quizzical pussy

I am increasingly convinced that I will never fully comprehend all the intricacies of and possibilities deriving from my sexuality. But if I ever do, there will still be yours to confound me.

So one of my favorite things to do is write erotic fiction. Today (Sunday) I spent almost the entire day holed up in my hotel room, alone, working on a new project… and I’ve lost count of how many times I had to stop and masturbate when my imagination got the better of me. At least 4 or 5. I may not be able to walk tomorrow.

But you know what would be better than a day of whacking off in a hotel room? Getting laid for real. I need a boyfriend.

I think what we need here is a meet cute involving you, a dreamy chap in lovely your area, a horrible mix-up where he accidentally picks up your laptop in the hotel bar, thinking it was his, and reads fantasies there that he swears he could have written himself (even though he certainly doesn’t have your turn of phrase), and oh, probably mad blushing on your part.

Your romance cannot be consummated until your soreness from all that fapping eases up a little. But when it is…

I recently read a post of yours about squirting and it involved doing Kegels if ejaculation doesn’t come easy. So I looked up a how-to for Kegels and found out that they’re actually really, really easy for me, and that doing the exercise gives me a bunch mini-orgasms. In fact, clenching those muscles is frequently how I cum during PIV sex, and explains why sometimes I orgasm when I pee. Still no squirting, but I thought it was an interesting discovery!

People who refuse to do kegels really don’t even know what they’re passing on. It could be mini-orgasms, or squirting, or not leaking pee when they’re septuagenarians.

So I suddenly realised that sometimes when I masterbate I fantasize my sexual story in words, possibly more than images – do others do this?

I squirted for the first time, it was a bit surprising and weird but arrived at in a very pleasurable way involving showerhead on clit, dildo and lubey ass fingering.

I texted my boyfriend to tell him this, I know he’s out at the moment and it turns me on to imagine one of his friends picking up his phone to see this…

In a sexual context (and in most other ways I can think of), the answer to “Do others do this?” is always “yes”. It’s the foundational law of nature that makes Rule 34 whir along smoothly.

Also, ::internet high five:: and I love hand showers like the internet loves disturbing people.

In what seems like a never ending quest to have my wife fuck my ass, I found some alone time the other day and was able to finger myself a little as well as slip small butt plug in. Apparently it didn’t quite hit the prostate, but it was quite comfortable. I used a finger vibe to send some vibrations through the plug, which was nice, but not earth shattering. I want to wear it while she rides my cock to see if it can hit my P-spot. Also I’m planning on finding something longer, bigger, more curved to see if something else would tickle my fancy…

Yes, so totally get something longer, bigger, and more curved. I suggest doing so on June 4th, but I’m not picky. I really just want amazing orgasms for everyone.

I’m 28, short, geeky and busty, and I am unabashedly attracted to middle aged geeks who are tall, skinny and shy. I can’t help but think I am actually an answer to somebody’s prayers. My favourite boyfriend is 50, and I honestly don’t think people know what they’re missing by not tapping this excellent niche market. Genuine enthusiasm is PRICELESS.

I like to think I was an answer to the prayers of awesome people, because for some reason I’m very attracted to them.

Okay, I’m probably not, but still.

My boyfriend and I are learning everything together. We’re both really excited to finally be having sex (it took us over four months of growing into our sex lives to get here), but! There’s always a but. (No, not a butt. A but.)

I am amazed by how much it hurts. I get very wet at all the right times, and it did hurt slightly less the second time, but when he’s in, especially going in, it hurts so much that I haven’t been able to really move around or do any serious thrusting (we’ve been doing mostly cowgirl, a bit of missionary.)

Even now, the ache feels great afterward, but I really want it to get better.

I hope it gets better too! Did you guys work up to inserting two or three fingers before the penis made its debut? If so, did that hurt? Did you or would you be willing to try it with toys? Sometimes people have more pelvic tension when penis-in-vagina intercourse is happening.

It may really and truly be worth it to go see a doctor if this doesn’t get better on its own.

I’ve never seen Dr Who. What’s worse, I have no desire to ever see Dr Who. I feel so left out… ::frowny face::

Anonymous person, I feel like I don’t even know you right now.

But don’t worry, Doctor Who is not for everyone. Although, much like short, busty 28-year-olds, geeky middle-aged men usually get well excited about it.

Sex confessions go here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(image source)

1. Unless it’s non-consensual, obviously. [↩]

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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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About ten years ago I read a book by some sex writer of some sort. I don’t remember who it was, and I don’t remember most of the book, but I vividly remember the part of it where the author was sitting on a airplane, have the kind of conversation you have on a plane with the man seated next to her. He asked her what she did for a living, she answered some variation of “I write about sex for a living, and you?” and the guy responded with basically “So do you have a connecting flight you have to make after this or can we go to my hotel room or possibly a public toilet and bone?”

Like saying “I write about sex” is some kind of strange airplane code for “I want to have sex with you”.

It’s interesting that the one thing I remember about this sex writer is not what she wrote about sex, but what she wrote some guy’s assumptions about being a sex writer. It’s also interesting and frankly insulting that no one ever asks me to fuck in public toilets after learning I have a sex blog.

Actually, no, I’m okay with it.

Question: Isn’t it common knowledge that after the end of a relationship, you are supposed to destroy/delete/completely get rid of any and all nude photos you have of your ex?

Maybe it is, but if it is I’m in violation. Viola Sharqtipus took naked pics of my ex Laramy Fuquerton and me last year, and as far as I know he and I both have a complete set of them. I’m not really stressed that he’s going to release them to one of those awful “REVENGE: My ex girlfriend naked!” sites. I personally keep them on my hard drive because they’re beautiful art, and because it’s a fun memory.

I think it’s common knowledge that if an ex requests you jettison nude pics of them, complete compliance is the only decent response. I think it is also common knowledge that any and all nude photos we have of our exes (also of current partners, friends, etc.) are for personal use only, and never to be shared without permission.

The last time my boyfriend was fucking me, it really wasn’t doing anything for me. Then I started imagining what it would be like to be the creamy center of a QP/Laramy sandwich, and I came and came. Yum. I suppose it really IS the thoought that counts!

Since we’re on the subject anyway, I am glad we could help. QP/Laramy sandwiches are a thing of the past, but the legend lives on…

Last weekend, my boyfriend managed to give me three of what were most likely the most intense orgasms of my life. I came so hard I had issues walking. I would try to stand and my legs would shake and shake like I had just run a marathon… it took a couple hours for the shaking to totally subside, but stairs were uncomfortable for quite a while after that.

It was hella impressive.

Sometimes sex is like this thing. Provided that thing is actually a thing that works in any way.

You know how sometimes when you orgasm, you get strange patterns and images floating through your mind/vision?
Yesterday I had an orgasm so intense that for a few seconds when it was over, I was beset (and absolutely convinced) by the notion that I had seven toes on one foot. I had to look closely at and physically feel my toes to check I only had five, and even then I didn’t quite believe myself. Then once the afterglow subsided, so did the… imaginary… toes. Yeah, has that happened to anyone else?!

Sometimes sex is like this too, apparently.

I’m so glad to have somewhere anonymous to boast! My husband is a research engineer, and, ahem, is brilliant at analyzing complex systems. As a squirting enthusiast, that son of a gun has figured out how to make me ejaculate at will. If I’m almost out of clean laundry, he can help me NOT ejaculate by touching me differently. *sigh* I love that kinky bastard.

Also, I just have to add that we’re a middle-aged married couple with grown children, and we look like Santa and Mrs. Claus. Heh.

Santa Claus, you are an evil genius and I love you. And I want a pony, dammit.

Okay – confession hog. I just read back over previous confessions where a woman wrote that she fantasizes about having sex like a man and where you both talk about the idea of having a cock. Sometimes when I’m on top of my boyfriend and the orgasm is being a little recalcitrant I find myself moving as if I have the cock and he has the vagina and I’m pretty sure he can tell what I’m doing and I have to say it gets both of us pretty fucking hot and bothered.

This ConTuesday, I think, no? To me, that’s very much what inverted missionary can feel like. With all the thrusting and stuff. Yum.

Just had my first threesome with my girlfriend and a mutual female friend of ours who was visiting us at college. I was kind of tentative going in, and we must have been the Most Awkward Threesome partners in the history of multi-partner sex (our friend fell off the bed at one point) but we had a COMPLETE FUCKING BLAST! Everyone got off, nobody had any emotional complications, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely.

I am, in part, confessing this because reading ConTuesday submissions about threesomes helped motivate me to broach the subject with my girlfriend. Thanks everyone, and especially you QP!

Yes, QPsters! You too can make yummy, delightful sandwiches. This is the message I would like to spread to people on airplanes everywhere.

Tell me a secret, you.

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Confessions hot off the metaphorical presses of my email!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am so very sorry you went through this.

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

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

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

Confess your sexy things here!

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I 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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I bet you think I’m going to be all bitter about Valentine’s Day right now: partly because I’m generally snarky and churlish about it, but also because of the “my heart being recently hulksmashed” thing. You’re so wrong, though. You’re so very wrong.

Know why? Because the bottom line is I love love. I believe in it. And I want everyone to have it in one way or another. If romantic love isn’t your thing, then I want you to have the greatest platonic friends money can’t buy. If it is, I want you to feel like you’re floating three inches off the ground, minimum. Today and every day.

Love is the shit. Happy V-day.

My gorgeous girlfriend is an electrician by profession and I think watching her wire equipment is about the sexiest thing in the world. She’s in the middle of a project now, and when she’s done I fully intent to jump her.

If you live in a porn flick, it’s the most adorable one.

My boyfriend moved in with me a week ago. Yesterday we finally had to give in and take a day off from sexy fun times because we were both too sore. Today we didn’t get out of bed until 7:30 pm. So much for recovering, neither of us can walk straight again.

Too much sex to walk right seems like the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. Surprise someone special!

I normally take ages to orgasm, and because of that sometimes it doesn’t happen at all because I plateau and then get stressed out about whether my partner minds how long it’s taking, or if it will happen, etc etc. As such I am quite uncomfortable with being on the receiving ed of oral, it doesn’t usually work.

I feel the need to tell you my fantastically awesome (in all other ways too) boyfriend gave me the most unexpectedly perfect oral the other day and I came in five minutes flat, maybe less. High fives all round?

Exactly fuck yes high fives all around! Good guessing there.

I’m poly, and my girlfriend is married to a man.

I harbor a secret hope that they’ll decide to have children because as hot as my girlfriend is, I think my head might explode from how incredibly sexy she’d look if she were pregnant.

This is really sweet and all, but I also can’t help thinking how depressed I’d be if a partner never found me sexier than the six or so months leading up to a traumatic shredding of my vulva.

But happy Valentine’s Day!

hey

well ive never actually really read any blogs regularly but i gotta say i love the combo of sex / intellect / humour and complete randomness! anyway this is from a couple of weeks ago. i hadnt long started a new job and only get 36 (yep, 36!) minutes a day for my lunch. i have enough time to drive home eat lunch made my hubby (hes not working just now) and scarper off back to work…until one day. he gave me a cheeky smile, dragged me through to the room….and made me come just as the alarm in my phone was going off for my time to leave for work! i might have been hungry at work but had a massive smile on my face for the rest of the afternoon! :) just had to share!

Okay, people. Basic human rights shit here: A lunch hour should allow enough time for a proper lunch and a quickie. 36 minutes!

I am moving in with my boyfriend on Monday. This is awesome. I had what was probably the best sex of my life last Saturday. (Er, with said boyfriend.) This is also awesome.

I am not going to see my boyfriend again until Saturday. I have already packed all of my porn.

This is less than awesome. (Time to read sex blogs!)

There’s an awful lot of smut on the internet. And hopefully a lot of one-upping the best sex of your life in your bed on a regular basis.

Since breaking up with my ex boyfriend I can’t stop fucking my friends. And it’s FANTASTIC.

Maye fucking one’s friends is the happiest, healthiest kind of relationship of all.

…Okay, maybe I’m just the tiniest bit bitter.

Sex Confessional

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Thank you for trusting me with your confessions. Especially the really bizarre ones. But also the sweet ones, the wistful ones, the confessions from crisis and the lurid missives of lust. All of them, really.

I have no idea who you are, but your minds are delicious.

My boyfriend and I are doing some anal play, with an eventual goal of anal sex. Unfortunately he’s a rather girthy guy and the pretty little butt plug I bought simply doesn’t come close to approximating him. Yesterday we went to the toy shop and did some looking for an intermediate step, or something slightly larger than he is, to keep working toward our goal.

All I could think was how intimidating the buttplugs look! The ones with gradual girth increases are all slim enough to not be useful and the rest either get fat really fast or incorporate some shape that frankly looks scary as hell.

We wound up getting a silicone dong that starts about where the plug leaves off and has a very gentle girth increase until it qualifies me for his lovely cock, and then some.

Plus, it was way cheaper than the ” anal trainer ” toys.

Am I the only woman out there who doesn’t really care about the toys (although I thoroughly enjoy myself when we use them) except as a means to an end? I don’t want it to vibrate or oscillate or be beaded or engraved or whatever else those things were. I just want it to be what I need, a way to allow my body to adjust to the point where I can give my love something he really likes.

This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever read that incorporates the word “dong”. I hope your system is paying off in anal orgasms and a sex life that gets better by the day.

I’ve found myself in a crisis situation. I have to have strong vibrations to get off, and my vibrator just broke. I go to school in a tiny, rural town without a sex-toy shop. My credit card is still under my parent’s account, so I can’t use it to order a new one off the internet. And I won’t be in a big city again until Christmas break.

Hopefully you already found a replacement, but if this happens again, remember that Amazon has sex toys. Who would question an innocent bookstore charge on a credit card statement? All you ordered was a package of AA batteries to go with your, uh, kitten calendar. Yeah.

I have fancied a guy for a while now and when we see each other we tend to flirt a bit / a lot depending on the occasion. Last night I revved myself up for a good night out with him present and hoped I could take things a little further. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long and I ended up flirting with another guy I barely knew before.

Now I can’t decide what I want.

Well, I actually do know what I want. I want to keep flirting and kissing and snogging and possibly more both of them. At least for a little while. Because in the end, I still think I’m monogamous. But a girl’s gotta have some fun. With a little luck, they’ll both be up for some non-exclusive fun.

I have never been able to wrap my mind around people who expect exclusivity while casually dating, before making an explicit agreement to be exclusive.

Whenever I read confessions from married/attached people about having very infequent sex I think ”I can sympathize. I know exactly where you’re coming from” and then, invariably, they complain because they’re only having sex like once a week. OH the HORROR. You poor thing. What I wouldn’t give to have sex once a week. In the last 7 weeks I can count, on one hand, how many times we’ve had sex. In fact, I can count the number of times on one hand, that had a freak farming accident, and had 4 fingers amputated. So, quit bitching about your once a week sex life and consider yourself lucky. (but I’m not bitter).

I feel your pain. Intensely. In another week I’ll be able to count the sex I’ve had in the last seven weeks on zero hands. Which is good, I guess, because those hands are occupied with furiously fapping and flipping off my life.

Of course, if I ever get married or have a live-in partner again, I do hope it will be with someone who wants to bone more than once a week. I really and truly do.

I have developed a huge crush on a co-worker. She’s pretty much amazing, as far as I’m concerned. I sat in my meeting today imagining all things I want to do to her and all the hot girl sex we could be having. Her style is super edgy and I don’t know if I’m judging her personal sense of style (which is incredibly ”non-normative”) and applying that to other aspects of her personality or if I might be pegging her as possibly queer because I want her to be queer as a consequence of my super big crush. A part of me feels like a judgmental jerk. The other part is still super turned on. I’ve decided not to press the issue and actually find out her orientation. I think the fantasy would be ruined should I discover she’s super super straight.

Wait, let me get this straight: you feel like a judgmental jerk for having had your gaydar tripped?

You know what is a good remedy for guilt? Hot girl sex.

Hey, guys! Visit the Sex Confessional!

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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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