quizzical pussy

I feel like giving out some high fives today, how about you? If you love your sex life put your hand in the air, yo.

My husband and I have an open relationship and I’ve just recently began seeing a new fuckbuddy and HOLY CRAP.

First, he is amazingly hot. Like, I’m still pinching myself over the fact that he’s into me, gorgeous eyes, sexy smile, amazing body and a perfect dick hot.

Second, he’s actually a really awesome, funny guy and we have a great time together even when we’re not having mind blowing sex.

Third – THE SEX. We have so much sexual chemistry it’s a little overwhelming sometimes. We have an incredibly hard time keeping our hands/mouths off each other. It’s like his dick was MADE to be in my mouth. I have never actually fantasized about giving a blow job before. I’ve always enjoyed and been very good at it, but I’ve never gotten off on it before now. He is amazingly intuitive, I hardly ever have to give any instruction or direction, he naturally does just about everything EXACTLY the way that I like it. He is easily in the top three for best lays of my life (and I was pretty slutty in my early 20s).

He’s a marriage-minded guy (not that he’s actively looking, but he does want that in his future), so I understand that our arrangement has a shelf life, but DAMN am I going to enjoy the hell of it in the meantime! Just needed to brag about that for a minute, thanks!

::internet high five:: without a doubt! I love braggarts. Well, that’s not entirely true, but in the context of ConTuesday it’s utterly true.

There’s a beauty to accepting that a good thing need not be permanent, but on another level, marriage can mean a lot of things. Maybe on the distant day when he finds a primary partner he’ll still get to keep his fuck buddy/ies. After all, seems like he has a role model for how an open marriage can function.

[For context's sake, let me just say I'm a 45 year old bi female so some of this makes some sort of sense :) ]

One of my favorite memories of the last year was my boyfriend and I attending a great strip club and getting a lap dance from a confident, sexy woman who first a) held her bikini bottom up against her cunt so I could see the outline of her clit and inner labia b) pushed it aside and then c) put my hand on her cunt, one of my fingers slipping between her wet lips.

I wish it had gone on longer; it would have been lovely for her to put her cunt on my mouth and I surely would have enjoyed the wetting of every part of her cunt with my lips and tongue.

Ah, cunt, how I miss you. :)

Haven’t made love to a woman for a few years.

Hey, so bisexual visibility day just happened on Sunday. You know how we bisexuals are supposed to be totally great at monogamy so you monosexuals won’t oppress us anymore? Well fuck you. Maybe sometimes we’re gonna miss cunt.¹

I’ve had one night stands because relationships mostly annoy me. I don’t think that makes me a whore. I think it means I know what I like and I happen not to prefer the limitations of a closed relationship. There is a pang of regret that I didn’t pursue a relationship with one rather intriguing man some years ago, but that’s one small regret against a huge backdrop of not-regrets.

Having mostly not-regrets is kind of the most we can ask of life, isn’t it? And at that point, people can call me a whore or whatever they like because I pretty much own at existing. And that is damn high-fiveable.

1. I was depressed about not getting enough sex.
2. I am still not getting much sex, but am less depressed about it.
3. I’m XXXXX on XXXXXXXXX, lately.
4. When I XXXX XX XXXXXXXXXXX X, I’m hornier.
5. XXX says I need to XXXX XXXXXXXXXXXX X for my XXXXXX.
6. I like having sex.
7. I don’t like being disappointed at my female partner’s sparse sexual offerings.
8. We are monogamous.
9. I’ve a willing friend whom I’d like to wear out in an almost violently sexual fashion.

I think we all have a friend like that. Mine is a XXXXX XXXXXXXX.

In a way, I have nothing to complain about: Recently, I had two (Technically three) very nice, enjoyable sexual events with three different people, one which resulted in a very intense, new friend who will hopefully visit me again soon, and have the chance for an awesome threesome on the horizon. (*fingers crossed*)

So my sex live is actually quite nice. I know many people who would LOVE to have these experiences.

And I’m happy. I feel loved and desired, something I haven’t felt in a while.

And, yet, today, when I heard about two friends of mine getting their sexy on with each other, I felt really sad and excluded. I used to have a bit of a threesided friends-with-benefits thing with them, but things have not worked out the last few months and distances have grown, mostly between them and me.

So when I heard about them having sexyfuntime, it hurt. It hurt because I used to have a feeling of closeness and connection with then and I miss that. I miss feeling loved and desired by them.

And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for begrudging them their fun, I hate myself for not being content with the cool love life that I have, and I hate myself for actually caring about any of that.

I would love to be happy for them, I would love to hear about their sexual exploits and say, with honesty and conviction, “Awesome! I’m happy for you!”. And I’d love to have my own happiness not be so dependent on whether these two people do the nasty with each other and not me.

So far, that’s not working so well, though.

It can suck to feel left out. If you’re not being a dick to them about it, I would suggest you cut yourself some slack and let yourself feel what you’re feeling and work through it without judging yourself so harshly.

And then go get laid like a motherfucking time agent and report back!

I’m polyamorous. I went a long time without wanting sex with my husband, to the point where he just doesn’t try any more. My boyfriend, on the other hand? I’m wet for him ALL. THE. TIME. It’s weird to me that I can want one guy so much when I want the other guy in my life pretty much not at all. I think it’s the difference in kissing and enthusiasm. My boyfriend will kiss me hard and shove me up against a wall and show me how much he wants me, whereas my husband makes an attempt of some kind, but won’t kiss me and then if I say yes, I have to take the lead. With my boyfriend, I’ve discovered that I like to be submissive and do what I’m told. My boyfriend is of the ‘service top’ variety, and it just works so well! I have the best orgasms ever with him, so much so that I have to get him to stop sometimes so I can breathe. It’s awesome.

::internet high five::

(I too prefer to fuck people who will kiss me. It’s a weird fetish thing I have.)

We ran an errand together. While we traveled, I began touching her in ways not strictly prohibited but never done before between us; I touched her face and her neck and her upper chest. A line had been crossed.

When we stopped, I kissed her neck before we went inside. She moaned a bit. On the way back, I did it some more. I attended to her breasts. We composed ourselves and returned to our lives apart.

::internet high five::, I think. Pretty sure. Yeah.

1. Or dick. [↩]

Share/Save

Tuesday. Good day to read some confessions from the internet’s anonymous.

I just Googled ”sexless marriage”. Pretty sure a little part of me died tonight :(

Some people are perfectly happy in their sexless marriages. And then there are the people who aren’t, and I wish we could sprinkle them with magical orgasm dust and make their sorrows go away.

But I guess that wouldn’t be practical. I’m told magical orgasm dust is technically not a thing.

I turned down an interview last minute with an escort agency because they wanted me to shave. After decades of being told how I should look, giving up how I’ve chosen to look is the dealbreaker I never thought it’d become.

The sex industry knows better than anyone that there’s a market for how you’ve chosen to look. Fuck ‘em.

It distracts me from my work. It distracts me from my relationship. I’m getting sex maybe once a month from the woman that I live with. Our relationship is pretty good, but I’ve made no bones about the fact that sex is extremely important to me. I am vocal about my needs. I try to schedule dates. I send her texts and emails while she’s at work. I create times when we’re alone together. When we HAVE sex, she comes roughly 99% of the time. (Actually, more than me. I’m probably at 95%.)

She tells me that she feels like there’s always something more important that we should be doing. To me, the man who has told her how extremely important sex is to my relationship, this feels like a slap in the face.

Please, someone invent magical orgasm dust. People are suffering.

I know a guy with enormous hands and I’m in absolute awe of them. I keep thinking it’s like he’s got 11 cocks. I’ll bet one or two of those would feel amazing in my pussy. And other places.

The thing I adore about hands is that size is an issue, but in the most inclusive way possible: on one end of the spectrum we have tiny little fisting hands (awesome) and then there are decacock hands (also awesome). Do you see how much everybody wins all the time?

My boyfriend sometimes talks in his sleep. Last night we were cuddling and he was out like a light, he shifted and my half sleeping brain thought he was trying to get his arm back… I shifted up to let him roll over, and he wrapped his arms back around me, palm cupping my breast, pulled me close, and growled into my ear “I want you.”

Then he snored. Still, it was one of the more erotic things that’s ever happened to me, and if it weren’t for him having to get up in the morning and me being on my period ( getting up to remove a tampon would have spoiled the mood) I would have attacked him right there.

Tampons ruin spontaneity less than babies do, so it’s hard to even be mad. Also, so cute!

This isn’t very secret or exciting but more of a fun trivia from a kinky girl.

For all the things I’ve done when it comes to sex (the kinkier the better) I’ve never given oral sex!

Just the thought of having a nice, sexy dick in my mouth is revolting. Yes, I like dicks, very much actually, but not in my mouth. I do fantasise a lot of giving blowjobs, deep-throating and all such but I just can’t bring myself to actually do it when it comes down to it. Either I’m not an oral person or it’s just a hang-up and I’ll someday meet that special dick which will be my first blowjob. (Or maybe I have to get drunk and see if it works then?) The other thing is though; the thought of giving oral to a girl (sadly not tried yet) gives me the feelings that I would not mind that at all. (And then fucking her with a strapless strap-on of course!)

PS. OMFG, You are amazing! I only recently found your blog and I’m reading through all of it and have wanted to say that in every other post now.
PPS. Blowjob is such a funny name! (non-native English speaker here)

(Feel free to edit out the last part!)

I’m not editing the part where you say I’m fabulous, obviously. Or the part where you say that blowjob is a funny name, which is really just factually true.

As for the other part, oral sex isn’t for everyone. Maybe someday you’ll find the One Delicious Penis for you, but in the meantime it seems like you and your partners are having fun anyway.

I get an occasional email from a secret admirer I’ve come to believe understands me far better than does my RL boyfriend. I’ve no idea who/where he is or what he is like, but he sent me something today that for all its tameness made me want to run off into the sunset with him. There was also a stirring in my nether region. I can at least dream of escape.

If you feel like your current relationship is something you need to escape from, it seems like it mightn’t be terribly hard for a mystery person to top it. But I can see how there would be something splendid and giddy about having a secret admirer who seems to know all the right things to say, so maybe that’s all you mean. Hope so!

I have had a woman freak out at my circumcised penis. I don’t even know why I’m circumcised, I’m not Jewish or anything.

It was very disconcerting.

You might be circumcised because that’s just what happened to babies with penises in the region and time you were born. In my opinion, there isn’t a practical reason for it in most cases, and there are scads of ethical reasons not to take the choice of whether to have foreskin or not away from a person, newborn or otherwise.¹

Perhaps the woman who freaked out did so because she’s used to being sexual with men who were born in a region and time where most of the penises remained intact. Where I come from, women are more likely to freak out over uncircumcised penises.

They’re just penises, ladies. Relax.

Confess things.

1. I cannot mention circumcision without the requisite “stop cutting children’s genitals!” statement and I’m not even going to try. [↩]

Share/Save

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.

Share/Save

When you work as a phone sex operator, you are often essentially being paid to pretend you believe bullshit.

Yes, of course your penis is the exact dimensions of a foot-long meatball sub.

You’re talking to me while a Victoria’s Secret model is sucking your cock? Wow, Mister. That is really something!

So let me get this straight: You have interacted with real, actual people before? In public? Unsupervised? Oh, baby, that’s so hot.

I was uniquely suited to this task because I am naturally straight-off-the-bus gullible. When I was younger I somehow didn’t grasp the concept of lying to impress people. I loved to invent stories with fictional people, and I’d lied for self-preservation before, but it had never in my life occurred to me to prop myself up with false claims, and somehow that left me blind to it when others did it.

This led me to marvel at how that nice Mormon girl I knew in eighth grade had managed to join a gang of drug dealers. It also left me wondering how Reginald Sleeth, my first boyfriend, had managed to ghostwrite so many songs for indie bands without ever getting paid for it!

I have since learned to be a bit less credulous, but it’s still embarrassingly easy to lie to me sometimes. And this serves me well when people are lying to impress me and I’m supposed to seem duly impressed.

But this one guy took the cake.

I think one customer was single-handedly keeping the struggling phone sex company I worked for afloat. He called in almost every night I worked, and the dispatch ladies told me it was far more often than that.

As far as I could tell, he really did just want to talk.

I never heard any panting, quickened breathing, or sloppy slapping sounds. He never wanted to talk through his fantasies, he never wanted to talk dirty. He just wanted to talk.

Sure, it was usually about sex. He liked it best when I was playing a naive, innocent character and he could explain things to me. He’d tell me about his countless sexual exploits, and his preferences in women, and almost shyly describe his prowess. He loved to make a woman come over and over.

And I might have believed him, too, if it weren’t for the train story.

He’d traveled extensively, he said, in the days when that was as likely to mean great trains gliding across the country as airports and flying machines. And he had found women everywhere he went. This is a potentially true thing, since women are indeed just about everywhere. I have heard that scientists recently found a woman in Antarctica.

Once he was on a train and made his way through the observation car to the very back, where he could cling to the rear railing and get some fresh air.

As he took in the scenery of the tracks unraveling behind his mount, he smelled an unknown but intoxicating ladies’ perfume, and felt someone approach behind him, close, closer, pressing lightly against his back. He felt warm breath play at his freshly barbered neck, and then a soft kiss: a flutter, really. Lips on him, and then a gloved hand covering his eyes.

He felt his meatball sub of manhood stir, as the mystery woman’s hands reached around to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

And then they had sex, he told me. He never saw her face.

“Wow, that must’ve been really hot for… wait, you couldn’t see her face through the whole thing?” Trying to keep my voice giggly and shrill.

“She was behind me the entire time,” he told me, wistfully.

“But you had sex? Like, penis-in-vagina intercourse?” Completely breaking character now.

“Oh, yes. It was,” my customer concluded, “the most erotic experience of my life. She was the most beautiful woman I never saw…”

Oh god. Anatomy. Mechanics. Just… impossible. Hand over mouthpiece. Cackling. Gasping for air. Deep breath. Smile. Now. Give him what he’s paying for. Give him buoyant.

“Wow. That is really, really hot. You have had such an exciting life!” Give him brainless.

(image source)

Share/Save

When I think of things I’ve wanted my entire life, the word “adventure” seems to come up a lot. I think deep down I’ve always wanted to captain a pirate ship in a sea populated by mermaids and monsters.

I used to define the perfect partner as someone who wanted to have adventures with me, and who made them better just being a part of them.

Now, generally, having a small fraction of the energy a healthy person has, it’s hard for me to get too ambitious and exotic. I have to carefully ration energy for everything I do. But trying something new is pretty much always, always worth the drain.

It does not hurt if there are orgasms involved.

I spent last night making out with and tickle-fighting my gay best friend and a mutual female friend (who, like me, IDs as straight). It was my first threeway play and my first time kissing another woman, and it was awesome! Not horny or romantic, just all friendsy and fun and biting and tickling and kissing. His housemates had to have heard us shrieking.

This is exactly how I imagine mermaids behaving. Yar.

My boyfriend loves my ass. I’ve never delved much into anal play before him, but I’m enjoying it… or maybe it’s the multiple orgasms he gives me before the anal play, which certainly eliminate any chance of tensing up.

Sometimes, while he’s got me bent over, he’ll reach into the Fun Drawer for some lube and start playing while he’s fucking me.

Last night, after a session of that, he turned to me and said ”It was just there, and it looked so good….”

I of course responded with ”So, you’re saying that my ass is like Everest?”

I think I love you. Because you’re awesome.

So I am a 21-year-old, relatively good-looking, frighteningly-intelligent, incredibly boring male, to the extent that I’ve never managed to keep a girlfriend interested for more than 3 months. Nor have I managed to get laid with a girlfriend, girl at a party, etc.

(It’s not that I can’t converse for hours on end about almost any subject. I’m just quite apathetic about almost everything.)

Instead, my entire sexual history consists of 2 visits to a bordello in Berlin.

The first time was… okay. While the prostitute was really nice (and gorgeous), I had no clue what I was doing. In addition, being significantly larger than the average male, the normal-size condom was cutting off my circulation something fierce, and I just couldn’t stay hard. All in all, I exhausted myself pounding away for an hour and a half.

Yesterday, I visited again. Much better. I specifically asked for a magnum condom right off the bat–she waffled around a bit, the whole ”you’ll be fine with a normal,” at which point I mentioned that I’m 8.5”. She got one.

Also, she was REALLY horny. As in, soaking when she stripped her panties off. We started off with mutual oral, and she stopped several times because I was somehow actually getting her off! She kindly thanked me for my consideration.

We did the typical missionary, doggy, and her-on-top missionary, and during the lattermost I managed to bring her off twice more (NOTHING feels better than a woman cumming around your penis), and ended up with a lake on my stomach from her enthusiasm! Sadly, my staying power–who’s heard of a noob who doesn’t shoot off at the drop of a hat?–meant that I didn’t cum before the hour and a half was up. I played it off as ”yeah, I usually go for hours on end. No worries!”

I found that interesting. Maybe if you choose to date in future you could lead with that? On second thought, that might be more of a third date conversation…

She spontaneously put her finger in my ass, and I liked it some, despite my faint inate phobias. But it rubbed it raw. To do this again, I’m going to have to ask her to use lube or even a device or gloves. And that’s just planning out anal exploration a bit more than I think that I can openly do, and still be a straight man.

Yes, I’m completely aware of how stupid this sounds.

You don’t sound stupid. You sound scared. And with the tons of shame piled on guys if they don’t adhere to demoralizingly rigid standards, it’s not surprising.

But pretty near every man alive has a prostate. So don’t think for a second that you’re alone.

Have adventures to brag about? You know I want them.

Share/Save

Here’s an awesome thing: Quizzical Pussy was recently reviewed on Jane’sGuide (scroll down a bit to see)! As a longtime fan of Jane’sGuide, I was geeked. And nervous. And geeked.

Turns out we’re one of reviewer Vamp’s personal picks (that’s the thumbs up icon) and we earned the coveted “Original & Quality” badge! I say “we” because this site wouldn’t be what it is today without reader-submitted content in the form of anonymous confessions and comments. You guys are awesome, and you make this blog so much fun for me!

Thanks to Vamp Ire for the great review!

Share/Save

Hey, guys! Let’s have a ConTuesday, shall we?

I used to be a sex worker. To this day, it’s the standard to which I hold all of my other jobs (they don’t measure up). I loved my work, the customers, and the general feeling I got working only for myself.

I’m going into a field which, while it’s my absolute passion, completely crushes any possibility of me doing sex work ever again.

On the one hand, I’m happy to be out of a job where my worth is tied to physical beauty that is always (always, always) depreciating, and have a career where my value grows with my age. On the other hand, I REALLY LIKED THAT JOB!

God, I’m such a princess.

A princess’s beauty never (never, never) depreciates. Remember that. Also, I’d probably miss it too.

I’ve had sex once in the last 8 months with my wonderful, committed boyfriend. It sucks hardcore that we so rarely have sex (because I never have a damn libido anymore), but at least now I know why. I’ve recently been diagnosed with both an anxiety disorder and depression, and my shrink says the loss of my nympho-hood is primarily due to those conditions. While it still sucks not to have sex much, at least now I know why, so I feel a hell of a lot less guilty about it.

I have been on both sides of this dilemma, and I can honestly tell you that I completely fucked the whole matter up even more than it needed to be because I was too immature and petulant about it to really communicate with my partner. You guys seem like you’re navigating this situation a lot better than I ever did. Good luck finding a treatment that works for you. Hope you feel better soon, on every level.

I had an unexpectedly fantastic time at Kinkfest last night. I think finally I may have found people who will rock the friends who also have complicated sexy times together thing. It’s been way too many years since I moved away from the last ones.

I have to be honest here. I feel like this is in some sort of very thinly veiled code or something. It could be density, but I’m not entirely sure what you mean. But it seems positive. So fuck yeah high five!

I’m in a messed up place emotionally right now. Stuff is happening all around me and I don’t know how to react. I talked to my husband for about 5 minutes and he dismissed my feelings. I called my fuck buddy tonight to come over and cuddle and he turned me down. I feel a bit let down, but considering he’s the ”other man,” I don’t think I can feel too upset. So I called a male friend to come over and we sat holding hands and cuddling for a couple of hours while I talked it out. Now I don’t know what to think! If only I could wrap the three of them into one person, I’d be sooo in love with him :(

If I could wrap King Arthur, Vin Diesel, and Feyd Rautha all into one person, I would challenge that guy to an arm wrestling match.

No one would be surprised when I lost.

Go to the Sex Confessional and tell me something scandalous!

Share/Save

I would seriously, shamelessly trade sex for guitar lessons. Or Photoshop/Illustrator lessons. Or a few other skills I want to pick up. I realize that friends and lovers kind of naturally teach each other about their passions and such, but I’m talking about a formal arrangement: sex for skill.

It’s a fantasy I go back to occasionally, realizing that it’s a) harmless and b) may be in violation of certain feminist principals. Sex isn’t a commodity (although in reality sometimes it is), and female sexuality isn’t some mysterious thing you have to offer tribute to engage (although I’m a big supporter of sex work, and the simple fact is that there is a demand). In practice, the arrangement would be nothing approaching fair, as I would be enjoying it just as much as anyone I willingly made this type of agreement with. We’re basically talking the most one-sided barter ever, like someone telling me, “I’ll give you this Milky Way if you pet my adorable kitten.”

Um, yeah. Where do I sign?

I find skill arousing. I like the idea of actively living the student role with a sex partner, and the trade part puts it over the top for some reason. I can’t put my finger on it; maybe I want to pretend that sex with me is so totally awesome someone would resort to bribery to procure it. It would be super, extra cool to know a shy music or design geek ended up thinking, “Holy shit. My random skill just came in more useful than I ever hoped to imagine.”

I don’t think this counts as prostitution per se, but if you want to call it that, you honestly just made it even hotter.

(image source)

Share/Save

I’m going to make this really, really clear, just for the record: There’s nothing clever about violating a sex worker’s anonymity. Ever. This isn’t something that’s done for great justice; it’s not a public service, and it doesn’t accomplish anything productive.

Very simply, if I try to fuck with any sex worker’s real life, family, and/or identity, it’s my pathological attempt to punish that person, usually for the crime of representing sex or a related transgression (to me). That, or it’s a childish vendetta against someone who pissed me off in a more concrete way.

In short, there are no non-personal reasons for this phenomenon. I’ll go so far as to say that all anti-sex “crusades” are deeply personal. They’re never really for the social fabric, or for the children. They’re for one (or more) waylaid pervert’s thwarted kink and guilt-soaked lust.

One of the reasons it sucks doing sex work is because you get negative respect. You know why you can’t tell people when you get a job in orgasm assistance? Because it will very often irrevocably damage the way they see and interact with you. It will jeopardize your future career in other industries. It will inevitably break your poor mother’s heart (because if there’s one thing your mom should care about more than the gory details of your sex life, it’s what the neighbors would think about the method you’ve chosen of not being homeless). Even when you’ve got a shitty, thankless job as a fast food worker or in retail, you’re still liable to hear platitudes like “Well at least it’s honest work”. I’m pretty sure honest work is code for “not sex work” in a lot of cases.

So– because I’m clearly missing something here– why isn’t sex work honest? What’s dishonest about it? It isn’t always legal, and I’ll be the first to admit that the illegal forms of sex work especially abound with coercion, abuse, and outright slavery. But the legal, consensual kind? Even the illegal, consensual kind? The I’ll-provide-a-sexual-service-and-you-pay-me-and-we’ll-all-go-home-happy kind? Seems honest to me.

It seemed honest to me when I witnessed it working in the porn industry, it felt honest to me when I was a phone sex operator, and it seems extra super honest to me when I’m watching the obviously unfiltered, unsanitized look at legalized prostitution: HBO’s Cathouse. God, I can’t help loving that show.

Society (the one I’m entrenched in, but also pretty much all of them from where I’m sitting) has serious issues with sex. In fact, if Society were a person I would advise it to seek immediate, five-times-a-week counseling. But we don’t have to buy into all that baggage to the point where it makes us thwarted, guilty waylaid perverts, do we? Especially when there are so many wonderful, rewarding ways to stick to the straight and narrow path of perversion. It feels so good to embrace what Society “knows” is wrong, like slipping into a warm bath of anti-psychotics.

Fucking is older than Society, older than economics, older than humanity. Sex existed long before the first primate wiggled the first thumb, and then proceeded to stick it in an orifice.

Do you think it’s maybe time we relaxed about sex a little?

Because hysteria over sex workers, or gay people, or any normal, healthy aspect of human sexuality is really just an extension of freaking the fuck out about sex. There’s a tendency to deny sex workers personhood, making them either receptacles of our disgust or avatars–even deities– of sexuality. Sometimes both. But, much like Zaphod Beeblebrox, they’re just these guys, you know?

As long as we imbue their jobs with all this emotional, existential and philosophical weight, is it any wonder they want to remain anonymous? Let’s all treat sex work like the honest work it is, and then maybe sex workers will want to disclose their real names. Until then, we deserve to take all the puns and belabored alliteration they want to give us, and like it.

(image source)

Share/Save

Happy Lady Porn Day!

Fun Porn Fact: My first exposure to porn was when I started working in the industry.

That’s weird, right? I grew up in the age of the internet. I should’ve been sneaking around finding all sorts of ascii boobies in my single digit years, and going up (or down) hill from there. As it was, I was nineteen and I’d never seen a single scene from even so much as a stag film.

And the story should be lurid, I realize. Or at least dramatic. Something about sliding from innocence into prurience. Fanny Hill in the 21st Century.

Yeah, not so much. My then-boyfriend Reginald Sleeth had moved out to Los Angeles to work in movies, which ended up, as these things sometimes do, more like landing in the San Fernando Valley to work in porn.

He signed on with a very fratboy-centric porn studio, doing photography, video editing, and website content. He told me and he told his mother, and we each asked conspiratorially if he was planning on telling the other, while being perfectly fine with it ourselves.

The website had an erotic fiction feature, and Reginald was responsible for providing the stories. For about two weeks. He really wasn’t much of a writer, and he decided to have them hire me to write weekly smut. It wasn’t until then that I finally had full access to the pay site and started discovering the joys of porn.

This will sound hopelessly hackneyed, but I was a fairly hackneyed teenager: The women seemed so empowered! So in charge. I was already obsessed with sex, but the concept of being seductive was miles ahead of me (still is). I was entranced with the confidence I saw in these women. I wanted to be them, but I was afraid.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Reginald told me flatly. “All our girls are either dumb as bricks or on drugs. Or pressured into it by suitcase pimps.”

Maybe he was right. A lot of mainstream porn isn’t actually about empowerment. That’s probably why so many performers left the industry as soon as they could. They got married or went home or dropped off the face of the Earth. A few found Jesus, and decided he wasn’t cool with porn.

A few months after my porn career started, I visited Reginald in L.A. for the summer, and I was invited to work alongside him at the studio.

It sat in a huge white corrugated warehouse, hidden in plain site between two other (less reputable, I was assured) houses of porn. One end of the space was a set for photoshoots and an editing booth. On the other end were the computers, couches for meetings and interviews, and in the middle was a halfpipe.

I was scared to death. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just wrote the stories. I was a technical virgin, for Hymen’s sake! I didn’t know anything about being in a porn studio.

A nice blonde producer handed me a vampire porn DVD and a Kama Sutra Weekender kit. “You can review these while you’re here and later this week we’ll try you on some photo editing. Just color correcting and stuff.” She pointed to a room with a DVD player and television.

“Ooookay. I guess I’m just going to go watch porn now…” I said the opposite of nonchalantly. So we were just going to assume that we were all mature adults comfortable with our sexuality then, huh? Oh good…

For the record, I would learn later that week that I suck at color correcting.

That summer, I saw Eastern European girls nervously ask their swear-I’m-not-their-pimp what double penetration meant. I saw Midwestern ex-cheerleaders have meltdowns before their scheduled camshows. One day, Reginald and I went to Chili’s, and our waitress was a girl I recognized from the website. She blushed and pretended not to know him. Overall, there was a decisive lack of glamor and a dearth of empowerment.

I don’t know if that’s why I’m generally not turned on by mainstream porn, but it may well have something to do with it. I tend to gravitate toward performers who seem to really love the industry, or amateurs who seem to be scratching an exhibitionist itch. Truth is, though, I’m not exactly a connoisseur.

So I’m opening it up to you, readers! What’s your favorite porn? I’m looking for joyous, sincere fucking. I’m looking for that spark of what I thought porn was back when I was so naive. Extra points for featuring genderqueer performers, kink, laughter, rough play, and ReallySexyPeople™ of different body types.

A friend of mine is specifically looking for kinky/fetish porn that’s not too dungeony or scary: more light bondage and playful D/s.

Share your links! Share your turn-ons! Love your porn!

Read more about Rabbit Write’s Lady Porn Day here.

Join the conversation on twitter: #ladypornday

Share/Save