The End or A New Beginning?

The clichéd title of this post may reflect a whole variety of things about my life, my career and my marriage, but mainly it reflects this blog. For all of the elements a new beginning is accurate, but the blog, it may be the end. I don't know yet, but I wanted something out there to explain my silence, other than "yet another sex and relationship blog bites the dust." So, where am I?

1) The 101 Things To Do List is coming along brilliantly. I came out to a group of people, collected another qualification, got my professional website set-up, went to a three-star Michelin restaurant and more. If I get a chance I'll update the list.

2) Hubby has a dominant streak a mile wide. Seriously, it's amazing. He has learnt to enjoy the domestic dominance and controlling me with just a look or a subtle change in tone in his voice. It adds another very strong bond to our relationship and a sexual frisson that wasn't there before. Not to mention, he really likes metal and controlling my orgasms, the latter is awesome - the former is terrifying (in a good way of course). It makes me sad how much amazing sex he (and I) missed out on, but hapy he is finally finding it AND WITH ME! Yey!

So, if this is great and there are some positive things to explore in this blog, why could this be my last post? There are three reasons:

1) I was getting addicted to the blogging world. While I don't see a problem with this, I am an oversharer and need to control the natural honesty policy I have. I generally confess everything (to give you an idea, I broke a washing machine in a rented house 20 years ago, I still feel guilty because I never owned up). I don't like not sharing my actions, thoughts, and dreams with people. It feels icky. The very close bereavement I had, followed by a health scare that started two days after my Knife Play post and lasted a whole month, gave me a chance to kill the addiction and not spill out the secrets of everyone I know.

2) I met someone (in case you've forgotten, I am polyamorous, hubby is monogamous, complex emotional dramas ensue). This guy is charming, funny, attractive, clever, and sexy. I was trying to work out how to be friends with him, while negotiating my (and his) desires, hubby's nervousness, and this new guy's personal situation - a closed relationship. I point blank refuse to "go there" because I believe I have a moral responsibility to someone I have never met (and boy, does that put Paul in perspective, I only blamed myself for that situation and defended his innocence - nonsense!). Playing with boundaries like that is complex. I wrote so many blogs about the friendship (which is ongoing), but this is the first I have posted about it because I have not asked his permission to share his story. I don't know if I have the right.

3) Mainly though, this may be the end because of hubby. Something VERY, VERY major has happened to his health. It limits what he - what we - can do in our daily lives and it will do, to varying degrees, forever. His health is his story to tell, but without sharing it more I would be limited in what sexy times I could write about because it effects that too. Maybe in the future the blog can change and talk specifically about that, but not now.

If you reached the end of this post, whoop whoop, go you! If you have ever commented on any of my posts, thank you with bells whistles and plenty of spanks. You really made a big difference to mine and hubby's life. I am sorry to be leaving and hope to be back someday.

All the best,

Emily

PS How could this post go ahead without being part of a meme? No way! Clickety Click

Tasks

For next week I have been given two tasks, both given to me by hubby with a Dominant voice I cannot describe. They are (1) to sort out the plastic bags, and (2) to take the paper to be recycled. Both jobs need doing, but are really crappy jobs I would never do without being told to. Hubby has also given me the task of making lists as part of my "101 Things in 1001 Days" chain link time management project. This is an added impetus I sorely need.

They are not erotic tasks, they are ordinary household duties and yet being given them gives me a sense of calm and peace and belonging I really cannot describe.

Of course, sometimes tasks are erotic. Yesterday I was given one totally out of the blue. A dress was thrown at me, I was told to wear it with tights and later I would have to take off my tights, suck hubby’s cock and then straddle him on the sofa and fuck him as he desired. The only thing is, when it came to the end of the day and taking off my tights, I was so excited I forgot the order of the tasks. Hubby forced me down and spanked me until I remembered. I was in that very odd space where I didn’t know whether I wanted to carry on being spanked or whether I should drag my memory banks and stop the punishment: the need to be submissive won and I remembered the instructions. Hubby then used and abused me until we both screamed. My heart sang for it and I am still feeling blissful today.

End Note:
While writing this, hubby called me with more tasks! I had to eat porridge, go pick up my medicines, buy sausages (I really don’t understand that one...), read an article, and report back to him. Amazing stuff! Must finish the tasks now!

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This post was published as part of Wicked Wednesday, clickety click for more interesting treats.

Phone Sex

Who doesn’t love phone sex? Having to get off through the power of thought, listening, conversation and whatever skills your hand/s can muster. I once fell off a chair having an orgasm because the phone was attached to the wall and couldn’t move. It was great. Of course, that is the downside to phone sex – technicalities.

Technicalities have been the reason why my husband, Nic, and I have not in our 12ish years together had phone sex – not even once (well that and the lack of sexual compatibility, but that is an old story). That is until two nights ago. Hubby is away on holiday while I am at home trying to work. We both have phones, we can afford the calls, we are in practical time zones, and we both have privacy – all requirements for sex over the phone.  

And how delicious our sex was. Nic told me all the things he would do to me, the way he would control my body and force it to do what he wanted. He steered the conversation where he wanted. He dominated our fantasy, he made it his and I submitted to it, willingly. Two years ago he didn’t even fantasize when wanking (no joke, for the life of me I don't know how that is possible), now his fantasies are about guiding me and controlling me. Together we have opened up a whole new world of possibilities as a result. It is wonderful.

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This post was written for Wicked Wednesday (yes, I know it’s Thursday, be off with you pedant). Clickety click for other wicked things.

Advice Sought: Blog, What Blog?

In my offline life I am becomingly increasingly open about sex and sexuality. I have started to discuss things with people far more than I used to. In a couple of months I am even presenting at a queer festival. What I won't be doing is sharing this blog.

This blog is my private haven, private being somewhat oxymoronic, of course. I write it for my own purposes. I started it like a sort of journal, but I like it because of the community feel and the life-affirming comments and discussion. I feel bad when I don't get to write for it. I feel like I am disconnected from my own thought processes, my personal reflection, my sexual meditation, even my sexual experimentation. Having this blog helps me to push my relationship/s sexually in more ways than I expected - perhaps because hubby also reacts positively to what I write and the comments I receive. When I don't get to write on my blog I also feel disconnected from the community, and that it will just disappear and I will be left without one again. It is a worrying thought, especially after I missed the big social opportunity of Eroticon due to my bereavement.

It is not always easy for me to write on my blog though. I access the blog on my laptop, but it is on a separate login and locked off from access to/from the other four (yes, four) accounts I have set up. The account is my sexuality, relationship, polyamory, BDSM login, where I keep my photos, pornography and such like. It isn't something I can open when I am with people other than hubby.

So, I have two questions for the hivemind:

1) How do you write your blog and keep it going when you are very busy with work and life gets in the way?

2) How do you write your blog when you have company? When people are staying at your house or you are staying with other people?

Anything?


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This post was written for Wicked Wednesday, clickety click for other stories, photos, poems, discussions and more.

Hang On, What Is Sex?

I was totally off the radar in February, so to rejoin the fold I thought I would follow the prompt posed for Wicked Wednesday: “?+?=?”. The initial question this leads to is “how many people have I had sex with?” This is not easy to answer, because first we need to ask “what is sex?” Simple you may think it is penis in vagina sex, but this makes all non-heterosexual people virgins which is blatantly ridiculous. When discussing sex people also only refer to cis-gendered people, which effectively equals guy with cock and girl with cunt. Although being woefully inaccurate, I have never knowingly been intimate with a transperson and so in this post I interchange the genitals and the gender. At some point I hope to find a way not to do this!

There are lots of discussions online about what counts as sex, including a number of academic papers and handy summaries of such papers, including “11 SexualActivities That People Don't Count As 'Having Sex.'” This is a summary of a paper done by the Kinsey Institute and Indiana University.

The researchers questioned 486 adults aged 18 to 96 from Indiana and most of them were heterosexual. They were asked whether they considered certain activities to be having sex. Not one single item they were asked was agreed upon by everybody. Here are some of those things, with my own experiences noted.

1. Penis-vagina sex (with no condom, with both male and female orgasm). I really can’t remember how many unsheathed men I have shagged, about five I’m guessing.

2. Just the tip (apparently also known as halvsies, I found this fab post about them). I don’t think I have had halvsies with anyone I wasn’t actually fucking and deliberately tormenting (or being tormented) with a bit of cock.

3. Penis-vagina sex with a condom. I have had more than ten and fewer than twenty. I am actually very fussy about men and their cocks!

4. Penis-vagina sex, with no female orgasm. Two men fall under this category, one is an unpleasant story for another day.

5. Penis-vagina sex, with no male orgasm. All guys I have been with have ejaculated.

6. Anal sex, with a condom. Unfortunately, fewer than ten (it always amazes me how hard it is to find guys who want to fuck my arse. It is an acquired taste it would seem, anal sex rather than my arse I would hope.)

7. Anal sex (no caveats). The same as above, but more to the point, I have had anal sex with no condom with three or four guys.

8. Receiving oral sex. No women have licked me, I am clearly doing something wrong there. I honestly don’t remember how many guys have devoured me.

9. Performing oral sex. I have enjoyed a couple of women and more men than I will ever be able to remember.

10. Receiving manual stimulation. I have experienced this from a few women but many more men than I can remember, let alone name.

11. Performing manual stimulation. As above.

 

What this doesn’t show is whether or not masturbation in the company of another person counts as sex, or using toys, or genital-to-genital contact, or orgasms through spankings, or other non-genital stimulation. If we count other kinds of experiences than penis-in-vagina, I just do not know how many guys there have been. I tried counting but I gave up when I kept remembering odd nights here and there fumbling around with groups of friends. I got to 40 before I threw in the towel at a complete loss.

 

Next time you discuss with someone how many people you have had sex with, (for health, relationship or fun), you may want to remember that you may have entirely different definitions of sex.

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This was posted for Wicked Wednesday, clickety click for more sex-related discussions and some erotic stories.

Waving Art

I am a big fan of waving, I wave to people even when I am on the phone and I know they can't hear me. It is personal, fun, kind and warm. It represents affection and closeness.

Of course, some people wave formally by raising their hand in a slight gesture, or the Queen of England who has a weird reverse hand wave, almost a "get away from me you pleb" type of thing.

My waves, though, are enthusiastic and jolly. If you get a full hand wave or a cute four-finger bowing wave from me, it is because I like you and am pleased to see you.

But, when I think of waving, I also think of the artist Spencer Tunick.

If you don't know him, you have probably seen or heard of his work. He makes art installations using naked people in public, whether it is just one person or thousands.



He has been commissioned to make art around the world. Yet, because the naked form is considered immoral and illegal, Spencer has been arrested five times in New York. As such, he has not been able to make his art in America for ten years.

His art embraces the human form in different shapes, sizes and colours. It recognizes that all people are the same and individual and form part of the broader landscape of nature and the human-made world. Spencer's work plays with sexuality and gender, global warming, freedom, and a whole range of "big" issues, while taking the human form back to its basic state.

Mainly though, I love it because it is happy. People enjoy exploring what it is like to be naked in a group. They have to challenge themselves. As Spencr said of the installation in front of the Sydney Opera House (see the video below): "It was difficult to get the straight participants to embrace the gay participants and vice versa,"  but they did embrace! In Spencer's installation, people have to dive in and go for it and ultimately, they all end up waving and smiling! I love it!




Enjoy the video and smile :D



This post was made for Wicked Wednesday, with the prompt "wave."

Something I Love About Myself

One of my tasks on the 101 Things to do in 1001 Days is to finish writing the 30 Days of Truth meme. Now, most of these will never see the light of day because they are too personal and break my heart. But this one, I thought I would post it.

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Day 02 : Something you love about yourself

How not to seem like an arrogant tool? Hmmm, I love myself. I really do. I don’t think I’d love me if I met me, but as far as who I am, I pretty much love me. What do I love best? That is tricky.

I think, if I had to pick one thing, it would be my self-awareness and my knowledge that I’m not perfect and I must constantly work at growing and developing as a person. We all change, people we meet change us, work, small happenstances in the street, major illnesses, the weather, everything. I love the fact that I know this and as a result am constantly questioning and wondering and pushing myself to be the best and the happiest I can be. That makes me better and I think it makes the world a little better. That last bit, about making the world a better place … that is probably the second thing I would say I love about me. I am an idealist and want everyone to be happy. I do whatever I can to help move that along, without sacrificing myself in the process. Happiness is important, and I wish more people would find out what makes them happy and how they can achieve that.

Can I say a third thing I love? Of course I can, it’s my blog. I love my boobs. They’re awesome! Here is a photo of them (in a very ill-fitting bra – the shame!) to prove it.

Truth level: Total, there is nothing here I wouldn’t say to anybody else, quite literally, I can often be seen in conversations grabbing my boobs with pride *grin*


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This was posted for Wicked Wednesday. I missed the prompt totally this week, but never mind. To see more wicked things, whether simple or extravagant, raunchy or subtle, clickety click

 

101 Things in 1001 Days: The Launch

“I’m making a list of 101 things that I want to do in 1001 days … including the naughty stuff” This was Tweeted by @SexwithRose on the 30^th December 2012. I was encouraged to do the same thing by @RebelsNotes, and so the journey to the center of the abyss begun – like all good things, while I was in bed!

This idea seemed particularly perfect for right (here, right) now because many changes are afoot in my life, many more than those I discuss on my blog. My list includes everything from getting my hair cut to having sex in a car (I licked someone’s cock in a car once about twenty years ago, but I don’t really count it, my dad caught us, whoops!).

Some of the items on the list are very personal and private so I haven’t fully described what they are (and I won't tell you which ones are in code!). As for why the items are on the list, well that is for me to know and … oh, all right then, twist my arm. Have a couple of explanations …

“Go to a nudist beach” This seems pretty easy for someone happy to go to the toilet in front of total strangers, but nope. I really hate sand! It gets everywhere and is uncomfortable. Also, it is tricky finding someone willing to go with me. Maybe hubby will, just for the hell of it.

“Finish the 30 days of Truth (not necessary to post)” Why would I complete a blogging meme and not post the answers to the prompts? For my own growth. I started answering the prompts before I started the 30 Days of Kink meme, but it became very emotionally raw and too intense to post so I gave up with it. Writing it was valuable though, so I will finish the prompts and perhaps some of them may even end up on the blog.

“Return to volunteering in a social role” Since I was 11 (yes, eleven), I have been a volunteer. This has never, ever stopped. I cannot recall a time where I have not volunteered. The problem is, for the past eight years this volunteering has all been for professional purposes. I have organized events, networks, meetings and all sorts of other things. I have represented women and young people until I was blue in the face. I have done all manner of necessary and important things that I (mostly) enjoyed, but they were also not very useful for society in the broader sense, more for the disenfranchised members of an elite group. It is time I returned to volunteering with children or older people or people with (learning) disabilities or animals, or perhaps now with some other community groups. Working with sexuality campaign groups or something more relevant to my current lifestyle may be the way forward. Donating money to charities and ranting on the internet just doesn’t cut it anymore!

 

“Have sex with someone other than myself every day for a month (online sex and phone sex counts)”. It has been many years since I had sex with someone every day for a month, although I did come close back when I was mucking about with James. I want to have a go at getting this fixed. I don't think hubby would be up for 30 days of sexing with me, but I am sure I can pull together a couple of online pals to play with. But I do have three years, so maybe if I wait a couple his ever growing sex drive will match mine eventually.

 

 

So, where is the rest of this list, over here on its own special page: 101 Things in 1001 Days

 

If you have any questions about it do ask, and if you are inspired to make your own let me know!

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This post was written for Wicked Wednesday, clickety click for other interesting stories, poetry, and a healthy dose of porn!

 

 

Hubby’s Sexual Moments of 2012

Over at one of my favorite wank-inspiring blogs, Girl on the Net wrote a blog post based on her primary partner’s favorite sexual moments of 2012. While her blog is largely about the sex, with occasional political rants, and mine is an emotional exploration involving sex, the idea was a grand one. Mostly it works for me because, as regular readers know, my own primary partner, my hubby, has been going through major developments of his own this year.

 

While walking round the garden of hubby's parent's house, he merrily told me his two specific sexual highlights. The first was also one of mine and I’ve already written it up here! It is a heartwarming tale of a couple finally meeting in sexual bliss together after a long, hard ten years of borderline abstinence. 

 

The second experience happened back in June while we were on holiday, so we were very relaxed. But it was also before I was due to go off and have my first in-person playtime with James (my first poly-partner while with hubby) and so emotions were very high. We were deeply emotionally connected in a way we had never been, and also under enormous pressure. It was a heady mix within which to play…

 

My pubes were in one of their gigantic bush phases (take a peek at my Cunt Pride post to see what I mean), and needed a prune. Out came hubby with the magic hair removal cream. We were in a tiny room. Normally a tiny room is less than fun, but when a six foot tall bloke has to squish in a teeny weeny space between the bed and the wall to get to your cunt, things get a little more interesting. There is something about having your most intimate parts stared at for ages by the person you love while your feet are slammed against the wall above his head and you can’t move because acidic cream will get everywhere. While he was applying it and timing it and scraping it away with a deliciously hard piece of plastic, I got wetter and wetter and wetter. Hubby occasionally tortured me with a finger, placed just at the entrance to my cunt. By the time my bush was nice and neat, the bed was sopping wet and I was climbing up the walls, ready to beg, scream and cry for anything.

 

Unlucky for me, hubby isn’t a fan of giving oral sex (no matter how little hair I have), but on this occasion he craved it and drank my juices until I was screaming the happily detached house down. His cock was so wet and hard that there was no way he wasn’t going to fuck me. While trapped between the bed and the wall he pulled my body off the bed and slid my cunt straight onto his cock. He fucked me with passion, love, and enthusiasm. It was astounding, and we were both emotionally and physically drained afterwards. A wonderful kind of sex. Hubby chose this experience above the others in 2012 because he loved being so close to my vagina (his word), he loved me giving control to him (*does the dance of joy*), and the intimacy between us (magical).

 

To be fair, this is indicative of the main thing that has come out of 2012 for both of us: understanding and embracing our sexual needs and desires as individuals and as a couple. It has led to hubby uncovering his own sexuality and welcoming his dominant side. It has been about recognizing that sexuality is important to our emotional world. It has been a wonderful journey and it is one we will continue to explore in 2013.

 

Here is wishing all of us a sexually and emotionally liberated 2013!

 

Emily

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This post was written for the first Wicked Wednesday of 2013! Hello everyone, especially the coordinator of the Meme Marie Rebelle

Tea and Spoons (Dominance Erotica)

I am a submissive. I like to be humiliated and bossed about. I like to give the power to someone else, under the right circumstances of course. I have not always been like this. In fact, I am a very dominant person. Some might say a bit of an “alpha.” This is in many areas of life, but especially sexually. Since I was a young wee thing I knew the power I could have over people with the right words or a certain look or smile. 

When I started having sex, I enjoyed being dominant in bed. I particularly liked “corrupting” virgins or the inexperienced (I still have this fetish if truth be told). I would do it for their pleasure, push their boundaries as much as they’d permit and then I’d discard them. In hindsight discarding them was a pretty shoddy thing to do. When I was with experimental or kinky folk I could be dominant. In fact, I loved it. But, isn’t there always a but! 

The kicks I get from being dominant are not from doing things to people or forcing people to do things for their own pleasure. No, I get kicks from being powerful, from getting people to do things I want, even when they don’t want it. This makes me a fantastic dominant in very specific sexual situations, but a lousy one in most. 

The idea of using power in this way is not one which sings to me in the way that giving away my power does. I am a cliché, powerful and dominant (a total control freak) in real life and utterly enthralled to anyone who can make me give that up. But still, today is a day for female dominance and male submission, so this is the first part of a short story. The next part will be up on Christmas Eve. Each part can be read as a standalone, except maybe the first one…it sets the scene.

Unless you thoroughly object to tea, this should be safe to read, even at work.

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Tea and Spoons
Part One

The man hears someone at the front door and ignores it; he’s too busy looking for filthy porn. He hears muffled chatting.

“Jon!” His landlady calls out.

Shit! How did that happen, he realizes she is just outside the room. Reluctantly he puts down the tablet, gets off his bed and answers the door.

“Jon, a ‘friend’ of yours,” she hesitates with the word friend, not quite sure what to make of it, “she is downstairs. She says that she was staying with someone else nearby but they had a big row and she has nowhere else to go. Her name’s Charlotte. You’ve never mentioned her before, so I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I send her up? If she really is in trouble, she’s welcome to stay.”

Jon’s first thought is “fuck.” He instantly knows who it is. What the fuck was she thinking? “Yeah, Jemima, send her up. I don’t know why she didn’t call first, must have been something big.”

A couple of minutes later Charlotte is standing at Jon’s bedroom door. He hurriedly shuts it behind her. Not touching her. Not smiling. He doesn’t know whether to feel livid or turned on, so naturally settles for both. “Are you mad? What the fuck?”

Charlotte merely smiles at him. She is carrying a smallish backpack. It gets casually dropped on the floor. She slowly unbuttons her overcoat and drapes it over the bag. She is wearing a severe black dress, made of very heavy fabric. It sits just above the knee. It is very high cut and respectable, quite prudish in fact. It is even an A-line skirt. The only concession to her femininity is a grey band around the waist, showing off her curves. She is wearing thick black tights and formal black shoes. Over her dress she is wearing a tailored suit jacket, the same colour as the band. Her hair is slicked back into a very tight bun, with just a couple of strands of hair coming down.

“Hello Jon” She grins wickedly, her eyes slowly devouring him from top to bottom. She kneels down and fishes something out of her bag. She hands it to him.

“Have a look, Jon”

He looks at the pages. Dozens of them. Printouts of emails he has sent her. Each one is marked in red. Spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, unreadable prose....it is all marked with bright red crosses. “Charlotte, what the hell is this?” Jon starts to suspect that this isn’t going to end well. He looks through more pages, some have been highlighted as well as corrected. As he reads them he realizes they are all unfulfilled promises, things he never did. His blood runs a little cold as he stares at her. What is looking back at Jon terrifies him.

Charlotte is glaring, a terrifying stare piercing through to his soul. He feels himself involuntarily stepping back. “Charlotte, my landlady in the house. This is ridiculous. Seriously, you’re being stu...” There is a knock on your door.

“What now?”

“Jon...” his fastidious landlady looks at the unlikely duo. She can feel the tension. She looks Charlotte up and down, curiously, not quite sure what to make of such a formal looking woman being friends with her incompetent lodger. “I am off out now, I’ll be back Sunday, quite late I suspect.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Did I not tell you? Oh, I must have forgotten. I won tickets to some jazz thing in London, you know how much I love it. Anyway, it is all expenses paid. Travel, two nights in a hotel. Amazing really, I hadn’t entered, I thought it was a joke, but no, it all panned out.”

“Oh, that does sound wonderful, how very fortunate.” Charlotte smiles at her before facing Jon and grinning. His landlady leaves and his whole body tenses.

“You set this up! How? What the fuck? You’re mad.”

Charlotte smiles at him, slightly cocking her head in delight.

“I need a cup of tea. Let’s go downstairs so you can make me one.”

“What?” Jon feels bewildered, angry, and excited all at the same time. But he follows Charlotte downstairs all the same. He follows her into the kitchen, perturbed that he is following, yet increasingly curious.

“Could you get me a chair please, and make me some tea?”

He doesn’t know why, but he does as he is asked. Something, somewhere at the back of his head makes him want to. He feels the strangest need to see what happens next. His heart rate increases just a little. The anger starts to subside, giving way to curiosity and excitement.

Jon makes the tea while Charlotte intently watches the whole process. No words are exchanged, just glances, occasionally a smile or a nod. The room is filled with tension. He wants to say something. He wants to hug her. He wants to kiss her. He wants to throw her against the kitchen counter and fuck her. Something stops him doing any of that. This is her story and Jon knows it. He hands her tea.

She sits there and takes it. She stares at it and says thank you. Twenty minutes go by and she doesn’t touch the tea. The pair chat inanely about the weather and work. The kind of thing people talk about with their parents, not the kind of thing people talk about when they have done the depraved acts these two have.

“Do you not like the tea?”

“I wait for it to cool before I drink it. It should be cool enough to sip now though.” She sips it once, twice, then she puts it down. Ever so slowly. Jon watches her head lift up. Then she stands up. She picks up the mug from the table. Jon watches her movements. Every one is precise and careful. The room practically crackles with electricity. At that very moment, Jon realizes what he did wrong. The milk! Charlotte likes her milk added after the water. He watches her go to the sink and very slowly pour it out. The warm, wet, milky liquid pours from the mug. He bites his bottom lip. He finds himself holding his breath. It’s caught, just waiting. Waiting for something.

Jon’s eyes follow her as she neatly folds the skirt under her and sits back down on the chair.

“What should I do with you now? That tea was undrinkable. That will not do. It will not do at all. I think you need to be given a little lesson, don’t you?”

Jon freezes like a rabbit caught in headlights. He feels utterly ridiculous. He wants to run, but he has never imagined Charlotte like this. Commanding in quite this way. After what seems like an eternity, he nods.

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Part Two will appear on Christmas Eve! is here

This post was made for the prompt "Have I always been....". To see other answers clickety click:

Why No Sex? I Want Sex!

I’ve been silent for weeks now, not only metaphorically with my blog voice, but also literally with my sex voice. Hubby came home from his fortnight away two weeks ago. Surely, when he came home we had lots of sex, right? Wrong. We had bugger all.

Two and more years ago I would have sulked and moaned and eventually shouted at him, or possibly cried silently into my pillow (I did that most of all). I would have believed it was all his fault and that I was being punished for having led a full sex life before meeting him. Now I am wiser.

We didn’t have sex for lots of reasons, and you know what? Not hubby’s fault!

Blood, so, I have a fetish for blood-play. But, that does not stretch to menstrual blood. To have sex during my period I have to plan it. I have to put down towels and have condoms and all sorts of things. When Nic came back from his trip, I had just started menstruating (four days early, BOOOOO!). Nic never propositions me when I am on my period. I used to blame him for this, but now I see it is because I have issues and he is being kind.

Work, it was insane. I’m not talking 9-5, or even the 9-8 scary business folk often do. No, I’ve been work between 12 and 16 hours a day, 7 days a week for the last month. It has been the brainchild of Satan’s petulant youngest child, trying to show off to daddy. Seriously, it has been that bad. How could I blame hubby on that? Once I would have.

Sickness, hubby had a cold. When I have a cold I get insanely horny. I used to blame hubby for not feeling horny when he was sick. How is that fair?

When sex is bad, everything becomes clouded in that. It is impossible to separate logic and reason from feelings of pain and anxiety. I wanted sex, I never got sex, and a cycle of misery and recriminations developed. Thankfully things are changing, and because Nic and I have been building our sexual bridges (and, oh, what magnificent bridges they are), it has been easier for me to look at my negative thoughts calmly and to recreate them in positive ways. Now I see this period of two weeks abstinence as a chance to explore how far we have come. I’m moaning about two weeks? It wasn’t so very long ago we didn’t have sex for two years!

Hubby was away again this weekend. Monday he came home and Monday night, he discovered new things.

 

He made me lie on my front, with my bum lifted in the air a little. He spanked it, he bit it (damned hard I might add! Bite bruises!), and he shoved a butt plug up my arse. He also decided, for reasons I can’t fathom, to spank my cunt with the back of his hand. I could hear him wanking above me as he was slapping me. It felt amazing and, of course, I orgasmed like that. The whole time I was wearing my very unsexy red pajama top (it is freezing in my world). When he told me that he was going to come over my back I asked him if I should get naked. He very forcefully said “No!”  His juices shot all the way along my back and into my hair.

Have a strange photo of a streak of my husband's orgasm from my bum to to neck, with just a tiny hint of one of the bite marks. Cheekily cropped as always, nothing too saucy to see on this blog.

This post met the prompt #want for Wicked Wednesday. Please take a look to find a whole range of real life stories, philosophy, sex ed, photos, and all kinds of erotic goodies.

Orgasms, Spontaneous

This is the last of my "Orgasm" posts, the others are:

1) Clitoral
2) Vaginal
3) Anal
4) Breasts

This fifth and final post explores the most unconventional ways I orgasm: spontaneously and through the power of thought.

The key element is that the orgasms happen without touching any genitalia (including my boobs). When these orgasms happen they are occasionally strong but usually more of a little “pop” something to get me gagging for more, or something to scratch an itch of frustration. They either happen without any notice, with a bit of a build-up, or because I have deliberately “thought” them into action. Here are some examples where I have had “spontaneous” orgasms followed by my description of how I think myself to orgasm. Maybe try it yourself?

 

• Listening to a guy speak with a very deep voice (I encouraged that one, so I could have easily stopped it)
• Being scratched on the back at a gig (I literally had an itch, nothing sexual, I was gobsmacked when I had an orgasm)
• Being gently spanked while leaning against hubby on his chair (no control)
• Sitting in a hotel lobby exchanging sexy emails (I totally could have stopped that, but didn't want to)
• Spooning in bed with someone I had been flirting with for hours (no control)

So, then, how do I make myself orgasm? This is my handy guide to coming in six seconds (give or take a few).

 

I clench the muscles about four inches above my clit, (roughly where the G-Spot is supposed to be, although Lord only knows if this is what I am squeezing).
This makes my breath hitch round about my diaphragm and lower lungs (seriously, I suck at anatomy, this could all be wrong).

 

I alternate between squeezing the internal muscles and catching my breath.

 

When the squeezing and breath loss coincide, after about three switches or so, I have an orgasm. It releases mainly through the face but also creates a “pop” in the area where I clenched my muscles. I’ve tried to create a spontaneous clitoral and anal orgasm but so far I have had no luck in that area. They are fun to do, especially as a potential taboo in public. They can be great to do in restaurants or on trains when I am with someone who knows what I look like when I orgasm because, no matter how much control I may have, my face and chest always go bright red when I orgasm – even from a short little “pop” like the spontaneous ones.

Fun times!

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This was posted as part of the "Wicked Wednesday" meme. The prompt this week was:



I'm not meant to be tamed, so when I can't run wild with another, I run wild by myself *grin*

Clickety click for more Wicked posts.

Orgasms, Breasts

Periodically, I hear people gasp in bewilderment when they discover that some women have boobie orgasms. This is often accompanied by total disbelief. "I don't have them, therefore nobody else must be able to." I dislike such assumptions. I have breast orgasms.

Or, to be more factual, I have right breast orgasms with the very occasional left breast joy (it is also the right side of my clitoris that is the most exciting. Coincidence?)

So, how does it happen? Well, my right mammary gland has a direct line from my nipple to my clitoris. Tweeking it, pulling it, sucking it, tugging it, nibbling it, while I masturbate my clit brings the most intense full body orgasm.

But, I hear you cry, this is not a boobie orgasm! Aha, well, if I have just my right nipple (and very rarely my left) played with I can have a delicious orgasm. My body will jerk and writhe and my breath will hitch. After this happens my nipples are hyper sensitive and can't be touched. Luckily, I have lots of holes and a clit to play with. Huzzah!

There is one more way in which I can have a breast orgasm, this is soft and gentle and more related to the whole breast, not the nipple, it is also more likely to happen from each breast, not just the right one. This is when the whole breast is caressed, very very gently but not enough to tickle. It can even happen through clothes (while in public, much to my partner's amusement). This creates a warm soft orgasm, the only way to describe it is like a comforting hug. I can have one of these without becoming more aroused or needing anything else. 

I consider myself very lucky!

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This post was part of Wicked Wednesday. This week's prompt was "Sexuality," specifically the "bisexual umbrella." I covered that in my explanation of my heteroflexibility, hence my boobie orgasm post. To see the other Wicked Wednesday entries for this week clickety click:

"unnamed" (erotica)

My erotica today is not literally without a name, but the blog post is. That is because today's story is very triggery. I repeat TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! Please take this seriously!

I wrote this story about three months ago, almost immediately after reading Mollena Williams's article "Digging in the Dirt: The Lure of Taboo Role Play" in Tristan Taormino's The Ultimate Guide to Kink (2012). The article inspired me to embrace my lifelong rape fantasy. Yes, a rape fantasy. While this piece of erotica starts off fairly normally, albeit it with a D/s and pissplay kink, it is ultimately a rape fantasy. It is my rape fantasy and it both arouses and repels me. It gets me wet and needy, but it also horrifies me. And that horrified feeling is, in itself, hot as hell. It took me a long time to work out whether I was ever going to post this story, but it is one of my favorite fantasies and I return to it time and time again.

Why do I like it so much? I don't know. I cannot possibly be as eloquent as Mollena, "The Perverted Negress," and so I suggest you read her article. It is my favorite piece in an astounding book. Before the story starts I quote a passage from her article:

 

"Rape and domestic abuse are never acceptable. There is no excuse, no defense, for emotional, physical, and psychological violence against another person. Then how does one justify these desires? It is simple to talk about consent, but there are those who assert that no one can ever consent to abuse. ... So how can I say yes to saying 'No!' but not meaning it? Am I not just mirroring the abuses around me by perpetrating these abuses in a fantasy that merely propogates a system designed to oppress and strip me of my humanity?

 

If my stated desires as an adult look like an abusive or dehumanizing interaction, and my partners and I make an informed decision to engage in it, it's all good, baby. Seriously. Acting out personal or historically wicked situations and/or abuses is my right. My sexual fulfillment is only as politicized as I permit it to be. I give no quarter to the juggernaut of political correctness when it aims for my libido, leaving behind a grease stain of shame and guilt."  (page 377)

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The Rape

“Go to the toilet. Take off your knickers. Stuff them in your mouth. Pee over your hand and masturbate until you come. Then come back and give me your knickers without anyone noticing.”

“Yes, sir.”

She did exactly as he told her. She was wearing a skin-tight rusty-colored dress. It was down to her knees with a very pronounced cleavage. The toilet was one of three cubicles in the Ladies room. It was clean enough, and the usual pub graffiti had recently been painted over. The woman lifted her dress up, and pulled down her panties. They were large shorts to avoid a VPL, but they were completely see-through red mesh. Her bush was trimmed just how her Master had instructed her earlier that day. She was wet from being ordered about all day. “Clean my clothes, make me tea, wash your hair with my piss....” 

She stuffed the soggy panties into her mouth, with the gusset against her tongue so she could taste as much as possible. She placed her hand under her cunt and emptied her bladder. The piss ran over her hand in rivers. She nearly came just from that, but she controlled herself. She then rubbed her clit furiously, feeling the pressure build until it came out in powerful waves. Even with the gag the lady in the next cubicle must have heard. She pulled down her dress and waited for the lady to leave.

Back at the table her Master took the panties and stuffed them in his pocket. His cock was rubbing against the inside of his shorts. The wet patch, which had slowly manifested while he was waiting for her, became a large soggy mess in his pants. He was sure the wetness was showing in his trousers now, the thought only made it worse.

The couple carried on like this all evening, chatting and laughing, eating and drinking. It was only when they were kicked out of the pub did they go home. 

The slave made a pot of tea and sat on the sofa. The Master sat next to her as she smiled at him and snuggled into his chest. He put his arms round her and pulled her close, kissing her roughly. She pulled away.

“Sir, I’m really tired. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day. Do you think we could just watch something crap on telly and snuggle?”

He grabbed her hair in his hand and pulled it roughly, forcing her head into his lap.

“Suck my cock, bitch.”

“Sir, I really don’t want to.”

“Like you have a choice, slave, do you want me to beat you?”

“I’m not playing. Red. Ok? Red!”

“What the fuck?” He pushed her off him. “What do you mean, red? Are you serious? You’ve never used your safeword and you use it now? Just because you don’t want sex? You really want to just snuggle? What about tonight? You had your fun, now it’s my turn.”

“Oh, come on. We are adults, we fuck all the time, we do not need to take turns like that. I’m tired, I just want to chill out.”

“You think all this is about you and your needs? You think I told you to orgasm in the pub because that’s what you wanted? I do it because it turns me on and it gets me fucked. So, let’s just stop playing around and fuck.”

At that she stood up and started to walk away. She was furious.

He grabbed her arm, turned her around and slapped her hard across the face. It knocked her off balance but she managed to stay upright. For a split second she just looked at him, shocked. 

He was just standing there, with a furious look on his face. She stepped backwards, slowly, one step, then another, until she was a few feet away from him. Anyone looking at her would see the terror in her face.

She carried on walking backwards, “I’m just going to go next door for a bit; we should spend a few minutes apart. Ok?” As she left, slowly moving one step at a time, she didn’t turn her back on him. He leapt forward and grabbed her by both shoulders. He shook her hard. He slapped her across the face. A hard back-hander. This time she fell, holding her cheek. She sobbed.

“Please, you’re scaring me. Don’t.”

He just stood there watching her. “Don’t what? Get what’s mine?” He spat the words out with venom.

She stood up quickly and ran. Or she tried to, the minute she had taken a couple of steps he was on her. He pulled her to the ground. He pinned her there, his arms forcing her down so she couldn’t move. She was crying and sobbing and yelling out for him to stop. 

With one arm across her chest and shoulders, his other hand lifted her dress to her waist. He then undid his belt, his button, his zip....

“No, please God, not that. I’m sorry, no, please.”

He didn’t stop. 

He pulled his pants down just enough to get his cock out. It was hard and dripping wet. He changed position, forcing her legs apart with his own. She was powerless against him. His strength far surpassing hers. She couldn’t move as he pinned her down with both arms. She was sobbing and turned her head away, desperately trying not to see the face of the man she adored turn monster. He lifted one hand and grabbed her face, turning it towards her.

“Look at me, bitch.  I want to see your face as I come.”

With that he thrust his cock deep inside her. He thrust it in and out, as she cried beneath him. He fucked her deep and hard, shooting his juices deep inside her cunt.

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