quizzical pussy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hence, you’re delicious. Deal with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The first time someone else bought me a sex toy, it was nerve-wracking and excruciating (the experience, not the toy. The toy was actually not bad…). Reginald Sleeth and I stayed after hours at the porn studio where we worked, he took pictures of me masturbating to ejaculation, and then we traipsed off to the adult book store where I was to select a toy as a reward.

I didn’t so much select a toy as turn a blaring shade of red and wish I were back in the safety of my safe and non-threatening porn studio, while Reginald, whose idea all this had been, made suggestions. He quite liked the idea of remote controls, as I recall.

After a near meltdown, I finally picked a cheap, slim, plastic, vibrating insertable. Doubt not that I used it often and to excellent effect over the coming years, but that experience taught me two things:

1. Never go sex toy shopping on someone else’s terms and expect to have fun.
2. If I hadn’t had an excuse to go toy shopping, even with the internet existing, it may well have been years before I owned a proper sex toy.

When I finally got around to buying a sex toy for myself, it actually was years later, and it was completely different. The toy was, and I was. I decided what I wanted based, not on what my scary ex-boyfriend would be able to afford/be comfortable with/not think I was depraved because of, but on the pure intention of giving myself pleasure. I traded my own money for it in a declaration that my orgasms were worth something to me. And they were motherfucking poetic orgasms, too.

I’m not saying it’s not worthwhile to buy and accept sex toys for and from your partner. In fact, I will say right now that it is. But the other thing I’m trying to say is that sex toy purchases tend to be imbued with significance. When you buy one, it’s usually with a fairly powerful intention: self-love, wanting another person to have orgasms, or often a totally new type of sexual exploration. There is a reason we call one of the most popular sex toys of all time a Magic Wand.

Oh, and by the way, Buy A Sex Toy day is June 4th, which is a mere month from now! Let’s make magic, people.

(image source)

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It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the concept of anyone thinking that masturbation is wrong. So I have this body, right? And it’s mine. But there are certain parts of it I’m not supposed to touch because if I do it might feel good. And that… would be bad.

Um, what?

I’m a post-op Trans Woman, I’ve had my new vagina for seven and a half months.

I just found the vibrator that works for me and had my first vaginal orgasm…

My shoulder is super sore and I can’t stop shaking… no regrets, so much self love and discovery!

Woohoo! Motherfucking internet high five!

I’m just wondering if I’m the only one who finds masturbation to be really boring. I mean, the few times I try I can’t focus on any fantasies or what-not, I get really bored, and I stop a few minutes later to watch funny videos or do something I find entertaining.

I guess I’m wondering if I’m normal, because all of the blogs I read give me the impression that I’M DOING SEXUALITY WRONG. Like, I get that masturbation is supposed to feel good and orgasms are awesome and “if you don’t use it, you lose it.” But I’m just not feeling it.

I feel like whenever anyone wonders if they’re the only one who does or does not do sex a certain way, the answer is always “absolutely damn not”. If anyone’s normal, which I doubt, pretty much everyone is. And people normally don’t maintain blogs dedicated to things they find boring, so bloggers like me who write about masturbating are generally going to be pro-masturbation, and get excited about masturbating, I should think. But it’s not for everyone, and that’s totally cool.

I made myself squirt today!
Apparently, masturbating a whole lot (by way of positioning myself in the shower so that one stream of water hits me juuuust right) and thinking about Jon Stewart whispering dirty dirty things in my ears while spanking me and biting me and/or doing other fun hitty things was all it took!
It wasn’t even intentional. But now that I know I can…well. Let’s just say I shall be happy to devote more time to exploring this phenomenon.

I love it when the most specific fantasies do the most particular things. It makes me feel like life is a fighting game with combos.

A little backstory: I have a tiny office in my university, shared by three other students. There’s a small window on the door, so someone nosy could peek in if they wanted. No outside windows. My desk is right next to the door, but the other two desks are behind dividers.

Last weekend I was doing some work in my office, and after a while I needed a break — consisting, of course, of reading sexy stories and touching myself through my jeans. I was pretty furtive about this, even though I was alone in the room, the door was closed, and someone would have to actually make a point of looking inside the window if they want to see anything interesting. (If you’re not in academia, you might be surprised at how many people — mostly grad students, but sometimes even faculty — work during the weekends and evenings.)

Eventually I got worked up enough that I wanted more than fingers. Heart racing, I turned off the lights, climbed on one of my colleague’s desks, unzipped my jeans, and slipped my balled-up sweater in between my legs. My favourite maturbatory position is facedown and humping something — I loved the feeling of my breasts pushed up against the hard wooden desk, and feeling my clit rub against something firm but with a bit of give, while I imagined my boyfriend pounding me from behind. I migrated to my fantasy of donning a strap-on, and fucking another girl with a vibrator inside of me. I could hear nearby office doors opening and closing, locking and unlocking, and it gave me the good kind of chills to be reminded exactly where I was — the person whose desk I was pleasuring myself on could have walked in at any time. I’m not remotely attracted to him, but the thought of him walking in and turning on the lights to find me, apparently a Good Girl, squirming and sweaty on his desk — GOD that pushed my buttons.

But here’s my favourite part of the act: my cheek was pressed against the cool wood of the desk, and my hot breath curled the papers next to my mouth. When I was done, I considered replacing the blank sheets of paper — but I kind of liked the mystery, the slight confusion it might cause, and the wonderful little secret of what exactly caused those sheets to curl. :)

I’ve never been more attracted to you. (I don’t think.)

I was house-sitting last week for a friend, who happened to own a removable showerhead. I quickly discovered that it was the most awesome thing EVER. Then I realized that it was leaking and I thought I broke it, but no– the head came off and all that was left was a tube with a stream of water. Once I turned the power of the water down a little, I realized I’d been wrong before: THAT was the most awesome thing ever. :D I hope the sound of the water drowned out anything her neighbors might have heard…

Access to removable showerheads is a human rights issue. I’m not saying it’s high on the list, but certainly the world will never be quite right until all of us who want them have them.

I was on a long plane ride this week and I was having a lot of trouble focusing on the work I needed to get done. So I waited for a quiet moment and took myself to the bathroom. I locked the door, undid my belt, and slid my hand into my underwear. I began to rub my clit and with the other hand I grabbed my breast. At first, I wasn’t sure I would be able to come, but the tension grew rapidly and soon I was wetter than wet and coming hard. After I caught my breath, I cleaned myself up, checked my hair and noticed the rosy glow in my cheeks. When I left the bathroom, I gave a big, cheeky grin to the hottie waiting outside the door.

I have mad respect for anyone who can feel sexy on an airplane. I normally just feel sleepy.

Not that I’d say no to an orgasm, to be fair.

I’m slowly coming to terms with my sexuality being, uh, strangely non-sexual when other people are involved. I’ve always considered myself bisexual, pretty much attracted to men and women equally. But while I love cuddling, fondling, making out… I don’t enjoy sex that much. Yes, there have been boring/bad sex partners, but there’s also been at least 1 great one, but even that doesn’t compare to just masturbating alone. I’d think I was actually a romantic asexual, but, damn, I love masturbating, watching porn, thinking/reading about sex… Sexuality can be so confusing!

Sexuality can be wonderfully varied and confusing and fancy! And I suspect if all the spectra had more visibility, we’d find that romantic asexuals who like to masturbate and fondle are not that terribly uncommon. But you’d still be fancy.

Tell me something about yourself.

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Of all the rottenly rotten positions I’ve experienced in my life, stagnation is among my least favorite. Maybe because I have a low tolerance for boredom, or maybe because I resent being in a situation where I’m not learning anything. Not that change is always for the better, but so often it at least holds the opportunity of better. We all deserve at least the opportunity of better.

Especially when we’re not getting nearly laid enough.

Boyfriend says he’s attracted to me but hardly touches me below the waist. I don’t believe him. Do you?

There are different kinds of attraction. It’s possible to be romantically attracted to someone but not sexually attracted. But on an emotional level? If I were in your position I probably wouldn’t believe him for a second. In fact, I’ve been in a similar position a few times, and it’s damnably hard to see past the pain of continuous sexual rejection.

And I’m only going to say this because I wish I had heard and accepted this myself: Maybe you’re just not compatible.

My partner is on psych meds. Sometimes he takes them; sometimes he doesn’t.

I don’t know a polite, kind, non-ableist way of saying ”when you don’t take your pills you’re impossible to be around.”

But he really is. I love my partner when he’s medicated. He’s a different person when he’s not. (He’s not violent or hostile, but he’s hyper, incoherent, and has terrible judgment.) Sometimes I fret about whether that means I don’t love “the real him” but mostly I fret about how I can get him to take his goddamn pills.

I don’t believe that preferring him unmedicated and struggling would amount to loving “the real him”. If he feels like the medication is somehow crossing his own purposes and wishes to stop taking it, that’s a different conversation. If you both agree he is better off taking it regularly, I, stranger who writes shit on the internet, think you’re in your rights as an interested party to communicate your concern when he skips.

I find it rather difficult to have an orgasm – I have almost never had one with my partner present (maybe once or twice with a lot of concentrated self-touching) and even with my own fingers (or a VIBRATOR for godssake) it takes a very long time to get off.

You didn’t ask for advice, which is good because I really don’t have any advice on this topic. I dearly wish I did. I would love to read more experiences and perhaps tips from people who don’t orgasm easily.

So I’m married – happily, monogamously, for two years. My husband rocks.
I am also attracted to other people because, y’know, ain’t dead. One of them has become my cuddle buddy some time ago: this is known and consented to by all involved parties, including cuddle buddy’s girlfriend.
I am kinda high-libido, and my husband can’t keep up with me. I don’t think anyone could, really, given that I need to have a job and shit and occasionally leave the bed, but something in addition would be awesome.
I’d never cheat on my husband, but I daydream in hope that we might form an Arrangement with my cuddle buddy and his GF – possibly a swinging-ish thing.
I think it’s plausible GF is attracted to my husband, I know cuddle buddy is attracted to me and he knows I am to him. I’d also gladly make out with the GF, with or without my husband or the cuddle buddy watching. Discussion with cuddle buddy has revealed that his GF might not be averse to some less-than-monogamous forays.
Have no idea if husband is attracted to GF, though, and terrified of asking because I tend to spend long hours with cuddle buddy while my husband waits for me at home; I know he trusts me, but I’m worried it might upset him to know I’m interested in such a thing even if I’d never do it without his consent.
(Husband is fine with me having sex with other women, but men are upsetting to him.)

You may identify as monogamous, which is awesome, but I feel like if your husband is okay with you having sex with other women there’s some non-monogamy thrown into the mix here. If it were me I’d probably talk about the details of that openness as a conceptual, hypothetical thing (e.g. “Would you ever want to try swinging with a couple we were both attracted to?”), provided I hadn’t already gotten around to that, before bringing up specific people.

The only thing that has convinced me to go back on my anxiety medication is that my panic attacks are interfering with my sex life.

Hope things are going better for you in much more than just your sex life.

Today at noon, my best friend/the girl I love told me that she isn’t comfortable with hanging out with me after 4 years of friendship/occasional dating, because two weeks ago I told her I loved her (did a whole “John-Cusack-boombox thing”).
She told me right before I had to go to lecture, during which I felt sick. She was so far the only one I had true feelings for (and the only one who got me the closest to ejaculation).

But now I’m ready to hit the town again, after having stupid, teenager-y woes for a year with and about this girl. I’m ready to end my involuntary 7-month celibacy. So yay for me.

Although I did tell her I still wanted to be her friend, which is true, but I forgot to add that I would need about a year of not thinking nor talking to her just to get myself ready to be just her friend. So that’s that.
Sorry about not really having a sexual confession.

This confession totally counts! I hope you’ve ended your celibacy in the hottest, most joyful way possible. And I hope you can eventually find a way to rebuild the friendship you lost, or at least find that your life is better without it.

I have no trouble getting laid. I know that men find me sexy and I have great sexual relationships with some. But no matter how hard I try I never meet anyone who wants to commit to me. I always get the ”I just don’t want a girlfriend right now” speech.
Some of my friends think I need to stop having sex right away and wait it out to see if they really like me or whatever but then what do I do about sex?!?!? I love sex! And I love casual sex! The excitement of experiencing someone new for the first time, discovering their body and in so many cases learning new things about sex and about your own body! It just gets really lonely sometimes.

I feel like the whole idea that having sex quickly after meeting automatically nixes the potential for a relationship is fairly busted. I know that some people have that mentality, but not everyone does. My question is, would you be happy with someone who was willing to write you off just because you didn’t want to wait until the third date or whatever to have orgasms?

You’re not just asking to be loved; you’re also offering to give love as your amazing, unique, and irreplaceable self. You deserve to be picky too.

Sex Confessional

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I get a lot of sex secrets. Sometimes if I’m not ready to use them yet I stick them in my laundry basket, hoping they’ll stay put, that they won’t wiggle away through the holes. But never, never have I met a fully domesticated secret.

They bleed onto the wooden floor of my closet. They flit around, nipping off shreds of my 2012 Baby Animals wall calendar. February’s infant orangutan? Almost unrecognizable.

I almost always eventually find them camped out under the bed. I think the masturbation sounds help them sleep.

I think I’ve got an insemination fetish.

My wife and I want kids in a few years. She’s infertile, so I’d be carrying, and we’ll probably be using frozen anonymous donor sperm, or asking a friend to be a known donor. Not a lover or ex-lover or potential lover. Most of the guys on the short list to ask are gay or monogamous or both. We’ll be conceiving our kids with careful deliberation, genetic tests and charts tracking my fertility and speculums and needle-less syringes. It makes sense. Bringing kids into the world is a big thing, and we want to do it carefully, thoughtfully, deliberately.

My pussy disagrees.

Ever since we started seriously talking about this, since it became a question of when and how not if, I’ve been having these fantasies. I want to feel a man come inside me, feel his semen in my cunt. (Can you actually feel that? I have literally used a condom every time a man’s penis has been in my vagina. I will probably never find out first hand. Roads untaken and all that.) Lately, when I’m alone and jilling off, nothing gets me so wet as thinking about hot little sperm making their way past my cervix.

I’m not pining for the heterosexual marriage I didn’t wind up in. It’s nothing like that. I don’t want to conceive while making love to hypothetical husband I’ll never have.

No, what I want is for a stranger to press me against the wall, shove aside my panties and enter me bare. I want my womb to take that man’s come and make life out of it. I want to be bent over a table, as one man after another, men I can’t even see the faces of, let alone know the names of, fuck me one after another, semen dripping out of my pussy. Every time another man adds his genes to the lottery I come again, cunt spasming around his cock, drawing his semen in. He withdraws, stands aside to watch the next man fuck me hard, his cock sliding sloppily through what the five-ten-fifty men before him left, panting and thrusting and trying to just enjoy the feel of cock in cunt while hoping against hope that he’ll be the lucky one.

Stop. Scene changes, I’m alone with just one man again. ”It doesn’t matter,” he says, all self-assurance and possessiveness, as he holds me close, one hand around my neck, as he thrusts into me slowly. ”It doesn’t matter how many other men you fuck, because you are mine, and you will carry my heir.” He could be many people, those men I keep in the deep of my subconscious, nothing like any of the men I might have married but didn’t, nobody I’d want to share my life with out in the real world. He’s dangerous, he’s powerful, he owns me. Sometimes he’s a medieval king, or a cliched evil overlord*, or a demon, sometimes generic and sometimes from a book or movie or game or something, but usually his identity slips and slides until he’s just an archetype, a platonic Master holding me, fucking me down, taking me, marking me as his, and I want nothing more but to conceive his child, and when he finally comes I feel it happening, feel his sperm invading me, and I orgasm so hard my vision goes black.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell this means, whether I’m sublimating my feelings about donor insemination and pregnancy in general and blah blah blah. Not today, though. Today I’m just going to appreciate the mind-blowing orgasms.

Even the ones that happen while I’m fantasizing about getting knocked up by Bowser from the Super Mario games.

Oh yes. Yes, you can feel it. Absolutely. It feels, I imagine, not unlike Sushie’s “squirt” move from Paper Mario.

i like to take sexy photos of myself. It makes me feel pretty and seductive and ok, maybe a little bad (in a good way). Sometimes I send these photos to a friend a few states away. Hey, he likes porn, I like validation, everyone’s happy. Until my exboyfriend hacked my email and forwarded the photos to himself. Bummer! I’m worried what he’ll do with them, but mostly I’m just angry because they’re MY BOOBIES and I’ll show them to who I want, when I want. So there.

You have every right to be angry. I would characterize this as going beyond “bummer” and going straight to “massively creepy stalker behavior” with a side of “egregious privacy violation”, for what it’s worth.

This past year, I got fed up of trying to be sexually satisfied with my workaholic partner alone, and decided to devote some time to pleasing myself. I joined a porn site, I started writing smut, and I have taken my self-pleasuring to a new level.

It has been fantastic. I feel those same feelings you get when you are newly in love- the constant drive, can’t-take-my-hands-off-you, stay up all night making-out sort of feelings, except by myself. As a result, my sex life with my partner has increased dramatically. Even though he is often still too tired to have sex as much as I want, I am perfectly happy if he lets me go down on him and then I can make myself come.

Not having my sexual satisfaction depend on anyone else has changed my life.

I feel inspired by this, to always use my computer for smut and never for hacking.

Also to develop a giggly, gropy crush on myself. Both good ideas, really.

I think that fucking someone in front of a bunch of other people would be really hot. Man or woman, but I’d want the people watching to be older men in suits, sexy sexy suits. Maybe they’d all take turns using me. Pretty basic fantasy I guess, but damn does it get me wet.

Also, the only person I’ve really had sexual relations with was this nice Jewish boy last semester. I’d suck his dick, he’d go down on me, call me names, hit me with various kitchen implements, all those nice things that nice Jewish boys are good at. But we never had penis-vagina sex, which makes me feel like other people think I should still call myself a virgin. But after having a binder clip stuck to my nipple, been spanked with a spatula, been fingered up the ass, etc and so forth, I just feel a lot less virginal. No idea why.

Also…I really really really really want to see what he’s up to this year. Damn you, sexy Jewish boy. Damn you. My own hand can only do so much.

I’d like to teach the world that virginity is a weird, made-up concept. It’s not even spatula-solid, really.

I do not understand why someone would be monogamous when there’s a chance of orgies on the table.

…Particularly when they then proceed to steal your sex toys.

Dear monogamous person/s,

Why would you steal my sex toys? What is wrong with you?

P.S. That would put all my sex toys into multiple-partner status.

P.P.S. Orgies!

Last summer, I visited the Southwest; there was no privacy, so I couldn’t get off at all, but my hormones were raging. Thus, a state of constant horniness ensued. Then one day, as the week-long heat was at its peak, I escaped to a pool which was deserted because of an oncoming storm. It was blistering, but strong winds had started to blow, and as I dropped my frustrated, overheated body into the pool, I had a sense that the moment was special, set aside from the rest – the moment before the break. I quickly discovered the water jet, planted my arms on the side of the pool so it looked like I was casually relaxing, shifted by pelvis against the jet, and came like fireworks as the rain began to fall. Then pushed off and floated, weightless, listening to the oncoming storm.

Whoever says masturbation can’t be meaningful and significant is wrong.

Never underestimate the transformative power of orgasms or weather patterns or water pressure.

Or secrets.

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ConTuesday may have some gratuitous italics today. I’m just feeling a little enthusiastic, I suppose.

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

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

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

Have scads of lights-on fun, will you?

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

Hooray for group sex fantasies!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She really is delicious, isn’t she?

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

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

Okay, probably not, but I’m tempted.

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

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

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

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

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

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Those of you who have been reading quizzical pussy for a while probably already know that I don’t love Thanksgiving. I pretty much bah humbug all over the damn thing. I don’t like turkey, I don’t like football, I don’t like family gatherings, and while I absolutely love pie I can’t have any because my doctor has informed me I’m sensitive to every food that’s delicious.

That’s why I prefer celebrate Wanksgiving instead. Orgasms for everyone and fuck those pilgrims. But since I skipped the family festivities last year I have to suck it up and go to the thing and get asked why I’m still sick and when I’ll be a real person again.

Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of things I’m thankful for. Mostly the many awesome people in my life, but also the awesome animals in my life, the fact that my alleged car is still running, and my not-homeless status. I’m actually pretty damn lucky, really, and I should remember that.

I’m still so horribly envious of healthy people that I sometimes feel I could bite them and chew, but I consider that a personal failing.

Hope everyone has a wonderful day! And wonderful pie!

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Hey, there! It being Tuesday and all, what do you say we take a look at some internet confessions? That seems like it could be pretty sweet.

There’s this guy. We work together. He’s a nice guy but because I’m very shy and socially awkward, we never talk. A couple of weeks ago I noticed his body. I have known him for several months and yet it was one of those moments I never believed in. When you look at someone and suddenly realise… ”sweet!”.
He’s not my type. He’s the opposite of every guy I’ve ever (wanted to) shag(ged). And I don’t notice him the same way. I don’t want to jump him. It’s not the same feeling.
Instead, I want to kiss. I want to lie somewhere and kiss. Him. And talk. Nothing else. The thought of having sex with him doesn’t do it for me. And believe me, I’ve tried, just to make it a little less weird.
Just thinking these things, of how I want to kiss him, of how I definitely want there to be strawberries and cream involved (random, huh?), it feels dirty. Far more dirty than thinking about shagging that really hot guy who works a couple of desks down. And more intense. I want to kiss this guy more than I want to shag that really hot guy. Even if there are no orgasm involved.
Strange.

I have a theory that sexual orientation is much, much more complicated and gloriously varied than most people have the time or inclination to think about. This would be an example.

I hope you get a chance to make out. I hear that office holiday parties are good for hook-ups, so if that’s not just TV and movies making shit up like they do, you have a little time to screw your courage to the snogging place.

I like to play with myself after good p in v sex. Because really, what’s better than orgasms than more orgasms? There’s something awesome about getting another while he’s in the kitchen pouring our next drink, and I’m in the living room continuing the fun.

I can find absolutely no flaw in your logic here.

My wife asked me to fuck her.
In our pool.
In the backyard.
Outdoors.
At 4 p.m.
In full view of the neighbors.
Neither of us came, but it was enthralling nonetheless. She did, however, follow it up with jerking me off in the shower. Then later that night she jerked me off while massaging my asshole. The next morning I made her scream like a pot star while licking her clit. It was a GREAT weekend.

This sounds hot. I’m clean distracted, though, trying to decide whether I should assumptively correct “pot star” to “porn star”, or if it’s possible that the former is a real thing and I should get with the times. Best to just leave it.

I have a drama I want to figure out on my sex blog, only I can’t, because the guy involved reads it. AIIIIIEEEEEE!

I never realized how dependent I was on the blog for my processing until I suddenly couldn’t have it.

Sometimes I wish I could just write exactly what’s going on with my love/sex life, and be completely honest, and more vulnerable, and a hell of a lot dirtier on my sex blog. But at this point way too many people I know read it, and there’s just no way. So I really feel you on this.

ConTuesday to the rescue? I hope?

I’m the girl who’s having an affair with the guy who’s 8 years younger. I guess I should say ’had’ since I haven’t seen him in 3 months. I’ve still had more sex this year with him than with my husband. Is it bad that I’m counting?

You know, there was a time when women weren’t allowed to learn math at all! So no, it’s never bad to count. But I hope that either you and your husband have caught up by now or that you don’t mind the disparity. I hate to see people feeling stuck in sexually frustrating relationships, and I hope that’s not you right now.

Now go here, everyone, and spill your sexy secrets!

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This week my confession about not being able to masturbate properly because of roller derby was posted and quizzical pussy said I was one of her fetishes. This made me insanely proud.

On a related note, if anyone happens to want to send me pics of themselves in derby gear or maybe kicking some ass on the track, I’m not going to lie… I will probably masturbate to them.

I get turned on by awful (lyrically, musically awful, that is) sexually explicit rap songs.

I have experienced this as well, so I think I get it. What I’m really trying to figure out is why Japanese rapper Ilmari’s voice makes me feel so funny in my pants whenever I hear it despite barely ever even knowing what he’s saying! It has to be a resonance thing.

That’s how the pyramids were built, you know. Resonance. (Okay, probably not really.)

I want 2 have sex with u ladies

Despite looking like Prince lyrics, this is turning no one on. Maybe it really does need to be rap.

How many retractions of secrets do you get, where someone, immediately after a secret, enters in ”OH GOD DON’T USE THAT ONE?”

It’s gotta happen.

Oh, it happens! Not often, but it happens. Far more often I write an entire, non-ConTuesday post, then think “Oh God, I’m going to let people read that!? How can I live this down?” And then I inevitably do.

I think I’m falling in love with a long-distance guy.

The guy’s going out on a date with another girl in Friday. Intellectually, I want him to be happy with or without me. Emotionally, I want him to want to be with me.

My plan? Thursday night I’m going to strip for him over webcam, then stick five fingers up my pussy while begging for his cock. BEAT THAT, actually present girl!

You’re an evil genius. (Okay, probably not evil. Mostly just hot.)

I don’t think I can get myself off just using my fingers. I always need something more, like a vibrator or a shower head. Somehow this makes me disappointed in myself.

Don’t be intimidated by the evil genius webcam fisters out there. Or anyone else. If you’re working with a vulva/vagina combo (which you didn’t specify, so please excuse me if my assumption is incorrect), needing something extra doesn’t exactly put you in the minority. If you’re getting yourself off in a safe way and having fun, I think you should be the opposite of disappointed. In fact, I think you deserve a theme song with driving base and triumphant guitar licks, but that’s just me.

My wife bragged that she’d submitted another confession. I asked her what it was and she flirtatiously said that I’d have to wait and see it and guess that it was her. I have this sneaking suspicion that when you publish it we’re going to have some freaky, nasty, wonderful sex. HURRY UP AND POST IT ALREADY DAMNIT!!!!!!

Here is the deal, people: If sex is at stake or time is of the essence for any other reason when it comes to posting your confessions, let me know. I know a guy. I can make things happen for you. If there’s one thing I don’t want to avoid doing on my blog, it’s facilitating freaky, nasty, wonderful sex.

Communication is key. Speaking of which, tell me a secret!

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Anyone feeling libidinous lately? I jockeyed myself through about fourteen orgasms yesterday, although to be fair I only squirted three or four times. As my victory lap, I’m posting confessions I find especially hot in some way (or at least inspire me to think dirty thoughts). I actually get a lot of arousing confessions, and they wouldn’t all fit in this ConTuesday installment without the compilation thereof cutting drastically into my masturbation time, so perhaps this will be the first of several “QP’s Choice” ConTuesdays. Who knows?

But seriously. This way lies hotness.

When I was in studying philosophy in undergrad, I would regularly be reading something so interesting that I’d somehow get aroused and have to take a masturbation break.

I feel weird defining myself as a sapiosexual because that implies that I’m such a smartypants I get to decide who and what is intelligent and then use it to satisfy my own sordid desires, but fuck it. I’m pretty much a sapiosexual and this makes me feel funny in my smartypants.

This is Confessor #4 from June 7th: I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he never called. Ah well.

I have this funny feeling it was his loss entirely. Thanks for the update.

This is very very simple. From an early age, I had a terrible crush on a totally amazing older ”father figure” man. He was well-off, well-educated, well-traveled, well-read, well-everything. Tall, slender but strong, blue eyes, darkblonde hair, wonderful voice. He had lost his first wife years ago, married again, had two children with his second wife and I had never met his children because we didn’t live in my hometown anymore. (Actually, we lived in the country, all of us. He had homes in several places.

Years go by, I run into this man, about ten years older than I…and he seemed so familiar and so nice and handsome and sexy and elegant and classy. Ta-da! My preteen crush’s son…over that summer I attended several family functions and parties…the two of them were there. OMG! His father, my serious first crush, had only gotten more handsome, more charming, and he and his second wife were still very much in love. I was considered too young to date this man’s son by my strict father…but I was allowed to go on many family trips and visits.

As if my little mind had a mind of its own, soon, very detailed dreams began of being, uhmm, sexually and romantically involved with one or the other of these two men. And wait. There’s more. Sometimes, the dream revolved around being with the Father…and he and his son ”share” me. Then, it switched, in this dream, the son and I are very very involved and somehow, the son and father began to share me. In incredible and erotic and intense ways. I never really lost my crush on the Father…and I may have seriously fell in love with his son…only our age difference got in the way and then I met my beloved husband.

To this day, we occasionally see this family socially and in and around town. The father’s lovely wife recently passed away, tragically. The son…oh my. He’s very much a chip off the ol’ block. Two more handsome elegant charming and truly kind men, are hard to find.

And I still have vivid dreams and yes, fantasies of belonging to both of these men, and of course, now include in various ways…my beloved husband.

I. Am. So. Bad!

Just for the record, I think it’s really sweet and romantic that your husband now figures into your fantasies. It has to be true love when you share with your lover in even your most hidden fantasies.

I have a cute friend. A cute friend, recently available, whom I would kind of like to fool around with. I think it could be a lot of fun for both of us, probably not too serious, good times all around. Sadly, the cute friend has an extraordinarily crazy ex, and, alas! I am having serious reservations about involving myself in any of it.

Clearly you’re wise beyond your years, ignoring the fact that I have no idea how old you actually are. Too many of us would grasp the shiny and ignore the giant warning signs that we would have to file a restraining order before the whole thing was through.

I feel bad for cute friend, though. One (possibly sustained for quite some time) bad decision could potentially hobble cute friend’s fooling around prospects for years, depending on how scary the ex is. This is why we need to start training and distributing Hell’s-going-to-have-no-fury sniffing dogs (who should all be Papillons because awwwww). Prevention is the best cure here.

But failing adorable toy dogs and time machines, sneaking around can be really hot if you want to start fucking not wisely but too well.

My girlfriend posted on twitter tonight that I had left a pair of my panties at her house after spending the weekend there. A few moments later, she texted my to say she’d just masturbated while wearing them. It’s one of the hottest texts I’ve ever gotten and I just had to share it with someone.

That is insanely hot. I don’t know which of you I want to be more in this scenario, but I’m willing to try either. Or both. Yes. Both. In a “trading off” sense; not in a “both parties are me” sense, because frankly I already masturbate wearing my own panties and while it’s not half bad I think we can do a hell of a lot better if one of us starts being someone else.

Tell me a secret.

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