♦ My sister will be visiting me tomorrow and staying for about a week or so. I’m telling you this for two reasons: A) to let you know that the blog may well be on hiatus for the next week or so as I’ll be too busy having fun and B) I fancy having a bit of a ramble about it.
I’ve been tidying my room ready for her to stay in it (since I sleep with Crush in his room) and that got me thinking about my attitude to my family regarding this blog and sex in general.
Now, my family (by which I mean my dad and my sister) don’t know about my blog (heck, neither do my friends). They don’t know I review sex toys (one friend, my housemate Alt, knows that) and they don’t even know I use them (some of my friends tell legendary tales of parties involving items from The Drawer, even if it is actually now two drawers plus lingerie). They don’t know I’m kinky and they don’t know I’m bi. Or rather, I haven’t told them.
They basically know nothing about my sex life except who I’m dating, who I have dated and that we sleep in the same bed. Except my sister, who knows about the whole Fractal break-up thing and therefore knows I was in an open relationship then. She knows it’s how Crush and I started, she had to, to help me through the whole messy business. She was shocked, a bit, but took it in her stride, bless her.
And that’s all.
I moved house just recently and my dad came to help with his car because he is an angel. But I made very sure to pack all of my sex toys and my few kinky porn mags into a massive hold-all (man, that thing really can hold all!) and put my sex books in a separate box and let him touch neither of those containers in any way. Just like the last time I moved, in fact.
He’s a bit of a fuddy-duddy, my dad, and we don’t talk about that kind of thing. I’m not an idiot, I’m aware my parents must’ve had sex, maybe even – gasp – for pleasure, but there’s no hint of that at all in his personality. You know how people tend to give off cues that they’re OK talking or even thinking about sex, that they’re open about that sort of thing? Nothing. So, I hide it all because I really can’t imagine him reacting in a “cool dad” way about it. I’d expect bemusement at best.
So, what am I going to do about my sister living in my room for a week or so? My sex books (visual and not) are happily in my bookshelf, my sex toys (whilst supposedly living in The Drawers) are strewn about my desk, my lubes are lined up on the chest of drawers, my handcuffs are fixed to the radiator (classic), my hitty things are stood in the corner and my blog is the very first link on my Opera speed dial if she uses my computer. It’s all right there.
I’m sure that last time she stayed with me, which was ages ago now, I hid it all very carefully, but this time, things have changed. She’s really matured over the years, she accepts my casual hints towards liking women without comment and she’s a strong advocate in her own right of equality in sex and gender. I think she might have even known what “cissexual” meant before I did. She’s an awesome girl and I’m actually certain, despite worrying when I was younger, that she’ll accept me no matter my sexuality or kinks or what have you. I’m not scared of exposing an “innocent young thing” like her any more because I’m proud of who I am and, frankly, treating her like a child would be insulting.
So I’ll tidy my room to make it nicer for her, I’ll put those stray dildos back in their drawers, but the books will stay where they are, the lubes will be lined up neatly because that’s where they live, the toys will be there if she looks for them and the blog will be on that speed dial if she’s curious enough to click it.
And I’m OK with that.
And if she does click the blog and does read this, I’m OK with that too. If you’re reading this, sister, hi! I hope you don’t mind. If you want to pretend you didn’t find this, that’s totally fine, it’s your choice and I understand. And if you want to talk about it, hell, I’d love that. It’d be awesome and I’m happy to explain whatever you’d like. Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. Always.
So, that’s my family planning, really. My sister’s earned a peek into the ‘adult’ side of me if she cares to look for it. I’m proud of her. My dad, weirdly enough, is now the one I care about corrupting or confusing. I doubt that’ll change, but that’s OK.
Anyway, I thought it was interesting to look at how I change aspects of my personality and sexuality to suit two different members of my family, to talk about how much of myself I’ll hide or show and why. And I hope you thought so too! What about you? What do you hide or show to your loved ones?
See you next week! ♦
♦ I came across this absolutely fantastic and apt quote about sex and our attitudes towards it by a Norwegian writer. Heck, you all know me enough by now to know I think this way, but it just sums it up so well and I really think it bears repeating. On sexual morality and why it is mostly bull… ♦
People speak of ‘sexual morality,’ but that is a misleading expression. There is no special morality for sex. No matter what you do with yourself, whether you go to bed with girls or with boys, and no matter what it occurs to you to do with them or with yourself, no moral rule applies to that sphere of activity other than the principles that govern every aspect of life: honesty, courage, common humanity, consideration. – Jens Bjørnboe
♦ Julie Bindel is a bitch. There, I’ve said it. The ad hominem that sheer anger wants to force on the page is out there, we can get it out of the way.
It’s tongue-in-cheek, sure, but I do have a point there, which is: I don’t think I have ever seen Julie Bindel (writer for the Guardian among others) write a single thing I don’t find wrong-headed and absolutely hateful. So it shouldn’t surprise me that she recently wrote something that made me apo-fucking-pleptic and I probably shouldn’t dignify it with a response.
But I’m going to. Because when someone with an impressive platform spews abhorrent bollocks, people need to shout “NO!” in reply, just to be seen. The last thing I want is for some poor bisexual to stumble on that ‘article’ and actually believe a word it says.
It is beyond biphobic and beyond ridiculous. She starts her HuffPost piece with a question “What makes some of us uncomfortable with bisexual women?” I was discussing this on Twitter not that long ago and find it really hard to conclude that it’s anything other than biphobia or narrow-mindedness and Bindel hardly helps here.
In today’s post-modern, queer-focused world, bisexuality is being promoted to lesbians as the latest fashionable trend. This has resulted in lesbian politics, namely feminism, being passed over for sexual hedonism, where the only thing that matters is sexual pleasure and desire. Similarly, bisexuality is sold to heterosexual women as some type of recreational activity far from their “natural home” of straight sex. It is seen as “temporary lesbianism.”
Oh, there is so MUCH wrong with this. Firstly, I’m not entirely certain how she thinks the world is “queer-focused” or what that even means. I can’t understand how a world where queer people have it so hard and where probably the majority of people don’t even understand the word can be called “queer-focused”.
Secondly, the “passed over for sexual hedonism, where the only thing that matters is sexual pleasure and desire” bit can go right to hell. Bisexuality, she implies, has meant we all care purely about fucking instead of feminism or politics. (Heck, I even feel like her wording suggests that lesbian politics = feminism and vice versa, but I could be wrong) Oh, of course, because being bisexual is just about being greedy and wanting lots of sex and that’s it. I’m bisexual because I only care about sexual pleasure. You’ll probably find that’s why I don’t really love Crush and am just using him for sex. Bollocks.
The idea that bisexuals are just greedy or are shallow (she likens a bisexual fling to getting a new handbag later) is so old and so untrue. I’m sure you all know this, but just because you like more than one gender, doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck more people. And even if it did mean you were going to fuck more people, that wouldn’t mean you only cared about selfish pleasure and nowt else. This is basic stuff, Bindel.
Thirdly, there is absolutely no way, whether bisexuality is sold or promoted to women or not, that it’s seen as “temporary lesbianism”, that’s just insulting to both bisexuals (the idea that you’re “just experimenting” or are indecisive) and lesbians (the idea that that’s all it takes to be a lesbian). Her twisted notions of the most basic concepts don’t get any better:
Whatever our views and politics about lesbianism may be, we cannot deny that women face compulsory heterosexuality from birth. Despite huge progress since I came out in 1977, it is still not really acceptable to reject men and choose not to live under their guardianship, whether you are in Saudi Arabia or the U.K.
Er, yes we can deny it. Do you know what compulsory actually means? It means required by law or driven by force. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never EVER been forced straight in my life in this country and if non-het sex is illegal, I might be in trouble. It is legal and totally acceptable to “reject men” (what this has to do with bisexuals, I don’t know) and definitely fine to not “live under their guardianship”. I mean, I do that now. I live with men, sure, but I’m not “under their guardianship”. I’m a young professional who sorts herself out, like most of the women I know.
The weirdest part of her article comes when she tries to tell us that it’s not just lesbians or even straight women who mistrust bisexuals, it’s also bisexuals. Yes.
One U.S. study of bisexuality, which draws on interviews with 400 self-identified lesbians and bisexual women, found that a substantial number of bisexuals prefer to hang out with lesbians instead of other bisexual women in social situations, and have greater political trust in lesbians than they do in other bisexual women. It was also found that “[s]ome bisexual women actually doubt whether bisexual women exist at all.
Not only do bisexuals not trust bisexuals, they apparently don’t believe in them either. What. I mean, does that even make any fucking sense? Genuinely, can anyone actually explain this to me?
Not that it matters. Only “some” of the 400 women studied didn’t believe in bisexuals. There’s already a lovely group on Facebook which shows that far more than 400 women who are called Sarah believe in bisexuals, a la Project Steve. Sorted. Turns out, we do exist. But although that’s the most bizarre part of her diatribe, it’s not the most out and out offensive. I’m not sure what is, but she really gets into gear in the last half and the winning sentence has to be from among the ones below.
I personally feel that straight women are missing out on the best sex on the planet, but that is their choice.
Ms Bindel, you do realise that this is the same sort of thinking applied by arsehole men who claim that all a lesbian needs is “a good dicking” to turn them straight because “they don’t know what they’re missing out on”, right? They’re NOT missing out BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE VAGINA! The idea that there can even be such a thing as “the best sex” is ludicrous. This is why I get equally pissed off at the few sanctimonious idiots into BDSM who feel vanilla sex is just inferior and look, aren’t we the best because we have the best sex, definitively. All that matters is the sex that’s right for you and much as most lesbians won’t enjoy cock, most straight women won’t like doing it gaywise.
For bisexual women living under the tyranny of sexism, choosing to be lesbian is a liberatory act. […] I believed then, and I believe now, that if bisexual women had an ounce of sexual politics, they would stop sleeping with men.
How on Earth will be restricting my sexuality down to only loving women (and given Bindel’s views on transgender, only cis-women) be liberating? How will caging my sexuality, my desire, my heart, set me free? I am attracted to men, I am attracted to women, I am attracted to people who don’t fit either of those categories. I am attracted, pretty much, to people. Just not all of them. Why should I change that? I love my Crush and he loves me. He makes me happy and supports me and I enjoy being with him. Should I give him up just because he has a cock? Doesn’t the very idea that I should judge and ditch my partner based purely on the fact that he has a penis go against the very ideals of the equality that feminism should be promoting? The idea that our bodies define and limit us?
As a comment on this counter-argument says, “I’m sorry, but if Julie had an ounce of sexual politics, she’d understand that sexual politics is about the revolutionary idea of sleeping with & loving the people you WANT to sleep with & love instead of the people outside forces tell you that you SHOULD sleep with/love.” And that’s basically it, really. Sexual politics is about no-one being in my bedroom except those I let in. Not the government, not religion, not my peers or parents or the public and not Julie Bindel either. The idea that I couldn’t possibly know or care about sexuality and sexual politics because of who I am and who I fuck is so very oppressive and shallow. After all, “What do you know? You’re a bisexual” is on the same level as “What do you know? You’re a woman.”
Bindel’s article is muddled and destructive, like a Pokemon attacking itself in its confusion. She as much as states that bisexual women are greedily hedonistic, shallow and fickle without any sense of sexual politics whilst at the same time implying that they may not even exist. She promotes lesbianism as the ONLY way to be a true feminist, to be a thinking woman, to be independent and free and also as the only way to get THE sex. You know, the only kind worth having.
Bisexuals and others alike, take note, this is trash of the highest degree. Your sexuality does not define you. There is no “right way” to fuck or to love. Bisexuals are people too. An it harm none, do what ye will. ♦
♦ I have a strap-on harness. Two, in fact, though I think one may end up going back to the shop soon as it’s just not as good as the other. Well, technically, three, but one is Vac-u-locked to a phthalatastic Doc Johnson ‘dong’ that I am never going near again. It’s basically waiting on death row for a suitable demise. Fire’d be nice.
Anyway, I have a strap-on harness, or a few, and a goodly number of dildos. Long and fairly thin (like the one below, which is the Tantus Niagara), small and veiny, gorgeous and realistic, neon and slim, curved and chic, flexible and artsy. Heck, with the latest review item I’ve been sent, I even have a fantastic take on the stereotypical massive black one. And all of those have just the right base for putting in a harness.
Crush isn’t into anal or harness stuff, though, so why bother? Well, several reasons actually. Firstly, I originally bought the evil rubber one to experiment with my thoughts around gender. As you may know, I’m into androgyny. I’d love to have a cock of my own to play with and I can even make myself orgasm, in the right mindset, by stroking a cock or strap-on and pretending that I do. A strap-on harness allows me the fun and exploration of make-believe. Plus, it’s great for boinging around and doing the helicopter dick. :P
And besides which, I’m on the lookout for a nice girl to hopefully play with. And oh, how I’d dearly love to fuck a girl with my cock. A real cock would be better, but science continues to fail me, but this would certainly do. I find myself often shifting to a more masculine me around girls, actually. So hopefully if the opportunity arises, my harness will be good for that too.
Until then, I’ll have to stick to strapping one on and hanging out with my wang out. Like so… ♦
1. List ONE word to describe your last sexual encounter.
2. Can you recall your worst sexual experience? Why was it so awful? Did you do anything at the time to try to make it better?
I don’t know about worst ever, there have been quite a few potentials on that list, despite having had two very loving partners over the years. Occasionally I become irrationally hard to please, which makes everyone upset, occasionally I had to stop mid-scene with Fractal because it wasn’t working and was making me upset.
The one I’m thinking of isn’t like that, though. It’s not THE worst, probably, but sticks out in my mind. It was one where circumstances screwed it all up. Crush and I were trying to fuck in my front room while Fractal was asleep in the bedroom (please bear in mind I was in an open relationship). Sadly, it was summer and the sofa we were trying to shag on was that awful fake-leather kind that sticks to you like glue. Crush has sensitive skin and that bastarding sofa made it so bad for him that even when we moved to the floor, fun was off for the evening. Poor lad.
3. Do you fuck outside the box?
We all have a laundry list of things–features, demographic characteristics, etc. that we like and/prefer in a sexual partner. Do you ever deviate from that list? Give an example.
To be honest, I’ve not done an awful lot of sleeping around. I would, but my open relationship with Fractal only had two flings and my relationship with Crush is closed. Well, OK, it’s closed but I’ve recently been told I can fuck women, at least. Which is huge progress, by the way, but I’m not scouring the Net for hotties just yet. That said, if you’re interested… ;)
Anyway, point is, I haven’t had a lot of opportunity to “fuck outside the box”, really. But I still think I have.
I had sex with a woman. But I’m bisexual, right? Well, I wasn’t then. Or rather, I didn’t know I was. I don’t know if it exactly counts, but since my “type” at the time was geeky brunette men I knew well, hooking up with a random blonde girl off the Internet was pretty much as far out of the box as I could get at the time. I had no idea if I’d like it. I did.
Of course, now I consider myself bisexual, so girls aren’t “out of the box” any more. But girlsex is still probably my top fantasy-that-I’ve-already-done-but-need-to-do-again-and-more.
4. Do you blend BDSM in to your relationship? If yes, just in the bedroom or in other areas of your life? Explain.
Yes, I do. Pretty much just in the bedroom in any serious way, but it creeps into our life in playful little ways and in teases and flirts. In the bedroom, I am a switch who almost always submits and he is a dominant who is happy to be my occasional plaything. My Blue Moon Dom doesn’t come out much, hence the name, but is a real part of me that needs airing now and then. There’s so much to cover on all this that I’ll leave it here, but feel free to ask.
5. Does the thought of your partner/significant other having sex with another person turn you on? Would you want to watch the act? Would you like to join in?
Yes, yes and yes. Crush knows this. I would love for that to happen. I genuinely don’t think I’d mind him having sex with another woman (or man, but he isn’t into that) and I think it’d turn me on a lot. Especially if she enjoyed herself. I’d totally whore him out. :P
If I could watch or join in it would be just amazing. I really want a threesome and I really love the idea of voyeurism.
I’ve always found it a shame that in my open relationship with Fractal he never once did anything with anyone else (as far as I know, anyway) even though I kept encouraging him too. He admitted that he was just too lazy to find someone when he had me, even though he knew how much I’d enjoy it. Not impressed.
Bonus: Fill in the blanks. I like it _____ on the outside and ______ in the middle.
Crunchy and smooth. Armadillos are the surprising alternative to sex.
♦ In the first part, I told you all about the Sex Toys UK tour. In the second part, I told you how I accidentally sold a stranger a sex toy on a train. Now to the main event. It’s what I’d come to London for: the Erotic Meet Soho Social. For those who haven’t been paying attention so far, Erotic Meet is an online community for erotic creatives (bloggers, writers, photographers, artists, models and more!) that runs a monthly real life meet-up in London’s Soho.
I’ve been a member of Erotic Meet for only a few months now and this was to be my first social. Luckily, I met a lot of people I was anxious about meeting (i.e. everyone) at the tour, but I was still a little nervous. Have I mentioned I’m not good at social situations unless it’s people I properly know? Well, I’m not. But I was determined. I met my lovely Crush at Piccadilly Circus and we set off to find our very nearby hostel so I could change into something less comfortable.
Soon we found ourselves sans baggage but with a carefully boxed-up Fireman Sam and sat in Soho’s Green Carnation bar. We’d had our hands stamped with “Erotic Meet” (or, in my case, “rotic mee”) and I’d declined buying raffle tickets because I’m a dreadful cynic. I’d plonked Crush and I next to Jilly, Rose and ILB and introduced them all and now I was sat in my black polka dot dress eating delicious Rose-made cookies. Rose, by the way, had on a very short dress and stockings and was definitely not a very distracting figure for both me and Crush! Honest.
I felt a bit out of place at first because I’m awful at making conversation, but it soon got better. I met a few lovely new people and people I knew from Twitter, though I didn’t get to chat to any of them as much as I’d have liked. And some people I managed to miss altogether! If I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the Meet, I do apologise. Time flew. But there’s always next time.
Perhaps one of the meeting-people highlights of the evening (tour people, you don’t count :P) was getting to meet the lovely Mia and not just because she turned out to be gorgeous, but because she seemed genuinely excited to meet me and Crush and put me immediately at ease. She even paid me a quite specific compliment on the blog! I love when that happens!
DomSigns headed over to tell me the announcement I’d been waiting for. I’d asked him to let me know. You see, he and Molly are doing a special thing this month. It’s the month of the whip, which means that Molly gets a number of strokes of the whip on her arse equal to the date. The Meet was on the 3rd, so it would be three strikes. Excited, I pulled Crush over with me to where a few people had gathered to watch. Even ILB had come over, despite claiming he might not be able to enjoy it.
“The moment has arrived,” DomSigns said, in his, let’s face it, pretty damn sexy voice. Molly braced herself and he lifted her skirt. Three swift whip strokes were applied. It almost looked like he was barely moving the whip, but you could tell how much it stung. It was super hot. I mean, it was a super hot act in itself, I do love kink, but what also struck me was how hot it was to be watching and how hot it was to know that Molly knew we were watching her. I hadn’t expected it and I’m very intrigued by it. It was my first time watching something like this in the flesh and I just know I have to try something similar again.
It didn’t occur to me at the time, but I found myself wondering yesterday what would’ve happened if I’d asked to try just one stroke of that mean whip. I know it’d be harsh and probably more than I’m ready for, but I’m sure I could deal with one. No matter how it stung, it’d be over by the time you found out. That got me hot thinking about too, which is crazy! I’m beginning to wonder just how deep my desires for Too Much might run.
After the whipping, Crush and I got to talk to Molly a bit about the experience and her feelings about the month of the whip and her kinks in general. It was wonderful. I quite honestly felt inspired listening to her talk about her desires and limits and her journey to the person she is now and also talking a bit about our experiences and our forays into similar areas. It was the most fascinating conversation of the evening, for certain. Watching the whipping had left me feeling charged and talking with her only helped that.
What also pleased me was how Crush behaved. I’m hardly an expert, but he has a lot less experience talking in terms of kink than even me and he can occasionally offend people in any case. But he was wonderful and engaged with the conversation much more than I’d expected. He even asked some fairly insightful questions and really took an interest, which made my heart melt. I know that I’m leading him into this side of sex in a way and it’s beautiful to see him willing to take steps without me prompting them.
Anyway, before long the readings were about to start. I won’t list them all here, because Annie’s Erotic Meet blog post has a far more comprehensive list, I’ll just mention some highlights and thoughts. I’ll warn you now that sadly I can’t remember every little thought I had while watching. I wish I could, because all of these performers were fantastic.
I’d met Meg Philip earlier in the night and she’d told me she was a writer, not a performer. She lied. Her piece was wonderfully performed and had me grinning like mad. She really made it come alive. I agree with Annie that Molly left us squirming, she read two pieces and both were filthy as all hell and I loved it. She gave a hypnotising performance and the pieces were so amazing that I felt like a fraud for even dabbling in writing! Not even kidding.
I clapped extra-hard for Jilly and ILB because they are sweethearts and they were both great. ILB’s piece was notable for being the first and only male act and he pulled it off with a hilariously self-conscious style that was very clearly played for laughs. And laughs he got! I loved the self-deprecation. Sarah Berry‘s piece also contained some great asides and she carried on valiantly in the face of a particularly shitty heckler who I would gladly have beaten to a pulp for the sheer bloody nerve of him. And Annie’s piece was so sassy and full of an amazing ear for rhythm that I decided on the spot that instead of offering to soon review one of her eBooks as I had, I was going to damn well demand it! :)
By the time the readings were over, I was far more the worse for wear drink-wise and I’d got to the great stage where I was keen to just go up and say hello to people. I had great chat with Sarah Berry and probably sounded like an awful fan-girl as I told her I used to read her in Scarlet and how I’d just missed seeing her dressed as a fanny at Erotica. She was lovely, by the way, and seemed chuffed I was a fan.
Later I found myself sat next to the adorable Jilly on a sofa talking about girl-kisses she’d received. Two at that count, if I recall. “You can have a third, if you like” I said, shyness being out the window by now. And so while ILB and Crush talked RPGs and geekery, Jilly and I shared some wonderful and fairly raunchy kisses that left me feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. Don’t tell anyone, but Jilly is quite the minx in the right circumstances! ;)
Sadly I don’t remember much more of the night after that. Unfortunately with the wine we’d drunk I went from confident-and-shameless to woozy-and-over-tired far too quickly. Not long after I was brave enough to introduce myself to people, I found myself incapable of doing so. This will be remedied next time. I got a little overwhelmed and emotional and Crush and I decided we should probably head back and sleep. I feel a little daft for it now, but these things happen. Crush was a gentleman and sobered up plenty well enough to make sure we got back safely, which I, naturally, don’t remember.
I was going to write about our morning sex as a separate post too, but more than with events, you need a good memory of the feelings and details to make sex posts tick and now that morning is just a hazy but glorious string of connected memories. But in brief, he took Lady Pandorah‘s advice and decided to wake me with some morning sex. Morning sex preceded by a damn good thrashing. In our little bottom bunk (a double and with no-one above), he smacked me thuddily and thoroughly and then turned me over. I was hungover and so lube was required, but luckily we’d been provided with some in the goodie bag, making this fuck (un)officially sponsored by Sex Toys UK! The lube was cold, but did the trick and he took me hard as I slowly became more awake. I pressed my toes against the bottom of the upper bunk for support and we fucked away all the sexual tension of the day before…
♦ TMI Tuesday is about sexy stuff again this week, so I’m going to answer it. Now, most of these answers are sexual. Some of these answers are romantic. If I sit here and tell the obvious truth, that I want to do all these things and more with my dear Crush, it’s all going to get very boring and predictable. So I’m not going to answer “Crush” for all of them, even though it’s true.
He’ll just come up if it’s particularly noteworthy and I’ll try my hardest to think of some other sexy people. Gosh, that will be difficult.
I hope I don’t offend anyone. If I say I’ve got the hots for you and you’d rather I didn’t, sorry, but that’s what I think and I can hardly help it. If I don’t say it and you wish I did, don’t panic! There are so many sexy bloggers/tweeters that it’s hard to keep track. Feel free to give me a nudge in the comments. ♦
Who do you want to:
1. Play naked twister with?
Hmm, I have two choices here! One would be the members of Erotic Meet, because I bet they play a damn good game of naked Twister and a sexy one at that! Mind you, that’d be one big game of Twister!
The other would be my favourite Tantus-loving Tweeters: Epiphora, Sugarcunt, Bedroom Blogger and, of course, Tantus Jenn! I hope they don’t mind me saying that, but the truth is I have a big Tweetcrush on all of them and would dearly love to get together for Twister, tea and dildo-talk, because these guys know their sex toys. And knowing your sex toys is hot.
I do love Crush. I do love my dad and my sister. I do love my cat. I do love some of my friends, online or otherwise. But what I sometimes want is to love everyone. Sure, there are the minority of people out there who don’t deserve it and, sure, I probably couldn’t or wouldn’t love all of the rest, but I want to love and be able to love (not necessarily sexually or romantically) so many people. The world’d be a bit better with a bit more love.
And now I sound like a hippy. But a hippy who wants a harem.
3. Excites you beyond belief?
The lovely Lady Pandorah! Was anyone really surprised by that? She is, as I’m sure you know, my girl-crush Numero Uno. I have it quite bad. Reading her blog, seeing her photos, talking and flirting online, excitement is the thing that really comes across, that and a sensation of being mesmerised. I don’t want to scare the luscious lady away, so I shan’t gush endlessly. But I feel I could.
4. Enjoy ass play with?
Now, I know what I said above about not mentioning Crush all the damn time, but this one is Crush. I’m sure I’d do it with others (and I did it with Fractal), but the person I want to do it with above all else is Crush. I mention this because I can’t. He has no interest in it, either giving or receiving. But I think he might like it if he tried. One day, I hope he’ll be ready for that, because I want to explore every inch and molecule of my sexuality and myself with him. It’s a gift.
5. Shower with?
The gorgeous Jilly recently admitted in her answers to this week’s TMI that she has “a very secret desire to shower with Ms Blacksilk”. I have to say, I like a girl that can’t resist telling me her naughty secrets, but I do at least have one in return. Don’t tell her, but I have a rather large desire to shower with dear Jilly too. I think the mix of dirtiness and cleanliness of such a shower would be very apt and very… enticing.
Let’s go for a celebrity one this time. It has to be Sasha Grey. She is beyond hot. I just cannot get enough of her and to undress her would probably cause me to die of excitement. But it’d be worth it!
Plus, she’s totally a Dungeons & Dragons player, which is extra hot.
Back to the bloggers, I would pick the sexy Rose. I’m not actually entirely certain whether she’s into this sort of thing or not, but I bet it would be an awful lot of fun! It’s been a long time since I’ve rimmed anyone, boohoo! Anyway, have you seen her arse in those bath photos? Who wouldn’t want to put their face in that?! Hope you don’t mind me saying such, Rose!
8. Elope with?
Elope? Eh, can’t say I’ve every really wanted to elope. I’m not entirely decided on the whole marriage thing all together. But for the hell of it I’d probably choose between Victoria Coren, Richard Osman, Ursula Vernon, Shamus Young or some made-up person probably from an RPG. Because why not.
Bonus: Who do you want to wake up in the arms of? Why?
OK, OK, fine. You got me. This one is going to be Crush too. Not because I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to wake up in the arms of, most people on this list fall into that category, but because if I had to pick only one person to ever wake up next to again, Crush would be that person. Soppy, aren’t I?
But it’s true. Sometimes we get up at different times and miss each other waking up, but mostly I wake up an he’s there. I go to sleep and he’s there. I love that. And when I’m away from him, I miss that.
I’d spend a night without him, sure. I have done in the past and likely will again. But I’ll always look forward to coming back to him and spending the night, whether sexually or not, with him.
♦ Her heavy breath brushed the lobe of my ear as she leant in to kiss my neck. She smelt faintly of men’s deodorant and alcohol. Her lips brushed my skin teasingly before she nipped at me, catching me off-guard, her teeth finding purchase. She released me and grinned; I stifled a giggle. Her eyes were full of sparks and japes half-remembered.
I remembered what those eyes could lead to only too well.
I shifted in anticipation, my bare thighs cosied and comforted by the warmth of the bare duvet beneath us. She leant back onto her knees, exposing the worn-through holes in her jeans. Her delicate fingers probed under my buttocks, feeling for the hem of my too-flimsy dress.
I shifted again, this time to allow her to free the hem from my weight. Her brown eyes caught the light as she lifted my skirts, her irises seeming to shift colour like a cheap mood ring.
She pulled my skirts up my thighs slowly, letting the sheer fabric glide over my skin, her eyes staying locked to mine until the skirts reached their destination at my waist. Once they had, her eyes travelled down to fix on my shamefully bare and smooth crotch. I fancied I could almost hear the word ‘whore’ echo in her pretty blonde head, but who knows what she was really thinking?
I felt like a butterfly on a pin.
I pressed my thighs together, hiding as much of my naked slit as possible. The heat rose on my cheeks. I was enjoying this too much.
Her hands came to rest gently on my wrists, squeezing tight before quickly bringing my arms up above my head. She leant in, pressing my captured wrists into the wall above the bed, her left hand dropping to tangle in my hair as she kissed me full on the lips.
My tongue sought hers and I pressed forward into her, kissing back fiercely. My wrists tested her grasp a little but not too much. Deep down I knew that if I escaped her I would only leave myself wide open to being caught again. I didn’t want to be free of her; the fight wasn’t in me. Whatever hold she had on me physically was nothing when the mental hold she had on me was so much more. Like so many times before I was falling into submission before even really being pushed.
She leant back suddenly and, letting go of me for a moment, moved to straddle my legs. I could still feel her on my lips as I watched her. In one agonisingly slow move that in truth probably didn’t even last as long as our kiss, she pulled the tight grey vest from her body. Her beautifully round breasts quivered slightly from the movement, her nipples erect and inviting.
I took her by the waist, loving the feel of the soft skin there and enjoying the curve of her body under my palms. To me, her waist was sculpted more finely than a Rodin and squeezable beyond belief. I pulled myself forward into her body, my mouth fluttering kisses over her breasts like moth against a light bulb.
A sigh hissed out from her lips as I tasted the tip of her nipple, my tongue circling the bud slowly, tentatively, before taking it into my mouth. I sucked gently and removed one hand from her flank, running it up her body, taking the scenic route at her breast before coming to rest behind her neck.
She took that badly; a step too far, too impertinent. Her fingers tangled in my hair again, this time to pull back firmly as I lifted my mouth from her nipple. I gasped and went with the tug.
My neck now exposed, she drew a long, firm scratch down it and then under my collarbone, hooking her finger under the strap of my dress and pulling it from my shoulder. She did the same on the other side and my dress slipped down over my breasts under its own weight, exposing my chest.
She darted forward and bit me hard on the top of my breast, making me yelp in surprise. Her teeth pinched in and she sucked at the soft skin a little into the bargain. Desire fizzed and rolled in my cunt. I sighed heavily. She let go and her lips brushed over my nipple before she took another firm hold, this time on the round underside of my breast.
I wriggled, but made no move to stop her. I liked playing defiant now and then, liked to test the limits, but with her there was really no question as to who, no matter the outfit, wore the trousers. It didn’t come up in humdrum life. No sign of it showed in our ordinary friendship. But once in a while she’d decide to pull me into another world with her. A world where unspoken rules were made clear by look and touch and a knack for punishment on her part.
Here, in this world of sighs and ecstasy-as-flesh, she was king.
She spoke for the first time since we sipped drinks together at the party, since she’d taken my hand and led me giddily upstairs.
“Pass me my bag and then turn around and close your eyes. I want your hands on the headboard bar at all times. No peeking. You’re in enough trouble already….” She paused with a smile that would have fooled Red Riding Hood in a wink. I was not so naive.
“..and I’m going to enjoy showing you just how much.” ♦
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this since it’s my first attempt at girl on girl fiction. Don’t be shy to leave a comment! Story kindly beta read by the lovely Maddie, thanks!