quizzical pussy

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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I want a unicorn horn dildo. Oh, yes, I truly do.

I realize we’ve been through this before. I realize that I want a terrible lot of novelty dildos, some of which even exist. But I swear, this time it’s serious.

I want a unicorn horn dildo. I want to strap it on and have a majestic unicorn horn cock. I want to strut around with it, admiring myself, horned creature. I want to fuck a woman with it and give her the most obscene orgasms: orgasms that are truly, offensively beautiful.

I want to lock our fingers together as I plunge my majestic cock into her and tell her with my eyes that this thing we’re doing, which has the impossible nestled right there in the middle of it all, is absolutely true. There is nothing truer or more honest than the moment when I make her come.

We are an improbable creature together, more beautiful than sense.

Or, failing that, I want to own a unicorn horn dildo because fuck you, I have a unicorn horn dildo. And it can double as a narwhal tusk. Holy shit why am I not ordering this right now?

Oh, cause I’m broke? Okay, I guess that’s valid.

(image source)

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ConTuesday is alliterative today! Watch out for cats, calliopes, and cauliflower! (Caution: May contain communism.)

I feel guilty about calling myself a bisexual because I prefer one gender over the other; sex with either is great, but kissing, and cuddling? Ah, they are only fun with one of them.

Sexual orientation can be pretty complicated, and what you describe sounds like a perfectly valid permutation of bisexual to me.

We want to have sex with the people we want to have sex with. We want to make out with the people we want to make out with. We want to have relationships with the people we want to have relationships with. Sometimes these groups overlap, sometimes not. If we’re lucky, we can find words to describe it, roughly.

At the cabin by the lake, we used the hose to rinse off the lake water from a swim in the lake. With a steel partition to block the view of prying eyes, we just doffed our clothes and washed off in the open sun. It was great being naked with the sun on us, and as I roughly scrubbed her body with my hands, I got an uncharacteristically huge erection, and pushed it against her belly as I kissed her mouth. I reached down and pressed my finger into her pussy, and found it getting wetter. ”Someone might see,” she protested, but she didn’t push away. She didn’t say know. She began to suck my cock.

Why did I think of a friend, at that moment? Why did I think of this other woman, not my wife, deep-throating my cock? I turned her around, and bent her over, and pushed into her from the rear, while I thought of our friend’s ass, wet from the hose water, which I pulled into me as I came, hard.

She hadn’t finished.

”You can owe me one,” she smiled.

That night, as she got ready for bed, I asked if I could give her oral pleasure. She said we could fuck instead, but I was adamant– I wanted to be there for her only. I put my all into it. I drew that clit out and sucked it while tonguing it, while finger-fucking her until the G-spot grew a hard knot, and her bishop was standing well outside of the pulpit. I pulled on the lips and ran my teeth along the precipuce, and used every oral trick that years of marriage to her has taught me to use. I know what her body wants. I drew it out, milking her almost to climax and then intentionally stopping short, and repeating this until she was begging me to put my cock into her, and I refused. This was soley for her.

When she came, it was loud. I felt her pussy rhythmically pulse at that amazing 0.8 second rate, forever. Seriously, it didn’t stop for a solid minute, while I left two fingers in her vagina, and slowly kissed the lips, mons, and clit (not too much!). She moaned that it was the best orgasm that she had had in about two years.

I was so glad. I felt like I owed her that, and more, having been thinking of our friend before. While giving her oral, I was thinking of no one but my wife. I do love her so.

You get a signature QP internet high five (I do a little flourish thing– totally trademarky) for confessing about great sex with a mega honesty bonus!

Despite several (ok, two and a half) drunken encounters, I’ve never made a guy come. Even through sex. I want to blame it on the booze, and say that they were just too drunk to come, but there’s still a part of me saying that it’s entirely because I’m just that ugly and inadequate. Especially since I’ve never once had someone express interest in me while either of us were sober.

They were too drunk to come. I’m about as positive as I can be without actually being all of those guys.

And please consider the possibility that you’re more approachable and flirty when you’ve had a few drinks. That is a lot more likely than the possibility that you are only attractive to drunk people, which is just… no. That is frat bro logic fucking with you.

Last night I had steamy hot car sex with my crush. I was staying at a friend’s place, but he had too many beers and passed out. My crush came over and we made out on the couch for a while. I didn’t want to get caught, so we went out to his truck and drove around the neighbourhood until we found an unlit street. We climbed in the back seat and got naked. The best part was when he had me bent over the back seat, was pulling my hair, spanking my ass, and riding me hard. We had to let the fans run for nearly 5 minutes afterwards to clear the windows enough to see to drive back. I don’t quite know how it happened, but I have a seatbelt shaped bruise on my thigh today :)

I just love car sex. I love car making out. I want a seatbelt bruise. I think I have confession envy.

I have a high sex drive…I mean, at least it seems higher than most people’s. Also, I just moved in with my boyfriend who is more ”normal.” We haven’t had sex much since moving in together, which is fine because everything has been so busy (living in a new city, he commutes an hour to work, I just started grad school). But lately, when I go to kiss him, he says he doesn’t feel like it. I think it’s because he thinks it will lead to sex, which he doesn’t want to have. But all I want to do is kiss. I miss feeling close to someone.

Now, I lay no claim to being nicknamed The Great Communicator any time soon, but you report that you think he thinks kissing will lead to sex. So you don’t know. So either you haven’t asked him or he is not answering. If you haven’t asked him, try to do so (preferably not right after you’ve just been rejected and emotions are high). If your partnership started out with physical contact, you have a right to know why it has come off the table just like he has a right not to want sex and kissing right now.

And good luck. This can be a very heartbreaking situation, and I hope you guys can work it out so both of you are happy.

Confess, my cronies!

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Last Friday I went to my first BDSM play party. It was pretty much nothing like I expected, except that there wasn’t a complete lack of leather. As you may remember, I totally saw the leather coming. For the record, I wore jeans and a tank top under a hoodie. Arousing!

But I was expecting to arrive, feel awkward because I didn’t know anyone there very well, hang back and politely watch people tie each other up and whatnot, and maybe learn something about what kinds of BDSM play might appeal to me at an unspecified future time when I could experiment. My prime directive: not to watch them creepily.

I mean, I knew I was going to a place that was amazingly welcoming and fun, and everyone I’d met there at more casual, non-play events had been awesome. But I tend to just assume that my patented blend of social clumsiness and assuming people aren’t going to like me will pretty much always carry the day.

What actually happened is that before that party ended I was topless(!) and had a sexy welt on my back, courtesy of a man from who does things with whips that could make Indiana Jones weep from envy. I’d been set on fire several times. I’d discovered that knife play is probably going to be one of my favorite things ever. I’d participated in what I can only describe as a violet wand electro-orgy.

Perhaps the weirdest part, I was completely comfortable throughout. Eerily comfortable. Even the having-my-boobies-out part. I was nestled in some magical envelope of kinky trust that I truly didn’t expect to find anywhere, and certainly not at my first play party. People kept pulling out new toys and trying them on one person, and someone else would ask “Ooh. Do me next?”, eyes all bright. Giggling would intermingle with the hissing recoil of strikes, slaps, and sighs and harsher sounds of pleasure. It wasn’t too super serious. It didn’t feel like there was all this inaccessible, Byzantine protocol in play. It was glee and exploration and camaraderie. And yes, respect. And, full disclosure, I may have had an orgasm or two, just from the kind of pain that isn’t truly pain, but intensity.

I’d spent the evening, night, and very early morning with people who somehow felt like friends already. That would have been enough, but the delicious sensations didn’t hurt.

Er, they did hurt. Kind of. Just in a very surprising way.

And after all this, I lay in my bed back at home completely wired. My brain was crackling, mildly euphoric. Just a couple hours from dawn, I couldn’t get to sleep. Not until I rode out the strange, jittery aftermath of something. Something I knew I’d already begun to crave.

And I admitted once and for all that there exists a not insignificant chance that I might, in fact, be kinky.

(image source)

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I’m posting ConTuesday rather late today because of sleeping rather earlier last night and later this morning than I originally planned. In fact, I might still be recovering from last Friday’s play party, which I will be telling you all about in the next few days. But here are the confessions of the week, better late than never!

I may take a nap later, actually.

Dear QP, how’ve you been? I’ve been looking at your sex confessional for so long now and it’s been looking back at me. Eyeing me. Tempting me with it’s portal to… your inbox, I assume.

So there’s this guy. I’ve known him for so long I’m not sure whether I’m in love with him or if I just love him the way friends are supposed to.

My main problem is that about ten years ago, we had a kind of relationship. You know how some people have fuck buddies? Well, we didn’t. We were more like make-out buddies.

I always think make-out buddies sounds a bit pathetic, but it was intense. I think partly because we didn’t do anything even close to having sex, even though I’m pretty sure we both wanted to.

So anyway, fast forward to today and I just can’t tell if I wanna nail him to find out what it would be like (ie, confirm my suspicions) or because I really, genuinely am in love with him.

But this isn’t my real confession, it’s just background details. My REAL confession is that everyone I know is getting engaged. My sister just got engaged recently. His brother got engaged earlier this year. He’s been in a relationship for five years. What if he decides to hop on the bandwagon?!

And it’s not even that I’m jealous of his girlfriend. I want her boyfriend, but I don’t hate her for having him and not me. But I can’t exactly confess my undying love to someone who’s in a happy relationship, can I?

UCK I feel sick.

The sex confessional does indeed want to hear your worries. I only wish I had some good or even marginally helpful advice for you. Can you confess your undying love to someone in a happy relationship? Absolutely. But it might suck for everyone involved. Maybe honesty is the best way to go anyway, but, it seems like you’re not even sure if you have romantic feelings for this guy.

The only thing I can say with certainty is that makeout buddies doesn’t sound pathetic at all. And I feel for you. This sucks.

I just had surgery and I haven’t orgasmed for over two weeks and if I start my period before I can finally get myself off I’m gonna pissed. This seemed like the only place for such a frustration to be vented.

I hope you’ve had a clutch if not a clamor of orgasms since you sent this in.

I bought the pill today (Lutera). I haven’t been on the pill in years. The last time I was on the pill, I didn’t feel like myself. I bled all the time, was nauseated, depressed, gained weight, had horrible cramps and no sex drive. My grades plummeted, I lost some friends (due to being so withdrawn and emotional). I was only on it for three months, but it was hell. That time, I wasn’t in a relationship (or even having sex at the time). I only took it to help with my endometriosis, but it didn’t work.

Now, I’m about to start a different pill. I’m in a happy relationship, and I’m scared that the pill will change me so much that it will ruin my life again. I talked about this with my doctor, but she said there was ”nothing to worry about.” I’m so nervous though.

I have been in a sort of not entirely dissimilar situation, and I was shocked at how okay I was on the new pill. Now that I’m not on any hormones anymore since my boyfriend’s vasectomy, I think I actually feel a little less balanced at certain points in my cycle, if anything.

So I hope you’re having a good experience with your new pill.

Last night I attended a party, among the guests were 5 men that I have slept with, all of whom work at the same bar and are friends. A couple of them are still total secrets as they have girlfriends or are my good friends exes.
Usually I feel proud of my sexual conquests and I don’t have shame in expressing that, but seeing them all together just left me feeling cheap…

You know what I think? Fuck slut shaming whether its origins are internal or external. I mean, who are we kidding, the demiurge of slut shaming is pretty much always other people’s bullshit hangups.

Vent, rejoice, confess here.

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I don’t understand people who brag about female ejaculation.

Okay, wait. Yes I do. It’s because of how often many of us have been ridiculed and shamed and accused of lying/deluding ourselves about squirting. Sometimes that sort of thing makes you want to scream “FUCK YOU DO YOU REALIZE THIS MAKES ME AWESOME!?!?” It’s a defense mechanism, and it makes perfect sense. But I hate how it creates a culture where someone might feel like they’re falling short if they happen to not be an ejaculator.

Really, we’re just talking about an orgasm with some extra liquid added. It doesn’t make you automatically awesome. It doesn’t make you sexier¹ or healthier or smarter or more financially solvent. You will probably not even get a sticker.²

It might, however, be an especially intense orgasm, and it is an interesting thing to experience. For many people, that alone makes it worth looking in to. That’s why I’m offering some squirting tips for those who want to squirt and those who want to assist others in their quest to do so. If you succeed at this, try not to brag too much. I will see what I can do about stickers.

You don’t need to know the basics of the physiology of female ejaculation to squirt, but they can help. I am equipped to give you only the very basics.

The g-spot exists. It’s actually the underside of the urethral sponge, which swells with fluid when arousal happens. It’s usually found a couple inches above the vaginal opening on the clitular facing side of the vaginal wall. Its texture is usually different from the surrounding tissue, making it fairly easy to find. Sometimes there will be gasps or squeals or other sound effects that help further clarify its location. Keep in mind, though, that every body is different.

Sometimes the urethral sponge releases this fluid through the urethra during orgasm. The orgasms that bring this about often come from g-spot stimulation, but not always. Clitoral stimulation alone can do it for some people. The release can be like a spray, a gush, or a trickle: they all qualify as squirting. The fluid isn’t pee, it’s most often clear, and it is harmless.

Whether squirting orgasms actually feel better than any other kind very much depends on the person. And in fact, from here on out I’m really just going to talk about personal experiences and observations.

1. The first rule of squirting is: squirting is really, honestly no big deal. If you do it, it’s nothing to be self-conscious or worried about. If you don’t do it, you’re in the majority, and this in no way constitutes failure. My point here is that stressing out never helped anyone’s sex life.³ And it especially never helped anyone ejaculate. Relaxing is going to help you here with one tiny exception that we’ll cover later.
2. The actual first rule of squirting probably should have been put down a towel. If not several. Do not forget the towels. You can skip this step if and only if you have rubber sheets or are doing this on a hard surface like a bathtub or an inspiring marble fountain.
3. Start doing kegels now. Right now. Really. I’ll wait. Mighty PC muscles are only going to help your cause here. Apparently, when they’re toned your g-spot is more accessible, and has more sensitivity because of better blood flow. All I know is that I’ve been doing kegels since I was ten and I am a squirter, so that’s n=1. Science!⁴
4. Get an njoy pure wand. If there is one toy in all the world that is responsible for more female ejaculation than all the others combined, it’s probably this one. Or, at very least, I cannot use it without squirting. I can practically not look at it without squirting. Both ends feel incredible: the knob (I usually prefer the smaller side, but both work) lands right on my g-spot perfectly, whether I’m thrusting with it or rocking the toy back and forth from its center. This is quite literally the best sex toy investment I’ve made. And, did I mention? Splashy.
5. If you’re not ready to embrace the feat of engineering that is the pure wand, your best bet is a toy with a curved end that will easily reach your g-spot.
6. When playing with a partner, I’ve found that simultaneous focused clit and g-spot stimulation tend to make me squirt. For instance, sucking on my clit while fingering me with those come-hither crooked fingers for a bit works like a charm. It also puts me in a pretty chipper mood.
7. Sometimes a lot of orgasms have to happen before the squirting starts. Be patient and persevere. Could there really be a less tedious thing to practice?
8. If you have enough muscle control that you’re able to tense just the area around your urethral sponge/g-spot during stimulation, that can be a helpful way to put yourself over the top.

Experiment. A lot. Alone, with a partner, with several different partners. If it doesn’t happen right away try doing kegels regularly for a month and then trying again. Try a new toy. If it’s important to you, keep at it. Keep calm and carry on.

But seriously? The pure wand. I’m telling you.

1. Unless the beholder in question is someone with a thing for squirters, I suppose. [↩]
2. Note: I really should make stickers. [↩]
3. Unless, of course, we consider the case of Hippolyta Craig of Lubbock, Texas, but that is another story entirely. [↩]
4. Disclaimer: This is not science. [↩]

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ConTuesday is happening right now! Check it:

Last night was a singularly amazing night! After a couple semi-successful previous attempts, my amazing wife finally was able to be fisted, a feat I would not have thought possible given my hand size! I’ll make her a size queen yet…. mwahahahahaha

This is awesome. On a personal note, fisting still scares the shit out of me, but I would like to personally high five everyone who has accomplished it. Maybe there would be hand washing first.

Having never been given much freedom in the bedroom I’ve found that I literally lose my mind when the new guy I’m seeing growls “Tell me exactly what you want me to do” it isn’t submissive exactly but it’s so sexy that he wants to know what I want that every time I almost come on the spot and while it doesn’t sound like much but, well, really…it is.

Sometimes it’s the little things that get you. People growling things is sexy. People passionate about giving pleasure are sexy. Other things that are sexy include (but are by no means limited to) girls with pixie cuts, hula hooping, and devil-may-care archeologists in fedoras.

I’ve got this awesome friend who sometimes posts confessions here, like me. We don’t post every week, nor even every month, I don’t think. But there’s enough activity that we try to guess if the other has a Confession up, each week. If it gets to be past noon and we haven’t heard from each other on Tuesday, often a hint will get sent by one of us to the other. It is one of my favorite games.

I love this game! Can we make it a drinking game?

I don’t even drink.

I want to fuck my ex wife in law!!! I don’t know why but the last week she has been on my mind and in my dreams. She does things to me that drive me insane, to the point I wake up wet and feeling like I just came all over the place.

Not only is this so out of the norm for me but I have been thinking about not only fucking her but my ex also. Though he would die if I and his ex wife were playing with each other.

If scary P.S.A.s have taught me anything, it’s that you’ve already slept with all your partner’s previous sexual partners, so this is moot. And I sincerely hope you enjoyed yourself because P.S.A.s have also taught me that now that you’re sexually active you’ve completely destroyed your life.

And remember, kids, don’t do drugs! Also, confess things to me!

Just kidding. I want to fuck her too. But really, seriously confess things.

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I hope everyone had a wonderful, magical, and maybe also sinister Halloween, depending on how you like them. I decided to take it easy and watch documentaries all evening, which is too bad because I had my costume all planned out and everything. I was going to be Sexy Carl Sagan.

But, for the sake of argument let’s say I was Sexy Carl Sagan for Halloween. In fact, I’m probably still in costume right now, as you read this. Pondering the cosmos. Probably. And here are some anonymous internet confessions that are probably mostly, but maybe not entirely, unrelated to Halloween. But they are all related to The Universe. Remember, if you want to confess a sexual secret, you must first invent the Universe.

So, my girlfriend and I had snuck into a park late at night to have some fun. We were in the middle of things when we heard voices from further up the path. We quickly put our respective parts back in their respective holders and wandered back. It turns out that a group of teenagers, fresh from grad had stumbled into the park to hang out. We exchanged awkward pleasantries and went our separate ways.

At least until they were almost out of sight. We were fucking again before they even turned the corner. Public sex is much better when there is a public that might see you.

Our species needs, and deserves, a citizenry with minds wide awake and a basic understanding of how sex in public works.

I desperately wish I could get release. I’ve tried sex with men, women, people I loved, some I liked, some I’d just met. I’ve tried it rough, sweet, and with most every toy you can get in a typical erotica store. Masturbating does less than nothing for me. There’s nothing wrong with my libido, though. I’m pretty much constantly horny. I’m MARRIED, I GAVE BIRTH without ever having an orgasm. I felt pretty ripped off during that. My husband tries so hard, but either it just starts hurting really, really bad after a little while or it doesn’t do anything at all. My mind kind of wanders and I start thinking about whether or not I should go grocery shipping tomorrow.
My doctor gave me a prescription to ramp up my libido. So I was super horny and still completely frustrated. My therapist said it was a medical problem, see the doctor.

Okay, I’m going to stop being Sexy Carl Sagan for a minute and tell you I hope this happens for you. I wish I could help somehow. Not in a creepy way, I swear. Sexy Carl Sagan is never creepy.

I have a really hard time being ”in the moment” during sex. Don’t get me wrong, it feels so good, and I usually have an orgasm (often several) but I can’t stop myself from being distracted by minutia. The weirdest things will pop into my head and I will go down a thought train of randomness, then I will be like, ”shit, he’s going down on me, pay attention!”

I feel like a big fake. This is why I love drunk sex.

We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science, technology, and booze, in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology. Booze we have a pretty good handle on.

I was a little depressed about how little sex that I was getting from my wife, so I decided to keep track. I began sending myself emails whenever I’d get any sexual activity, or whenever I was turned down from overt requests that I made to her. I’ll admit that originally, I did it to keep track of the turn-downs (I was pretty unhappy about the situation), but I’ve been using it more to gleefully note the successes, lately. I put the emails into a folder marked ”SexLog,” and note the date of the event in the title. (sometimes it takes a day or two to put it up.) Then in the body of the email, I describe the event. Sometimes they just say, ”Normal sex. Missionary. I initiated. Both came. Quick.” But sometimes I’ll go into explicit detail, and going back to read them, it’s kinda hot.

So it is that my SexLog, which I originally created out of a bit of spite, has actually become a rather positive thing in my sex life. I have several times rolled over in bed, gasping and covered with a sheen of salacious sweat, thinking, ”I can’t wait to write that one up!

Sadly, a count of the last 9 months shows that we average right at one sexual encounter (BJ, HJ, or PinV) a week. That part is still kind of depressing.

When you make the finding yourself – even if you’re the last person on Earth to see the light – you’ll never forget it. You have it pretty damn good, is what I’m saying, I guess. Of course, Sexy Carl Sagan would also like to get laid more than once a week, so Sexy Carl Sagan feels your pain.

Confess your sexy secrets here. Perhaps it will make you feel not-quite-so-small in an indescribably vast cosmos. I mean, at least it couldn’t hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

I can find absolutely no flaw in your logic here.

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

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

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

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

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

ConTuesday to the rescue? I hope?

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

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

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

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