quizzical pussy

I feel guilty a lot, mostly because I do stupid things a lot. Not malicious things, not even selfish things… literally I-did-not-think-about-this-at-all-before-I-went-ahead-and-did-it-my-bad things. Or sometimes, alternately, I’ll have thought quite a bit about something before implementing, but prioritized the exact wrong thing. Guilt is not useful or helpful in any way, but it’s familiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

However.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Totally kidding. I am such a dick.

Confess your sins and wins here!

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It’s kind of a lonely feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does anyone have a luck dragon I can borrow?

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

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You already know that friendship is magic, right? Well it is. And here’s a ConTuesday devoted to the aforementioned magic, in several of its manifestations. Also, there might be ponies.

Someone should create a poly etiquette book. What is the appropriate thing to say to your fuckbuddy’s roommate’s friend with benefits/girlfriend-without any-commitment when you’re left alone with her while your partners sort out the pizza situation? How forward is it appropriate to be when your friend has just introduced you to her partner, assuming she’s been trying to set up both of you for days? Do you have to say something if your partner has a really obnoxious other partner?

Emily Post never covers this shit.

I completely agree. Someone should write an etiquette book. I am in no way qualified to write one, but I may attempt to do so anyway because I’m always getting myself in over my head and by now it’s a comfortable feeling. It’ll probably just say that when in doubt treat everyone like a friend, and load as much pig onto your pizza as possible.

I’m no Emily Post.

I was talking to my sexy friend whom I really trust, tonight. She was telling me about her hot fantasies that she wish that she could engage in with her boyfriend, my friend. I found the fantasies to be, um, engaging. I asked her, out of loyalty for my friend: ”Why don’t you tell your boyfriend about your secret desire to do this?”

She answered immediately, without a pause, ”Does the phrase ’mutual confidence’ mean anything to you? If I don’t get reciprical trust, I’m not telling him.”

I was touched by the direct implication; I trusted her, so she trusted me.

I was hurt for my friend, her boyfriend. This looks like the beginning to the end. Or, more to the point, that their problems had come to a middle.

I was sort of excited the same way that we all are when we’re told a secret.

Tell her your deepest secrets, boys, else she might share hers with an outside friend, who has no right. No right, I tell you!!

This makes perfect sense to me. If a partner doesn’t share their fantasies with me I don’t feel I have permission to share mine with them. Without reciprocity it would feel like I was just asking for favors rather than getting closer to them. Even under the best relationship circumstances, it’s sometimes easier to be honest about my dirty daydreams with someone who will never feel obligated to fulfill them, like a friend with whom I’m very unlikely to ever get it on. But that last part may only apply to me, keeping in mind that I’m way too neurotic.

But anyway, I have to say that a friend has every right to whatever secrets you feel comfortable sharing. Trust is no small thing.

My wife and I hung out with sexy, fun, flirty friends tonight; got tremendously worked up while cuddling and touching; and spent some time wanking and talking about the sexy times we wish were had. I assume this is why the pilgrims came here!

This is exactly why the pilgrims came here. Of course, they would probably want to burn you or hang you or put letters on all your shirts, but in a more abstract way, it is exactly why they came here.

I hope there was also pie. And cake. And pie baked into cake.

This year at my favourite music festival I hooked up with a guy. It started with dancing, as it always does. It ended in his tent, hot and sweaty and twisted in the sheets. The next afternoon he introduced me to his friends who were sitting outside the tent while we were fucking. At some point he mentioned an ex in a strange way so I asked how recent she was. He got all sheepish and shy and told me that the girl I’d met earlier was his ex of 10 days! Thankfully, I’d been friendly to her earlier and she’d been nice to me, but talk about awkward when I saw her again the next morning.

This looks like a job for Poly Emily Post!

I’m normally cool as a cucumber and unaffected by lewd and crude joking, but my husband’s best friend’s 18 year old brother comes on to me and I can’t handle it. He sort of has a Mrs Robinson thing for me and even just him flirting with me makes me horny enough to rip my clothes off. Sooner or later, my husband’s going to pick up on the fact we have incredible sex after this kid has been at our house.

If there’s one thing I learned from the third confession (and, incidentally, my own cabal of amazingly sexy friends. Hi, sexy friends!), it’s that getting turned on by your friends is a grand idea, and it can enhance your sex life. Friends’ brothers might count too, I don’t really know. But, your mileage may vary greatly, I suppose.

I’ll close with ponies.

I want this outfit almost as much as I want your deepest, darkest secrets.

(image source)

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I often forget I’m an extravert. Most of the time I don’t really feel like one. I’m normally not very shy, but I can be reserved at times, and I do eventually stop talking once I run out of things I can convince myself are at least the tiniest bit interesting to other people.

But my Myers-Briggs type starts with an E¹, for whatever that’s worth, and I’ve noticed that being social with people I like does indeed energize me more than time alone. In fact, quite often the former can feel like a euphoric drug. Which I suppose makes me some kind of junkie… besides the orgasm kind, which we already knew about.

But, strangely enough, the E doesn’t actually stand for “Everyone love me NOW!” Orientation isn’t skill, and as it turns out, a vowel doesn’t magically make me the life of the party.

For an instance, the people I already knew who attended last week’s poly munch with me all came back with at least one or two new Fetlife friends. In my case, not so much. I’m pretty sure this means I’m doing munches wrong, or at least that E is most definitely not for “makes friends Easily”. Which again, like my continuing addiction to orgasms, we (or at least I) already knew.

But even though I had moments of feeling like I had nothing to say and no one to say it to, the people were awesome and geeky and I’ve probably seen at least half of them wandering around local Sci Fi cons over the years. We’re not friends yet, obviously, but I could see it happening. Eventually.

So that’s cool.

Going back to vowels, Laramy’s a classic I, and wasn’t in the mood to meet a score of new people, no matter how enticingly geeky they might have been. But I think he might enjoy it another time.

A digression: To overgeneralize blatantly, I can imagine downsides and upsides to every introversion/extraversion configuration: Two Es never getting lonely, but also never shutting up, or two Is becoming blissfully happy shut-ins. An I and an E probably balance each other out fairly well, but it’s important to make sure the I’s needs for time alone are respected because it’s easy for Es to overbook their partners in the process of wanting to share the fun, and the Is can get burned out very quickly that way. When really Es can be social with other people while the Is recharge. So it needs to be I before E. Except after C, which is children. Once you have children you don’t get to be alone anymore, ever. Sorry.

(digression ends)

After mentioning jealousy in my last post, I realized that I didn’t make it clear that jealousy is not something I’m particularly struggling with right now. Rather, it’s just an example of a thing I wish I had someone to talk to about. Currently, there are a lot of things like that: my curiosity about kink, navigating my first open relationship, even just figuring out how to make sure my emotional needs get met.

I’m allowed to talk to Laramy about these things, but it’s difficult for me to make the conversations productive because he and I relate to these issues so differently (and in the case of kink, Laramy is more or less just not interested). I don’t know if it’s our vowels or if it’s other letters, or if it’s just that I have a really difficult time describing my wants and needs, but things don’t seem to go well when we try to have these talks. It seems like it’s better to have myself sorted out before I broach these subjects with him, otherwise I just end up making him think he’s doing something wrong.

But sometimes I want emotional support while I process things and explore all aspects of how I feel about them. I want to feel like it’s safe to explore new things. I don’t want to worry about things getting a little messy. It’s no one’s fault, unless perhaps it’s my own, but I don’t feel like I have that. Lately I’m feeling overwhelmed and lonely and frustrated.

Obviously I don’t expect anyone to step in and fix these issues for me. It would just be nice to have someone to talk to, at some point, who could relate to what I’m feeling, not think I’m ungrateful or talking shit about my boyfriend, not blame him, not blame our non-monogamy, and maybe give me some advice. Or, like, a hug. Most of all I want someone to tell me it’s okay– normal, even– to feel things and want things and need things. Right now I want so much. I feel ravenous with it, and it’s beginning to consume me.

Oh, god! I hope it doesn’t start on my ass…

(image source)

1. More precisely, I’m supposedly an ENTP, for those who are curious [↩]

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I think I’ll go to my second munch tonight. This one isn’t for kinksters so much as poly people, although the fact that I found this group on Fetlife coupled with the well-known high degree of crossover between these two groups (I mean, they’re practically Doctor Who and Torchwood) suggests to me that at least a few of these people do indeed own floggers.

Personally, I don’t identify as polyamorous because normally one relationship is quite complicated enough for me, thank you very much. I suppose I just identify as slutty. But that’s just semantics, especially considering I have next to no interest in fucking people I don’t know reasonably well. I’m sure the poly people won’t stone me because I’m not christening everyone I bone a significant other.

I’m reasonably sure.

I’d like to know more successfully non-monogamous people. I’m in a relationship with someone who doesn’t feel or understand jealousy as a concept whatsoever, so whenever I get a twinge of jealousy and feel threatened I feel like I’ve just sprouted antlers. How do you sit down and calmly discuss your antlers when clearly the whole thing is so preposterous and wrong and silly?

So maybe knowing more people who can say “Oh, yeah, antlers happen sometimes, dude,” would be a good thing. Besides, maybe there will be some awesome people there.

I mean, there obviously will because I’m bringing a couple with me, just in case, but maybe there will be more!

Sluts are greedy, you know.

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I don’t know how widely known this is in general, but it’s worth noting that people sexually attracted to more than one gender (let’s call them bisexuals for brevity) get dumped on a little bit. Not enough for me to call myself oppressed or anything, but it’s there.

A bisexual actually may run into a fair amount of derision from both the straight and gay camps, mostly because they’re not doing a good enough job fitting in and fucking all the same people the respective camps enjoy fucking. Which is weird when you think about it because if everyone wanted to fuck the exact same people we’d better all pray to get zapped with the poly spirit soon or life becomes Thunderdome.

Before we go any further I want to acknowledge the reasons it’s easy to be a swinger of many ways, mostly because no one likes a pussy-eating, penis-devouring pessimist¹ and I would cry and get laid much less often if no one liked me. So hopefully the next paragraph down will demonstrate that I know it isn’t too terribly hard to be bisexual. There may also be a mild gloating element involved; we’ll have to see how it plays out.

First off, I probably have more options for getting laid than I would if I were straight or gay. There are definitely people who will refuse to fuck someone strictly on the grounds that they’re bisexual, but I haven’t run into that problem personally. So the fact remains that I can have sex with guys who like chicks and chicks who like chicks. Secondly, my sexual preferences and enthusiasm for threesomes theoretically make me some people’s dream girl: A Magical Sex Unicorn™. The power inherent in being a nigh-mythical sex object is unsubtle, perhaps, but don’t knock it. Other perks include the flexibility to blend invisibly into a heterosexual dominant society if I choose, simply by dating men, and generally having a much comfier closet than the gay one.

But it’s not all group sex and seamless deception. No, not by half.

One of the major problems you’ll run into when you’re bisexual is that no one takes that shit seriously. You can tell someone you’re bisexual, thinking you’re disclosing something very precious and personal, and far too often the response will be “Is that really even a thing?” or “Remember when you started that culinary arts program? And when you bought that dobro? Just wake me when your latest phase is over, okay?” or “Bi now gay later. Just saying.” You may also be accused–and this is much more likely if you’re a woman– of doing it all for the attention. Someone even coined the term myspace bisexual at some point, presumably when myspace was a thing. Because why explore your sexuality if there’s not a camera around? And boys? And boys with cameras?

The disbelief thing strikes me as odd. If I say I’m attracted to something, how does it make sense to tell me I’m mistaken or too young to realize I actually only like one half of that something? Is this just a ploy to get me to eat pussy in front of you because Magical Sex Unicorn™? The chances that will work get lower every time I fall for it, so at this point it’s not looking good.

Another problem bisexuals run into is the idea that it’s fine to be attracted to everyone, but it’s understood that ultimately you have to choose when you land in your obviously-going-to-be-monogamous soulmate relationship. Bisexuals actually repeat this a lot when they insist that bisexual doesn’t mean you want one of each, but that you can be in a committed, loving relationship regardless of gender. This describes some bisexuals perfectly. But not all of us. See, call me a bad bisexual, but I would miss penis. I would miss pussy. Personally, I can be monogamous, but I’m not sure that’s optimal for me. What if I kind of do want one of each?

Is my question.

And something weird: When you’re bisexual, well, you sometimes have this aforementioned ability to blend invisibly into a heterosexual dominant society, whether you choose to or not. And maybe you want to feel like you belong in gay spaces. Maybe you don’t want to be read as straight all the time.

Or the opposite can happen. Either way, people don’t tend to assume that you’re bi, despite what Kinsey may have told us all.

(image source)

1. …which I find oppressive, but we’ll get to that. [↩]

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ConTuesday is upon us! What secrets will be revealed?

I’m still kind of jealous that my partner slept with someone else a couple of nights ago, even though I’ve just come home from sleeping over at my other sweetheart’s house. It’s hard to give other people the freedom you want for yourself. At least, it is for me.

I think far more people feel this way than would ever admit it. And I think the perfectly reasonable reason is often this: Say you and I are in an open relationship. I know how I feel about you. I know that nothing I have with my other lover would ever endanger what I have with you. I know that I’d be a idiotic beyond comprehension to jeopardize what I have with you. I know that.

But what you know? That’s something of a mystery. This is my theory, anyway.

Last week, I beat my submissive boyfriend more severely than I ever had before. He got so heavy into subspace that he had an intense orgasm without either of us ever touching his penis. Then we went and saw Harry Potter.
I just wanted to share that with someone.

An orgasm with no touching? You’re a wizard, Harry!

I love happy confessions like this. Doubly so when they’re kinky and maybe a little geeky.

Alright, I’ve got this fantasy. I’d love to anonymously fuck just some random girl. Either there should be absolutely no exchange of personal information or kind of an understood mutual lying about names and whatever. From there, just raw animal fucking with the understanding that we’ll never see each other again. This is one of those fantasies that will stay just a fantasy, but I don’t care. It makes me horny.

Rumor has it the 1970s were exactly this for ten years straight, except everyone was on roller skates.

I wish it could be with you.

I think we all wish that, my friend.

I mean… Wait. What?

I’m tired of feeling like I have to talk my boyfriend into having sex with me. He only ever wants to when HE wants to and it’s so frustrating to have him always decide when.

Ah, fuck-crossed lovers. These stories seem to end in tragedy far too often. I hope this one works out. I really, really do.

Come to think of it, there are so many fuck-crossed lovers that send in confessions I have half a mind to start a libido-mismatched partner exchange program.

If you have a secret, or are interested in our fictional sex-drive-matching services, go here and tell all!

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Wishes are sometimes confessions. Often, really. For instance, the main reasons I want bigger boobs are so I’ll (a) look better naked and (b) be able to get more attention when I want it. This is not something I’m comfortable going around saying to people, so I just say I want bigger boobs to even out my generous butt. That reason is valid, but it is not entirely truthful.

These ConTuesday confessions are pretty much all less frivolous than that.

9 months after the break up of our short romance, I still sometimes have dreams that he takes me back and everything is right with the world again.

But then you wake up and realize your life is awesome and you’re awesome and anyone willing to let you go is someone you’re better without? I’m hoping.

I think there is something seriously wrong with me!!!! I have only orgasimed with a man once. I can masterbate and hit it on the spot just like that, but you let a man come into the picture and it ain’t happening. Oh sure the sex is great but no orgasim. I have changed positions, added toys, and even told the guys how to do it. I don’t know what else to do, so I enjoy the sex, I come home, masturbate, and have the most intense orgasims. What is wrong with me???

Nothing is wrong with you. This is a very common situation, as I understand it. Maybe it’s the mental distraction of having someone else there. Perhaps the pressure of feeling like you need to have an orgasm to satisfy your partner’s expectations is bogging you down. Perchance it’s the fact that even if you tell someone just what to do with a toy, their technique won’t be exactly the same as yours. Have you tried just masturbating in front of a partner? If you haven’t, that might be a good start. If you’ve tried that and it hasn’t worked out the way you want, maychance try masturbating while having phone sex with your partner as an introduction to sharing your orgasms with him.

Keep in mind that you’re capable of giving yourself orgasms, so that’s great in and of itself, seeing as you’re a person interested in having them.

I want a hysterectomy more than anything. There is no medical reason to get one. I hate my uterus though – it is an organ with entirely oppositional goals to mine, and I do not identify as female and having it makes me feel alienated from my body. But I am terrified of losing my uterine orgasms – this must the joke of the cruelest gods, to make one organ both responsible for my greatest joy and greatest fear.

You didn’t ask for advice, and I am in no way qualified to give you any, but I want to say I cannot imagine how difficult this dilemma must be, and I’m sorry you’re facing it.

I want my lover to be poly-compatible more than I want just about anything else. I love her deeply and she’s practically perfect, but so matter how happy we are together, no, she’s NOT enough. It isn’t that anything is wrong with her, it’s the fact that she’s just one person. I can never make her understand that if she can’t understand open relationships. It’s hopeless. I can either lose the love of my life or stay with her unfulfilled. How does one choose?

Monogamy vs. polyamory is a relationship/sexual orientation (and yes, there are people who swing both ways as well). More and more I’m convinced that it has more to do with how one is wired than what one is able to understand, or how evolved one is, or how badly one wants to be the other orientation. If your orientation is definitely poly and hers is definitely mono (and demanding of monogamy, because some people stay monogamous and very happily let their partners practice polyamory, and that’s one solution), it seems to me that neither of you has a great deal of choice in the matter.

That being said, maybe buying her a book wouldn’t hurt. No pressure, mind, just a free book and the polite request that she do you a favor by reading it and discussing it with you.

Good luck!

Want to confess something? Preferably something related to sex, relationships, or how you have a giant crush on me? Please go here and spill it!

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Today’s ConTuesday theme is updates. One cool thing about ConTuesday is that a lot of confessors are also readers who stick around, and comment, and update. It’s like serialized sex secrets!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have some faith in yourself. In her.

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

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

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

But at least it didn’t hurt!

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

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

So glad it has worked out for you so far!

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

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

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

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This is a public service announcement: Bisexuals exist. Sometimes I get sick of people pulling the “phase” card, telling us to make up our minds, or assuming that once we start fucking people of one sex that means we’ve sworn off people of another. There is even a TV Trope about this (warning: TV Trope link goes to TV Tropes, so prepare to lose your day if you click).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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