quizzical pussy

I started this blog determined to never apologize for not posting. The main reason for this is the sheer hubris of the idea of assuming that people care all that much whether I put a thing on the internet or not. But also, I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I felt I had to do something as non-vital to anyone’s survival as type naughty words. The very idea is silly.

But then I made an express commitment to post the things you send me once a week, so I owe you this explanation for the recent two-week ConTuesday lapse: There was just no fucking way, you guys. My health has been a bitch, then I moved to a place that has required a great deal of work to make even borderline habitable. Then came a massive shift in my personal life. I love you and I love this blog and I love ConTuesday, but there was no fucking way.

But here I am, back, as you always knew I’d be. Typing naughty words.

Cuntodactyl.

To come, I need a narrative; so much so that I’ve got a major hobby in writing smut, and much of it reflects the stuff that I invent and refine trying to get my rocks off. That can be tiring and time consuming, so normally it takes me a while to get there.

But it turns out, I can also come just fine while watching hentai. And very, very quickly, since I don’t have to hold the narrative all by myself. w00t! who said girls don’t like visual porn, again? :D

People who say that girls don’t like any particular thing are necessarily wrong. Some people look down on using equivocal language, but I’d feel so horribly inaccurate without it! Also, though, yay for getting off! I quite like it myself.

I waxed to please my partner and now I’m disgusted by my body, have zero sex drive, and am grossed out that he thinks it looks good. ….help…..

You tried it, and waxing is clearly not for you. It grows back eventually, and I hope it does so swiftly and decisively. If your partner is making huge deal out of it, I would think a conversation about how much you hate being bald is in order. If he’s just enjoying it but not pressuring you, try to remember that he’s used to seeing naked genitals as much more sexualized than natural ones. Doesn’t mean your genitals have to fall in line with that or that he can’t tweak the common societally ingrained fashion-based reaction; it’s just that it’s not necessarily personal. But of course, neither is getting turned off by the fact that he’s turned on by something. Maybe that’s a deal-breaker, and that’s valid.

I’ve been reading your archives, and I masturbated to your descriptions of abuse by your ex-boyfriend Reginald Sleeth. (I’m really heavy into D/s.) I’m absolutely horrified by it and for that reason it turns me on like crazy. Sorry. (I’m a young woman, if that matters.)

You know what? I’m really just happy that that stupid, senseless farce of a relationship is now doing something useful for someone.  Everyone has my permission to masturbate to my horror stories as long as you promise not to abuse your partners. I think that’s fair, right?

So I hope it isn’t terribly terrible (but only rather terrible) of me to make this about me, but thank you for your writing about Reginald. Even though my own experience didn’t involve physical violence, I feel validated in calling it abuse. I also feel less alone in how fucked up I am because of it. Also maybe a little less convinced it makes me a terrible person, because you seem pretty awesome, so.

I’m posting this as a companion confession to the one above because I feel like they’re two sides of the same silver-lined coin. It isn’t terrible at all. I mean, it’s terrible that you’ve had to deal with abuse– I really hate that part. But if reading about my experiences has helped you come to terms with that abuse (which doesn’t reflect on you as a person whatsoever, just so you know) in any way, that is quite honestly the best reason I can think of for continuing to write about them.

When I write about things like my ill-advised soda bottle dildo experience I sometimes forget that the Reginald parts of the story are horrifying. I’ll think, hey this is kind of a funny story, and what about that wacky Reginald acting in typical douchebaggy Reginald ways? Classic Reginald! And I don’t concentrate much on how fucked up the whole thing was. This may be part of the reason I’m still not amazingly good at relationships and trust and stuff. Because it was fucked up. Incredibly fucked up. And just because that was how I learned to relationship doesn’t mean it was or is acceptable. I want us all to learn that.

I’ve just started seeing a guy who can push all my buttons in the best possible ways. Orgasms of a frequency and intensity I’ve never experienced before. Internet high-five, right? Not quite so much.

See, I was raised with”good girls don’t”. My brain wants to think that’s total bullshit, but I can’t quite seem to stop believing it. I enjoy the sex while it’s happening, but afterwards I feel self-conscious and a little ashamed. I hate it and I want it to go away so I can enjoy my sex in peace!

Good girls are mythical creatures who are born to embody parental wish fulfillment. People are multidimensionally good and bad and fucked up and strong and ecstatic and silly and getting closer every day to ending this go-around. People deserve–and are enriched by– amazing sex. I could not care much less what good girls do or don’t do any more than I care what manticores eat for breakfast. (Okay, I care a little what manticores have for breakfast, and I think it’s probably Special K in warrior blood.)

In my long-standing tradition of giving advice where it isn’t expressly asked for, I think you should keep in mind that you’re people, and no one is a good girl, and you are worth more than having to try to be a mythical thing that doesn’t–and will never– exist.

And I’m just going to fucking ::internet high five:: you anyway, so deal with it.

I am in school studying for a career in the medical field. Recently I ran into another older student I recognized from last semester and asked her if she’s studying to become a nurse. “No.” she tartly replied. “Bodily fluids. I can’t do bodily fluids.” I managed to rein in my urge to blurt “Shit. I must’ve drunk GALLONS of them by now.” I’d hate to freak out a future colleague, now, wouldn’t I?

Gallons, huh? I think I’ve fallen behind somehow…

I bought my first vibrator, a cheap one from the drugstore, a couple of months ago. It’s been much appreciated but it’s at the end of its life. While before, I was hesitant, now I am super keen for more toys. I was browsing the internet for toys and now I want more than I can afford! Do I get a cheap-ish bullet and kegel balls first and then a better set of varied vibrators or the set of vibrators first and then the kegel balls?? Do you have opinions on Leo Luna Love Balls? I could do with more reliable orgasm (sometimes it just doesn’t happen :( ) and I’ve heard good things about them. Plus the idea of walking around in public, going to classes and for drinks with them inside me is super hot. Too many decisions.

I haven’t tried the Lelo balls, but I have the Fun Factory Smart Balls, and they’re lovely, especially to wear about town to make yourself a little crazy before a hot date (with lover or toy). Careful, quizkids, sex toy collecting is a serious addiction and I totally suport it.

Memo to self: stop jerking off right after taking anti-depression meds, at least if you’ve already jerked off once that day. Twice now the 45-minutes-of-trying-without-relief-before-giving-up has happened, you could really stand not to experience that again ever.

I don’t think that sounds like much fun, no. I wish I could donate orgasms to people. Not in a creepy way!

Hey QP! My girlfriend (and fellow QP reader) and I are in a long-ish distance relationship, with us going to universities in different cities. While it’s a bit tough being apart a lot of the time for school, every time we get together it is just absolutely awesome. Just this last weekend makes for an awesome example…

The two of us had just done some sexy times and in our pleasant state decided to snuggle up and just enjoy holding each other. My hands started to get a bit antsy so I started softly caressing her back, hearing her sigh and moan softly as I moved them along her skin, paying attention to any spots she seemed to especially enjoy having my hands on. We ended up going for over 20 minutes of just being next to each other as I caressed her. Felt so damn good and I think she’s inclined to say the same!

Long distance relationships are tough, but those times when you do get together are so worth it.

And this week we close on a most triumphant ::internet high five:: because that is what we like to do here.

Confess!

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My nails have gotten long. Not quite is-she-really-going-to-put-those-talons-in-that-poor-girl’s-pussy-OH-MY-GOD-RUUUUUUN long, but pretty damn long. It’s getting annoying. Hold on a minute.

There. Better.

I used to keep them long all the time. I’ve never bit my nails; never picked at them. They waxed fat and elegantly tapered. It was down, I explained, to growing up younger than my two sisters, who loathed me on sight and liked to beat up on me. They weighed more and punched harder, but I was quick and squirmy and I had ten sharp little stilettos to fight back with. My mom had to resort to cutting my nails while I slept; otherwise I’d fight it. Over the years I got used to them and they just stayed that way. Once or twice I even painted them.

This may be why I never much got into the habit of fingering myself. It’s not how I learned to masturbate. From the very first I favored neater, less dangerous clitoral stimulation. In case you’re new here, you should know that this utterly belies my passionate love of penetration. Sex with no penetration of any kind is exceedingly frustrating for me. Maybe it reminds me of masturbation. Fucked if I know.

It was somewhere around the time I started seriously thinking about fucking women that I began to trim my nails with any regularity. The two main reasons were (a) Hypothetical compassion. The feel of untidy nails raking against one’s vaginal wall? I know it of old, and we are not on friendly terms. And (b) Everyone knows that it’s 78% less likely you’ll be scoped out as a pussy-loving person if your nails don’t look up to the task. That made up statistic is especially true if you tend toward the femme spectrum of gender presentation, as I do.

I want to make it manifestly clear that it greatly pleases me to get scoped by ladies. Oh, goodness yes! Ladies, mack on me freely. Please do.

Upon cutting my nails I immediately realized I’d just halved my dexterity stat: I was cudgeling things rather than picking them up. But I knew I looked considerably more lesbionic while flopping around with these ridiculous hotdogs where my tweezers had proudly perched, so I considered it a fair trade¹. And I got used to real fingers eventually. To the point where now sometimes I leave them too long, and without any natural predators like habitual gnawing they go to seed and get too lanky for my taste. Then suddenly I’m living in a bizarro world where I scold myself (“Bad lesbian!”) and can’t properly type or play a stringed instrument with nails that reach about half as high as they used to. Also, I have a girlfriend. Take that, prissy-nailed past Q.P.

The weird thing, though? I still barely ever finger myself.

1. And you know how much lesbians like fair trade, amirite? [↩]

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A lot of the confessions I get fall into one of two categories: frustrated or triumphant. This makes sense because when we’re talking about desire, those are our two possible outcomes. In the years I’ve been curating secrets, I’ve discovered a truth that seems too obvious to require stating, but I think I’ll do so anyway: the easiest and most surefire way to achieve sexual frustration is to keep your desires a secret.

I want a world where we all agree that we each deserve as much pleasure as we can get. That wouldn’t make us obligated to be the administrators of one another’s pleasure, but it would be only decent to support and maybe even facilitate safe pleasure-taking as much as possible.  Once you get past the mythology of sex as sin, is there really any compelling argument against maximizing pleasure in a reality where life is so damn short?

So I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry I judged you, furries.

I wish I could re-do social indoctrination, with more reasonable scripts. I have a good relationship with my husband, but I still get blindsided by the insecurities rampant in our culture. Intellectually- masturbation is fun solo, a boredom and stress reliever, and porn helps put it on auto-pilot. Porn, especially easy and quick-to-access porn is not terribly high quality, and marketed to the lowest-common-denominator – thin, conventionally attractive people doing naked things.

And yet, when I walked in on him yesterday, my jerkbrain jumped straight to: I’m not enough, he’s going to cheat on me with a skinny tanned blond gal with big boobs…

WTF? I know he loves me, I know why we both look at porn and get off solo sometimes, and intellectually I don’t care. But I confess, sometimes being intellectually there doesn’t transfer to emotionally there…

I’m going to share a secret with you that it’s taken me quite a while to learn: you can’t trust your emotions. None of us can. That doesn’t mean that they’re not important, or that they don’t need to be validated and cherished and coddled at times, but do not let them tell you what’s what. They aren’t you, and they’ll lie.

Oh, and your body is surpassingly lovable and feverishly fuckable. FACT.

I love my husband, but I am not even a little bit attracted to him any more. He’s my best friend, and the best living/financial/coparent/life partner I could ever hope for. I still enjoy giving him attention and affection, but he no longer lights any fire at all in me. I would still rather grit my teeth and bear a few nights of awkward sex a week (because it’s not BAD, just not exactly wanted) than ever leave him. He means more to me than anybody else ever has, and I am still very romantically attracted to him. I just wish his libido would go away. That’s my sad little sex confessional.

I feel like this happens more than most people are brave enough to admit. I always wonder how it works or why it happens, though. Are you still sexually attracted to other people?

I wish I knew what you wish for you.

i had a boyfriend that i loved very much. we had a lot of problems though, and i broke up with him a few times but we would always get back together. we decided to try out an open relationship. i have always wanted to try this out, and for about a week i was deliriously happy with the idea even though i hadn’t taken advantage of it yet. our sex life tripled in amazingness and we shared all our fantasies and talked about making them happen. i felt like were on a magical adventure together.

but then the same old problems reappeared, worse than ever. he couldn’t accept that i loved him and wanted to fuck other men, and he called me a stupid whore in a non-sexy, non-consensual context. i dumped him yesterday and i am heartbroken partly because now we can’t live out our fantasies together. i am also scared that i will never find someone who can actually handle an open relationship with me.

Okay, right off, I’m seeing a couple problems with that relationship. One is that it seems he is a monogamous person, and you may not be. Another is the fact that he resorts to abusive language when he feels threatened. In my opinion, you did well ending things. Get in touch with your local poly community, if there is one. You’ll find people who are handling openness to varying degrees of success, some of them quite high. You may not find someone to date (although you might), but you’ll begin to see that people like this exist, and that can be revelatory.

oh, QP…

I was just in the hospital for emergency surgery, and MAN IS IT HARD TO GET OFF IN A HOSPITAL. i haven’t had the opportunity to have sex with my partner in a few weeks, so i was already horny before i went to the ER…and when they moved me to a room and stabilized my pain, dear lord. the sex dreams were driving me nuts! i found myself with my hand down my panties MORE than once.

and even though i’m home, now i hurt too much to have sex or masturbate. NOT FAIR, QP. NOT FAIR.

Some frustration is entirely beyond our control. Definition of NOT FAIR, totally.

I have recently had a “sexual awakening” I guess you could call it. For once I was able to be honest with myself, something was missing. Sex was always good with my husband but I felt like I needed something more then just sex.

I have taken more interest in BDSM, I told my husband and he is O.K. with it. He is a little timid and gentle with me but we are still new at this. I know I like sensation play, spanking, biting, heat and cold things. I enjoy some pain but I am not sure to what degree yet. I don’t know if he will ever be comfortable enough or want to push limits with pain. I enjoy light bondage which he seems to have a hard time with, he says he is interested but we will have to wait and see. sometimes a combination of any of these things is all I need, I don’t need P-I-V sex all the time although its always a bonus.

I think I am O.K. with my need for these things, I’m not sure but I think I am. it was hard for me to accept that this isn’t “strange” or “wrong”. However I have fantasy’s that I am not as O.K with, That I will never be able to express to my husband.

I have rape fantasy’s of being used and called a whore. of many men using me one after the other or even just one man using me in any way he wants, as long as its rough. I just can’t bring myself to be O.K with this. I have fantasy’s of age play, not a young young age just late teen early adult, college freshman age. I want to be a good girl told to do bad things by her man. I want him to make me his little college harlot. However my husband is a teacher and it freaks me out. I desperately want these things, need these things and I don’t know what to do about it.

Alas I guess I will go back to reading about other people doing these things, that should help.

Hey, so did you know? You deserve all the pleasure you can get, in the way you want it. You have no obligation to want pleasure– or just want pleasure– in the ways that other people find acceptable. If your desires don’t cause harm to anyone, they’re okay. When you believe these things, life will open up like aroused labia.

I’d really like to get over my hangups and scarring. I feel like I’d be a more whole and far happier person. But, I fear that it might rob me of my sex drive. That’s probably stupid and irrational but it’s there and it scares me.

You can always get more hangups and scarring if life turns out to be worse without them. They’re easy as fuck to collect.

I’m the #3 poster here:

When I was with my ex, I was jacking off 1-2 times per day, and frankly, I never once thought of her; not my type and a dead fish in the sack. I did finally manage to orgasm while having sex, but it was literally 1 time in 6 months of dating, and it was literally a half second after she told me she missed her past week of birth control pills >.< Not going to lie, that was a major part of why she’s my ex. I’m constantly thankful that she didn’t get pregnant.

With my current girlfriend, I jack off maybe once a week, and I think of her constantly. I feel bad because I compare her to my ex, but she’s so much better in all ways it’s not even funny. For one, she’s my “type” mentally, physically, and emotionally. For another, she’s deliciously responsive.

On a slightly different note, every time she orgasms–fingering, oral, or PIV, it doesn’t matter–she cries, and she always whimpers during the process while gushing about how amazing I am. What’s up with that?

::Internet high five:: for finding someone who inspires you to make her cry and whimper in wonderful ways. And yeah, some people just do that. Sometimes there are reasons like trauma, and sometimes it’s just a response to being overwhelmed by pleasure. Might be something to have a conversation about, if you haven’t. She sounds awesome.

Confessional

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This is important: Did you know that Tumblr has a thing called Topless Tuesday? Exciting, even though I have yet to find any pictures on Tumblr of people in shirts.

I secretly want to post amateur porn on the net, but I have very distinctive body markings, a fairly unique voice and a very good job where I meet a lot of people. I live vicariously through Topless Tuesday on Tumblr.

Told you guys!

Eventually we will get to the point where posting amateur porn on the internet is considered the public service it damn well is. I’m not great at paying attention, but I’m assuming that’s what this 2012 hype is all about. On December 22nd we wake up and everyone is chill about sex and porn, right? Right?

The comments on the submission page make me laugh. I almost want to make a confession that says, ”Girlz not afraid 2 show there pussy” and nothing else.

The only reasons I haven’t deleted those comments are a) hilarity, and b) I too hold out hope that one day I’ll find a clutch of these fearless girlz. Don’t take that dream away from me.

I wonder how messed up it is that I zone out on some clients and just start doing Kegels and fantasizing about their skills (or lack of them) in bed?

It’s messed up if they’re not doing their Kegels. Shit is fundamental.

I have never told anybody about how I get off when I’m alone.

I, er, imagine exercising a lot and getting in really good shape and having some guy with an amazing body compliment me on this.

It is utterly ridiculous, but it does the job. I lie there and think about being all hard and muscular and I spasm all over and soak the sheets.

As a matter of fact, I was doing this since I was eight years old, years before I ever set foot in a weight room or told a boy I liked him. It was more of a power trip, honestly; I was bullied in school and I think that made me fantasize about strength. I had a thing about Heracles. And Popeye.

But when I was little I remember telling my parents “I feel like I need to go to the bathroom, but I don’t really need to pee.” They were so worried they took me to the pediatrician, who was, like, “Kid, if you need to go to the bathroom, you should pee.” And all the time I knew, guiltily, that it was *thinking secret thoughts* that made me feel so nice and weird down there.

I guess there are weirder kinks. Mine, at least, is sort of attainable; while I’m not the ripped superhuman of my fantasies, I do work out a lot and get decent results and the occasional compliment. But I still feel like it’s the most perverted thing *ever*.

Whenever my childhood friends and I would cluelessly discuss sex I remember admitting, “I feel like I have to pee again!” I did not mention this to my parents, but one didn’t mention things to my parents. One still doesn’t.

Your fantasy is definitely not the most perverted thing ever. If perversion were radioactive decay, the cat would be fine, so don’t even worry about it.

I wish my boyfriend enjoyed giving oral as much as I do. He rarely does it. He went over 6 months without going down on me and when he finally did it lasted all of five seconds. I really enjoy giving him blow jobs but I try not to very often because I feel like it’s not fair.

I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it, though. His libido is much lower than mine as well. I love him and don’t want to break up, but I feel like maybe the sooner we break up the sooner I’ll fall in love with someone else who will enjoy eating my pussy.

I’m happy to be corrected if I’m wrong, but the impulse to give pleasure to one’s partner cannot necessarily have to correspond with libido. To wit, I can want to eat my partner’s pussy without feeling like I need to get off myself. Not that I think people should force themselves to do anything they don’t want to, and my aim here is not to shame anyone into adopting this behavior, but I genuinely do wonder why “I’m good, but I will gladly help you get off!” isn’t a viable solution for libido imbalance.

Anyway, I’ve seen this too many times to equivocate: if sex of any kind is a constant frustration for one partner and the other partner has fistfuls of not compromising and nothing else, the relationship is not working, I repeat, is not working. Communication, therapy, experimentation, non-monogamy, or termination… something has to change.

I’m on form of chemotherapy which is making me super tired (but it’s working, so woo!). I do have a high sex drive, but at the moment it’s peaking in the afternoons and by the evening, I just want to sleep.

This is a bastard because my partner doesn’t finish work til mid evening, so having spent all day fantasizing about all the things I want to do to/with/on/at him, by the time I see him, I can’t muster the strength to do any of it. Worse, our days off do not coincide. Tired and frustrated = :(

I’m so super glad it’s working! But the constantly frustrating timing thing is a motherfucker.

Is there any reality to be found in a hopeful expectation to kiss someone new and not have sex with them?

Yes! Read on.

I love sex. It’s fucking awesome and all, but sometimes I wish I could just make out. I really identified with the secret from this week about the man who wanted to make out with his old high school friend, not fuck her, just kiss her and make out.

Just wanted to say that I totally understand. Sometimes you just want to kiss someone and pull them close, bite on their lip and it’s just great.

My girlfriend and I are poly, and a few weeks ago I had the fantastic opportunity to have some physical relations with a friend of mine. We didn’t have sex, but for the 3 days we were able to see each other we must have spent about 10-12 hours in her bed, making out and lying there together and then making out some more and more and more. One particular goodnight kiss lasted 50 minutes.

But yeah. You’re not alone, man.

We’re actually each of us so not alone that it’s impossible to be alone. So now that we’re all here, wanna make out?

Or you can just tell me stuff.

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Today I’m in the mood for triumphant confessions. Maybe it’s the fact that the heat wave broke a little, wherever the fuck I live. Maybe it’s my fundamental drive to see people be happy. Or maybe it’s because I want to sex-brag myself sometimes, but that seems a little vulgar on my own blog.

Could be anything, really. I give you jubilation.

I fucked the locksmith who came to change my locks today. It was pretty much like the plot of a billion unimaginative porn movies. Except that he bought me lunch first. I’ve never seen lunch in a porno.

It was totally porn sex too, but in a good way. He had me bent into all sorts of positions, and he fucked my ass, which I love.

I never thought I was the sort of girl who could pull off a random lunch time hook-up with the delivery boy. I wasn’t even sure that such a thing existed outside of fiction. It was awesome, though.

This is known as “living the dream”! The locksmiths I’ve met personally are not… well, I wouldn’t…

Well I’m sure they’re lovely people, but not in my ass.

This week, two of my favourite fuck-buddies told me we can’t sleep together any more because they’re starting to fall for me. Part of me is sad that I don’t get to sleep with them anymore, but part of me is really flattered that they like me that much.

This is a Pyrrhic victory, of course, but it counts as a victory to be consistently too dreamy not to fall for.

I’ve been extremely ticklish all my life, to the point where anything even resembling a tickle anywhere on my body sent me into giggles. Turns out, this also means that it’s incredibly easy to give me an intense series of orgasms without even touching my breasts or genitals!

Orgasms through tickling, or orgasms through being the sensitive sort of person who can be tickled at the drop of a hat? I feel like this is an important distinction without knowing exactly why.

So, I can’t actually get myself off with my own fingers. It somehow seems like a lot of effort for something I know I can do just as well in half the time with one of my toys and a bit of lube. I’ve only actually ever come twice from manual stimulation: once during phone sex with a now-ex, where he told me what he wanted me doing and was talking me through what we’d be up to if we were together (super hot, incidentally) and the other was with my current boyfriend, who was laying next to me fucking a smooth vibrator into my bum as I rubbed my clit. It was also the first time I’d ever climaxed with anything anal going on, other than the presence of a plug we’d been using to work towards full on penetration. Awesome!

Awesome is right!

Ever since I first watched it as a little girl, the peacock’s dance in the Nutcracker: The Motion Picture has turned me on wildly. Sometimes I think it’s what got me into cages/bondage and anthropomorphism. Beautiful girls just get more beautiful with the addition of a long, flowing tail, in my opinion.

I haven’t been secretive about my long-standing grudge against the uncanny valley and my ambivalence over anthropomorphism, but then again, how does one argue with this?

I’ve been having sex with a girl who’s 7 years older then me recently. It’s hard finding new things that she hasn’t done, but even still I have found a few different things such as being tied up during sex, and she loves me exploring to find new magic spots. Can’t wait to find some more!

Flowing tails, maybe? Tying each other up with? Or cages.

I come whenever I’m riding in a car over the Queensboro Bridge. Literally, I have a little orgasm from the vibrations. I can’t even think about that bridge without getting aroused.

It’s the sexiest of bridges.

Or bridges. Goddamn, yes, bridges. Maybe there’s a reason they named this one after a Koch.

Confessions wanted.

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

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

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

Actually, no, I’m okay with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was hella impressive.

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

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

Sometimes sex is like this too, apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tell me a secret, you.

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

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

Love is the shit. Happy V-day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But happy Valentine’s Day!

hey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sex Confessional

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It’s cute how I can’t just get a cold or the flu and then recover from it like normal people. No, that would be silly. Of course it becomes pneumonia. Pneumonia in the midst of life trauma type stuff.

That, kind and indulgent reader, is basically why there was no ConTuesday last week. This week, though? Different story. There is a ConTuesday. I may still have pneumonia; I may still be having a month full of turpentine, gristle, and mud, but guess what? January’s almost over and I’ve always had luck with Februaries.

Hey, former sex worker here.

Every time a guy talks about how he’s “so good” that even prostitutes get off with him, I laugh. I laugh long and hard on the inside (or outside, if it’s online) and shake my head.

Guys, seriously: That is what you are paying for.

I know some women can have endless orgasms, but the general consensus is that after about ten it starts to hurt. Also, the pounding, slapping, whateverthefuck thing you think you’re doing REALLY DOES NOT WORK. A body is a finely tuned instrument, and it takes repeated practice before you can tune it to accept your stimuli.

The “orgasm” comes standard with the moderately-priced intercourse package, which also includes insincere platitudes and expressions of disbelief that you’re a virgin. It’s what you’re paying for. Be honest.

Sex work is one-tenth sex, three-tenths customer service, and three-fifths human affection and contact. That’s what separates it from a fleshlight. Start being honest about what you’re buying.

And hey, maybe if we can, as a culture, accept that affection and reassurance is more important than sex, people will start treating sex workers with respect.

PS: None of us care about the size of your penis, big or small. We don’t care either way, as long as you use a condom.

If I had enough money to pay for sex, though, I’m sure it would be different with me. Right? Right?

Last night I had a threesome with my roommate and her fuckbuddy. It’s the nicest thing ever to be having sex with a guy while your friend is in the corner reading Sandman, and no one has any problems with this situation.

Yeah, until it all gets jumbled up together and somebody pictures The Corinthian while climaxing.

The best thing I ever did for myself …was get a genital piercing. When I listen to music that’s heavy on bass, I have a built-in hands-free vibrator. When I go to concerts and stand by the amp… well. I think I deserve some kind of medal for this weekend, or a spot in Guinness: most orgasms experienced while standing in three-inch heels is all mine.

I can honestly say I have never wanted to shove metal through my skin more. Things I need to know:

1. If you are a clitoris-having person. I don’t want to assume, but I want to know if your setup would apply to me.
2. What exact piercing did you get?
3. Am I really considering getting a genital piercing based on the anecdote of an anonymous stranger? (Answer: I’m not not considering it.)
4. If I do this, what song should I listen to first?

Why do more boys not make noise? The guy I fucked last night made the prettiest noises… a couple of times he just kept saying “wow.” It was the hottest thing.

Oh dear Anubis, yes. I don’t really share this often, but male voices are a particular turn-on for me. I wish there were an industry term that made it easy to look for porn clips where guys talk a lot and make sexy sounds while fucking, because I would use it in searches even more than I use “The Corinthian rule 34″.

Sometime when I bring up the fact that I actually like sucking dick, a friend will agree and say something about how it makes her feel powerful and she enjoys the feeling of giving pleasure to her man. I usually just pretend to agree with that, but honestly, I like it for itself. There’s just something unbelievably hot about the feeling of a cock in my mouth, especially the smooth, soft head. And as for power, it makes me feel like a powerLESS sex object, and I LOVE IT! Does this make me a bad feminist?

Nope.

My girlfriend spanked my vulva too hard and it left bruises. I’m trying to figure out whether the mind-blowing orgasms I had with her at the time are worth the three subsequent days of being too sore for any kind of sex whatsoever. For some reason it’s the not being able to masturbate that annoys me the most.

I’m not entirely sure it would be worth the three days of frustration, but I’d be willing to find out for myself. There is something about this confession that makes me all squirmy and speculative. Probably the vulva slapping, if I had to guess.

Confessional.

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Things I don’t want the government to have the power to control (a random sampling of a much, much longer list):

• My reproductive system
• Whom I love and/or marry
• My ability to protect myself
• My blog
• My access to information

If we let them seize the internet, they’ll never give it back. And you just know they’ll end up coming for the porn eventually. U.S. citizens, if you’re against blacklist legislation, please contact your representatives and let them know that SOPA/PIPA are some bullshit.

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ConTuesday is upon us! Read on for your weekly dose of internet confessions.

You are DEFINITELY not the only girl who grew up wanting to bone Data in Star Trek. I was barely old enough to know what sex was when I decided I reckoned I could teach that android how to feel a few things.

I have a feeling that there are enough of us out there to make Brent Spiner a very happy man for the rest of his life.

I tried to comment there, but for some reason it didn’t work. *shakes fist* so here:
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I hate to admit it because she’s the most popular woman in porn right now (as far as I’m concerned), but I -love- Sunny Lane. Eager, excited, loves her job, comes at the drop of a hat… and it doesn’t hurt that she looks much like more than one of my lovers (is that weird?) Did you know her parents are her managers? Strange but true. Also, her (one) anal sex scene is super hot.

I, too, love Tristan Toarmino, whether she’s in a movie or directing it.

Beyond that, I rely on Ifeelmyself.com . I even had a friend on there, once, which was pretty hot. torrent up a few, so worth it.

–Crispin

Porn stars, like indie bands, just aren’t cool anymore once other people like them. That’s why my favorite porn stars are all webcam performers I found on craigslist Rhode Island.

Yes, Crispin, I am calling you out as a porn hipster. Also agreeing that Sunny Lane is well adorable.

I’ve always been sort of … negative in my opinion of myself, often in spite of specific evidence to the contrary. I’m poly, I’m married, I have two girlfriends and some other, less well defined sex partners. I figured I was, y’know, average, and the ladies were just trying to be nice. But I guess, after years of being told I’m large and know how to use it, and having gotten several of those occasional partners by direct reference, I have to actually accept it.

I know, an anonymous confession on the internet, from a guy, about how he’s got a big cock. How believable is that? *shrug* You said you wanted to hear something good, however, and it’s the most positive thing I can think of to say about myself. :)

I’m actually inclined to believe you, a guy posting to ConTuesday about how he has a big cock, partially because ConTuesday is anonymous so where’s the endgame? But also because you didn’t give fantasy inches. “My 10-inch tool” (or whatever) seen digitally always smacks of the over-elaboration that accompanies wishful thinking.

Similarly, when you are a silly girl in Middle School writing fiction, all your heroines have violet eyes with sapphire ringing the pupils. And gold flecks.

Guy I gave my phone number to yesterday: I want you. I want to ride you until your knees buckle, your toes curl up and you temporarily lose higher motor function. I want our involuntary screams of pleasure at all hours of the morning to wake everyone else on the block. I want to tie you up and do unspeakable things to you, and I want you to tie me up too. I want to lie in a heap of quivering flesh and sweat-soaked bedsheets with you. I want to lick every sweet inch of you. I want a reason to buy condoms in bulk. I want you… but I’d settle for coffee, so call me, ok?

Holy shit, please tell me he called.

If not, every guy out there who received a number a couple months ago and never called: You will never know if this was you.

Got a secret? Tell me. Massive extra points if it turns me on.

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