I Need Noise!

Say something – do it soon, it’s too quiet in this room
I need noise, I need the buzz of a sub
Need the crack of a whip, need some blood in the cut

– K Flay

Something I’ve heard multiple times throughout the pandemic is the assumption that introverts will be fine. After all, we like staying inside and keeping things low-key and not interacting with anyone… right?

Well, as it turns out, not really.

I’m an introvert and I am decidedly not fine at all. Yes, I value my own space. Yes, I sometimes prefer to stay in as opposed to going out (sometimes.) And yes, I’ll often choose spaces that are a little quieter and a little less crowded. But the keywords in all of this are sometimes and often.

No-one, not even the most introverted introvert, is supposed to live like this for a year or more.

For me, once the initial tidal wave of panic and fear passed sometime in late March last year, the not-okayness has been a slowly rising fog. Some days it’s denser than others. Sometimes I almost think it’s almost cleared, then I’ll realise I can’t see a metre in front of my face. And one of the things that is driving me absolutely crazy is the relentless fucking quietness of everything.

As I recently told my friends, “I want to go clubbing. I don’t even really like clubbing any more, but I want to go.” I want to go to a packed London bar, the kind of place where you have to fight your way through a crowd just to get a drink. I want to dance shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, make eye contact with a girl I’ll never dare approach, accept a drink thrust at me by a guy I’ll never fuck.

I want to be the first on the dancefloor at a sex club, shamelessly pulling my dress off over my head to reveal something extraordinarily black and tiny and lacy underneath. To take a spin around the pole before I’ve drunk enough to render it a bad idea. To blow a kiss to that cute couple and wonder if it’s their first time when they blush. I want to hear the music punctuated by whip cracks and squeals of blissful pain and moans of pleasure.

I want the kind of place where you have to shout to be heard. Where the music thumps so loud and heavy that I can feel it rising through the floor and throbbing in my legs, my stomach, my cunt. I want somewhere I can be anonymous, one of a crowd. Somewhere I can get out of my head. Somewhere that’s such an overwhelming assault on the senses that I couldn’t think clearly even if I wanted to.

It’s too fucking quiet and I can hardly stand it any more. I need noise. I need the kind of noise that silences what’s in my head. Now. Please.

So please check in with your introvert-identified friends as much as you do with the extroverts. Please don’t assume we’re fine. And please don’t make the jokes about how we’ve been training for this our whole lives – we’ve heard them all and they’re not funny anymore, if they ever were.

Who wants to go somewhere BUSY and LOUD when all this is over?

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[Quote Quest] Sex-Positive Spaces and Fragile Freedom

“Raise a glass to freedom,
Something they can never take away.”

– Lin-Manuel Miranda (“The Story of Tonight” from Hamilton)

Despite everything I’ve achieved with this site and the work I do surrounding it, I don’t get to be quite so outspokenly sex-positive as I am on here out in my daily life.

I do what I can, of course. I’m unapologetically feminist and openly queer, and will call out shitty behaviour when it’s safe to do so. But there’s a level of inhibition that doesn’t exist in the same way when I’m Amy Norton, Sex Blogger and Sex Positive Badass Extraordinaire.

I miss sex-positive spaces

For obvious reasons (no, I’m still not saying that particular C-word on my blog,) I haven’t been in any physical sex-positives spaces in months. No dungeons, play parties, orgies, wild nights, or sleepy morning threesomes. I haven’t even seen my secondary partner in close to six months.

I miss the filthy sex, of course. I miss the naked bodies and the kisses and the fucking and the “ooh, whose hand is that!?” But more than that, I miss the cuddles. The flashes of a grin from across a bed, the catch of the eyes with my partner that means “our life is fucking awesome.”

I miss the safety most of all. The freedom. The ability to be completely and wholly myself, unapologetic and raw and real. A place where my queerness will be celebrated, not looked upon with suspicion. A place where being a kinky feminist submissive polyamorous swinger is a beautiful thing, not a threat to fragile male egos or straight people’s marriages or the fabric of society itself.

So no, I don’t think it’s frivolous to be said that I haven’t been able to attend an orgy or a dungeon in months. Because what I’m really missing is something we all want: acceptance. Community. Connection.

Sexual freedom is fragile

Those of us who do work in this space have always known that, of course. There will always be far-right campaigners and religious fundamentalists and conversative politicians trying to take away the rights of consenting adults to do their thing.

Now more than ever, we cannot afford to take our sex-positive spaces for granted. We cannot take the freedom we have for granted. Losing access to those spaces for the last few months for public health reasons has thrown a new light on just how important – how essential – they are.

Our sex-positive spaces – our kink clubs, private parties, swinger socials, munches – give us the freedom to be ourselves. They give us a place where no-one thinks who we are and how we love is wrong. And that? That is worth fighting for.

I am glad I didn’t know that the play event I went to in March, where Mr CK and I played next to a gorgeous couple I’ve crushed on for ages, would be the last one for who-knew-how-long. I’m glad I have that memory of one last normal, kinky, filthy Sunday afternoon before everything went to shit.

I just hope we can have more of that soon.

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This piece was written for Quote Quest, a new weekly meme by Little Switch Bitch, and this week’s quote was submitted by Yours Truly. Click the button to see who else was inspired by it! And if today‚Äôs piece resonated with you, you can always buy me a coffee to say thanks!

Four Times Three

I love threesomes. (I also love foursomes, moresomes and any combination of group sex you can think of – in fact, I’ve just pitched an article about why foursomes are the superior configuration in my experience.) The threesome, though… it’s often viewed as the pinnacle of sexual experience, and I’ve probably had hundreds of them. (#Explanabrag?) This post is just a few stand-out stories from a near-decade of menage et trois exploration.

The First

I wrap my arms around her warm body and snuggle into her shoulder. She’s littler than me, only 5’1″, but I feel so protected with her. She’s older, more experienced… and my first. I’m only eighteen and I’ve just made love to a woman for the first time.

“Do you want to go and ask [my Boyfriend] to join us?” she asks.

“Are you sure?” The question takes me aback, and not just because I’m still catching my breath.

“Yeah, go on.”

So I throw on some clothing, still bashful, and skip downstairs with my sex hair to ask my boyfriend, happily waiting for us to finish and prepared to sleep on the couch if necessary, to come have a threesome with me and my new girlfriend.

He slides his fingers into her cunt, still wet from my earlier ministrations, and watches in awe as she comes once, twice, three times… we lose count. Then they both go to town on me, holding, fingering, kissing, caressing. I’m struggling to come, so she pulls out a vibrator and offers it to me. I use it on myself while they run their hands over my body, these two people I adore. I still don’t come – I’m too nervous – but it’s a good experience.

The Worst

I don’t know quite how it comes about that I’m going home with New Crush and his fiancee after the party. My boyfriend has pulled and is thoroughly occupied, so waves me off with a “have a good time.” On the way back, they warn me that their flat is tiny. I correctly interpret this as, “we don’t have a guest bed, you’re sleeping with us.”

I fancy New Crush for sure. I’m pretty sure I don’t fancy his fiancee, but I like her just fine, so co-sleeping isn’t a problem for me. We’re all in bed together, at least partially clothed, and he’s kissing me and I’m into it. Then she’s kissing me and I’m not into it. He guides her hands to my wrists and instructs her to pin me down while he fingers me. I feel really uncomfortable and unsure how to gracefully extricate myself. I’m suddenly “very tired” and I pretend to drift off to sleep while they fuck next to me. In the morning, I slip out quietly.

The Best

Mr CK has been seeing this girl, who we’ll call The Doctor, for a while. It’s taken me some time to get comfortable with the whole situation but I can’t deny I’m warming to her and my feelings have slipped beyond metamour friendship and into the realm of attraction.

She comes over to our place. We make food, we chat, we cuddle. It’s so easy. So chilled and genuinely affectionate. Mr CK suggests we move the cuddle to the bedroom – no pressure – and we both agree. They’re kissing. He’s kissing me. My eyes meet hers, and I dare to ask for permission to kiss her. She happily consents and her soft, soft lips meet mine. We all three tangle together, three bodies, kissing and nibbling and touching and stroking and stripping.

We introduce her to the Doxy wand. She’s scared. We offer to let her try it on a low setting, which she does – through her jeans. She comes in less than a minute, breathlessly declares ‘I’M BUYING ONE,’ and we all collapse into laughter.

The night is by turns passionate and giggly, intense and casual, sizzling hot and just plain fun. The Doctor leaves sometime after two in the morning. For the next three days, I can’t think of anything but her and him and me and this.

It happens two more times before it all ends too suddenly and it still immediately stands out whenever I think of the hottest sexual experiences of my life.

The Most Recent

This might *technically* be a cheat. There were other people in the room having sex beyond the three of us, so I’m not sure it can be classed as a threesome – but damnit, this particular part only involved us three, so I’m counting it.

I met him yesterday in a game of naked Twister (organised by – who else? – my sweetie TwisterGirl.) The spark of attraction I felt was immediate and I tried not to glance at his sizeable cock while we were all naked and entangled on the game mat.

Tonight, this hot almost-stranger is next to us on the bed, watching as I suck Mr CK’s cock. I reach a hand out and play with his, asking first with my eyes and then out loud if it’s okay. The moan I receive tells me all I need to know.

Mr CK positions me on my knees. Tells me to suck our new friend’s cock. Slides his into me from behind and fucks me hard and deep. New Friend tells me to look at him, and our eyes lock while I come hard from the blissful sensation of being filled in two of my holes at once.

Afterwards, he kisses me. I want to do this again.

If you enjoy my real-life sexy tales, please buy me a coffee to keep me well-lubricated and caffeinated.