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.

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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.

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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.

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

Love is the shit. Happy V-day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But happy Valentine’s Day!

hey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sex Confessional

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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!

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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.

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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.

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That’s why I prefer celebrate Wanksgiving instead. Orgasms for everyone and fuck those pilgrims. But since I skipped the family festivities last year I have to suck it up and go to the thing and get asked why I’m still sick and when I’ll be a real person again.

Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of things I’m thankful for. Mostly the many awesome people in my life, but also the awesome animals in my life, the fact that my alleged car is still running, and my not-homeless status. I’m actually pretty damn lucky, really, and I should remember that.

I’m still so horribly envious of healthy people that I sometimes feel I could bite them and chew, but I consider that a personal failing.

Hope everyone has a wonderful day! And wonderful pie!

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Two bloggity developments in the past week:

My two-year blogiversary happened! Coincidentally, two is also the number of nipples I have! In honor of this I forgot about it and wrote about the palliative powers of sex. Still, two whole fucking years of writing about lechery for gawkers and perverts.

Let me tell you, it’s been awesome. I sometimes say that I have the greatest readers, and it bears repeating. The comments I get are basically the exact opposite of the type you commonly find on youtube: they’re witty, intelligent, thoughtful, and considerate. And the confessions are, if possible, even better.

I heart you guys. Hard.

The second thing is that Rori’s Top 100 Sex Bloggers List went up this week on Between My Sheets, and quizzical pussy is ranked number nine! Be sure to go check out the whole thing. There’s a lot of sexy on that list.

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That being said, I live somewhere I can be my transgressive, wacky self without being killed, maimed, or contained by my government, and that’s pretty fucking fantastic, if you’re looking at things from a historical perspective.

I hope wherever you are, you’re enjoying whatever freedoms you have and plotting ways to get more.

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I love kissing. Fucking love it. Human mouths may well be little cesspools, but I floss my cesspool every day. So, um, wanna make out?

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