Thursday, 27 May 2010

Headstrong in the Family Bed

The other night for the first time I said to Virgil: "I can't sleep so I'm going to have a wank and that should do the trick." He was sweet and cuddled me and played with my breasts while I did it. He asked me what I was thinking about. I suspect it was to see whether the answer might turn him on too. But I remained close-lipped and only told him afterward that I had been fantasizing about being upended and spanked first on my backside and then on my pussy. By then I was drifting off to sleep as intended.

Last night I wanted to make love but my hopes were confounded. We cuddled instead. Ironically, the sex party Virgil and I are organising is taking over. He is planning his costume and programming playlists. We haven't had sex all week. He knows that I am annoyed about this, and I think he knows that I know that he knows.

"Do we need to talk?" he asked me this morning. 
"No," I said. 
"I think we do," he said. 
"Well, I think we don't, but if you want to then we can."
I don't want to talk about it, but I wish I was going on a hot date tonight while he's out. It's true. One shouldn't rely on just one other person to satisfy one's sexual appetite.

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Wednesday, 26 May 2010

Time for e[Lust] Issue 14...

 photo courtesy of Lila

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether youíre looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, youíre going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #14? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the siteís sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Weekís Top Three Posts ~

Answers with an Agenda 1- Fisting - Once youíve gotten started using two fingers for a bit, then it is time to build until four fingers are sliding in and out of the person, and you are on your way.

Gagged - I think itís got to be a combinationÖ fingers sliding into your cunt, a merciless tease of your clit, and yes, itís going to have to be, lining my cock up with your ass.

Mine - I feel you stir beneath me as I create a rhythm, your breathing changing growing more shallow as you slip from sleep into arousal. My eyes lift to yours as you smile and try to move your arms and then freeze.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Puppet Master - When I was right next to them and they still did not notice, I put my lips to his ear (loud music, you know) and whispered ìTouch her boobs, I bet sheíd like thatî and I backed up a foot.

~ Featured Post (Lillyís Pick) ~

Shaping Some Limits - ìIf you ever did that to me, I promise you would never see me againî.Those words were spoken to me this past weekend by my pet during one of our overnight dates. The subject was face slapping.

See also: Pleasurists #77 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the ìread moreÖî tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

12 Licks of the Tawse
 A Canvas for Pain
 Best Friends
 Fetish: What's Yours?
 Needles and Cock Choking
 One Couple's Journey into Kink, part 2
 Pieces of Skin and Bone
 Please hurt me unbearably, you fucking fucker!
 The Taskmaster's Whip

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A (Short) Ode to Uncut Cocks
 Compersive Vanillas?
 How Fear can Lead to Understanding and Trust
 I am not a rapist...
 Mother's Day Gift
 On threesomes
 On Friendship
 Playing Nice On The Swingset
 Tyler and Holly Give Swing Clubs Another Chance
 The Virgin in the Family/Do Not Enter
 third person
 Whacking For America

Erotic Writing

26 minutes
 A Request For Help
 Are you willing, Are You?
 A Squirting Experience
 All Dressed Up - The Party ....part 2
 Book Orgasm
 Flesh for Fantasy
 Getting Lost in the Forest
 Guest Post: Truck
 Go Habs Go Domme Style
 hotel window
 How Do I Find You Sexy?
 I'll Be Waiting
 Jim and Lisa
 Keeping It In The Family
 Mind the Gap
 My Sluttiest Moment
 My First Blowjob
 Me, Myself & My Clit
 Not Tonight Dear, I've Got A Headache (Part 2)
 Pure, Unadulterated Desire
 Something Different
 slumber interruptis
 therapy session #1
 Wanton Wednesday- Fuck-toy
 Wednesday Night Blues

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
 Eden Fantasys Newbie Help Guide
 What the fuck, EdenFantasys?
 Workshops and More at the ALCC
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Tuesday, 18 May 2010

I want to crawl under a rock and read there.

This post is not about sex or poly anything. It is about how I feel like an utter FUCKWIT right now, this very minute and second. If I were a generation or two older I would be pouring my heart out (on)to a stranger at a bus stop or in the post office queue right about now. However, having no one to share this with immediately, and not wishing to post such self-indulgent wailings publically on Facebook, I'm going to scream it into the electronic ether instead.

I am an idiot - a fucking useless wastrel!! I just FORGOT to turn up to a paid job of work because I FAILED to transfer it from my (erst-while perfectly reliable) paper diary to my iPhone calendar! Someone had pointlessly arranged childcare because of me! I have lost money, which I cannot afford to do, being woefully underemployed at the moment. I feel simply horrible inside, all tied up in knots. I wouldn't mind having a cry but I can't because I'm not quite upset enough to do that (or maybe I'm TOO upset?). And I won't phone Virgil because he's giving a presentation and actually I'm too embarrassed to tell him what I've done.

At what point did the idea of holding such a thought inside oneself without expelling it in some way become unthinkable? It's curious isn't it, how hard it is to sit with an unpleasant feeling or piece of bad news without telling someone else? Simply by writing this down I'll have expelled a bit of the poison that is making my guts twist and turn so. Nowadays we can twitter, text, FB update, blog, call someone as soon as we feel the need to halve a problem by sharing it, and we need to, because often there is nobody around to dump on in person. This is a culture of unparalleled personal space, especially if you're under-employed and spend too much time on your own at home.

I am going to tidy the flat and sit and stew in it. And I might try to read a book, because Bête de Jour has reminded me that I don't read enough. The internet has been the death of me as a reader. At least if I read a book I can tell myself that I am doing a good thing.
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Wednesday, 12 May 2010


Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether youíre looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, youíre going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #14? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the siteís sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week's Top Three Posts ~

Stuck - Since I first saw the picture he sent me I have had this visual stuck in my head, like a sweet thing lingering in the mouth.... wrists bound, tied to headboard--ankles bound, tied to baseboard-- naked, exposed

Animalistic - I grabbed the back of your ponytail like I owned you. No protest. Only a moan. Fuck, how aroused were you? Even your kiss was desperate, wet, passionate; your body was on fire and it showed.

A Hot Afternoon - She took Grady's hand and guided it between her legs. Grady's instinct kicked in as soon as she touched Hatty's tender clit and felt the wetness gathered there.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Confessional: Fixation/Addiction - In porn, both video and photo, I have little interest in the men. Itís the women who get my full attention, who arouse me. I seek them out. I flick past hetero couplings, bored. Blow jobs? Meh. Oh wait, close-up of her pussy? Her coming? Ok Iíll watch now.

~ Featured Post (Lillyís Pick) ~

Thanks for the mansplanation, but I greatly prefer my vibrator - His views on female masturbation (derived, clearly, from absolutely nothing legitimate) are so fucked up, so irritating, and so detrimental, that I want to punch him in the face. It is, truly, mansplaining at its finest.

See also: Pleasurists #75 and #76 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the ìread moreÖî tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

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Tuesday, 11 May 2010

I am not a rapist...

...or, when is a hard on not a yes?

Virgil was his restless self in bed yesterday morning, turning, cuddling, making small animal noises. I was awake and affectionate. We had had a big discussion about polyamoury-non-monogamy-open relationships the day before. There will be many more talks I'm sure, but the air felt clearer, like after a big cry when you're tired but feel better for it. The substance of that conversation is another blog post. Enough to say that I wanted to share my love with Virgil yesterday morning, and when I reached down and found that he was hard I couldn't ignore it.

At first I just played with him through the t-shirt and shorts he'd fallen asleep in, stroking his chest, nipples, thighs, playing with his cock and balls. He was passive but quite compliant, taking his own t-shirt off and arching his hips to let me pull his shorts down. I enjoyed rubbing up against him and after a while and some more decisive wanking and sucking, during which he kept his eyes closed but wriggled, sighed a bit and most definitely stayed hard, I put a condom on him and climbed on top.

I should have known that this was not going to work. For a start, Virgil doesn't particularly like being underneath (he says it makes him feel squashed and he likes being in control). Well ok, it was an experiment. I moved up and down on him, hoping that his blank, sleeping face would come to life and it suddenly wouldn't just be me, having sex on my own. If this was a steamy novel, one of the kind I got so much masturbatory mileage out of in my teens, this would *definitely* have worked. And I've certainly let him do this to me so why shouldn't I be able to do it back?

Suddenly it seemed awful - really depressing. I felt like some kind everyman pumping up and down on top of an unresponsive woman. I thought of some of the pointless, frigid fucks of my youth with men and boys who may or may not have realised that I wasn't enjoying it. I wanted Virgil to join in and have sex with me! I jumped up and got out of bed without saying a word, and hid behind some stultifying admin until I felt calmer, but I couldn't quite forget about it.

Virgil was very charming all day, and brought home nice food for lunch and for dinner. At the back of my mind I was still cross about it and wondered if he was feeling guilty. Finally I confessed and he wasn't sorry at all! I said, "Look, if you're not into it just say no. Don't let me get that far. It was embarrassing." Then I said, "But obviously this will never happen again, but I want you to understand that it wasn't nice for me."

Virgil insisted that he had been totally asleep at first but when he had woken up a bit he hadn't cared that I was doing it and so hadn't stopped me. Then he said I should take responsibility for it, but that it wasn't worth getting upset about and we should have a hug and get past it. I glowered and lay there in inner turmoil for some seconds, wanting to be right but knowing that I wasn't going to win this. Virgil watched me and didn't say anything. Finally I put out a finger and touched him. Then he stroked my arm and then we hugged, curled up and turned on the news to find that Gordon Brown had announced his 'future' resignation and coalition talks were still going on between all parties.

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Tuesday, 4 May 2010

"Good moaning!"

Half awake in bed on Sunday morning, light streams in through fucking useless, landlord-installed WHITE blinds. A triumph of aesthetics over usefulness. Like white carpets the kind of thing that nobody would put in their own home. Virgil moves close behind me and I feel his cock getting hard, as it does most mornings. Today he pulls me round to face him and we simply move against each other, kissing drowsily and touching. I cup my fingers around his cock and the sides of his balls where they hang down, and stroke the hair around them. He pushes me onto my back and starts to go down on me, pushing my hair aside and opening up my pussy with his kisses. I arch my back and open my legs wide, and Virgil pushes a finger inside me while he licks and nuzzles, finding the perfect circular motion on my clit that I know will make me come soon, but I don't want to yet.

"Do I have to come now?" I ask, and he says, "Absolutely," and carries on, making little moans which we both know are a psychological trick (try it: it works) to bring my orgasm closer. But as I am pushing up, reaching, drawing in the breath that will come back out as a yowl, he pulls back and grins at me. I rear up, panting, and say: "Ooh!" and "Ow! I so nearly came just then!" although I am delighted that he didn't quite let me. My pussy is wet and swollen and all pressure against it feels good. Virgil pulls me on top of him then (he's kneeling), and lets me rub myself all up and down his cock until again I really want to come and then he pushes me off.

He holds my chin and looks closely into my eyes. He kisses me and then slaps my cheek several times without breaking eye contact. "I'm going to tie you up a little, ok? I'm going to hurt you some, and then I'm going to fuck your arse, which you're going to like, aren't you?" I agree. He gets up and searches, pulls out a long piece of bondage rope. I hold my wrists and forearms together cooperatively while he ties them firmly, then he pulls my hands between my legs and tells me to get comfortable on my hands and knees because I'm going to be there for a while. The other end of the rope is tied to the foot rail.

Virgil isn't that much of a sadist. First he gets out a vibrator and amuses himself by holding it against my clit until I'm about to lose control and come. Then he takes it away again. He starts caning me gently, so that the pain is just enough to stop me. Then he alternates the cane with the vibrator, building the strokes until it really is stinging and I am genuinely trying to get away from it. I find canes either too gentle or too painful, there's no comfort zone where it hurts just the right amount.

He gives me water and then his cock to suck, pushing it right to the back of my mouth. "You make me so fucking hard for you," he tells me. "I'm going to fuck you now." I am kneeling with my legs spread wide. Virgil puts on a glove and lubes it. Fingers go inside me to make me ready while he fucks my pussy first, then takes out his cock and pushes it into my arse. I straighten up, impaled, and he moves the vibrator against my clit as he thrusts into me. "Come on, my little whore," he whispers in my ear. It's unbelievably good. My body arches and I come long and loud.

"Now your cunt," he says. "Lie on your belly." He puts a fresh condom on and pushes into my soaking wet hole. All I can say, like an idiot, is how wet and how good it is.

To digress: I'm really quite articulate. I have a wide vocabulary. I hate cliches and hackneyed language. Feel free to point them out when I use them. But during sex it's more like this: "Oh. Yeah. That's so good. Give me your cock. I love your cock. It's so hard. My pussy's so wet. Fill me up. That feels amazing. Yeah. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me! Oh, God... (and I'm not religious). Yes... Jesus, fuck! Ohhh!" Who is this person? Is everyone like this? Are there any tips for classy dirty talk that doesn't sound like an X-rated Radio 4 play?

Anyway, if we can return to the scene, and I'm sorry if I've ruined it for you. I'm lying on my belly, having my lovely, sensitive, sopping wet cunt fucked. Virgil, who regularly claims to have quite mediocre "anti"climaxes, has a loud, shuddering, exclaiming orgasm, and then we cuddle up, kiss and look into each other's eyes... and fall blissfully asleep until midday, which is almost unheard of for us.

Best lie in of the year so far, I'd say.
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Saturday, 1 May 2010

No sex please, I'm apprehensive and navel gazing (and the view is bleugh)

In fact, if you're one of those people who believe that if you can't say something nice say nothing at all, close this window now. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I know that I want people to read my blog and be my online followers. I want them to comment on my posts and link to me so that this feels like real blogging. I want to read their - your! - opinions and (heh!) praise for my pithy commentary and honesty.

So I submitted The Ethical Slut post to e-Lust, an online compendium of sex blogs.  And now I'm wondering which would be worse: to be called a naive, selfish, mithering, self-pitying lay-about (which would be fair comment, believe me) or (what is more likely) to hear nothing at all. And writing it, I know with some certainty that it would be the latter.

Do all bad tempered people dislike themselves? There's a mean voice in my head that says every bit of ill humour, cowardice, pride, jealousy and selfish behaviour gets repaid in kind, resulting in a barren, joyless life. I don't mean like karma; it's much more mundane than that. Here's an example, Kate is a friend who I no longer talk to and although I might say it's because she lives on the other side of the city the truth is simply that I am jealous of her. We were at college together and now her career is going well and mine is faltering. I think that Kate was offered the job she got because, unlike me, she is pleasant, easygoing and inoffensive. I am not always offensive: I can be kind, witty, fun, thoughtful and generous but I also behave badly enough to have a rep. My wit can be cutting; I have very hard edges. People are often a bit wary of me.

Kate has a wide circle of friends and is in close contact with people she was friends with from her school days. If I'm honest, this was another point of tension in our friendship. I am often wary of very sociable people: the friends I choose tend to be slightly lonely, like me. I'm not threatened by them and don't have to be jealous if their social life is better than mine. For a minute it puzzles me that I have never experienced sexual jealousy in relationships before... and then I remember that I have always chosen people who I found unthreatening and who loved me more than I loved them. Ah.

Virgil and I are trying to mend things. I apologised the other day. I said, "I have realised that I have been using my anger and hurt feelings as a weapon against you, which was not right and I am sorry." I felt scared. I had remembered, in time I hope, that love is not unconditional. Virgil has been good and patient with my work woes, some of which are certainly self-inflicted, but my moping and inertia would try anyone's patience. The open relationship issue just gave me another excuse to wallow and mope and essentially to rub his nose in my bad mood.

In my 20s I had a depressed, under-employed boyfriend and he drove me crazy. While I worked for my finals, Patrick slouched despondently around our flat. He sat in a miasma of dope smoke and apathy, running up enormous telephone bills (in my name) on dial-up internet and dodgy premium rate phonecalls. When you live together you get the unedited versions of each other and you can fall out of love with someone for being like that. It would be justified. Virgil and I have not been living together very long but that's another story.

I am resolved to turn over a new leaf and get out of this horrible rut before I really fuck things up. Fortunately I now have a brand new pdf of The Ethical Slut to teach me how.
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