs. Now, sex with a man AND with a woman with boobs, otoh…

I have a bit of a crush on a woman who happens to be trans. No idea what’s going on under her clothes, but I do know that she is so freaking cute and I am equipped to deal with any eventuality. Why? Cause bi!

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