quizzical pussy

I’m sorry that I’ve been such an asshole that you felt the need to off yourself a couple thousand years ago. I guess I didn’t realize that the things I was going to have done (e.g. wanting to learn about science and mistaking the sex drive you gave me for a characteristic rather than a complicated test) were going to bother you so much. I suppose I just figured you had better things to do than worry about these things that weren’t strictly hurting anyone, and don’t really have anything to do with you anyway. Even now it seems an overreaction; I’m just spitballing here, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say the whole thing was more about dramatizing the ebb and flow of light throughout the solar calendar than my personal sins. But I totally didn’t mean to drive you to suicide or anything. Anyway, I’m glad that whole immortality thing worked out for you. If you want to talk things out or need a hug or just whatever, you know where to find me.

:)

Share/Save

ConTuesday, whom I think of not as anything I do myself so much as a willful little monkey creature, decided to take a holiday sabbatical. Of course, besides Groundhog Day, Twelfth Night is the only wintry holiday ConTuesday actually celebrates, but willful little monkey creature see, willful little monkey creature do. Should be back in full force next week.

So I guess in the meantime I’ll just write about myself.

I’m not much of a holiday person because although I’m loyal to my family and will cut you if you hurt any of them, I don’t actually enjoy spending a lot of time with most of them. But this was one hell of a holiday season for chosen family.

Christmas Eve was one of my best in memory. I spent the evening with Oren Regardie and his treasure of a wife, Poppy. She made a completely delicious holiday dinner that I could actually eat with all my dietary restrictions (a gesture that no one else in my life has ever even attempted), we exchanged gifts we were fairly vibrating with excitement to give one another, then crafted and watched hilarious things on a screen while our toy dogs placidly ignored amongst themselves.

New Year’s Eve with them and a few of our newly shared friends was also amazing. We have some kickass eves, we three. I don’t throw around the phrase “living the poly dream” lightly, but there it is right there in the first clause of this sentence.

In other news, I’ve recently figured out how gravely I need to get back on hormonal birth control. This has nothing to do with any distaste for condoms and everything to do with how much time I’m spending per month in abject misery. The ten pounds of water weight I carry before and during each period is annoying but whatever. The intense uterine pain is a little more untenable, and seems to be getting worse every month. The thing that’s really getting to me, though, is the fact that for about half the time I irrationally believe (or part of me does) that everyone hates me and I secretly wish I could set myself on fire for no clear reason. I spend so much time and energy reasoning with myself and talking myself down from acting on stupid, baseless impulses that I’m pretty sure no one else even notices what’s going on, but it is exhausting. And the last thing I want to do is feed into the “irrational hormonal female” stereotype, but despite my excellent willpower and self control, that is the actual problem and it’s getting kind of scary.

So I’m starting to think that hormonal intervention is a literal necessity for me right now; just need to figure out how I can afford it. I wish Santa had brought me robust health insurance coverage, but my period starts in a few days so I’m pretty sure he hates me and hopes I die anyway.

(image source)

Share/Save

There are three schools of thought about today. Some people flinch against some impending catastrophe where we all die a lot. Others have been meditating all year in anticipation of ascending to the fifth dimension or other various kinds of laser lotus malarkey. Then there are the people who believe deeply and fully that today will provide a temporal bridge between Thursday and Saturday. I’m of the third type, myself.

But it could be the end of the world, you know.

When I was eighteen I swore I’d plan a big party in a cave somewhere on this date. Even then, however naive I was (and oh, I was!), this would have been a joke. But I think I thought at the time that future me would really go through with it, and maybe I would. But I’m not doing that, so I guess I wouldn’t after all. It’s not worth the trouble just to thumb my nose at people who largely don’t affect me anyway.

But it could end today. It could. Although this process will have already started yesterday in Australia, come to think of it.

As 1999 flipped over to 2000 I was in Reginald’s bed. He said that the moment when everyone was holding their breath, mine stopped too. One of the little perks of being a perpetual orgasm machine is that magical climactic timing very often works out. It is a sweet memory, though. It was before we were utterly swallowed by dysfunction. That was when still laughed together, and he called me the girl with the rocket launcher eyes. Before our little world decayed, then finally ended.

Dr. Manhattan says that nothing ever ends, but in exactly the same way everything ends, and the world can end today. I promise you. We can make it end. In fact, we may be the only force that can.

What if, on this day when urban legends and misinformation stir up expectations for old things to pass away, we all rode on that just enough to really change things and remake the world? Our world is currently more than a little dysfunctional, you may have noticed. What if we decided that we have new priorities: caring for one another, respecting love and compassion more than power and greed, forgiving our enemies, family, friends, and ourselves, and letting go of fear and prejudice… really just being truly excellent to each other? These priority shifts could be achieved in a day if we really wanted them to, couldn’t they?

Why can’t today be the end of a world where murder and rape and exploitation and the myriad other fucked up shit we humans come up with are normal? Why can’t we choose today to stop being assholes to each other for good and all? Why can’t it be the beginning of getting really serious about cooperation and mutual acceptance and problem solving?

Is it because then all the people who are wrong would get all smug and say “See? I and the Mayans told you everything was going to change on December 21, 2012, and it totally did!” Is that why? Because once the future gets here we’re not really going to be interested in being all petty like that, you know.

(image source)

Share/Save

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not a purist. I’m normally pretty okay when my food touches my other food. I tend to enjoy a cheesy or novel cover of an already good song. Entropy and the crushing power of relativity give me a deep and abiding confidence that I will never truly control anything, and this thing I see as total truth bothers me barely ever. So when I said yesterday “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if we all bought sex toys today!?”, it was with the clear understanding that nearly anything can be a sex toy. And “buying” is just a made up thing we do with made up numbers anyway. And sex is what you think it is.

In marginally related news, am also not the purest.

It’s BAST and I’m saving up to move, so I can’t get a new sex toy today. I did, however, spend the afternoon with my magic wand. 5+ orgasms with a favorite old toy still counts as a good BAST, right?

That’s a fucking gorgeous BAST, my friend. Good luck with the saving and moving and future orgasms!

So…I just kissed my kinky, filthy, delicious wife goodbye and sat down to watch Babylon 5 and eat Kraft Dinner with our kid while ignoring how wet I am that she’s going to a nice dinner and hopefully (skeeves-out notwithstanding) fucks some guy we just met today, with whom she’s eating, utterly silly. So she can come home and we can fuck some more while she tells me what a bad girl she was and I can spank her until she cries. This is the first time, and fuck me I am incredibly nervous, but… I am so squirmy from just sending her off that I had to masturbate once already, and she hasn’t been gone half an hour ;)

I can imagine many scenarios in which Sci Fi and pre-packaged comfort food can be part of a sexual experience (one of them also involving a turtleneck sweater and Scrabble tiles, naturally), but this one is particularly awesome.

My lover bites. It’s awesome and sexy, but my skin bruises easily, so for the longest time, I’ve been struggling to hide hickeys. Fortunately, my neck seems to have developed Wolverine-like powers of regeneration. I haven’t had a hickey for months now. Thank you, smart body, for letting me have my fun without consequences!

Teeth and mutant powers? Both totally count as sex toys. Any haters who disagree can close the tab right now. Or not. It’s kind of up to them.

Whenever I start listening to Xmas music, I get REALLY into femmes and super domestic myself. Through the rest of the year, I’m pretty equally into all gender identities and expression, but come xmas, I hear those Mariah Carey songs and I think…damn, I want to snuggle with a cute femme under blankets wearing woolly sweaters and drinking hot cider, watch Love, Actually, and eat her out in a room lit with sparkly lights and scented with sugar cookies. Maybe she could be wearing adorable holiday themed panties? But definitely a woolly sweater, sweatpants, and snuggly socks.

This has become a legit fetish for me. I get really horny when xmas shopping and jerk off more that time of year than any other. Wonder if I could find someone on Craigslist to help me bring it to life?

So in this fantasy, I feel like the following things count as sex toys:

• Christmas music
• gender presentation
• blankets
• sweaters
• cider
• Romantic comedies
• sparkly lights

Baby Mithras, but you’re kinky! I like it.

I recently entered a giveaway to win a gift card to one of six online sex shops. Five of the six are fabulous, feminist, and queer. I won the gift card to the other one. I’m thrilled to have won, but I can’t find ANYTHING to buy. Their stock is awful, shitty quality…they don’t even carry good lube.

I’ve been sending the website to my friends and no one has found anything decent. I’m thinking of giving it back.

Do you have any ideas?

Readers? Anyone?

In my world, lube, batteries, and sex toy cleaning supplies never go amiss. Perhaps you can relate? I don’t know if you’re a condom-using person, but they also appear to sell the best brand of condoms I’ve ever found: One. Although it’s apparently in a ribbed style I have yet to try.

I have a best friend. Or maybe I had a best friend, since we’re in a huge fight now. I am…crazy for her. Possibly quite literally. We’ve been friends for about five years and I still act like an overwhelmed, ecstatic puppy every time the phone rings and it’s her, every time I get an e-mail and it’s from her, every time we get to spend time together.

But by the same token, it hurts so badly when we can’t. When she goes out of town and we can’t see each other on the weekend. When she decided to start taking night classes and we couldn’t hang out at night. When she has a date with her girlfriend and is busy. I try to swallow the hurt down because I know it’s inappropriate, but sometimes it’s just too much and I let it out, and she says I’m selfish and don’t want there to be anything in her life except me. It’s not true! I just…miss her. All the time. Ugh, I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what in all of this counts as a sex toy. I don’t think unrequited love is a sex toy, is it? Really, I just want to give you a hug.

Subject: male chastity device

I thought the woman that told me was lying so I googled and OMG they are for real.

I know it sounds funny, stupid maybe, but the idea of a hot woman having the key to one of those devices and making me wait and wait is so erotic.

I suppose you women think it is just plain silly huh

You’d be amazed at how much “we women” don’t have monolithic collective opinions on things. The hot woman who longs to hold the key to one of those devices while making someone wait and wait most assuredly exists.

Confess things here!

Share/Save

I can’t have pi pie today. I’m on a very strict diet where I can’t even eat my signature gluten-free sugar-free pumpkin pie with pecan crust, which I assure you is the honest to goodness equivalent of eight orgasms. I’ve been on such a diet before (the strict no-pie one; not the eight-orgasms one), and normally I’d gripe about my no-pie status and maybe do a little pouting, but this year I’m okay with it. A sparse and mind-numbingly simple diet can be oddly emotionally healing¹. It can cut through whatever complicated shit we deal with regularly– not just with food, but in other ways. Maybe the psycho-spiritual benefits of fasting aren’t just the hallucinations and euphoria you go through when starving.

I mean, I still wish I was eating pie right now², but it’s not bothering me that I’m not. And I can still celebrate cake’s more sophisticated and delicious brother in all his geeky glory. Without, um, eating him.

But seriously, eat a slice for me, will you?

Oh, and about that other holiday that’s happening today? These are my thoughts on that.

(image source)

1. Holy shit. I just realized I’m doing Lent. Kind of. [↩]
2. Seriously, whenever you happen to read this, I almost certainly wish I were eating pie at this precise moment. Because pie. [↩]

Share/Save

There’s apparently some kind of old school tradition that women can propose marriage to men on Leap Day without everyone involved melting in a Raiders of the Lost Ark type scenario. One has to wonder if anyone back in days of yore ever took advantage of this single, once-every-four-years loophole in a culture of crushing sexism, and if they did, what the neighbors said. I have my suspicions that people don’t stop being dicks just because the calendar tells them to, which would explain why I’ve never gotten a pony for my birthday.

Now that women are technically allowed to ask questions nearly every day of the year, and we queers are ruining marriage for everyone anyway, isn’t it time we let Leap Day mean something else?

I vote that Leap Day is the day people of all genders can magically tell their crushes they want to bone them without things being weird afterward. That would be cool.

Although if you develop a crush next week, waiting nearly four years to talk about it sounds like torture. It also sounds like a longer time period than most crushes last. Maybe eventually we’ll have to make this a “Wednesday” thing rather than a “Leap Day” thing.

(image source)

Share/Save

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

Share/Save

One of the best Valentine’s days (er, nights) I’ve ever experienced was the one where my friend Eloise and I drove through far too much snow to go to the local lesbian club.

We were probably both new-ish-ly single. Or possibly I wasn’t; I’ve spent more of my adulthood in relationships than out, but I haven’t always given a fraction of a shit about sentimental days where I’m supposed to buy candy.

Still, I made Eloise a mix CD of various slightly-fractured love songs because I make excellent mix CDs and getting them is often one of the perks of being my friend and driving me places. (Erasure’s “Waiting For Sex” was on it, as was mc chris’s “nerd grrrl” and Liz Phair’s “Flower”. Look me in the fucking face and tell me that mix wasn’t inspired.) We hopped in her car and on the other end of the drive we found a magical land of drag shows and women making out.

It felt like home. Wait, no, it felt like fun.

For some reason that’s the exact kind of New Year’s Eve I’d like to have. Maybe because Laramy’s working tonight so I can’t kiss my man and that reminds me of a Valentine’s day alone. Or maybe just because it would be intensely awesome. I can’t unravel the psychology of it all right now. I just want to see drag, dance with chicks, and ideally drink brightly colored, deceptively intoxicating sugar water.

Eloise has moved away, though, and I’m too tired to dance. Boo. Maybe I’ll have a night home alone dressed in drag. That would definitely be zero units of pathetic, right?

Oh yeah and HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!

(image source)

Share/Save

I hope everyone out there is having far too much holiday fun. Here are some fun and lovely confessional curios to brighten up your winter (unless you’re in the Southern hemisphere, in which case I hope it brightens up your day in between trips to the beach.) Chins up; only four months or so to go!

Please link this to your awesome and sexy readers
http://marriedfreaks.com/?p=166

Done! They really are quite sexy and awesome, aren’t they?

Just before Christmas break is my favorite kind of year, because my professors always give out candy canes and I can watch and see who I think would be the best at oral sex.

(P.S. There’s this boy in my stats class- not terribly attractive, but ohh boy, if he’d do to my clitoris what he does to that candy cane…)

I love the way your mind works.

I woke up this morning soo wet. I wish I could remember what I was dreaming!

Not to assume I know your business or anything, but it was pretty much definitely a sex dream about Data from Star Trek: TNG.

Goddamit, Cupie, you’re so fucking hot.

Best confession ever. Okay, I’m lying. The actual best confession ever can be found here, but I do like this one. It has a certain something…

Not a sex confession but…

I am so in love with my boyfriend that all I want to do is wrap myself around him at night and fall asleep against his chest.

And that is scarier to me than any sex confession I could possibly make.

This is more adorable than a baby in a manger. By way a lot.

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.

Raise your hand if you suddenly wish you worked in a coffee shop.

Give the gift of a juicy secret.

Share/Save

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

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

Emily Post never covers this shit.

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

I’m no Emily Post.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This looks like a job for Poly Emily Post!

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

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

I’ll close with ponies.

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

(image source)

Share/Save