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.

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I attended a BDSM play party recently. My ass was sore the next day. These two things are unrelated.

Oh, there was some spanking– of me, even. Other asses (tits, backs, thighs, balls…) around me got rawer and redder as the night went on, but my ass’s complexion was largely unthreatened, despite a few delicious moments in which Rudyard Flicksnake, a man who does the most amazing things with whips, blades, and other paraphernalia, tried to wring pouty faces out of me. And succeeded. But even his wooden paddle, which I’ll admit was not my favorite thing, didn’t make me sore. The brutal yoga workout I did hours before the party started? That’s what did it. Yeah.

I know there’s not really a wrong way to do kink¹, but if there were I’d wonder about myself.

And I do wonder. I don’t know where I fit in the BDSM world. On Fetlife I identify as a switch, but my experiences are all light bottoming and lighter topping with sensation play (e.g. “Now let’s see what this toy feels like!”, or “Do more of that thing that feels awesome!”). I haven’t delved into the whole psychological aspect of domming or subbing, even just for a single scene. And, though I’m certainly open to both, I’m not sure I ever will.

In kink, and maybe in every other thing ever, it’s hard to effectively pursue a desire before you actually define it. I’m not sure what I want to experience in the kink world. I know why I want to be involved in it: I love the community, I love the sexy geekery, and I love experimenting and feeling new sensations and finding new ways to orgasm. However, I don’t fit in well enough to meet someone and rattle off my BDSM pedigree: “I’m a fireplay top with an emerging daddy dom side”, “I’m a rope bunny switch, but I only service top”, “I’m a non-painslut masochist with a huge subspace fetish”. I don’t have a firm grip on what I “am”, what I like, or what I want; so far I’m just playing at playing.

I have some ideas of what I’m not. At this point, I do not connect with the masochist label. Not not not. After years of constant chronic pain, I have explored pain; it holds no mystery for me. I adore certain interesting sensations at the lower end of the pain spectrum: sensual sharpness, the thrill of electrical play, the cold point of a dulled blade, little things that pluck the nerves and wake them up, but once it starts hurting I will prove what a masochist I’m not. Hard. I also don’t think I’m a sadist. At least, seeing (and I’ll assume causing) someone else’s physical pain doesn’t do much for me.

Admittedly there are a lot of things I know I want to try, but I don’t know just how I want to express them yet. BDSM is a language with many dialects, and it’s easy to think you’re saying one thing while conveying something totally different. It’s not sorted in my head enough that I can list it here and tolerate looking at it.

Still, I’m going to keep playing as I have been. I want to keep pushing and trying new things. Kink is interesting, fun, often sexy, and there’s a freedom in it that recalls the experience of being a kid on the playground. Some of the equipment is worlds cooler; some if it is eerily close to what your parents stored in the closet and brought out when you needed “discipline”. But at least now you have a safeword.

I don’t know. Can I just say I have an experimentation kink for now? And an orgasm fetish? Because I know those ones are just empirically true.

(image source)

1. Unless it’s non-consensual, obviously.

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Had a lover with a foot-long dick, no technique, and no desire to acquire any. I suggested mutual oral one time, got three or four quick flicks of the tongue, and then back to PIV. I faked orgasms just to get him to stop.

No offense to any incredibly well-endowed readers out there, but I think just the foot-long dick alone would be a deal breaker for me. I’m surprised anyone with a cock that’s potentially lethal wouldn’t want to bother to learn how to use it, and all his available alternatives.

I seem to run into a certain man every 2 or 3 years, and he always follows up with a phone call saying some degree of how he’d like to fuck me, but I’ve not verbally told him I had any temptation to follow through with him. I saw him this weekend, and he asked if the patterned stockings I was wearing were thigh-highs or went to the waist. I said ”waist” and asked if he has a preference. He said ”that kind, so I can do this:” and made a ripping open motion with his hands. He and I made loose plans to see each other in about a month, and he said he is going to fuck me nine ways to Sunday. I went out and bought more stockings today.

See, and if they’d been thigh highs, I would’ve fucked you.

Just kidding. I just wanted to be creepy. Have fun!

I never, ever considered myself a pain slut. Sure, I like it rough and am in a Dom/sub relationship with one of my partners, but I was never craving pain. Then, in the beginning of the summer, my boyfriend started using his leather belt on my ass. I was shocked at how much I loved it. Mildly hard play sessions were pretty regular until we had a pretty bad fight that separated us for a few weeks in August. After we got back together we toned it down a bit but just a few weeks ago I mentioned I missed the feel of his belt on my ass.

Well, this morning we had a pretty intense session with the belt and it hurt a lot but I was flying. He asked me if my ass still hurt afterwards and it did, but not that bad. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for work tonight that I realized I have some raised red areas on my backside. I feel so proud of them, like maybe I am a pain slut now, hehe. Regardless, I feel like a very good little sub and at least that I have a bit more credibility in the kink scene.

Yay for pushing boundaries and enjoying more things! ::Internet high five::.

In my personal-in-QP’s-head kink scene, credibility comes from playing safe, treating others respectfully, owning who you are and what you’re into, sharing your knowledge, and displaying a delighfully sick imagination. How much pain someone can take doesn’t even begin to figure into it, but exploring does.

I have a hard time climaxing during sex. It’s not that I’m not into it or I don’t have the ability; I just get distracted really, really easily. I almost need to induce a zen-like state in order to get off.

I found out today I can do this by reviewing Attic Greek verb forms in my head. I swear by all true gods, I am going to shoot myself if this becomes a fetish.

That… that’s adorable. I’m not fetishizing it! But it is.

The situation – a gloriously painful breakup of a short and tumultuous relationship, a little over a year ago. In between? Lots of sex and a committed relationship (that ended badly in it’s own right). And now? I am still hung up on the guy that dumped me a year ago! How??? Why???

…is it those broad shoulders, smirking half-smile, and messy hair – exactly my type, no matter the gender? ….is it the fact that I kinda wish I -was- him that I can’t get over him? …is it because he is inextricably tied to my nostalgia for Japan? What the hell is with my persistent attraction, resilient even though he is a total slut-shamer and indecisive lout?

I’ve never held onto feelings this long after being dumped. I just don’t get it.

I don’t know why you’re still hung up on a slut-shaming lout; I really don’t. I agree with you that linking a person to nostalgia is a good way to give them a lot more power over you than reason dictates.

It sounds like you actually, if you’re being objective, wouldn’t get back together with this dude. Remember why. Remember what was awesome about Japan that wasn’t reliant on him. Remember that there’s nothing he can offer you that you can’t easily do without, or at least find somewhere else.

My most recent ex both introduced me to the joys of anal fingering and possibly ruined it for me forever by fingering me even when I said no. I can’t think of anal without thinking of being violated.

I am so very sorry you went through this.

Dear Way-too-many-people-on-Earth: Why is the concept of consent such a hard fucking thing for you to understand? Seriously.

I’ve started sleeping with my best friend, I’m only really attracted to him when I’m drunk but everyone says we should be in a relationship and it’s driving me crazy! I don’t want to go out with him, I just want to have sex with him when I feel like it and still be best friends, is that too much to ask??

You will have to ask him if it’s too much to ask. He may even tell the truth.

Confess your sexy things here!

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

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

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

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

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

I’m afraid to have sex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

P.S. Yay squirting!

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

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

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

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

Confess things here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s a changeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confess!

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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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I’m excited about exploring BDSM and figuring out where I fit in that world and what I want from it, but I’m mostly doing it alone. I don’t have a partner who wants to tie me up, or hit me with things made out of leather, or have long discussions about what trips our respective kinks. I have a few friends I can compare notes with, and they are truly worth their weight in Lelo toys, but it’s not quite the same as someone I trust pushing my boundaries and giving me orgasms.

My intention here is not to gripe about the fact that Laramy isn’t interested in this stuff. I have absolutely no wish to force feed kink to my boyfriend or cram it into our relationship dynamic or sex life. I’m not even sure if it would be a good idea for me to introduce any significant kink involving power exchange into my primary relationship just yet, even if he was into the idea. No, actually, because of the wonders of open relationships, I’m griping that I don’t have any other kinky partners to experiment with at the moment. Glad we cleared this up. Good talk.

Because honestly, I’m feeling a little lost. Overwhelmed might be more accurate. I read about it, discuss it in the abstract, ponder it and fantasize about it, but for me, BDSM is still a tiny bit of experience and a long and jumbled string of thought experiments. It’s fantasies that I’m not even sure I’d enjoy in real life. It’s trepidation and fascination. It’s a slick and nimble creature that my mind can track but never catch.

More specifically, I’m unclear about when bottoming becomes submitting.

…Which wouldn’t matter so much if I weren’t so conflicted about submission. My fundamentalist Christian family aggressively taught me from birth that as a female I should submit to men like Jesus and my dad and my future husband, and I have never been a fan of any of that. My first romantic relationship was abusive, and I completely lost my sense of self trying to survive it. This is what submission has meant to me in the past. I fear it, and see it as personally nullifying and harmful¹. The idea that it would be all too easy for me to let go and dissolve back into that abused mindset haunts me.

I worry if subspace, which, as I understand it, is a type of dissociative state, will feel like a trauma-based flashback.

I’m confused about how the fact that my ex boyfriend used to hit me relates to the fact that I now want to be hit, and I know this is something I’ll eventually have to deal with. Is it messed up? Is it a craving for catharsis? It’s something I can’t even look at directly yet, but it lurks in my periphery, waiting. Right now when I’m bottoming I’m just after the endorphin rush. Just give me the sting and the swoon.

I have so much I still need to figure out. Is it any wonder I’d like a hand to hold through all this?

But that seems like kind of a long shot right now. I don’t know this for sure, but I don’t think I’m very good at attracting people. I know people who can find relationships and play partners like you can find D’anjou pears, in or out of season. I am convinced that those people are either sexier than I am (likely) or have luck dragons (less likely), but either way, I’m not of their tribe and cannot work their wonders. So I’m not in love with the odds that someone appropriate² will saunter up to me and observe, “I couldn’t help but notice that you have no idea what you’re doing. However, I find you oddly alluring. I would like to tie you up, possibly hit you with leather things, and lay bare your deepest fantasies. Would you be good with that?”³

Does anyone have a luck dragon I can borrow?

1. In my own case only. I want to make it very clear that I do not see submissives in general in this light. I just have my own personal issues to work out on the subject.
2. Someone who is responsible, mature, compassionate, experienced in BDSM, enjoys talking philosophy, and with whom I have chemistry.
3. And really, if this were to happen, who’s to say I wouldn’t try to crawl into my shit and hide?

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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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But I was expecting to arrive, feel awkward because I didn’t know anyone there very well, hang back and politely watch people tie each other up and whatnot, and maybe learn something about what kinds of BDSM play might appeal to me at an unspecified future time when I could experiment. My prime directive: not to watch them creepily.

I mean, I knew I was going to a place that was amazingly welcoming and fun, and everyone I’d met there at more casual, non-play events had been awesome. But I tend to just assume that my patented blend of social clumsiness and assuming people aren’t going to like me will pretty much always carry the day.

What actually happened is that before that party ended I was topless(!) and had a sexy welt on my back, courtesy of a man from who does things with whips that could make Indiana Jones weep from envy. I’d been set on fire several times. I’d discovered that knife play is probably going to be one of my favorite things ever. I’d participated in what I can only describe as a violet wand electro-orgy.

Perhaps the weirdest part, I was completely comfortable throughout. Eerily comfortable. Even the having-my-boobies-out part. I was nestled in some magical envelope of kinky trust that I truly didn’t expect to find anywhere, and certainly not at my first play party. People kept pulling out new toys and trying them on one person, and someone else would ask “Ooh. Do me next?”, eyes all bright. Giggling would intermingle with the hissing recoil of strikes, slaps, and sighs and harsher sounds of pleasure. It wasn’t too super serious. It didn’t feel like there was all this inaccessible, Byzantine protocol in play. It was glee and exploration and camaraderie. And yes, respect. And, full disclosure, I may have had an orgasm or two, just from the kind of pain that isn’t truly pain, but intensity.

I’d spent the evening, night, and very early morning with people who somehow felt like friends already. That would have been enough, but the delicious sensations didn’t hurt.

Er, they did hurt. Kind of. Just in a very surprising way.

And after all this, I lay in my bed back at home completely wired. My brain was crackling, mildly euphoric. Just a couple hours from dawn, I couldn’t get to sleep. Not until I rode out the strange, jittery aftermath of something. Something I knew I’d already begun to crave.

And I admitted once and for all that there exists a not insignificant chance that I might, in fact, be kinky.

(image source)

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