quizzical pussy

Life feels so much better when it doesn’t get dark at 5pm and the trees are starting to eat again and when you send me your deepest, darkest secrets.

I fucked my wife at her mother’s house the other day, and she kept hushing me and trying to stop the headboard from thumping. Admitedly, the next guest room over was her older brother’s bedroom, and this was early morning. Dammit, I want that headboard to thump the wall so hard that no one in the house will make eye contact for the first hour that we’re up!

Have you considered the possibility that the hushed, surreptitious nature of the sex may have added to the hotness for your wife? Because I’m considering that right now and it seems like it could potentially be legit.

I was the first poster here. Oh guess what? He was fucking guys behind my back the whole time and lying about it.

Cheating shows an appalling lack of creativity.

my best girl had her final chemo treatment 3 weeks ago (she’s free and clear and clean for now, thank everything!) and in celebration of that, she let all of her hair grow back; head, underarms, bikini and all. turns out, due to some body chemistry changes, all her hair is growing back colorless–completely white. she always used to shave before, but i’m so enamored with her healthiness wonderful self that i’ve discovered that i absolutely love her fuzzy gorgeousness. now our latest sexy euphemism is usually something along the lines of “snow white meets the 7-inch dwarf!”

There’s the creativity I was looking for, and I hope your girl recovers like a boss.

I got tacit approval.
I want to use it. I’ve a wonderful, delicious, incredibly alluring potential partner, who wants to engage in peaceful, safe, harmless sex that we know could await us. It would be epic.

But if I have to lie about it, then it feels like cheating. And that’s the thing: my spouse said, when I got the approval: ”If you ever do it with anyone else, I don’t want to know about it. Just don’t bring home any diseases.”

I can’t lie to my spouse. I’m in this relationship forever.

I will also regret, forever, not doing this.

Integrity? Or loss of incredible, explorative, loving, meaningful sex?

It’s not that I’m disturbed by non-monogamy. I’m disturbed by non-straight-forward sincerity, with my spouse. Just because my life mate is mostly non-attentive sexually does not mean that I may make presumptions.

This sucks. I want a do-over.

I don’t get don’t ask/don’t tell relationships. Will someone explain them to me? Does anyone have an relationship configured this way that they consider emotionally healthy? I am trying to imagine it and it just seems avoidant, but maybe I’m missing something.

Plus, you miss out on all those hot recaps and squeeing together after dates and stuff.

My boyfriend takes *forever* to cum. And by forever I mean routinely over an hour. We’re both really new to sex in general and I don’t know how to deal with this (needless to say, not the problem I was expecting!). I just get so tired and he ends up taking care of himself while I lay there. Any advice? The internet doesn’t consider this a problem, apparently…

I have not run into this, but I definitely see how it could be frustrating. Any advice, quizkids?

I left a confession about 3 months ago disclosing that I had managed to orchestrate a friends with benefits deal with a friend for many years. We tried sex on psychotropics (LSD) and had an incredible time (she felt like a Dianic sex-goddess, and I had an incredible full body orgasm).

More recently though we bought a feeldoe (I linked her to your various feeldoe posts which met with great approval) and have had a lot of fun incorporating that into our play. Unfortunately neither of us feel comfortable bragging about our feeldoe play to any of our real-life friends (who would pass judgment on us – prudes) but luckily on the internet you are here to brag to QP(!).

At one point I had her insert the feeldoe and wear it out whilst we had dinner at a local dining establishment. Afterwards as we walked home to my place we found a nice dark alley and I gave her long passionate blowjob and jerked her off whilst she grabbed my hair and stroked my head as I sucked her. Then she reciprocated the blowjob whilst stroking her cock. When we got home we fucked for ages and I came a second time with such intensity that I could barely remain standing.

I must brag also about what a perfect match we are; the fact that after exposing her to futanari pornography that she loves it as much as I do, even identifies and longs for that body type. And just thinking about that makes me hard for her. As a bisexual cis-male that notion is to me the best possible thing in existence and I love talking dirty to her and walking her through the male sexual response whilst we both jerk each other off.

We’re still hoping to find a willing female partner to have a threesome with, and we’re looking at buying the feeldoe stout to add to the collection and give us more options when it comes to strapless cocks.

Okay, wait wait wait. This is some motherfucking creativity. Also, I now want to use my feeldoe while on acid. Badly.

This last summer, prompted by both your urging and my recent breakup, I bought my very first dildo on BAST day! It is rather classy, opaque black glass, voluptuous and slick-smooth and ohmygod I love it…
And I rather surprised myself by discovering an oral use for it… One of my favorite submissive fantasies is being fucked by one man while another holds me down and makes me suck his cock. Quite often I will get out my new toy, and it never makes it to my pussy, because even having something even vaguely penis-shaped filling my mouth (in addition to my usual manual method) is enough to give me a more intense, trembling and breathless orgasm than I ever had before.
So, thank you for convincing me to buy a sex toy… Best Purchase Ever. :-)
(though I may have to invest in something softer for my oral fixation… one of these times I may get carried away and chip a tooth…)

This is so awesome that I will light a phallic candle for your continued dental health.

Stats: Cisgender, black, pansexual, early-20something female.

I consider this a breakthrough. It isn’t big, but it could lead to big things, so I’m counting it as such. Here goes:

So I’ve been concerned about the way I’ve always masturbated. Not because I have any issue with getting myself off (far from it) or because it was unusual in any way (ditto), but rather because I had gotten so comfy with the position over the years (on my back, legs locked straight, index fingertip rubbing the left side of the clit) that I found it flat-out impossible to get off any other way.

Until last night! I was still on my back with my legs locked, but I used my middle fingertip this time, and it actually worked (I had tried other times a bit halfheartedly with no success). Such a small difference, but it’s progress! And though it might have just been the novelty of the situation, I felt that when I came, my spasms were slightly stronger than usual. I’ll have to do a side-by-side comparison to see. *puts on lab coat and goggles*

My master plan: Practice getting proficient with each finger on my right hand (the hand I’ve always used). Then do the same with the left. Then try multiple fingers and/or different motions. Then change the position of my legs. Then try to get off my back (I’ve always wanted to be able to do it sitting up on my knees). Then mix and match various fingers, hands and positions. Then (and this is a biggie) shift from pelvic passive to pelvic active if I can.

I’ve also considered how this might affect partnered sex and intercourse. And how toys might add to the mix … but one thing at a time. Don’t wanna jump ahead of myself. I’ve never felt so on fire with my own body’s possibilities.

Wish me luck! I love your blog!

Wishing you lots of luck! One thing I have noticed about people is that we usually figure out what (if anything) gets us off one way or another. We’re phenomenal that way. We’re not always honest about it, we don’t always like the fact that it gets us off, and it might take some of us a very long time to figure it out. But we eventually figure out all or most of the things, given enough heartbeats.

Or do we?

Confess.

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Can we just talk for a minute about how hard it was for me to go through last week without a new episode of Rupaul’s Drag Race? Because it was moderately difficult, and I also may have strep throat. Again. But I see now that the logo website has uploaded last night’s episode now, so I can watch it whenever I like. Which will be soon because I’m not getting out of bed until I absolutely have to.

Someone invent a bathtub bed immediately! And bring drag queens and epsom salt, please.

The thing about boarding school is that someone might just drive up next to you while you’re trying to have sex with your boyfriend outside in the grass. Whoops.

I feel like this would be as dire a hazard if I’d tried to have sex in the grass outside my public high school as well, but maybe I’m missing something…

I just got a new roommate. He’s tall and cute and has an accent. We cooked dinner together today and he stood just a little too close the whole time. He would sort of brush by me, barely touching my ass with his arm. I know that having sex with roommates is dangerous business, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.

You guys are totally going to do it. I get enough confessions in which people bemoan that they’re not having sex with their roommates (isn’t that more or less what a partner becomes after the sex dries up?) that this is novel.

Anti-anxiety meds are awesome! Except they make me take twice as long to come without affecting my sex drive, and given that my libido’s a fairly ravenous beast, this has been… less than fun, shall we say. Couldn’t even be certain I’ll be able to get myself off for a while, which was kinda awful for me.

And do you know what helped? Fantasizing about someone used sexually and prevented from coming. Ah, my contrary brain, I heart you so when you’re not been a panic-attack prone dick.

Yay for managing anxiety!

Sometimes when I’m masturbating I imagine finally– finally– being sexual sated for a while. It’s one of those fantasies that I’m well aware will never happen, like sex in space.

i want to send you a confession, but i have a problem. it involves a very specific set of circumstances and those involved read contuesdays, something for which i can only blame myself. so, instead i just lie here, naked in bed, frustrated but unable to confesss why, reading sexy confessions and wanting to add my two cents to the confessions, yet unable to do so and so getting more frustrated…. if this goes on much longer i might explode :P
but on the other hand i now understand why some people like being sexually frustrated, of course it does make paying attention to lectures at uni a little more difficult…

Okay, you guys. It is only polite to pretend you don’t know who submitted ConTuesday confessions, even if you totally know. (It’s also polite to pretend that I’m a sex goddess and everyone wants to do me, but that’s unrelated.)

I used the Cardiograph app on my phone to watch my heart rate as I brought myself to orgasm and then came down from it. Science is fun!

As if graphs weren’t erotic enough on their own!

I’ve known I was kinky since I was 12, but I just had the best sexfest EVER with a guy who’s totally new to BDSM. He didn’t let that stop him; I’m pretty sure he didn’t even let that slow him down, because he did things to me I didn’t even realize were possible and not just like, mythical things people who claimed they had good sex lied about. New guy’s completely recalibrated all my sexual barometers, is what I’m saying. We had sex so many times over the course of three days that by the end, neither of us could really even get aroused any more, much less orgasm.

That’s not really the confession, because, well, it was great but it’s not juicy. The confession is that my long-term ex who previously held the #1 position–well, he recently said some truly shitty stuff to me and I had to cut off contact with him entirely–and now I’m very tempted to get revenge. New guy seems to be way more awesome, and he’s nine billion times better in bed (rough estimate). Ex couldn’t fuck me for longer than 20 seconds without premature ejaculation (seriously), was too lazy to ever explore more than the ‘usual’ bdsm stuff I specifically asked for, and his dick was tiny and he hated oral and basically, he was a lazy fuck.

I am extremely, EXTREMELY tempted to send a text to my ex that says: So sorry, you have been DOWNGRADED. All those times I said you were good in bed? I realize I was unintentionally lying, because I’ve now experienced truly transcendental fucking. Have fun finding someone who’s willing to overlook your tiny quick fucking-selfishness, because I would rather just revisit my memories of the guy I just met than ever see you again.

Unfortunately, that’s way too long for a text. Suggestions on how to cut it down? :P

You know how they say that living well is the best revenge? Fucking well is specifically excellent in that regard. If you tell your ex any of this, though, it’ll give him an excuse to forget you cut off contact. I’m sure you know this because, well, you’re saying it here.

Also, why haven’t you lost that jerk’s phone number, though?

I have a great (open) relationship with my boyfriend.

I also love my friend, and he loves me. Platonically. Yes, platonic love is a real thing, not a euphemism. He’s not my type, sexually, and I’m not his. But I yearn over him, every thing I think or experience I imagine what he would say, the sight of him unhappy is devastating, and his company may be my favorite thing in the world.

I don’t know if this is disloyal to my boyfriend, or totally crazy, or what. But I can’t pretend it’s not the case. I think of my friend and I as Heloise and Abelard, though hopefully with a less gruesome outcome.

Your friendship makes me smile and I think its awesome. I think Heloise and Abelard were kind of each other’s type sexually, but I don’t know. I’m wrong sometimes.

My boyfriend and I have been together for two and a half years, but the last year has been horrible. We haven’t been having sex very often–maybe once or twice a month. And I’ve tried talking to him about it (because, frankly, that’s not enough for me). But last week he says that he’s by sex and that he doesn’t ever feel aroused. But, those sound like two different things to me. I really want to fix things between us. He just shuts down when I try to talk to him. I don’t know what to do.

People scattered all over the world are noticing the missing word and going “He’s what by sex?” but I guess it doesn’t really change the gist of the confession. I hate telling people to nuke their relationships because it seems so myopic, but if you’ve been miserable for an entire year? And he’s not talking to you except to tell you that he doesn’t want to have anything like the sex life you want to have? I’m really sorry, but what are you actually trying to save?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch drag queens bicker.

Confess.

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I started this blog determined to never apologize for not posting. The main reason for this is the sheer hubris of the idea of assuming that people care all that much whether I put a thing on the internet or not. But also, I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I felt I had to do something as non-vital to anyone’s survival as type naughty words. The very idea is silly.

But then I made an express commitment to post the things you send me once a week, so I owe you this explanation for the recent two-week ConTuesday lapse: There was just no fucking way, you guys. My health has been a bitch, then I moved to a place that has required a great deal of work to make even borderline habitable. Then came a massive shift in my personal life. I love you and I love this blog and I love ConTuesday, but there was no fucking way.

But here I am, back, as you always knew I’d be. Typing naughty words.

Cuntodactyl.

To come, I need a narrative; so much so that I’ve got a major hobby in writing smut, and much of it reflects the stuff that I invent and refine trying to get my rocks off. That can be tiring and time consuming, so normally it takes me a while to get there.

But it turns out, I can also come just fine while watching hentai. And very, very quickly, since I don’t have to hold the narrative all by myself. w00t! who said girls don’t like visual porn, again? :D

People who say that girls don’t like any particular thing are necessarily wrong. Some people look down on using equivocal language, but I’d feel so horribly inaccurate without it! Also, though, yay for getting off! I quite like it myself.

I waxed to please my partner and now I’m disgusted by my body, have zero sex drive, and am grossed out that he thinks it looks good. ….help…..

You tried it, and waxing is clearly not for you. It grows back eventually, and I hope it does so swiftly and decisively. If your partner is making huge deal out of it, I would think a conversation about how much you hate being bald is in order. If he’s just enjoying it but not pressuring you, try to remember that he’s used to seeing naked genitals as much more sexualized than natural ones. Doesn’t mean your genitals have to fall in line with that or that he can’t tweak the common societally ingrained fashion-based reaction; it’s just that it’s not necessarily personal. But of course, neither is getting turned off by the fact that he’s turned on by something. Maybe that’s a deal-breaker, and that’s valid.

I’ve been reading your archives, and I masturbated to your descriptions of abuse by your ex-boyfriend Reginald Sleeth. (I’m really heavy into D/s.) I’m absolutely horrified by it and for that reason it turns me on like crazy. Sorry. (I’m a young woman, if that matters.)

You know what? I’m really just happy that that stupid, senseless farce of a relationship is now doing something useful for someone.  Everyone has my permission to masturbate to my horror stories as long as you promise not to abuse your partners. I think that’s fair, right?

So I hope it isn’t terribly terrible (but only rather terrible) of me to make this about me, but thank you for your writing about Reginald. Even though my own experience didn’t involve physical violence, I feel validated in calling it abuse. I also feel less alone in how fucked up I am because of it. Also maybe a little less convinced it makes me a terrible person, because you seem pretty awesome, so.

I’m posting this as a companion confession to the one above because I feel like they’re two sides of the same silver-lined coin. It isn’t terrible at all. I mean, it’s terrible that you’ve had to deal with abuse– I really hate that part. But if reading about my experiences has helped you come to terms with that abuse (which doesn’t reflect on you as a person whatsoever, just so you know) in any way, that is quite honestly the best reason I can think of for continuing to write about them.

When I write about things like my ill-advised soda bottle dildo experience I sometimes forget that the Reginald parts of the story are horrifying. I’ll think, hey this is kind of a funny story, and what about that wacky Reginald acting in typical douchebaggy Reginald ways? Classic Reginald! And I don’t concentrate much on how fucked up the whole thing was. This may be part of the reason I’m still not amazingly good at relationships and trust and stuff. Because it was fucked up. Incredibly fucked up. And just because that was how I learned to relationship doesn’t mean it was or is acceptable. I want us all to learn that.

I’ve just started seeing a guy who can push all my buttons in the best possible ways. Orgasms of a frequency and intensity I’ve never experienced before. Internet high-five, right? Not quite so much.

See, I was raised with”good girls don’t”. My brain wants to think that’s total bullshit, but I can’t quite seem to stop believing it. I enjoy the sex while it’s happening, but afterwards I feel self-conscious and a little ashamed. I hate it and I want it to go away so I can enjoy my sex in peace!

Good girls are mythical creatures who are born to embody parental wish fulfillment. People are multidimensionally good and bad and fucked up and strong and ecstatic and silly and getting closer every day to ending this go-around. People deserve–and are enriched by– amazing sex. I could not care much less what good girls do or don’t do any more than I care what manticores eat for breakfast. (Okay, I care a little what manticores have for breakfast, and I think it’s probably Special K in warrior blood.)

In my long-standing tradition of giving advice where it isn’t expressly asked for, I think you should keep in mind that you’re people, and no one is a good girl, and you are worth more than having to try to be a mythical thing that doesn’t–and will never– exist.

And I’m just going to fucking ::internet high five:: you anyway, so deal with it.

I am in school studying for a career in the medical field. Recently I ran into another older student I recognized from last semester and asked her if she’s studying to become a nurse. “No.” she tartly replied. “Bodily fluids. I can’t do bodily fluids.” I managed to rein in my urge to blurt “Shit. I must’ve drunk GALLONS of them by now.” I’d hate to freak out a future colleague, now, wouldn’t I?

Gallons, huh? I think I’ve fallen behind somehow…

I bought my first vibrator, a cheap one from the drugstore, a couple of months ago. It’s been much appreciated but it’s at the end of its life. While before, I was hesitant, now I am super keen for more toys. I was browsing the internet for toys and now I want more than I can afford! Do I get a cheap-ish bullet and kegel balls first and then a better set of varied vibrators or the set of vibrators first and then the kegel balls?? Do you have opinions on Leo Luna Love Balls? I could do with more reliable orgasm (sometimes it just doesn’t happen :( ) and I’ve heard good things about them. Plus the idea of walking around in public, going to classes and for drinks with them inside me is super hot. Too many decisions.

I haven’t tried the Lelo balls, but I have the Fun Factory Smart Balls, and they’re lovely, especially to wear about town to make yourself a little crazy before a hot date (with lover or toy). Careful, quizkids, sex toy collecting is a serious addiction and I totally suport it.

Memo to self: stop jerking off right after taking anti-depression meds, at least if you’ve already jerked off once that day. Twice now the 45-minutes-of-trying-without-relief-before-giving-up has happened, you could really stand not to experience that again ever.

I don’t think that sounds like much fun, no. I wish I could donate orgasms to people. Not in a creepy way!

Hey QP! My girlfriend (and fellow QP reader) and I are in a long-ish distance relationship, with us going to universities in different cities. While it’s a bit tough being apart a lot of the time for school, every time we get together it is just absolutely awesome. Just this last weekend makes for an awesome example…

The two of us had just done some sexy times and in our pleasant state decided to snuggle up and just enjoy holding each other. My hands started to get a bit antsy so I started softly caressing her back, hearing her sigh and moan softly as I moved them along her skin, paying attention to any spots she seemed to especially enjoy having my hands on. We ended up going for over 20 minutes of just being next to each other as I caressed her. Felt so damn good and I think she’s inclined to say the same!

Long distance relationships are tough, but those times when you do get together are so worth it.

And this week we close on a most triumphant ::internet high five:: because that is what we like to do here.

Confess!

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I wouldn’t say I’m proud of this, but for a short time in my feckless youth I used to use a Ramune bottle as a dildo. I know I just got finished telling you I seldom introduce penetration into my masturbation routine, but seldom isn’t never, and yes, I put a soda bottle in my holy of holies.

Note: It was an old one I’d kept from my even earlier youth when they’d had a slightly slimmer-at-the-top bottle design, but even that was still uncomfortably large for vaginal insertion¹. I’m telling you this in case you’re curious because you should NEVER, EVER try it yourself. And I will tell you exactly why not anon.

I would usually use it while on the phone with Reginald Sleeth, my long-distance boyfriend. The little marble inside the bottle would clatter around while I fucked myself with it and he purred in my ear. Masturbation sounded very distinctive in those days. This is exactly what was happening when it broke inside me while I was on the phone with him.

I heard the shatter, dropped the sturdy dorm room phone, and gave a little shriek. You know that hiss cringe that issues from your face when you collect shards of glass and drops of blood from your pussy? I do.

Reginald Sleeth doesn’t always appear in a great light on this blog. I’m aware of that, and I’d like to be more charitable. I’d like to inform you that when I picked up the phone and alerted him to the situation he was a comforting and concerned, and tried to help the situation from miles away even though he felt helpless. Instead, I’m stuck telling you that he yelled at me and told me I was being overdramatic and I ended up apologizing to him for injuring myself.

It is very often stupid to fuck yourself with things that aren’t supposed to be sex toys. It is always stupid to date abusive douchebags. My stories don’t always have aesops, but yeah. Pretty clear here.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure the dildomaker would actually be smarter than either thing as long as you used it on material less dangerous than asbestos, or that glowing piece or radioactive matter that Homer Simpson throws from his car in the opening credits.

Apologies to (image source). You didn’t sign up for this shit.

1. Disclaimer: Vaginas may vary. [↩]

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My nails have gotten long. Not quite is-she-really-going-to-put-those-talons-in-that-poor-girl’s-pussy-OH-MY-GOD-RUUUUUUN long, but pretty damn long. It’s getting annoying. Hold on a minute.

There. Better.

I used to keep them long all the time. I’ve never bit my nails; never picked at them. They waxed fat and elegantly tapered. It was down, I explained, to growing up younger than my two sisters, who loathed me on sight and liked to beat up on me. They weighed more and punched harder, but I was quick and squirmy and I had ten sharp little stilettos to fight back with. My mom had to resort to cutting my nails while I slept; otherwise I’d fight it. Over the years I got used to them and they just stayed that way. Once or twice I even painted them.

This may be why I never much got into the habit of fingering myself. It’s not how I learned to masturbate. From the very first I favored neater, less dangerous clitoral stimulation. In case you’re new here, you should know that this utterly belies my passionate love of penetration. Sex with no penetration of any kind is exceedingly frustrating for me. Maybe it reminds me of masturbation. Fucked if I know.

It was somewhere around the time I started seriously thinking about fucking women that I began to trim my nails with any regularity. The two main reasons were (a) Hypothetical compassion. The feel of untidy nails raking against one’s vaginal wall? I know it of old, and we are not on friendly terms. And (b) Everyone knows that it’s 78% less likely you’ll be scoped out as a pussy-loving person if your nails don’t look up to the task. That made up statistic is especially true if you tend toward the femme spectrum of gender presentation, as I do.

I want to make it manifestly clear that it greatly pleases me to get scoped by ladies. Oh, goodness yes! Ladies, mack on me freely. Please do.

Upon cutting my nails I immediately realized I’d just halved my dexterity stat: I was cudgeling things rather than picking them up. But I knew I looked considerably more lesbionic while flopping around with these ridiculous hotdogs where my tweezers had proudly perched, so I considered it a fair trade¹. And I got used to real fingers eventually. To the point where now sometimes I leave them too long, and without any natural predators like habitual gnawing they go to seed and get too lanky for my taste. Then suddenly I’m living in a bizarro world where I scold myself (“Bad lesbian!”) and can’t properly type or play a stringed instrument with nails that reach about half as high as they used to. Also, I have a girlfriend. Take that, prissy-nailed past Q.P.

The weird thing, though? I still barely ever finger myself.

1. And you know how much lesbians like fair trade, amirite? [↩]

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Sometimes when I’m stressed out I just want someone to charge into my largely solitary existence, messy up all my things that I’ve arranged carefully so that no one notices that I’m struggling, and god dammit take care of me. And I hate admitting that.

Holy crap it’s like a confession except everyone knows it’s me!

Oh thank god! I was so concerned about you because you posted about wanting to kill yourself and then you didn’t post for a week and I was running around in a circle whining like a distressed puppy. But you’re okay. Thank god.

I feel like a jackass for worrying you, and you have also made my frigid heart melt.

I’ve been healthily (for once) in love with a man who is stable and afraid to hurt me but willing to when he knows I need it and whose immediate reaction to seeing me have a Little breakdown and sucking my thumb is knowing he needs to take care of me and find a way to make me genuinely smile again, all while dating a man who thinks and will directly say that he needs to learn to be an asshole in order to be a Dom and he can’t do that and who puts off important conversations (like me trying to break up with him) for months and whose first reaction to me being upset enough to suck my thumb is, “That’s gross,” and who, oh gods, can’t spell but expects me to respect and follow his badly phrased and inappropriate orders when language means so much to me and he doesn’t care to even try. Lets all pretend that wasn’t a run-on sentence.

I AM DETERMINED TO BREAK UP WITH HIM; grant me the courage to not feel obligated to stay. I don’t want to hurt him, butt-fuck it, I’m going to have to in order to go on with my life and not have him waste any more of his time with me.

You are obligated to break up with someone when you genuinely don’t want to be in a relationship with them. When things have gone that far, no amount of conversation or counseling or ignoring the issue is going to reverse the fact that you genuinely don’t want to be in the relationship. And nothing good is going to come from staying in it. People get hurt; it’s what we sign up for when we fall for one another. A lover who never hurts you is one with whom you have a very brief or a very shallow connection. But the temporary pain of a breakup is so much better than the stagnation and misery of a relationship that is supposed to be over– and that goes for both people, ultimately.

Courage, poppet. You’ve got this.

We made out under the stars on this, our first date after having just met. We came up for air, and my future wife asked me, “What’s the strangest place at which you’ve ever masturbated?” I was 19, so I thought that “a dressing room at J.C. Penny” was pretty impressive. She was impressed. Years later (still before we married), she would go into the dressing room of Dillard’s, where she worked at the time, and get her jollies.

Since then, I can’t think of anything that really displaces it. In the car while driving? (Yawn.) In the men’s room at work? (Oh, puh-lease.) In a deer blind while hunting? (MAYbe.)

QP, what was your strangest place and/or circumstance that you’ve ever masturbated in?

And I would love to read commenters’ honest answers to this question. Even the mundane is of interest. For science.

I like to think that wearing kegel balls on a roller coaster totally counts. It feels like it counts.

Can i just say that my boyfriend is amazing. We are getting in to bondage play and we both don’t really know what we are doing but OH MY GOD I love being tied up so freaking much.

And I love him for taking care of me for three hours when I got overwhelmed and freaked out and started crying. He made me hot chocolate and wrapped me in blankets and held me until I felt better.

I love your boyfriend. In a strictly platonic, because-he-is-awesome-to-you-and-you-deserve-it way. Most likely.

I wrote you a novel of a confession weeks ago about my motorcycle friend. After several months of being teased by people who have seen us together, I felt I had to say something to him in light of a potentially awkward arrangement that would have been to the benefit of us both.

The integrity of my man picker is in worse shape than I was lead to believe: my mother and her friend thought it was just in need of recalibration for long-term mate traits. Given how far it’s lead me astray this last round I think it’s genuinely broken and, I dare say, irreparably damaged.

My feelings are deeply hurt but our relationship is more important to me, especially since he’s trusted me with his secret. At the same time, I know there are exceptions (I’ve met one and heard about three now). The adjectives he uses to describe them makes it clear that I do not merit one, even if he doesn’t say it plainly. I think that actually hurts more.

I feel selfish.

I feel like all the work I’ve done to be a better person and to be more attractive to the opposite sex has only made me a better friend of the “she’s like my sister” variety. After several years of this, I’ve come to believe that any variation of you’re sweet/a good person is the kiss of death despite those things supposedly being virtues.

I think I ought to give up on men because I’m tired of it blowing up in my face.

I’m sorry it turned out that way. I’m not going to bore you with platitudes, but if you need proof that you’re attractive to the opposite sex I doubt you have an profile on a dating website that mentions how much you love motorcycles. Let me know when you’re bored of the throngs of bikers messaging you. Just a hunch.

Last night, I beat my girlfriend with a riding crop for the first time, and all I can say is, HOLY FUCK!! Every time I hit her it was like a bolt of lightning right to my pussy, and WOW did it ever feel good! I’ve heard people say before that they can come just from beating someone, but now I actually understand how. The psychological and emotional rush you get is exquisite. Can’t wait to try it again :)

I hear there’s this thing called top space where yep, it’s pretty much HOLY FUCK or drugs or something.

We finally managed anal and although I don’t think it’s ever going to make me come it is super hot what it does to him. It is fun but not blow my mind, for me, but the way it blows his is totally worth the work to get there!

::Internet high five:: You are a champ to be so dedicated to your partner’s turn-ons, and deserve extra helpings of whatever sex blows your mind.

Confess your hot things. We don’t believe in sin here.

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I nipped at her ear, and swirled my tongue just So against that spot behind her jawbone. I could feel her small moans, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, and her arms buckling, and pressing her down further on me. She’d never done this before, and being the one to show her was an amazing privilege.

I laughed quietly by her ear. She shivered.

“How’re you doin’?” I whispered.

“G-good,” she said, legitimately breathless. A pause. She laughed at the edge of her breath. “G-great.”

I could hear, feel the smile on her lips, and nothing had ever felt so right.

I don’t like to do caps too often and I think you guys know that but CUTE.

My boyfriend is a sex god. I’ve had numerous partners, many of them skilled with their hands or tongue, but I don’t think I knew what good sex was before this. He’s perceptive and sensual, foreplay and post-play involve teasing touches and/or gentle caresses that leave me physically trembling under his fingertips. Being in bed with him is a totally safe and judgement-free zone. He’s fascinated by finding new ways to arouse me. The amazing, spectacular thing is that sex is not over when he comes. Not only is he generally mentally present instead of sleepy afterwards, he’ll continue to stimulate me until I come (twice? three times?) or until he’s hard again. We stay in bed and play for hours. He’s also the only guy I’ve encountered whose sex drive matches mine. Fucking fantastic.

This goes beyond an internet high five. This is just pure, unadulterated living the motherfucking dream and I couldn’t be happier for you if you had a pet sugar glider. Those little guys are so adorable.

I left my girlfriend of two years for my best friend… in principle it was the right thing to do, because I share a lot in common with the latter, in terms of our love of books and film and witty banter. She’s the perfect person for me. But… after two months of trying (I returned briefly to my girlfriend during all this drama) I just give up: I had to admit to myself I have zero sexual chemistry with my friend. And she meanwhile is way deep in love with me, and obviously really likes sleeping with me (the lack of chemistry is only one-way).Maybe I just don’t know how to talk to a partner about this stuff. But what do you say? “You smell and taste a little weird. Your kissing is slobbery and you have a huge tongue that you keep jamming into my mouth or lapping up and down. You’re never subtle, or still. You keep telling me (only half-jokingly) I ‘fuck like a lesbian’ and have to learn to do it the right way. [Note: My ex is bi.] You’re too rough. You’re just so large I can’t figure out where to put my legs or arms, and my cock goes soft while I try to sort it out.”I think in part the problem is that I’m largely service-oriented even when I’m being dominant: I don’t care much about cumming a lot, I mostly like the opportunity to tease and toy and get more forceful. — And my friend is also service-oriented: she’s used to abrupt, violent sex, giving excruciatingly lengthy blowjobs. And she grabs at and sucks my cock hard and relentlessly. It feels like a total mismatch of styles/preferences.So: seriously communication problems, obviously. Which are easily solvable. But there’s also a basic level of I’m-just-not-feeling it that makes me not want to solve those communication problems.

I was in an open relationship and it’s also been a bit cold-showerish to deal with the realities of monogamous dating: the constant edginess around mentions of my ex or other people I’ve been entangled with; “have you been on OKCupid? What are you doing on Craigslist?” (oops… old habits… my gf and I used to love surfing the personals and bringing the really sexy or really stupid ones to each other’s attention); the accelerating expectations for frequency of contact and visits. Not her fault: that’s how she likes her relationships, and that’s the social norm anyway. But it feels like alien territory to me at this point. Jealousy is such a drag.

Anyway, so I just told my new gf I’d rather just be friends. Predictably, she can’t go back: she’s cut me off, and who knows if that will ever change.

In the meanwhile, my old gf is also, of course, saying that either I should return to her, or else for her own sake she needs to end that friendship too. None of the reasons I left in the first place have changed, but on the other hand I really miss the incredible sexual chemistry we had, and of course I still care for her in many other ways too.

It’s looking like pretty difficult times, in a mess largely of my own manufacture.

I don’t like to do caps too often and I think you guys know that but SUCK.

I will never understand unilateral chemistry. I’ve lived through it from the no-chemistry-here side, but it may never stop perplexing me until I live through it from the other side. Then I guess it’s possible I’ll be less perplexed but my face might be sadder.

QP, i’m in such a fantastic state of postcoital bliss that i can’t even begin to talk about it.

but i’m gonna try, anyway.

my partner and i have been together six years, and like most long-term couples we have our ups and downs in the bedroom. lately, we’d been in a bit of a rut, and hadn’t had sex for maybe 2 months. then i went into the hospital for an emergency that led to surgery, which took me out of the sex game for another month.

i thought i was horny before i went to the ER…then, while hopped up on dilaudid, i had the MOST RIDICULOUS SEX DREAM EVER. i remember none of it now, but i woke up with my hand in my underwear. talk about awkward when the phlebotomist came in at 5am that morning!

anyway. got home, HORNY AS HELL, but unable to do anything for a month. and i got more and more frustrated. today, we finally decided to give it a try.

QP, we had sex six hours ago and my nether bits are still trembling. GOOD SEX IS GOOD, AND I HOPE EVERYONE HAS GOOD SEX ASAP.

that is all. i hope this made you smile.

We’re also told that drugs and wrong, and that sex and drugs are incomplete without rock and roll. But I think the first is often championed by people who haven’t tried the right drugs, and can we just remember for a moment that electronica and anarcho-cabaret punk exist? Let’s not limit ourselves, people.

I went down on my guy after he’d already orgasmed once or twice, he didn’t think he was going to be able to do it again.

He came so hard he actually passed out.

I wish I could put that on my fucking resume.

Dating resumes could be a thing.

I took a video of myself masturbating so I could see what it looked like when I squirted/gushed. It was so hot that I got off a couple more times just watching the video.

Fuck yeah. I wonder if anything could be more right than genuinely leching after oneself.

Confessions go here!

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Life is magic, I reckon. And love even more so, whether it’s purely chemical reactions and neurology or not (maybe even moreso if it is). But sometimes there are those moments that seem to have a little extra pixie dust. They’re special. They’re like magic with magical sprinkles on top.

Just last week, I had the first good orgasm I have ever had with during solosex! I’ve been enjoying partnersex tho, and thought that “I can’t do sex alone, need a partner to make it fun and satisfying” I am so happy I was wrong!

::internet high five:: for blowing your own mind with your sexual power.

i just spent all day in bed with my partner, getting up only to make some amazing ramen. i feel like i won on both the cooking and the sex fronts today (four times!).

we talked about what sex things we wanted to try with each other, and in the process got totally horny and had to fuck again. that particular session had him making me fuck myself with a dildo and jerking off while he beat me with his belt until i came, and then me putting the same dildo in his ass and making him fuck himself with it while i jerked him off, then made him lick his cum off the floor.

i’ve never been with someone so awesome before, in every sexual and non-sexual way.

Sex, hugs, and ramen. And deviant sexuality. It’s the kind of day you could live over and over and over.

So my girlfriend (who’s also a reader of your blog) and I were discussing unlikely fetishes the other day and we ended up with her going “Fuck me like a fax machine” as I make dial-up noises. Hysterical laughter ensued.

I think I’d like to date an improv comedian because of basically this but with even more “Yes, and…”

I’m tempted to bitterly complain about coming home late and finding my girlfriend in bed… with my wife.

But in reality I’m bragging :-)

It’s really interesting to me that for some people that would be devastating, and for others it would be living the dream.

I wasn’t able to orgasm at all with a partner until a few months ago when my boyfriend spent the night. I fell asleep before him and he woke me up with his you-know-what in my you-know-what (which is my biggest and most naughty fantasy). I came three times AND I squirted. All over him. Which I didn’t know I could do until I felt I was going to explode and I Soaked him and the sheets a total of four times. He was so excited that he made me orgasm… It was perfect.

Orgasms are some of my favorite magics.

If decency is to be maintained, the boyfriend and I simply cannot be left alone.
We have gone on an adventure, climbed a tree, and ended up perched precariously ten feet above the ground with our hands in each other’s pants.
MUST CUM ON THE TREE TO ESTABLISH DOMINANCE.
Apparently that’s now his “favorite tree”.
Mine too.

That tree is blessed. Praise the humping gods.

Just got my first dydoe. (Male genital piercing; pierces the rim of the head.)

Didn’t hurt nearly as much as I was expecting (it did hurt, but I was expecting black-out pain), and the post-piercing rush is incredible. This might be better than sex.

I’m considering getting the full set around, for a king’s crown, now. I totally see how this experience is addictive. Anyways, I had to share this with someone.

There’s probably a reason people like to turn piercing into a ritual. It’s a path to an altered state.

If my husband gets the job he’s currently angling for, he’s going to be away from home for a couple months a year. That’s fine and agreed-on. We just had a discussion as to exact limits of fidelity while he’s away (I’m free to have sex with other women [but not men], he isn’t but can ask permission if he really wants someone specific so long as they play it safe).
It makes me so happy that I can talk to him like this, plain and frankly, that I can tell him that yeah I do kinda want sex with other men, and have it be ok with him since he knows I won’t act on it without his okaying it.
I love having the boundaries clear and well-defined, and believing that our relationship is adamantium-strong and can withstand just about anything. I love him so, so much.

The most magical thing of all may be a secure and trust-based relationship. I’m not saying that to be snarky because they’re rare, which I think they are. I’m saying it in earnest because I really, honestly believe that for most of us, life can give few gifts most precious. And because, as any proper magician will tell you magic requires, it takes an enormous amount of self-awareness, will, and humility to attain.

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ConTuesday! Is imminent. Or here. Almost certainly here.

When her sighs turned to moans which turned to squeals which turned to the most compelling high-volume warbling, I finally began let up from rubbing her clit, so as not to overload her. She immediately hissed “Don’t stop!”, and the solo continued for a few seconds.

Always before, my partners had shown some reluctance to completely let go, and to be fully in the moment.

This was beautiful.

Fuck. Yes.

I tried anal play with a regular sized dildo for the first time (been scared because it hurts with just one finger) and it was only a little bit sore at the start. Then I came so hard I had trouble standing up afterwards.

It is just one of a number of things that I would never have tried where it not for you inspiring me to *ahem* experiment. Other such things include bondage and blowjobs. (No seriously, I was too scared to put my mouth anywhere near a guy’s crotch before I started reading your blog. Now I’m trying to figure out how to conquer my gag reflex and fit my husband’s porn-star-sized dick all the way down my throat. He sends his everlasting gratitude, by the way.)

Soooo, next on my list: buy a vibrating butt plug and a Feeldoe, and fap myself into a coma. Then somehow work the term ‘pegging’ into a conversation with the husband.

Okay, in the process of deciding between a quip about how nice it is that dildos don’t have fingernails and one about how prostate play is the new fantasy football, I realized that if I really, in any small way, have made anyone’s sex life better through this blog, I’m legitimately elated. More orgasms, more love, more oxytocin in the world… that’s the dream. Right there.

The best sex I ever had left me looking so beaten up I had to tell my mum I’d been paintballing. I looked like I’d been beaten up by an enraged mob and I LOVED it.

Now if I ever go paintballing I’m going to wish I were wearing much less clothing getting flung around by my hair far, far more. I guess I should thank you?

Okay, so I’m a guy, and I discovered that my hetero guy friend has been masturbating while we talk on the phone. I brought it up to him once while he was drunk, and he didn’t have much to say about it. As I say, he’s straight, so he has something invested in not admitting to masturbating while talking on the phone. I wonder why we care? I mean, it’s not MY hand on his dick. I’M not the one who’s stimulating him. And I know he pussy; I’ve seen him fuck it on more than one occasion. (And yes, I fully realize that I will receive little if any pity here for such a minor question of the labeling implications of this tiny aspect of my sexuality.)

Then, there’s me. Am I turned on by it? I don’t think so. I’m fascinated by observation, even if just aurally, of sex and masturbation. So why should it bother me to know it? I think, at this point, it’s the fact that we’re very close to the point where I’m aware and he’s aware that I’m aware, and that makes it pretty much a participatory act, regardless of whether I’m talking about sex or cars or our jobs, or whatever.

I’ve another friend, very open, who will tell me about her masturbation. Well what of it? We all do it, and as I say– ours is a very open friendship without secrets of any kind. But when she texts me about it as it’s presumably ongoing or just finished, a certain degree of my heterosexuality fires up. “Hetero” hell– my sex drive.

I and many of the people I love and fuck and possibly one or more of your friends wish we could all be more like bonobos, fucking and fapping and snorting pixie stick lines off beautifully sculpted backsides with casual abandon and without it ever getting weird. It’s a beautiful dream. Except could we take ourselves at all seriously with that hair?

I’m really excited that I’ve finally learned how to insert and use my menstrual cup because its cleaner, more environmentally friendly, etc. But I also get a kick out of going out into the world with a large silicon object in my vagina that no one else knows about. I realize you could say the same thing about tampons, but with my Divacup its exciting.

Plus, you’re keeping a little shot glass of blood warm in there and what is sexier than vampires!?!?! Probably nothing, right?

The other day, my friend said, “I have to do an observation and paper about a gender issue on campus, so I thought I’d write about your effect on campus sexuality.”

When I haven’t gotten laid–when I haven’t been kissed–in three months, that both reassures me and makes me feel like I’m fooling people.

Is it possible that your reputation as a total stud alone is affecting people campus-wide?

I, young and female, recently bought myself a new toy and I’ve discovered: putting things up my ass is a pretty sure way to make me come.

Hell yeah! Because “things” is pretty vague, though, I’m just going to leave this here:

Flared base.

I just broke a 2 year drought. That would generally be enough to brag about. However to make things even better, the friend I broke the drought with is one i’ve had some delicious unresolved sexual tension with for literally years, even prior to the drought.

Even better still? The currently casual nature of the relationship and mutual shared interest in experimenting with sex in a safe partner, including whilst on hallucinogens (also a shared interest) has already been discussed and arranged, date set and upcoming. By the time you guys read this that will have been and gone. Step after that one? MFM Threesome. If I could think of mutual female friends to join us the other would also be an option, if only you were here QP.

Best of all, we’re both very sexually compatible. In fact we match there perfectly. Neither of us is prudish about our sexuality or exploring it and we both share a common interest in delightfully long, marathon sessions of sex.

Sounds like a dream doesn’t it? Well let me assure the both of us that it isn’t, and that the power of sobriety (yes, we’re both fairly straight edge people, with only the occasional forays into psychedelics) and frank conversation led to this point and yielded immense dividends.

Long live candor, trust and all things sexy.

I think that’s a good note to close on. Candor, trust, all things sexy, orgasms, love, and oxytocin. And judicious psychedelics. I just gave you the formula for world peace, planet. Do with it what you will.

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I have a cold right now on top of my regularly scheduled chronic illness. I am happy to report that the math works out: while sick sucks, double sick sucks even harder. I also mildly resent living in a world where I have to show state-issued identification in order to buy cold medicine. I guess my point here is, can we just legalize meth and for that matter all the drugs already?

Double sick on mescaline might be okay.

Sometimes, when I’m having a hard time staying focused on sex (and I need to if I want to come), I think to myself…

That’s a fucking penis inside of you/person’s mouth on your cunt/pussy in front of your face! (or whatever is happening at the time)

and for some reason, it always turns me back on, sometimes so much so that I come seconds later.

It’s almost like you’re dirty talking to yourself. I can see it.

A girlfriend and I broke up a few months ago. At the time I considered the split to be a mutual decision; we had been drifting apart mainly due to schedule problems but there were other issues as well. Although we were compatible and the sex was good, we just weren’t at the same place in our lives.

Anyhow, I thought that I had processed the break-up. She and I remained friends. Life has been hectic for me and I haven’t been dating since. Then she let me know that she was seeing someone else. She had a reason to let me know, it wasn’t just a cruel or flip remark. And the news hit me like the Titanic hit the TARDIS. I feel insecurities about the end of our relationship that are totally irrational. What does he have that I don’t? (Aside from a similar job, schedule, and income to her, and living right down the street from her, and basically none of these problems that made her uncomfortable about our relationship). Does he make her laugh? Is he wittier than I am? Does he get her geeky references? Does he know about that tiny spot on her nipple that drives her wild?

What did I do wrong? (Almost certainly nothing, which is one of the most irrational bits). The fact is, we just weren’t as compatible as I wanted us to be. And I know that there are other women out there with whom I’ll be able to read comic books while we cuddle and play Portal 2 and have Dr. Horrible Sing-A-Long time. So why am I so distressed about this whole situation? I’m bothered that this is bothering me at all!

For most people, it’s probably one thing to walk away from a relationship that wasn’t working, but another to feel like they’ve been replaced. This is irrational brain stuff, yeah, but it’s pretty natural. When your favorite independent coffee shop closes down and a big FOR LEASE sign goes up, you probably go through a lot of emotions that are more or less not entirely unlike sadness. But when you see that the location has reopened as a fast food franchise, the original sadness may come back up along with indignation and revulsion and a weird craving for deep fried carbs. This is how we work. Double sick will never not suck. Unless mescaline.

But I hope you’ve come out the other side of all that by now. If not, you will.

So I have a massive oral fixation and love giving oral sex, and I was able to give my boyfriend his first-ever blowjob. Yay, me! Unfortunately, he’s not so familiar with blowjob protocol or the idea that yes, my lips do actually spend most of their time being chapped as hell and that you can’t just grab my hair and have my mouth be ready. But when I tell him that I don’t like/can’t do something, he gets extra-super-careful with me, like he might break me or sommat, and I don’t know if I have all the words to explain exactly what kind of spontaneity lets me not feel completely caught off-guard. I keep thinking, “Just fucking say something!” but then I remember that there are a lot of different ways to say something and not all of them are accurate communication. I’m shit at communication, and even though I’m practicing, it’s a miserable sort of practice, and I really don’t know what to do, and I usually just end up babbling myself into meaningless circles. I’ve become super-nervous about cuddling now, because I like to cuddle a lot, and make out for hours, and he isn’t used to the idea of that so when things get heavy he sort of instantly assumes that penis-in-vagina sex should be happening. I really like him, he’s wonderful in bed, and mostly, I’m just sad that he’d never spent more than five minutes making out with someone before moving on to sex. But how do I convey how wonderful I find making out to be? Or how I don’t find orgasms to be the sole reason to have sex? Or how he’s SO FUCKING SEXY?, because he seriously has NO idea, and it makes me sad that he doesn’t like lots of parts of himself? Please help! I don’t know what to do! I’ve exhausted the Internet’s supply of kittens in the effort to make myself less mopey, and it still hasn’t completely worked.

I feel that I should point out that you seem to be able to convey a lot of these things you want to say in text. I don’t see any good reason one couldn’t make a “How to fuck me” living document to share with one’s lovers, or an infographic, or even a pop-up picture book. It could include the details of what you know you like, what you know you don’t like, what you’re attracted to, what you fantasize about, what you’re curious about, what you find sexy about your current partner/s, and everything you think someone may care to know. It may be a slightly different way to communicate than you have in mind (or maybe not), but whatever works is of value.

I am not coming when I have sex. I do feel great and all, but I feel there’s more to it. What can I do to discover what I’m missing?

If you are having orgasms while masturbating, I would try to incorporate getting yourself off into the partnered sex you’re having. Before sex or after or during or all of the above. It might teach your partner some things about how you like to be touched, and just making your orgasms part of whatever sex you’re having may be “more” all by itself.

If you are not having orgasms in any context at this time, I hope one of my readers has good advice for you because I never know the answer to that one.

I am seriously considering becoming a “sex worker”. I’m a married, mostly stay-at-home mom in my 30s and I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck. I recently talked to someone who is a “paid companion” and she sees a couple men on a semi-regular basis. All are men she would date even if there wasn’t money involved. My husband and I have an open marriage and he has no problem with me seeing other men. He’d be aghast knowing I was doing it for money. Still seriously considering it. An extra 1,000 a month sure would make things a lot easier.

I really don’t see this as much different than going to my regular job. I use my skills to provide a desired service and get compensated for it. Only in this case, instead of using my skills to line the pockets of a greedy boss, I’d be doing it solely to benefit myself and my family.

If I lived in the Firefly universe I know in my heart of hearts that I would be a registered companion. And I know I’m not the only one. Show of hands?

Can we just legalize everything already? Christ.

So, i’m 20 years old and i’ve have been dating my first honest to god boy for about 2 months now. We met online,which amazed me since all the guys i’d met and gone on dates with from this particular site were complete duds. We’re both nerds, which is awesome as I was in need of a Doctor Who buddy. It is the best perk ever that I find him so attractive and enjoy putting his cock in my mouth. The fact that he can make me laugh whenever we’re together for hours on end is amazing as well.

My sex drive has always been ridiculous. Ever since I discovered masturbation in earnest at age 15. I’d always kind of had that ”warm tingly” sensation down below when I saw naughty things, but it took me forever to make the connection that a HAND goes down there. So it was inevitable that after about 4 weeks of dating, he somehow ends up eating me out while I writhe in ecstasy on his bedroom floor. I believe there was some sort of tickling hi-jinks and my legs ended up spread eagled in a skirt.

After that, we took to doing oral and other naughty things out in semi-public places. First, it started with him giving me the best oral in a garden and a few other places. I think the most excellent place and situation thus far was a crazed round of dry humping, oral, and anal in a park. I innocently ask for a back massage and laid on my stomach. Since my ass is amazing, he naturally decides to bare it, kiss and then rub his cock against it. We then proceed to happily fuck in the park in the late night gloom. A few people pass by but we’re at the bottom of a slight dip in the landscape so it’s hard to see us. Sprinklers are slowly turning on, so we know we’ve only got about 5 minutes or so before they decide to turn on in our patch of grass. With 2 minutes to spare, he comes. I happily clean him off, and we fix our clothes and cuddle for an hour or so. As if we hadn’t just had the best sexy times ever, we pick up the conversation we’d been having prior about silly things on tumblr and we play games on his phone.

Best relationship ever? Maybe.

::Internet high five:: and a wish for many happy adventures in the future!

I totally just submitted a confession about my boyfriend and I doing it in parks and whatnot, but I just had to brag about the fact that our kinks match up so well.

I idly mentioned that I have a thing for pegging and feminization. He smiles at me and says.

“So, you want to dress me up like a girl, bend me over a table, and make me your bitch?…That sounds good to me.”

Score!

::Internet high five:: x9,000 for real.

Quizkids, how I love you. Tell me your tales.

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