quizzical pussy

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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Today something is going to make me smile. This isn’t just a matter of faith, but also an act of stubborn determination.

I have not been smiling much lately, you see. There are reasons and back stories, but this is ConTuesday, not MopeTuesday, which is not even a real thing. Anyway, just thinking about going another day with my rib cage aching and my throat burning makes me half die from boredom. How dreary.

So at some point today a rock band will probably come find me and beg me to be their frontman. Or I’ll finally get that pony. Or something awesome that I’m not even inventive enough to expect will happen. Or brilliant orgasms.

But failing that, I’m going to read some anonymous confessions that are happy. And they will fucking well make me smile today.

I snooped.

My boyfriend loaned me a hard drive so I could get some videos from it, and I looked at the personal files that were on it. Old emails, school essays, and notes he’d written to himself.

I found two things that shocked me.

The first was that he was exactly the man I’d thought he was. Even in his little notes he’d never meant anyone to read, he was kindhearted and openminded, sincerely religious and never judgmental, and truly, deeply seemed to care about being a good person. Sure there was porn and stuff, but as a human being, he had no dirty little secrets at all.

The second was photographs of the bruises after he had been assaulted. It’s hard to describe the sorrow and anger I felt seeing those.

I’m so sorry your boyfriend was assaulted. That’s not the part that made me smile. And I do not condone snooping, certainly not, but for some reason reading about you discovering secrets that make the person you love even more beautiful to you? That just fucking kills me. In a good way.

My boyfriend is great in bed, and at times, when we really get rolling, he’s absolutely amazing. The other night, he started off fingering me, which we don’t usually do for too long, but that night, for whatever reason, it just had me coming and coming and coming. Almost continuous rolling orgasms, and they didn’t stop when he stopped fingering me and started fucking me. Fifty minutes later I was so hyper sensitive that the fan blowing on my legs was nearly making me come, with no other stimuli.

I guess all I’m trying to confess here is that my boyfriend is awesome because he recognizes what’s really getting me off in bed and works it well, and that I had truly amazing sex the other night. So it’s not a confession, it’s a brag… those are allowed right?

Hell. Yes.

Last night I was masturbating with a g-spot vibrator and got off so hard that I ended up in an infinite orgasm loop–every time my vagina contracted, it pressed against the still-vibrating toy and set off another orgasm. I feel like I found a glitch in the matrix.

If you had the choice between the sex matrix and eating that goopy stuff and going to underground raves with smelly hippies you’d so pick the sex matrix, right?

Or is it just me?

Sometimes we’ll just be sitting on the couch watching TV and she’ll brush her hair back with her hand and I’ll think, “I am the luckiest guy in the world. Why is the most amazing woman on the planet watching Castle reruns with me? Is this some kind of mistake?” But I know better than to tempt fate by asking out loud. I just tell her I love her instead.

In all fairness, Castle’s a pretty okay show. Also, awwwww.

I’ve always been a cock-loving lass, but there’s this girl at my coffeeshop… when she smiles all I can think about is how the inside of her thighs would feel against my lips.

Thank you thank you thank you for this.

My boyfriend has never been able to orgasm from oral sex–ever–and we’re both fine with that. But this weekend, we had a houseguest and were trying to have very furtive, quiet sex. I sucked him off to orgasm! My swallows were my victory laps.

The best part: He called the experience a ”revelation”.

Internet high. Fucking. Five.

QPeeps, you always find a way to make me happy when skies are gray.

Confess your sex secrets here.

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

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

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

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

On to the confessions:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good luck finding lusher lips, my friend.

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

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

Do you have a confession?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(image source)

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

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