quizzical pussy

It is a fact both fundamental and under-appreciated: men’s bodies are sexy. The male body is a beautiful, astounding thing, and keeping it healthy is fucking important.

So, because most men (as well as some women) happen to have prostates, before September ends I want to mention that it’s prostate cancer awareness month. Check out Ambulance Driver’s blog to learn about Kilted to Kick Cancer. He’s been promoting it all month by wearing a kilt around town, spotlighting other bloggers doing the same, and raising money for cancer research.

So check that out. And enjoy today’s ConTuesday devoted to penises, prostates, and health!

Did I mention that kilts are sexy too? That’s not even a confession. It’s a fact.

On to the confessions:

Not too far out I guess, but for ME it was…

Told my GF she could fuck me in the ass with a strap-on if she could find one with a small enough dick (had part of my rectum removed due to cancer and just can’t fit much up there). Let her (actually, begged her…) to finger me deep in the ass while she blew me. It was pretty good.

There are smaller dildos specifically for anal play that you can use with strap-on harnesses. For instance, the small version of this Silk dildo is 4 1/2 inches long. Might that work?

I’m a guy of average size (or at least what the internet calls average), and it has never really mattered to me.

R recently bought a realistic dildo (it squirts!) over the internet, and was quite startled by what came in the mail. The thing is -huge-.

Queue a bondage session with my blindfolded girlfriend, who has previously expressed reservations about my size, and was horrified by this thing. I got it out, and after working up to it, inserted – and within short order she had arrived at what was visibly the best orgasm of her life.

Size had always been a nonissue for me, but I do now have a deep desire to be able to do that to her without outside help; I am now insecure where I wasn’t before.

Some kinds of orgasms require props, much like some sports need specific equipment. She’s never going to give you a prostate orgasm with just her pussy, for instance, unless she has a genuinely singular anatomy.

The thing is, you gave her the best orgasm of her life while using an inanimate object. Now go tell Lance Armstrong he’s a loser because his bike’s doing all the work.

I could be happy with my sex life even if I never penetrated my wife again, as long as she still used the strap-on on me. There is nothing like a prostate orgasm. If you’re too uncomfortable with your sexuality to try it, I pity you.

Prostate orgasms are reportedly so awesome that I can really only curse my horrible luck being born a woman and try to content myself with the six or seven types of orgasms I actually get to have.

Also, I sincerely hope your wife is as into strap-on play as you are if you ever seriously consider making that your only sexual staple.

Last Friday I fucked this girl I’ve been scheming on. It wasn’t very good and afterwards I wished I hadn’t. She had a thin-lipped pussy, which I thoroughly licked (licked, not LIKED, as I like pussies with big fat flappy lips). She required that I wear a condom and then didn’t even blow me afterwards. She hadn’t fucked in 3 yrs, so now of course she is all in love and shit, even though prior to fucking she just said all she wanted was a hard cock, not a boyfriend.

In point of fact, this girl is smart to insist on a condom. Your sexual health benefits from it as does hers. But you probably already know that.

Good luck finding lusher lips, my friend.

I was just diagnosed with cancer and for the first time it truly depresses me that I may die a virgin… and soon. The closest I ever came was sending a woman(?) I “met” online a photo of my dick, and she said it was “a perfect cock”. I printed out that chat transcript and kept it folded up in my wallet for months.

I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this illness. I sincerely wish you a speedy and decisive recovery, and plenty of fucking in the immediate and distant future for you and your perfect cock!

Do you have a confession?

(image source)

Laramy and I were lounging with Viola on her bed, and somehow the conversation came around to blowjobs. Already your shock is palpable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ConTuesday has arrived! Prepare yourself to read some confessions because they’re coming at you in 3…2…1…

My darkest fantasy: My girlfriend dumps me for another guy, or I walk in on her having sex with another guy (or really any other variant on that theme)

Then through some twist of circumstances, I am at her mercy, and she forces me to give him oral sex or clean up after he finishes on her after making me watch (or really any other variant on that theme)

I have never really felt betrayed, and I wonder whether I fantasize that way because it’s such a reversal of the way my life actually goes, or whether I’ve never felt betrayed in my life because it couldn’t possibly live up to my wildest expectations of betrayal.

This kind of cuckold fantasy is pretty common. I tend to think the human mind and human sexuality are too complex to necessarily be able to explain the things that turn us on, but when has that ever stopped anyone? And seriously, why should it?

I just engaged in a solo session out of literally nowhere in which I suddenly discovered that vaginal walls are really sensitive if you press them from the outside kinda through the outer labia, damn near fisted myself somehow, and finished by jacking off with a Nexus and imagining it was my own dick.It was so awesome I have to tell someone. I am bursting with weird excitement, here. But my girlfriend’s at work and nobody else I know wants to hear about that. So I’m just telling EVERYONE indiscriminately through the power of ConTuesday.(I kinda needed it too…as-yet undiagnosed chronic pain conditions and holidays and periods and back spasms really don’t mix. But damn, if I don’t feel fucking amazing for just right now.)

Indiscriminate relation of mindblowing fapping sessions: one of the many purposes gladly, giddily served by ConTuesday.

I hope your health issues are better now, or at least diagnosed and getting treatment.

Also, I’m trying that pressure-through-the-labia thing, so help me.

When I masturbate I pretty much always swallow my own semen. Sometimes the whole lot, sometimes just a little. I equate it with biting my nails…

This totally reminds me of something that should probably be a confession itself because it’s sort of weird and I don’t want everyone to judge me. But whatever.

I once (years ago) formulated a plan to induce lactation on myself and see how long I could just live off my own breastmilk. I probably would’ve tried to go through with it, too, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d have had to wake myself up in the middle of the night to pump in order to get the milk flowing, if it even worked at all. I must’ve been so super bored back then.

This has next to nothing to do with the semen eating thing, which strikes me as a much nicer habit than nail-biting, really.

There’s a woman I really like. She has an amazing heart. And she’s the best kisser I’ve ever kissed. But she also has saggy folds of flesh that I’ve never encountered in a date before. Not fatter than I’ve seen, but droopier. And it bothers me. I can sort of see past it, but looking at her doesn’t have the effect on me that either of us would prefer.

There’s another woman I’m dating. She has a great body. In my heart it seems like she’s much too pretty to be interested in me. Objectively, I can tell that’s not true, I’m a handsome man and she’s not the prettiest woman to have hit on me by a long way. But I’m so insecure that deep down I can’t accept her interest at face value, and I have trouble getting close to her.

BTW, both girlfriends know that there are other women but not anything about them

I guarantee you that there are people out there who will be attracted to Woman #1′s body just as it is, as well as her heart, all while appreciating her amazing kissing prowess. Offhand I’d say she probably deserves exactly that. I think everyone deserves someone who’s genuinely attracted to them rather than someone who’s just overlooking their appearance. Maybe that’s naive. I also don’t care.

The thing that strikes me most about this confession, however, is that I have no idea if Woman #2 has a damn thing to offer besides a hot body. I think everyone deserves someone who’s genuinely attracted to them rather than someone who’s just interested in their conventionally hot appearance.

Hopefully you’re one of the good someones for one (or both, if you’re poly) of them. If not, don’t beat yourself up. You don’t owe anyone your attraction. In that case, I hope you move on and find the right person/s for you.

Have a sexy confession? Submit to me!

Have you ever been in a relationship that just sort of works? Great sex, minimal drama, chemistry on multiple levels, all with a person you like. Sometimes the plan just comes together. And I love that.

List of firsts for my Much Younger Lover
- having sex on a regular basis
- oral sex, giving or receiving
- giving a girl an orgasm
- showering with a girl
- having sex in the shower
- tying a girl up
- probably some things he didn’t tell me were firsts!

List of firsts for me with my Much Younger Lover
- orgasm so good all I could do was quiver and giggle for several minutes afterwards
- playing the older, knowledgeable teacher role
- enjoying sucking a guy off
- being tied up
- first time in a long time, feeling sexy and desired for who I am

This is awesome. I think most good relationships probably have a couple happy firsts like this, sexual or otherwise.

I’m graduating in a few weeks (Mid-May) and having a really hard time focusing for the final stretch, so my dominant partner made some rules: No orgasms if I haven’t met my homework goals for the day and no RPGs until I hand in my last assignment. It is the nerdiest use of his power to command me but makes me feel super loved – and also super productive.

I bet you killed it! Because orgasms are the best incentive.

I got my first vibrator, the lelo Siri and loved it.My boyfriend wholeheartedly loves it as well.Sadly we are currently in a long distance relationship and have been for about a year and 4 months. Needless to say, lots and lots of webcam sexing occurs. As time goes on, I find myself needing a more uh, ’filling’ playtime so I started looking into vibrators. The jack rabbit seemed perfect, but the batteries, and the rotational pearl things dying, oy vey.

So i’m getting a feeldoe stout. And the boyfriend is more excited than I am about it after he had a bit of time to let the thought settle. Many a fun webcam session shall be had with our new feeldoe. And many a fun session will be had when we’re alone for the first time as well.

Also Quizzikins, I have the same fascination with penises too. Your blog about your feeldoe kind of sealed the deal for me. xD

Do you just love your new feeldoe? I bet you love it. My relationship with my feedoe? Just sort of works.

I’ve been okay (not great) with past partners.

My current girlfriend, however, states in no uncertain terms I’m the best she’s ever had. I have managed to give her nine (possibly as many as twelve, we both lost count) orgasms in a single run, which seems good, and I rarely give her fewer than three. But I don’t feel particularly skilled, I’m not particularly large, and I don’t use any advanced techniques (and wouldn’t know what an advanced technique would even look like; rotating my hips counterclockwise and thrusting every quarter rotation?); the significant thing seems to be that the curve of my penis positions me to hit her g-spot perfectly.

I do one thing consistently, however, which is to start sex off with oral (getting her close but not finishing her, as that leaves her too sensitive to continue). This gets both of us quite ready and primes her for the first – subsequent orgasms are much easier for her to achieve. This shifts the ”usual” numbers from 1-4 orgasms to 3-7.

I can say that starting with oral has a similar effect on a lot of women, often myself included. Of course, the one sex tip that pretty much always works is asking your partner what they’re into and experimenting together.

My girlfriend tells me that she and her friends occasionally compare sex lives on the odd girl’s night out. I’m probably way too proud of the fact that she always has the best sex life at the table!

It depends who her friends are. If she’s going out with me on girls’ night, be proud. Trust me, be very proud.

Go out, have awesome sexual adventures, and then tell me about them, okay?

As I was arranging this ConTuesday, Laramy asked me if there was a theme this week.

“No,” I answered, remembering that I hadn’t chosen the emails based around any particular subject or flavor. Upon skimming through them again, though, I had to say “Wait… yes! There is a theme!”

“Is it winning?” he asked, “like Charlie Sheen?”

“Yes. Yes it is,” I said. And it was pretty much exactly true. Today’s confessions are about winning.

This is the girl who made a new year’s resolution to have sex at least once a month, reporting back. The bad news – between significant illness and other crap, it’s early March and sex still hasn’t happened this year. The good news – I’m finally WANTING sex occasionally again, and we’ve been intimate in ways that didn’t lead to sex. I think I’m going to look on the bright side and call this progress.

I love updates! This one is from the fourth confessor from this post.

I think that it’s major progress. I definitely understand how hard it is to feel sexy and be sexual when there are health issues (and this can be true whether those issues are yours or your partner’s), so yes! Look on the bright side. Resolutions are made to be approximated anyway.

There is a man who I’ve had sex with. He’s probably the most sexually compatible person I’ve ever been with thus far. I would never EVER date him, our lifestyles and life goals would not allow a relationship to work. So we are just fuck buddies. We are both fine with this.

I’ve fucked two of this best friends and he’s fucked multiple of my close friends. We both give good references for each other so we can get laid.

It is the most stable and sane ”thing” I’ve ever been in.

I think this sounds a lot healthier than most of the relationships I’ve had and a large proportion of the ones I’ve seen. There’s a very specific term for what’s happening between people in a physical relationship when they try to get each other laid. That term is Unconditional Fucking Love.

My wife doesn’t favor doggy style, but she knows that I love it and if she wants me to orgasm fast, that is the way to do it. Sometimes I have trouble getting the right angle while inserting but last night I slid in on the first try. She was impressed. I told her that ”I’d say that I’ve been practicing, but that wouldn’t be right”. We both had a laugh out of it. She normally doesn’t like jokes while we’re having sex (I understand), but it was awesome to have a moment of intimacy joined with impromptu humor. I love her.

This is adorable. I love those moments when a couple gets to push the boundaries of their sex life while being completely comfortable and sweet. They can be rare, but they are amazing.

You know you have a major Dirty Harry fan for a boyfriend when you’re blowing him and he’s looking over to the movie for the best lines.

You know you gave a fantastic blowjob when you tease him about it afterwords and he says ”Wait, the movie was still on?”

You kind of had a standoff with Dirty Harry. And you won. That is truly winning, isn’t it?

Got something to share but need to keep a low profile? ConTuesday’s got this.

ConTuesday is a sort of gentleman’s agreement. I, being a gentleman, have agreed to post your secrets anonymously. You, being a gentleman, have agreed to make them interesting. Let’s see how we did this week, shall we, old chap?

I live in the dorms at my school, and the walls are paper-thin, and the girl next door has lots and lots of noisy sex with her boyfriend. I love listening to them. (I don’t feel nearly as guilty or gross about that as I think I should.)

I feel like there are unspoken agreements about noisy sex. One of these is that you have no right to have it if you object to innocent bystanders enjoying what they hear.

The beating quotient in my life has been low lately, and every time I get a really good, strong massage it feels so good on the pain/pleasure spectrum that I feel dishonest in my massage-getting intentions (even thought I’ve gotten them for years to combat bad posture and regular heavy lifting). How do I not feel like a sketchy skeevy liar?

Okay, I’m not a Licensed Massage Therapist, but perhaps one of my readers will give an LMT’s perspective on this.

Honestly, though? Getting pleasure out of a massage is very often the entire point of the venture. And even for sexual feelings, LMTs know that arousal happens. Sometimes it’s just an involuntary, purely physical response, but it still feels good. Your job is to keep that in perspective and not expect, suggest, or hint at any “extra” services. But if you’re getting a massage for physical pleasure and being respectful, I don’t really see a problem.

Again, people who do massage for a living (or don’t but have an opinion on the matter) are extremely welcome to comment.

My boyfriend (who is amazing, makes me come my brains out every time we have sex and has come close to making me pass out a couple of times) sometimes decides that I need to get off, but he’s fine, so he’ll get me off, and then cuddle up and go to sleep.

This weekend, it was the other way around, and I gave him a blowjob and then cuddled up. The conversation after that almost made me wet myself laughing.

”Are you REALLY going to sleep?”

”Yeah, I told you, tonight was about you.”

”But…. you didn’t come.”

”I’m fine, honest.”

”But…”

”Hush, go to sleep.”

”Fine. Meanie.”

”Wait a second, let me get this straight. I’m mean because I gave you a blowjob, and let you go to sleep.”

”Yes.”

”Just so we’re clear, here. I’m mean…. because I gave you a blowjob….. and let you go to sleep.”

”Oh shut up.”

I can’t even respond to this. I’m just absolutely appalled at how incredibly mean you are. I just don’t even… wow. Meanie.

She’s a friend of a friend. She got my number, and started sending me hot texts. I was fairly neutral with her, because I’m in a completely monogamous relationship.

Finally, one night, I spoke to her. The phone sex spontaneously erupted, steamy, explicit, and imaginitive. She is VERY good at it, and I found myself uttering things into the phone that I’ve never said to any woman, even while having real sex.

She put the phone to her pussy to let me hear her fapping as she moaned in the background, and that took me over. She groaned my name she came.

Have I cheated? I will never physically touch her. But the phone sex has been incredible. Is it just making excuses to note that I’ve begged my real life partner for more sex, and she doesn’t mind in the least if I masturbate while looking at pron?

I feel like there are spoken agreements that couples should probably have. One of those is deciding what cheating means to them. See, for some people having intercourse with other people isn’t cheating; for others, looking at porn is. Coming to your spoken agreement means, like, speaking to each other about it, though.

That being said, even if you’re not technically cheating due to the loophole of not having clearly defined cheating with your monogamous partner, what you’re doing is pretty damn cheaty. The real question, I think, is whether or not you’re okay with that.

Now, kind reader, please tell me all your lascivious secrets. I’d appreciate it!

My sexual stomach is tolerably strong. There’s a lot I want to try, and there’s even more I’m willing to try. And even if it’s not my kink, I try to be accepting. You like to make your partner bleed? If your partner likes to bleed, that’s beautiful, my friend. Want to have sex with your sibling? If you’re both over the age of consent and into it, I’m certainly not going to try to stop you. If you’re into the whole scat thing I really don’t want to know about it, but I wish you joy. From way over here at the other end of the internet, I wish you joy. And I know I’ve made it clear that I’ve had severe aesthetic issues with anthropomorphizing animals, but I’m even working on my furry acceptance. I hugged a high school mascot last week and only had to take one panicked shower afterward.

I believe I’m within limping distance of sex positivity, inching slowly from “I’m scared to put a penis in my mouth” ten years ago toward the Platonic ideal of open, loving acceptance of all safe, sane, and consensual human pleasure.

But for some reason kissing grosses me out.

It’s everywhere: people gently brushing lips, tongues crawling into one another’s mouths like great, glutted worms. It’s disgusting to look at. I know they’re having fun, and it’s just about the most socially acceptable form of romantic/sexual interaction. Still, my entire body revolts just seeing it.

Try finding a movie where they show tits but skip that moment of body horror. It simply doesn’t exist. Every sex scene has a nauseous distraction. To me, PDA at the mall is more obscene than porn. Clearly I missed my calling as an old-school, by-the-rules prostitute. Well, by one of the rules, anyway: No kissing, lots of coming.

The human mouth is a cesspool. Simple fact. We all know this, right? Is it unreasonable to not want to cross-pollinate my filth with yours, no matter how fond of you I might be?

I’ll put my mouth lots of places. Oral sex is fine (it’s amazing how much cleaner genitals are than pie holes), as is mutual kissing from the neck down. Maybe even the cheek if I really, really trust you. But mouth-to-mouth? Save it for when you have to resuscitate me, and then hand me a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

As you might imagine, this quirk isn’t an easy sell for most people. I realize that kissing doesn’t squick most people out; quite the opposite. It’s a lot to ask, wanting someone to forgo their primary avenue for expressing affection in favor of, what? Hugs? Nuzzles? Conversation hearts?

Still. I just can’t. I can be sex positive, but kissing positive? That just isn’t me.

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Steak and Blowjob Day

Let it be known: I like steak. I like blowjobs. There can be no bad here, right?

Kinda.

The thing that gets me about Steak and Blowjob Day is the connection to Valentine’s day, the suggestion that “Welp, last month you ladies got yours, so pay up!”

This assumes a great deal about Valentine’s Day. Hell, before it even gets that far it assumes that relationships are heterosexual male/female dyads where the male has a penis. And likes blowjobs. And thinks romance is poppycock.

Valentine’s Day, therefore, is for the ladies. Women like to feel appreciated through expensive gifts, sappy poetry, and portable music players held aloft. Men, on the other hand, like to feel appreciated through sexual favors and red meat.

If people spend Valentine’s Day making small, appreciative gestures and fucking one another’s brains out, or ignoring it entirely, I’m not sure if the system breaks down or what. All I know is that it’s definitely not manly to crave or enjoy romance. A warm mouth and a bloody steak? That’s manly.

(I hope I don’t have to point out here that lots of guys– manly guys– want to feel romanced from time to time, lots of women prefer sexual attention, and the love of a good steak knows no gender.)

See where things get a little creepy? I hope? Of course it’s all in good fun, but it’s also operating on some stereotypes that I wouldn’t mind killing dead. I mean, if you want to have a steak and give and/or receive a blowjob today, that’s awesome, but don’t fall prey to the idea that it’s any sort of payment for romantic services rendered, or that all women prefer candy and a bear dressed up like a gynecologist to oral sex. Also don’t cook the steak well done. That kinda ruins it.

Pi Day

Is the winner. Full stop.

I can find no logical fallacy contained therein. Pie is delicious, and it goes well with everything with the possible exception of diabetes. Including steak, blowjobs, cunnilingus, and other pie.

Anyway, you know how if you make a special day for something how it can actually end up happening less throughout the year because it’s already been assigned, completed, and taken care of? Kind of like those people who go to church just on Easter?

That’s certainly never going to happen to pie.

Happy Pi Day!

(image source)

In one sense, my memory is positively elephantine. I remember conversations I had when I was four years old: not dramatic, important ones, but mundane, forgettable ones. I remember what cigarettes my best friend smoked Sophomore year of High School, and which ones she switched to when we were Juniors. I remember the descant to a choral piece I learned in fourth grade, and all the words to mc chris’s Fett’s Vette.*

I can basically never find my keys. If they aren’t in one of my two I-will-not-lose-them-if-I-consciously-put-them-here-every-time places, one of which is my coat pocket, there’s a lot of frantic searching punctuated by screams of “DEAR GOD MY KEYS HAVE GONE FERAL!” in my future.

This is how I know that there’s more than one kind of memory, and I suck at at least one of them.

So if I’m packing stuff up for a day or two away from home, I’ll inevitably end up forgetting something. Sometimes it’s totally unimportant, like a DVD I promised to lend a friend who’s been super excited to see it and possibly even planning a party around it, and at other times it’s of vital, national security-level importance, like my moisturizer.

A couple months ago, I was visiting my boyfriend for the weekend, and the thing I forgot was my birth control pills (also my thyroid medication, which is less relevant to the story but is not much better an idea).

There are people in the world who’d just turn their cars around, trek back home, get the necessary medications, and return triumphant. Those are exactly the kind of people who forged this great nation and will eventually launch a manned trip to Mars. I’m more the kind of person that drives for an hour to her boyfriend’s house and then majestically proclaims, “I am feeling rather tired. Do you mind if I lie down?”

Once I’d realized my mess up I did feel like a tool, though. Laramy has mentioned several times how nice it is that we’ve gone condom-free with each other, and I didn’t love the idea of him having to use them just based on my defective brain’s fuck-up. That’s when I remembered those little magical sponges.

Several years ago, an ex and I had a ton of condoms break. They probably broke almost half the time; I still can’t quite figure out why. After trying several kinds, we just gave up and started looking for other options. Enter the sponge, a little foam disk filled with spermicide. You added water to get it frothy, shoved it up against your cervix, and could fuck all day!

I decided if I picked up some sponges at the pharmacy the forgotten pills would barely be missed! When Laramy and I went out on errands I asked him if we could swing by Walgreen’s. “Are you sure? We can just use condoms…” Laramy offered. “No,” I insisted, “We should get the sponges.” Condoms are great, but it’s hard to deny the fact that they kill some sensitivity. I was determined that Laramy wouldn’t be punished for my forgetfulness.

We found the sponges on the bottom shelf, below the rubbers. “They want fifteen dollars for three of them? That’s insane!” Laramy opined. I’d remembered what sponges cost, but I forgot to realize that he wouldn’t love the idea of me “wasting” my money just to keep him out of latex. Just then, a box of Encare spermicidal eggs right next to the sponges caught my eye, on sale for about half that much. My ex and I had used those too, and they’d worked just as well, although they were less convenient because you had to use a new one every time and wait a few minutes after insertion before fucking could commence. “I’ll just buy these, okay? Eight bucks. No condoms. Awesome!” and waltzed to the front of the store to pay for them. I had saved the day! Albeit from my stupid memory. Still, I was a hero. Maybe I’d get America to Mars after all!

Later, as we were making dinner, I felt a hard cock press against my ass and a pair of hands on my tits. Moments later Laramy was inside me and I was halfway to coming. Mercy, do I love spontaneous sex.

It wasn’t until he declared “I’m gonna come” that it occurred to me that we’d planned to use backup protection and we kinda, well, hadn’t. “Wait! Wait! Come in my mouth!” I suggested enthusiastically. He enthusiastically complied. Later I learned that guys find this sort of thing hot anyway, in addition to being a practical, last-second measure. Score.

Upstairs, the Encare eggs sat unused in their little, slightly squished box, biding their time…

The next day it was sex o’clock again. We were thinking ahead a little better at this point. “Do you want me to put a condom on?” offered Laramy. “No,” I said, “I can just put in one of those insert thingies, if you don’t mind waiting ten minutes.” He did not. We found other things to do than intercourse for a bit, and then I looked at the clock and it was ten after sex! Oh yay!

He started fucking me. Then he started fucking me harder. Then a look of what I thought might be profound concentration came over his face. “Maybe my vagina just feels too amazing to contemplate, but he’s trying anyway,” I told myself, “Yes. That must be it. How ambitious!” Then he slowed down, paused. “This is really hurting!” he confessed.

Oh my God. My vagina feels too ouchy to contemplate!? An alternative interpretation that hadn’t yet occurred to me.

“Shit! Then stop!” I suggested. He pulled out and ran to the bathroom to wash his dick.

“It must be the spermicide in that stuff! I’m allergic to it or something!”** He called as I followed him. He was sitting in the bathtub,. scrubbing with soap. Truth be told, his cock wasn’t looking a comfortable shade of red. This is when I started apologizing, I think. I felt like a total douche. I’d insisted on the Encare thinking I was being helpful, when all along he hadn’t been quite sure about the plan and was too polite to say anything.***

Sometimes I honestly do not know how he puts up with me. But this is how incredible my boyfriend is: he wanted to keep going! “I’ll just slip on a condom,” he explained. That way he’d avoid the allergens in my pussy. After everything we’d been through to avoid them, the condoms were coming out anyway. Ah, well!

I can honestly say it was good for me. For Laramy, less so. “Condoms really aren’t that bad,” I concluded after my ninth orgasm.

“…I think some of that spermicide must’ve gotten lodged in my urethra…” he replied. Oh, so not that good for him after all. Oh.

“WHY DID YOU KEEP GOING?” I asked, appalled.

“A champion fucks through the pain.”  Indeed.

Laramy says that the events of that weekend had nothing to do with his decision to finally schedule that vasectomy he’d been wanting for years. It’s likely just coincidence that a few weeks later he made the appointment at last.

(image source)

* Not to say that I can perform them all with the correct rhythm in the original tempo…
** Turns out lots of people are. Oops.
*** Never be polite to the detriment of your cocks, lads.

So, today is International Women’s Day. It’s also Fat Tuesday. You know what that means, right?

Everybody eat pussy!

…As long as that doesn’t mean that we can’t again until Easter, of course.