Group Sex Does Not Ruin You For 1-on-1 Sex

Believe it or not, this post title has been in my ideas list for ages… and then Exhibit A said almost exactly the same thing in one of his Smutathon posts! So this forms my final post of the day (probably, unless this is quicker than I think it’s going to be and I end up rattling off a sixth one). If you still want to donate to our fundraiser for Abortion Support Network, you’ve got time!

A snowy slope with a ski lift. For a post about group sex and the slippery slope fallacy.
This is a slippery slope. Sex and kink is not one.

I get asked this question surprisingly often. “Doesn’t group sex mean you can’t be satisfied with one on one sex any more?”

The short answer is no. The long answer is…

Things, and people, don’t work that way. Are you no longer able to enjoy a simple but delicious meal simply because you occasionally go to fine dining restaurants? Are you unable to appreciate quiet drinks with friends because you’ve also experienced wild, dancing-on-tables nights on the town?

No. Because people don’t work that way. Sex is exactly the same. The idea that things always have to get more and more and more extreme in order to keep a person satisfied once they’ve had a taste of the “exotic” just doesn’t stack up. Sex isn’t a drug – you don’t need a bigger hit every time to get the same high.

I love group sex. Love it love it love it. The tangle of bodies, all the hands and mouths and cocks and cunts and… oops, sorry, got a little carried away there. Point is that it’s brilliant. No matter how many times I do it, and how often and in what combinations, it’s still fucking amazing. I honestly don’t see that ever changing.

But you know what? One on one sex works exactly the same way! We might have had nine-person orgies (that was a great birthday party) and group spanking parties and kinky threesomes and wild nights with other couples… but none of that takes away from the simple, perfect loveliness of my partner’s lips on mine and his cock inside me. Enjoying four or six or eight hands on me doesn’t mean I can’t still delight and find bliss in the same two hands that have known and loved me for years.

It’s the same with kink. I have done some wild kinky shit in my life, and loved every second of it. But it doesn’t mean every session needs to be wilder and more extreme than the last! Despite what some scaremongers would have you believe, spanking is not a slippery slope to being strung up from the ceiling on meat hooks. (Hook suspension exists, don’t google it if you’re squeamish, #YKINMKBYKIOK!) The intense stuff I’ve done has been brilliant and I’m sure it will continue to be brilliant. But it doesn’t mean I’m always seeking harder, crazier, more. A light spanking can still thrill the hell out of me exactly as much as it did the first time I experimented with it. A good old vanilla-ish shag with my partner is still super satisfying, too!

Sex is not a drug. You cannot “ruin” yourself for one-on-one sex by having group sex. Liking kink is not a sign that your desires are getting out of control or that you’ll end up doing something dangerous to get your rocks off. Enjoy what you enjoy, and don’t stress – you’re not going to lose control.

Masturbation Monday: “On the Prowl”

A "support me on Patreon" buttonThis is an experimental piece, unlike the erotica I usually write. Let me know in the comments what you think! And if you love my work, please consider supporting me on Patreon to get some bonus content and awesome perks.

A pair of black cat ears on a headband. For a Masturbation Monday post called On The Prowl

She is on the prowl tonight. The black latex clings to every inch of her perfect body, the heels of her boots are spikes to crush anyone who gets in her way. The cat ears could be considered cute on someone else, but she will eat you alive if you call her cute.

She’s in the mood to fuck tonight. Not to get fucked; no. Tonight she wields the cock and you will submit.

She’ll extend a long finger, her nail a perfect pointed claw the colour of blood, and from across the room you’ll feel that nail and her gaze pierce you. You. She has chosen you, and she knows you will follow. That finger beckons you, and you come. The heat of the bodies and the thump of the music swells as she draws you in, close enough to feel the heat of her breath on your lips, close enough to see yourself reflected back in those startling feline eyes. She’s assessing you; will you pass? You must choose, in this moment, to obey or not. If you don’t, she will have no hesitance in casting you aside with a flick of her tail and seeking a more suitable worshiper.

Satisfied, she grants you a single nod of approval. You lap it up as though you are starving. She will not allow you to touch her. You have not earned that right. Your hands must stay obediently at your sides, a test of your willpower and devotion.

Later, you will find yourself prostrate on her bed in submission as she slides in and out of you. You revel in the gentle hiss of her breath at the exertion. She revels in the sheen of sweat glistening upon your back as you take her in. She might reach beneath you to wrap her claws around your longing cock – if you’re lucky. More likely she will simply use you, take what she wants and ignore your aching need, and you will adore her all the more for it. You are here, after all, to serve her.

Tonight she is on the prowl, and her hunt will be rewarded.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, there’s bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week at my Patreon page.

Image is by me.

Masturbation Monday: “Tired”

A painting of two women close up, the front one wearing a black collar. For a masturbation Monday post called TIred.“I’m so tired.”

“I know, Sweetheart.”

My poor girl. She’s worked so many hours this week and I know her mental health is kicking her ass too. Tonight is all about her – I’ve made her favourite dinner, and now we’re sharing a bottle of wine and watching a silly comedy show. I might be her Dom (don’t fucking call me a Domme, ever) but to me, that means taking care of her is the most important job I have.

She snuggles up to me on the couch, resting her head in my lap. “Miss?”

I brush a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Mmm?”

“Could I have a spanking? I think it would help.”

I think about it for a moment. Does it feel safe to play with her when she’s in this vulnerable space? But she’s an adult and she knows what she needs. We both say that kink isn’t therapy, but it can be therapeutic. I look at her adorable, exhausted face and I feel like I know exactly what type of session she needs.

“Of course, darling. Get your sexy butt over my lap”.

She stands and wriggles out of her jeans, then tosses her boy-short knickers aside too. I love the way she looks in just a t-shirt, naked from the waist down. She crawls up beside me on the sofa and positions herself over my lap.

I run a hand over her ass and watch her tremble. I give her a couple of very gentle swats to warm her up. The goal of this spanking isn’t to hurt her, but to give her the catharsis and emotional safety she needs. I spank her a little harder, first one cheek then the other, and watch her perfect pert ass jiggle. She moans, lifting her ass up to meet the blows, and I know I’ve found the sweet spot.

“That’s my good girl,” I tell her, pausing to stroke her lower back. I up the intensity again, just a little. “Such a good girl, taking her spanking for me”. She lets out a noise that might be a moan of pleasure or might be a purr of contentment at the praise. I choose to read it as both and continue my rhythmic slapping of her ass.

She’s squirming on my lap now, and I can smell her arousal. God, I love the smell of her cunt when she’s turned on. I contemplate reaching between her legs to finger her, but decide to let her squirm for a little while longer.

Her ass is looking nice and red. “My good, brave girl,” I tell her. And she is. I’m so proud of her. This might seem like a weird way to show it, but my dominance and her submission is how love is expressed between us.

My right hand keeps up the spanking, first one ass cheek then the other. My left slips under her and finds her cunt. She’s dripping. I knew she would be. I stroke the soft, wet folds of her labia, teasing her, and run my fingers through her curly patch of pubic hair. Her wriggling on my lap intensifies. She mewls when I brush her clit, which is very erect. I begin to rub it in circles in the way I know she likes. Her moans and whimpers are music to my ears.

“My beautiful little slut,” I murmur, rubbing her harder. She can’t control her reactions, and knowing this gets me as wet as she is. I love reducing her to a squirmy, wet mess with just my hands and my voice.

“Miss…” she gasps. I spank each butt cheek again while my fingers continue their dance on her clit.

“Yes?” I prompt.

“Miss, please can I come?”

She asks for permission, because it turns us both on, but she knows that I usually give it. Seeing her come is one of my favourite things in the whole world. Plus, usually allowing her makes it much sweeter and less predictable when I do deny her and edge her for a few days without release.

“Yes, my girl, you can come.”

My word is all she needs. She gushes, soaking my hand and the lap of my jeans. She cries out as she comes. When she collapses, spent, I see that there is a single tear on her cheek. I know I have given her the emotional release she needed.

I stroke her hair. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed. My tired girl needs her rest.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Words Words Words”

A woman's breast just out of the water in a bubble bath with erotic words written on it.There aren’t many rules in our dynamic. My Sir is pretty laid back and isn’t really interested in micromanaging me or placing so many restrictions upon me that I’m bound to trip over one or another. One of the rules I do have to follow, though, is this: I’m not allowed to talk negatively about myself.

I’m so sick of this fucking thesis. I’ve been battling it for weeks and every time I think I’ve beaten it into some form of shape, I find something else wrong with it that needs fixing. I sigh and shut my laptop with a click. Put my head in my hands on the desk. Across the room, Sir spins around in his chair to look at me.

“You okay, Kitten?”

“I can’t do this!” I blurt out. “Just… I can’t. I’m too fucking stupid to do this. Why did I think I could?” Fuck. It takes me a second to realise I’ve broken the rule.

“Kitten…” his voice has a note of warning in it. I almost no longer care.

“What? It’s true”.

He pushes back from the desk and stands. “Come upstairs with me. Now”. Shit. I follow him meekly. In the bedroom, he tells me to take off my clothes and lie face up on the bed. My mind starts to race as I strip off. What’s he going to do? I was expecting possibly a spanking, but he clearly has something else in mind. That’s when I notice he’s got his favourite fountain pen in his hand.

He straddles me on the bed, his knees either side of my thighs. He’s still fully dressed. He pops the cap off the pen.

“Keep still,” he tells me.

“Sir?”

“I’m sick of you putting yourself down. Obviously punishing you hasn’t worked, so we’re going to try something else. Don’t move. If you squirm and make me mess up, I will punish you”.

The pen makes contact with my stomach first, just below my belly button. It tickles. I squeak but manage not to move. He’s writing something. I can’t tell what. Higher up my stomach, he writes something else. Then he leans over and adorns each of my breasts with yet more words. Down both my arms, along my collarbone, along the tops of my thighs.

He shifts position and uses one of his legs to make me spread mine. I resist the temptation to grind my cunt into his knee. His hand so close to my cunt that it brushes against the outer lips, I can feel myself growing wet. He writes something on my inner thigh. And just like that, this tiny bit of non-stimulation is all I get and he’s pushed my legs back together and is writing something on my lower abdomen. The whole thing probably takes less than five minutes, though it feels like much longer. He sits back and replaces the pen cap.

“Now go and look in the mirror”.

I hop up and cross over to the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. For the first time, I see the words he’s written all over my body in his beautiful handwriting.

Beautiful. Capable and competent. Imperfect perfection. Talented. Kind. Funny. Sexy. Cute. Gorgeous. Smart. I feel tears starting to prickle in my eyes.

I part my legs to see what he wrote on my inner thigh, close to my cunt. The word is backwards in the reflection but there is no mistaking what it says, his favourite of all the words he uses about me: MINE. The first tear spills over.

He comes over and brushes the tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry, Kitten. You’re going to stand there for fifteen minutes and feast your eyes upon your gorgeous body with the way I see you written all over it. Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you while you read them all back to me”.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week. Featured image is the utterly gorgeous Livvy and was first published as “Erotica“.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

 

Why I Read Erotica (and You Should Too!)

Outside of very specific environments, it’s not “cool” to admit you read and enjoy erotica. E.L James might now be a household name, but people still occasionally try to convince me that they read Fifty Shades of Grey for the gripping plot.

A woman reading a book pictured from shoulders to hips. For a post about eroticaI think erotica gets a bad rap for several reasons. Firstly, it’s written and read by women more than men. Unfortunately, work by/about/aimed towards women still tends to be regarded as frivolous. (See: anything with a female protagonist risks being labelled “chick lit”). Similarly, content connected to sex is also still treated as something shameful, dirty, secretive, or something to be embarrassed about.

I also think this is a damn shame. A lot of erotica is absolutely wonderful. Masturbation is important, sex is important, arousal is important! Despite myths to the contrary, writing good smut is hard work and requires a lot of skill.

Read on to find out why I think sexy fiction is the most underrated genre and why we can all use it in our lives.

A safe way to explore your fantasies and limits

Reading about something is generally infinitely safer than doing it. Let’s say you have a kink or interest you can’t explore in reality for some reason, or aren’t ready to explore in reality yet. Reading about it can be a great way to scratch that itch. You can’t get hurt by reading about something, no-one else’s consent is required, it’s not cheating. (Dear God, if your partner thinks erotica – or porn, or masturbation – is cheating, break up with them like three years ago).

Reading about something and exploring if it turns you on in a masturbation setting is lower pressure than exploring with another person, especially if you’re not sure if it will work for you or not.

And in case you’re wondering: yes, it’s fine to get turned on by something in fiction that you wouldn’t want to act out in real life!

Introduces you to new kinks, roles, scenes and ideas

I was reading erotic fiction with dominance and submission themes long before I was practicing BDSM in real life. Erotica helped me to discover the types of scenarios that interested me, the names and words that turn me on… and also, the things that completely leave me cold. Reading woman-on-woman scenes was actually a huge part of coming to accept my own bisexuality.

Erotica can introduce you to kinks you never knew existed (ask me how I learned that orgasm control is a thing), make you feel less alone (ask me how I discovered that I wasn’t the only freak in the world who liked to pretend to be a naughty schoolgirl and get spanked), or even help you open up lines of communication about certain kinks with your partner (ask me how I let Mr CK know I have a medical examination fetish).

If you’re not sure what you’re into? Pick up a sexy compilation collection to give you lots of ground to explore.

It can make it quicker, easier or more enjoyable to achieve orgasm

The best way for me to get going pre-wank is to read some really good smut. It works better than visual porn and, usually, better than my imagination. Plus, taking the few minutes to find a filthy story that works for me is a good way to get into a sexy headspace. If I want a long, luxurious session, taking my time to immerse myself in an erotic book is glorious. If I’m more looking for a hot quickie with myself, then a favourite story and my Doxy will get me done in ten minutes or less.

It’s great to share with a partner

As I already mentioned, sharing the erotica you enjoy can be a great way to share what turns you on with your partner. Perhaps you can’t say out loud “I want you to bend me over and spank me while you call me a dirty little slut“. But you can point them to a story with these themes that really did it for you.

Reading erotica together, or aloud to each other, is also a mega sexy thing to do. A really hot D/s scene we did a while ago involved Mr CK reading out some erotica that I’d chosen, and instructing me on when I was and wasn’t allowed to touch myself (and, of course, come).

And sometimes, it has damn good plots!

I don’t, primarily, read smut for the story. But just occasionally an erotic novel will have a plot so good that the sexy bits are almost just a very enjoyable bonus. Cooper S Beckett’s A Life Less Monogamous and Approaching the Swingularity (the latter reviewed here) are two great examples.

Is erotica for me?

Yes! Regardless of your gender, orientation or particular kinks, there’s bound to be something in the wide world of erotic fiction that appeals to you. And if no-one has written the story you want to read? Well… why not give it a go?

So where can I find good smut?

For some of my personal top picks, check out the books linked in this post.

You can also visit Literotica, an amazing free resource where thousands of amateur writers have uploaded their stories for your masturbatory pleasure. There’s a lot of crap, of course, but some real gems in there too. You can search by category, keyword or tag.

You can also find some great quick reads on Amazon Kindle. These typically cost $1 to $5 each – and you can read loads of stuff for free with a subscription to Kindle Unlimited.

Finally, of course, read your favourite sex bloggers! My “erotica” and “Masturbation Monday” tags contain all my freely available work, and you can get a new story every single Tuesday by signing up as a Patron at any level. My friend Kayla runs Masturbation Monday, which is a treasure trove of filthy delights every week. Check out Exhibit A, The Other Livvy, Tits & Test Tubes, Hannah Lockhardt and Confess Hannah for great filth from my smutty friends.

Basically: smut is great. Go read some smut.

Heads up: there are a few affiliate links in this post! All opinions are, as ever, entirely my own. Image sourced via Pixabay.

Me and My Fur: All About Body Hair

I have all my natural body hair. The last time I shaved any part of my body was over three years ago.

A green razor on a brown surface. For a post about body hair

The pressure to be hairless begins early.

I first shaved my legs at the age of 11, because a girl at a sleepover told me that no boy would want me if I had hairy legs. I didn’t even like boys at the time! But somehow, even to an 11 year old who had privately decided she was either gay or asexual (not that I had the actual language for either concept then,) the notion of boys thinking I was ugly was impossible to shrug off. Less than a year later, my mum gave me an electric shaver and told me to keep my armpits free from hair at all times. She wasn’t trying to body-shame me – she is, after all, surrounded by the exact same toxic culture that I am. I think she just didn’t want me to get bullied any more than I already did.

I held out on shaving my pubic hair until I was 19. My boyfriend had been increasing the pressure for several years. After we went to an event where he saw naked women apart from me in the flesh for the first time, it became apparent it wasn’t an option to keep my hair any more. So I dutifully got rid of it and for the next five years, I pretty much kept my entire body smooth and hair-free. Whether I actually liked it that way didn’t really enter into the picture. It was just part of the package of having been assigned female, like periods and casual sexism.

Realising I had a choice

It was Mr CK who woke me up to the idea that I actually had a choice about my body hair. He has made it clear from the beginning of our relationship that he finds body hair beautiful and erotic (spot the boy who came of age in the era of 7os porn!) But he also emphasised that I had to do what felt right for ME, and that he had no more say over my personal grooming than the people who had pushed me into shaving in the first place.

So I tried going au naturel for a while. Just as an experiment, to see if I liked it. That was three years ago and I have not picked up a razor since. I credit my beloved for reminding me I did have a choice, but the choice I actually made was all mine.

Learning to love my hair

I love keeping my body hair for a number of reasons. The time and money it saves me is not insignificant. My skin is much happier since being free of razors and shaving balms and post-shave rash and ingrowing hairs. And I just fucking love how it looks. When I look at my naked body in the mirror, I love the look of my little patch of pubic hair over my cunt. When I wear my favourite sexy knickers, I like seeing the little wisps poking out. I love lifting my arms and seeing the shadow of my reddish-brown underarm hair. I love how soft and fuzzy my legs are.

If I’m honest, I also enjoy the implicit things it tells people about me. For better or worse, body hair on women is heavily coded “feminist” – because making a choice about how to groom our bodies cannot just be a choice, it has to be a political statement. Thwarting societal beauty norms feels like a simple way to wear my politics on my body.

I have to acknowledge I have a level of privilege here in that my leg hair, at least, is very fine and blonde (my pubic and underarm hair is much coarser, darker and more obvious). Would I feel different if my leg hair was thicker and darker? If I grew hair on other parts of my body? I don’t know. I suspect I might struggle if it was growing on my face, for example, but I cannot say with any certainty as this is not my experience.

The impact on my sex life

Having body hair has definitely impacted my sex life. Mr CK and I swing together, and a large number of swingers will not have anything to do with people who do not shave every inch of their bodies. Pubic hair, in particular, gets us rejected a lot. (Insert hi-fucking-larious joke about flossing during oral sex here).

It’s been less of an issue in my one-on-one sex life, surprisingly. I don’t actually play with new people by myself that often, to be honest, and when I do the barrier to entry is pretty fucking high. I remember when The Artist and I had first established that we wanted to date, asking them nervously how they felt about women with body hair. The giant smiley face emoji they replied with… well, that was the moment I let out a huge breath I hadn’t realised I had been holding. Until I asked, there was a sense of I really like this person… and I think they really like me too… but are they going to be disgusted by my body when I take my clothes off?

For this reason, I tend to disclose it to potential lovers before the clothes come off. I feel more relaxed if I know they’re cool with it rather than waiting for the reaction. I hate that I have to do this. I’d much rather it not be a big deal. I wish I didn’t have to feel like it was something I needed to disclose. But mentioning it to sex partners before we get to the sex feels preferable to how devastated I’d be if a lover said something disparaging about my body when we were already in a sexual situation.

And it’s a surprisingly good screening device, actually. Misogynists tend to self-select out of my dating pool pretty fast when they realise I’m hairy.  To be honest, pissing off sexist men is one of life’s simple pleasures for me. Having hair is an easy way to do that.

The thing I’ve actually found most helpful is sleeping with lovers who actively like body hair. I currently have four lovers who I know are extremely into it. The way they look at me when I take my clothes off,the way they run their fingers through my fur or bury their faces in it, reminds me that I can be beautiful and desirable like this. They’re not settling or putting up with it. They actually like it, and me!

Fear of judgement… and sometimes actual judgement

Sure, I’ve been judged for being hairy. I’ve had gaggles of girl whisper and point and take pictures on the Tube because I had the nerve to get my legs out in public in 30 degree heat. I’ve had disgusted, sidelong glances thrown at me in the gym locker room. When I was regularly nude modelling and dared to go on camera with body hair on display, my picture comments went from “beautiful!” to “nice body but please shave that fur”. (No longer wanting to put myself through things like this is one of the many reasons I quit modelling not long after I stopped shaving).

I’ve had couples cancel dates with me and Mr CK at the eleventh hour because they had assumed that of course I was going to shave, and then realised I actually wasn’t. I’ve had guys comment on my pictures on Fetlife, saying “if you were mine you’d shave!” (Good job I’m never going to be yours then, isn’t it, dickbag?) The implication is there that Mr CK is somehow less of a Dom for allowing his sub to go unshaven.

The fear of judgement used to go with me everywhere. Sometimes it still does. When we start messaging a new person or a new couple on the swinger dating sites we use, I worry they’re going to pull out the “ew, pubes are gross” schtick. When we go to new clubs and I run around naked or in lingerie, I’m bracing myself for the “you’d be so pretty if you’d shave!”

Every summer, I weigh up the choice between being unbearably overheated in my oven of an office, or the daily fear of being pulled into a manager’s office and told that my natural leg hair is unprofessional. I sit there quietly while a female colleague bemoans being a woman and having to shave your legs every day in summer. I do not shout “YOU HAVE A CHOICE YOU KNOW!” even though I want to. It’s a constant fucking balancing act between asserting my right to exist in the world with my natural body, and just being tired of it all.

I don’t think I’m good at responding to the judgement yet, when it happens. I usually just want to cry or shrivel up in shame. I’m trying to be better about not letting it get to me, but as someone who grew up bullied, brushing it off is really hard.

Amazingly, no-one has ever actually shamed me – to my face, anyway – in a sex club or kink event. But I’m waiting for it. I’m always waiting for it. Because at most events, I’m the only one – and I see the looks I sometimes get. I see the “ooh, hot girl, nice boobs… oh, never mind” eye-swoop over my body.

I know what you’re probably thinking. “If the judgement bothers you, just shave!” But if you’re thinking that you’ve missed the whole point of what I’m trying to say. The problem doesn’t lie with me. I’m not doing something hugely out there and subversive and wild just by having my body on display in its natural state. I should not have to change it. Nor should I have to constantly defend my choice not to change it.

I like my body like this. The world does not get a say.

Femme identity and body hair

My relationship to femininity has been fraught and complex over the years, but I now sit fairly happily with my femme identity. It’s been a healing way for me to play with my aesthetic and my presentation. To find ways that reflect who I am as both a woman and a queer person. However, for a while I wrestled with the question: can I be femme if I don’t remove my body hair?

Ultimately, I approached this from the same angle as the question about whether you can be femme without wearing, say, lipstick or high heels. There are many trappings that are culturally coded feminine, and femme is about reclaiming these things (which society has often deemed frivolous) and playing with them, making them our own. For me, femme is a way to pick and choose the pieces of feminine presentation I want to embody. A way to escape the rigid codes society enforces about “what a woman should do/be”. To say “in order to be femme you must do X, Y and Z” is just trading one kind of oppressively strict standard for another. Femme is about fun and happiness within your own skin, not following the rules.

For a while, I jokingly referred to myself as “#lazyfemme” for not shaving and for sometimes going out without makeup on. I stopped this, though, because I realised it’s actually playing into the patriarchy to continue coding myself (and by implication other women) who choose not to do these things as “lazy”. As I once furiously ranted online “I have worked sixty fucking hours this week, but sure, I’m LAZY because I’m not wearing lipstick.”

So yes. I am a happy #sparklefemme who chooses the aspects of feminine presentation that work for her, and has decided that shaving is not her thing.

So do I think women who shave are just pawns of the patriarchy?

No! I believe in the absolute right to bodily autonomy for everybody. That includes the choice to shave/wax/tattoo/pierce/adorn/decorate your body in whatever ways you like, or not.

What I wish is that it was a more free choice. I wish there wasn’t such immense societal pressure on women and AFAB people to present themselves in a certain way. That razor companies weren’t constantly trying to sell us the solution to a problem they’ve convinced us we have. That wider representations of beauty were common in our media.  I wish, to be honest, that shaving or not shaving wasn’t such a politically loaded and socially fraught choice.

And I wish we were not teaching little girls at 11 that the most important thing in the world is whether or not boys find their bodies aesthetically acceptable.

Oof – that was a long one with a lot of emotional energy behind it! If you enjoyed it, please consider buying me a virtual coffee!

Masturbation Monday: “Canvas”

A woman with a flower tattoo on her back facing away from the camera. For a Masturbation Monday story called CanvasShe was his canvas.

Anna lay, nude, face down on the massage-bed. The whir and buzz of the machinery had long ago lulled her into a meditative state. This, combined with the delicious pain down one side of her back and the occasional reassuring touches from her Master, made Anna feel as though she were floating. She was only dimly aware, on the edges of her consciousness, that she was so wet she was surely soaking the towels beneath her.

She had never wanted a tattoo before she met Cameron. Sure, she could admire the beauty and artistry when she saw them on other people, but the idea of getting one herself scared her. Not the pain, so much, but the permanence. Could etching something on her skin for life ever be a good idea? Cam had changed all that. Not just a tattooist but a true artist, he prided himself on creating beautiful, unique work for every client and giving them something they could look at and admire for years to come.

“I want you to tattoo me,” she told him on the eve of her fortieth birthday. “For my birthday.”

Cam had pursed his lips, fork hovering in mid air on the way to his mouth in surprise. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. She nodded emphatically. “Okay. What sort of tattoo do you want?”

“Something beautiful. Something us. I want it to mark me as yours.”

Cam had simply nodded, and they had gone on with their meal. This morning, she had come downstairs to find the massage bed laid out in the living room, and Cam setting up his equipment. He’d asked her if she was sure. She told him she had never been more sure of anything.

She wondered what he – her Dom, her Master, her Love – was putting on her body.

No names, she’d said emphatically. And nothing that I can’t show off in public if we go to the beach or the pool. Beyond those stipulations, she’d given him freedom – her body to use as his canvas.

The whirring slowed and stopped. Pausing from his work, Cam stroked a hand down the middle of Anna’s back, carefully avoiding his fresh handiwork. She drew in her breath.

“How are you doing, my love?” he asked her.

“I’m perfect,” she whispered back.

“There’s still an hour or two of work to finish it off. But you’re being such a good girl, you deserve a treat first.” His hand was rubbing her arse as he said these words. He delivered a sharp smack to each cheek, making her squeal in pleasurable pain. Then his fingers were sliding down past her arse, between her legs, pushing them slightly apart. She blushed furiously, thankful he could not see her face, knowing what he was going to find.

“You’re dripping,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice, as his fingers found the core of her arousal. “Why is that, slut?”

“I like the pain. And you putting your permanent mark on me. And…” she trailed off as one finger slid inside her cunt. He quickly found her G-spot and pressed against it firmly, while his thumb found her erect clitoris and started to circle it. Anna gasped and lifted her hips eagerly from the table to meet his fingers.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured, rubbing her clit a little more firmly. “Plenty of the women I tattoo get aroused during. And the men, too.” She moaned, this thought producing another flood of wetness in her cunt. “Only I don’t do this to them, of course. But I can always spot which ones are the masochists. The ones who get all gooey eyed and floaty like you were doing just now. And I know they’ll go home and wank off furiously when I’m done with them.”

She was humping his hand with abandon now. A second finger joined the first in her vagina, while his thumb continued its assault of her now very swollen clit.

“Sir, I’m close…” she moaned. Cam grinned, wondering for just a second whether he should stop and do the rest of the tattoo while she tried not to squirm with unfulfilled arousal. But she was such a good girl, and this was a special occasion.

“Come on then, girl,” he commanded, redoubling his efforts. Then he leaned forward and murmured into her ear, “come for me, my love.”

Anna’s whole body jerked as she came, gushing over Cam’s hand and soaking through the towels beneath her. The sound she made was half mewl, half growl. Then her Master was withdrawing his fingers from her, stroking her hair, telling her she was a good girl. Her cunt spasmed, sending aftershocks through her body. She could not remember the last time she had come so explosively and so quickly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

She heard the buzz as Cam started up his tattoo machine again. “Lie still now, sweetheart, and let me finish decorating you.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is by the gorgeous Marie Rebelle and was originally published as “Negative”.

 

My Scene Went Wrong, What Now? – A Guide to Getting Back on Track

A "support me on Patreon" buttonIf my writing is helpful and/or enjoyable to you, please consider supporting me on Patreon to help me keep doing this work!

Sometimes, play sessions or scenes will go wrong. Mishaps, mistakes, and even the occasional genuine crisis can happen to all of us. It’s an unfortunate fact of this thing we call kink, sex or play, and we would all do well to learn better how to handle it when they do. Anyone who has been playing for any length of time and tells you they’ve never had a scene go wrong is either astoundingly lucky or lying.

A woman turned away from the camera looking upset. For a post about scenes going wrongI’ve had three scenes go wrong in relatively quick succession (a period of about 3 weeks). The first time, the equipment we were using at the club malfunctioned and dropped me. Thanks to Mr CK’s quick reflexes, we were both shaken but there were no injuries. The second time, there was somebody else at the party who I hadn’t expected to see, and who makes me feel profoundly unsafe. I tried to play in the main party space anyway, thinking I shouldn’t let him ruin my good time, but unfortunately I badly misjudged my own mental state. The third time, I let my head convince me that a situation that was actually most likely completely safe wasn’t.

To be clear, none of these was a disaster (though the first could have resulted in much more serious consequences than it did). Even so, they were all unpleasant and left both of us rattled. The after-effects could be felt for the next few days, both individually and in our interactions together. Luckily, we managed to have a spectacular play session a few days ago and I feel much better about it all as a result.

So let’s look at some techniques to get things back on the rails after something goes wrong.

In the immediate aftermath

I’m assuming that, at this point, you’ve moved away from the play area to somewhere safe if possible, and that anyone who is injured has received appropriate medical attention. I am also assuming good faith from all parties and that there were no malicious intentions or consent violations.

First of all, both/all players involved are likely to be shaken up. This is a really good time to be very kind and gentle to both yourself and each other. Sit somewhere comfy. Drink a glass of water, cup of hot tea or other comforting beverage. Maybe have a snack to get your blood sugar back up. Have a massive fucking cuddle, if you’re in the kind of relationship where you cuddle.

Don’t beat yourself up. If the problem was because of a mistake you made, you can and should apologise, but one genuine apology is much better than self-flagellation. This should go without saying, but if there was fault on the other person’s side, don’t be mean to them about it! You can absolutely say what you perceive happened and what you wish they’d done differently, but don’t harp on it more than is necessary and try to gracefully accept an apology, if one is offered. Again: be kind. This is a great time to reaffirm that you still love/like/fancy the pants off each other.

Don’t feel the need to discuss what happened in depth there and then if you don’t want to. You can, if you’re both up for it, but it’s often better to focus on caring for yourselves and each other initially. The debrief is often more productive if it comes an hour or two later, or even the next day.

Later that day/the next day

Check in with the other person. Ask them how they’re doing and be prepared to offer what comfort or support you can. Be honest about how you’re doing and ask for their support in return.

This can be a great time to have the debrief conversation: you’re over the initial shock/upset, but still close enough to the incident to analyse it effectively. Discuss what went wrong, your respective headspaces (and physical states, if relevant) at the time, the factors that contributed, and what controls you’ll put in place to try to mitigate the risk of a similar incident next time. This is also a good time to discuss what you need in the aftermath: do you need some cuddle time, verbal reassurance, some hot sex? Or just some alone time to process? Ask for it! If you can, give your partner what they ask for.

When it comes to processing, if you’re struggling with difficult feelings following the experience, this is a great time to consult a kink-friendly therapist, reach out to other kinky friends, or write in your journal.

It’s also worth remembering that you might experience sub-drop or Dom-drop. Even though you didn’t finish your scene, when something goes wrong you’re yanked out of your headspace very quickly and abruptly, which can actually be worse. Check out my list of self-care tips to try if drop, depression or anxiety hits.

Try to view a scene gone wrong as a learning experience. It doesn’t need to spell disaster for your relationship, your future as a kinkster, or even necessarily your night/day/week!

Next time you play

Re-acclimating to your partner and your play together after a scene gone wrong can be a challenge. It’s a good idea, before you next play, to touch base with regards to where you’re both at emotionally and physically following your incident. It can also be wise to negotiate your next scene or two very explicitly in advance, especially if miscommunication or misunderstanding contributed to the problem. This also applies in very long term relationships where you know each other incredibly well. It’s not a failure to spell things out upfront if relying on your knowledge of each other and nonverbal cues doesn’t feel safe right now.

Sometimes, verbally affirming consent can be really reassuring the next time you play, too. Our first really good scene after the string of issues started with Mr CK asking me to very explicitly state my consent to what we were going to do.

You can also ease back in slowly! You don’t have to go straight to a 10 on the intensity scale if a 4 feels more comfortable right now. Even if you were hanging upside down from the rafters when something went awry, you can dial it back to a gentle spanking next time you play. The only thing that matters is that you play at a level that’s comfortable for you both. A less intense scene isn’t a failed scene. The only criteria for success is that you are both safe, gave free and enthusiastic consent, and had fun.

Final thoughts

There are basically three main things I want you to take away from this post. When a scene goes wrong, remember:

  1. Practice kindness, patience and forgiveness. To yourself as well as to your partner.
  2. It happens to everyone sometimes and does not mean you failed as a kinkster, Dom, sub or partner.
  3. You CAN move past it, learn from it, and use the experience to strengthen both your skills and your relationship.

And if you’re reading this because you went Googling in a panic after your scene went wrong? You’ve got this. I believe in you. It’s okay.

[Podcast Review] The Ersties

A cartoon cover image from The Ersties podcastAnyone who knows me will know that I love podcasts. I drive a lot for my day job, so listening to podcasts (and the occasional audiobook) is how I entertain myself and make the most of my driving time. I have learned so much from the various shows I listen to, and I’m always looking for new ones. So I was thrilled when the lovely folks at The Ersties Podcast reached out to me and asked me to work together.

Ethical Porn and Fascinating Women

Ersties is an ethical, feminist porn site. They describe their work as a “…natural exhibition of our sexuality; all natural girls in all natural situations with no scripts, demands or expectations!” Run by women, they are committed to respectful treatment of their performers, fair payment and genuine passion in their scenes.

The Ersties podcast, hosting conversations about all aspects of sexuality, sex positivity and the adult industry, is an obvious progression of this ethos. The four co-hosts are Paulita Pappel, Lina Bembe, Olivia and Pandora. Each of them has extensive experience in various areas of the adult industry including performing, directing, producing, editing ad more. Each of the four women brings their unique lived experiences and voice to the show. The chemistry between the team is a huge part of what makes it all work so well. They’re friendly, funny and open. Really, it’s like sitting down for coffee with four of your best sex positive friends!

What it’s all about…

Most episodes contain a mix of general chat about their lives and adventures in the world of feminist porn, and discussion around a specific topic of the month. Occasionally, there are also listener questions. The second episode, for example, featured a fascinating discussion inspired by a reader question on sex positivity (or lack thereof) in the communities the presenters grew up in – they all live in Germany now, but come from a diverse mix of backgrounds.

A new episode comes out on the first Friday of each month. Topics covered so far include BDSM, polyamory, why you should pay for your porn, and censorship in the UK. The team obviously have a well-connected network of experts to call upon, and these voices add nicely to the conversations. I particularly enjoyed Censorship Part 1 (The Great British Firewall) where they interviewed “Obscenity Lawyer” extraordinaire, Myles Jackman, and the amazing Blake of Dreams of Spanking. I’m really excited to see what they come out with next and which other experts they talk to.

Give it a listen!

The world needs more open, honest conversations about sex. It also desperately needs more ethical, feminist porn. The Ersties Podcast team are doing their bit to address these needs and to further the conversation on sex positivity, porn literacy, sexual freedom, anti-censorship and more. I can’t wait to see what this fantastic team of women do next!

This post was kindly sponsored by The Ersties Podcast. All views are, and will always be, my own. If you sign up to a membership using my affiliate link, I will make a small commission – and you’ll be supporting ethical porn, which is so important in the age of free tube sites and censorship. You can listen to The Ersties podcast for free wherever you get your podcasts. Image is property of The Ersties Podcast.

Five Books That Changed My (Sex) Life

You will be unsurprised to know that, as a writer, books hold an extremely important place in my life. There are many things I am grateful to my mother for (she’s a pretty awesome lady) but one of the biggest is instilling a love of books in me when I was very young. Through the toughest points in my life, I’ve turned to reading for information, for comfort, for that priceless feeling of not being alone.

But this is, after all, a sex blog. So today I want to tell you a little about five of the books that profoundly impacted my sex life.

A shelf of books
Image by me, feat. one of my many bookshelves.

Come As You Are – Emily Nagoski

I read this one on a flight to Italy. Goddess knows what the people around us thought, when I kept reading out interesting snippets to Mr CK!

Nagoski’s message is, in brief, that we are all normal and we are all fine exactly as we are. She explores concepts such as spontaneous vs responsive desire, and the congruence gap between reported mental desire and genital response. (If you haven’t watched her recent TED talk on this very thing, please do so, it’s fucking brilliant).

Come As You Are taught me how to stop worrying so much about being “normal”. It taught me how to stop saying “I should feel X,” and start saying “I feel Y, and that’s okay”. And perhaps most important, it approaches these concepts through actual, hard science that cannot be argued with. It’s a warmfuzzy affirmation of your deepest desires wrapped up in a blanketof irrefutable evidence, and it’s perfection.

“Even if you don’t yet feel that way, you are already sexually whole and healthy. The science says so. I can prove it.”

Get your copy now.

The New Topping Book & The New Bottoming Book by Dossie Easton & Janet Hardy

Okay, I’ve cheated here because these are actually two books. But I kind of conceptualise them as two halves of one whole, so they’re getting a shared entry.

These were the first two books I ever read about BDSM, when I was barely nineteen and only just coming to the realisation that I wasn’t the only person in the world who got aroused from being spanked and verbally degraded.

As a new submissive, I devoured The Bottoming Book. I absorbed all its lessons on how to get horrible things done to me by wonderful people in a safe and respectful way. I credit it, in large part, with quelling the rising sub-frenzy and preventing me from spiraling too quickly down a path I was ill-equipped to handle. Even now, I throw it at new and young submissives frequently. I’ve lost count of how many people have borrowed my copy.

I’ve actually read The Topping Book twice. Firstly, from a purely academic perspective – as a submissive, I wanted to understand the Dominant perspective better. It fascinated me, but I didn’t feel any pull to do those things. Much later, when I started exploring my switchy side, I read it again with a more practical application in mind.

These books are, even all these years after their initial release, still the best 101 guides on the market, bar none.

“We bottom in order to go to places within ourselves and with our partners that we cannot get to without a top. To explore these spaces, we need someone to push us over the edge in the right ways, and to keep us safe while we’re out there flying.”

rel=”nofollow”Get The New Topping Book.
Get The New Bottoming Book.

Trauma and Recovery – Dr Judith Herman

I debated long and hard about including this one. It is not actually a book about sex, kink or any of that good stuff. But actually, it had such a profound impact I couldn’t not include it.

I first approached this book, a dense academic text, at twenty-one and barely out of my first long term abusive relationship. I’ve since referred back to it countless times, especially over the last three years as I try to recover from the worst abusive dynamic of my life.

What this book taught me is that my response to the trauma I’ve suffered is normal. It reassured me that I’m *allowed* to struggle with PTSD even though I’m not a military veteran or childhood sexual abuse survivor. It spoke so profoundly to what was going on in my head, and in my life, that I was frequently reduced to sobbing reading it. I usually couldn’t read more than a few pages at a time. Through Dr Herman’s words, I learned that I could recover with time and the proper support… but that it was and is 100% okay to not be fully “there” yet.

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure no one listens.”

Get your copy.

Opening Up by Tristan Taormino

There are a lot of how-to books on polyamory on the market now. However, amidst all of them, Opening Up stands out to me as the most rational, sane, compassionate and balanced of them all.

What I love about this book, which I read when I was relearning how to do polyamory after escaping an abusive situation, was how many options Taormino presents the reader with. She doesn’t dictate, as so many how-to books do, that Relationship Anarchy and The Church Of No Rules is the only way to do things right. Instead, she treats relationships as a create-your-own-adventure story, and offers us a smorgasbord of possibilities to pick and choose from. Amidst all this, there are practical tips on time management, communication skills, jealousy busting, and more.

This book came into my life at the perfect time. What it taught me is that I do not have to live up to anyone else’s idea of The Perfect Poly Person, no matter how many books they’ve sold or how many events they’ve spoken at. Instead, all I need to do is collaborate with my partners to create something that works for us.

“Nonmonogamous folks are constantly engaged in their relationships: they negotiate and establish boundaries, respect them, test them, and, yes, even violate them. But the limits are not assumed or set by society; they are consciously chosen.”

The Purity Myth by Jessica Valenti

Ah, virginity. Has there ever been a topic to provoke so much judgement and angst and stigma? A long time ago, the man who I first had PIV sex with (I don’t believe “losing one’s virginity” is a meaningful concept) made it clear that my value was in my “purity”. I was precious to him because no-one else had touched me, like an expensive work of art you keep behind a glass case lest anyone else get their dirty fingerprints on it. A while later, the second man I had PIV sex with berated me for not having “waited for him,” because – being the youngest woman he’d ever fucked – I represented the closest he’d ever come to “taking a girl’s virginity”. A right, he believed, that I had denied him by shagging someone else three years before I met him.

As a result of these experiences, I’ve dealt with a lot of shame around my level of sexual experience. I fuck a lot of people, and have a lot of casual sex, and 90% of the time I’m more experienced than my sexual partners regardless of their gender. This book showed me how the “cult of virginity” has been manufactured by the patriarchy in order to control women’s bodies, and by extension women’s lives. It showed me that virginity is a medically meaningless concept, and that the only value it has is that imbued by sex-negative, patriarchal, anti-woman culture.

Valenti’s book gave me the permission to go “yeah purity is a bullshit concept”. It helped me to fully embrace my sexual experiences, past and present, as part of the rich tapestry that make me who I am. As a feature, if you like, not a bug.

“The idea at play here is that of “morality.” When young women are taught about morality, there’s not often talk of compassion, kindness, courage, or integrity. There is, however, a lot of talk about hymens.”

Get your copy.

What books had a profound impact on YOUR sex lives, friends?

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