I always feel weird being like “oh wow stretch marks are so hot” because I am troubled by the way we fetishize “authenticity.” I do hate when people call them battle scars or say real women have them. It’s just…ugh.
That said, I find this picture gorgeous. It involves stretch marks. Deduce what you will.
Sometimes, when the weather is nice, I jog over one of these on my running route.
And, yeah, of course I’ve thought about it.
I’ll admit that a lot of my fantasies revolve around me receiving a lot of attention.
So on Valentine’s Day this year, in addition to taking pictures, Pup tied me up and taped my knockoff hitachi to my stomach so the head was resting on my clit. Then he left me like that a little bit, and then fucked me with the vibrator still buzzing on my clit.
I came so many times I couldn’t talk for a second. So that’s a thing.
Valentine, Part Six
Guys, I wish I could tell you this story ended on a sexy note. I wish I could say that this super hot threesome had a super hot conclusion. And part of the reason I’ve held up on writing the conclusion is that it unfortunately did not end in fireworks.
No. It ended in me getting punched in the vulva.
Here’s the thing about threesomes: it’s multiple bodies in a space. Shit can happen. You can accidentally neglect a person, or you can find it awkward to figure out who to touch when. You can run out of space or bump heads or roll off the bed. Or you can end up with someone’s knuckles colliding with your pubis. Which really hurts, guys.
But I think it’s important I share this, because this is how sex is. Sex is not a always beautifully orchestrated dance, it’s sometimes a lot of weird grinding or some fumbling. There’s sometimes some weird casualties. You can enthusiastically consent and have all your safewords at the ready and stuff can still go wrong. Sex is sometimes clumsy and weird even if the person you’re with is suave and collected. Sex has all kinds of strange sounds and smells. Sometimes sex is just straight up hilarious.
Sometimes you end up laugh-crying into your partners’ shoulder while they laugh-console you and the other laugh-apologizes. Because you accidentally elbowed someone in the ribs or kneed them in the stomach or, you know, got cuntpunched.
Sex in movies is quick, effortless, serious. Sex in most porn isn’t all that different. And I think the main thing I’ve learned in my less-than-a-decade of being sexually active is that sex is this totally unpredictable encounter that can tip over into slapstick, into the specific hilarity of the human body. And I’m okay with that.
Though I’d like to keep the whole getting accidentally punched in the groin thing to a minimum.
On March 6, this blog is going to be five years old.
I know, what? Really?
Five years ago, I started this blog feeling super insecure about myself and my kinks. I was frightened that some of my interests were too intense and worried I would be rejected by people if I was frank about what I wanted. This blog became a space for me to explore and articulate my sexuality, to come to terms with it. As I’ve said so many times before, it’s the only journal I have ever been able to keep.
It’s evolved so much from just a place to work through things. And even though my life has lately been really crazy, I’m always grateful to know this blog is a “safe” place for me that exists. I’ve gotten messages about being inspiring, and that’s always a little alarming to me. Mostly because I’m never fully sure if I actually have my shit together. But maybe that’s part of it?
Anyway, I want to celebrate the little five year birthday of this blog by inviting you all to treat yourselves. Seriously. If anything, writing these five years has taught me to be good to myself, to not judge myself, to delight in the qualities I once was ashamed of.
So do something great. Buy a new toy. Fulfill a new fantasy. Pick up a new hobby. Kinky or not, I want to hear about it. Send along a story, submit a photo, get creative and I’ll share ‘em on my blogaversary. (Anonymous/private submissions also welcome. If you don’t want me to share, just let me know!)
But seriously, tumblr. That’s my homework for you. Due on my desk by March 6.
Go go go!
It was my turn to read next, a hush fell over the excitable crowd as I sat down. I chose my favourite chapter from my most beloved smutty book, Disgusting Beautiful Immoral by the incomparable Guy New York. As I began reading Chapter 33, where the main characters two male lovers are orchestrating her ultimate gang-bang fantasy, I blushed hard thinking of how transparent this selection was… I knew in that moment I wouldn’t make it to the fucking part. Kitten was hidden under the table, pressing the hitachi against my clit, through my lace bodysuit, while the crowd watched with cheers and giggles, drinks in hand and smirks on faces.
Reading allowed me to avoid eye contact with the audience, but their titters and snickers reminded me their eyes were on me as I read about Kelly covered in cum. The poly-friendly selection proved to be a relevant choice, several of my female guests hollered “RIGHT?!?” when the narrator mused at how difficult it was to find appropriate gang-bang participants. “I didn’t want one of those guys to feel like he was getting something he deserved,” I read out loud, my voice shaking, “They were getting a gift, and they had to know it.”
Kitten expertly wielded the pulsing vibrations against my cunt and as my orgasm built I could hear myself reading faster and faster, my voice rising in pitch, like I was trying to outrun the need to cum. I giggled when I realized I had crumpled the pages in an effort to keep my composure. When I finally threw the book down and threw my head back shouting “FUCK” in exaltation the crowd erupted in cheers.
Ivy read next, she admitted as she opened her book that she was notoriously sensitive and feared her reading might be concise. As I watched her blonde hair tumble down over her shoulders while she bowed her head to read I admired her bravery, travelling so far and volunteering to read in a room filled with strangers.
Ivy’s selection was Bad Behaviour, by Mary Gaitskill, and as she moaned in delight she lamented to the crowd that she was only on the second paragraph. What followed was a gloriously sexy comedic performance as Ivy begged Kitten to let her at least make it past the first page. The crowd was howling with laughter and squealing with delight as Kitten, clearly encouraged by the sensual sounds Ivy made as she whined and gasped, forced her to orgasm to the sound of rousing applause.
(Much thanks to Clayton Cubitt for inspiring our live homage to his Hysterical Literature series)
Umm yes this was a very blushy thing I did.
Happy Valentine’s Day from Pup and I. Here’s some blushy stuff.
Regarding my silence since announcing my weekend trip: it’s less that I’ve wanted to hold you all in suspense and more that I’ve been busy since I returned yesterday.
But some things:
In unrelated news, as of Saturday, we’re a month away from the five year (WHAT???) anniversary of this blog.
But more on that soon.
Pup and I are taking a road trip up north to see a certain bunny and have a weekend away.