Oct 302016
 

So, this week has been very anal intensive with my writings. The reason is because last week I went over to Mr. Texas’ house (yes, we’re back together) and we had drinks and hot tub time. We had already discussed no sex, because I tore from the prior weekend’s sexfest and needed to heal up for a few days.

“No penetration,” he said, shaking my hand but negotiating for making out.

I didn’t want to make out. Our making out always ended in sex. But I shook hands on our tentative deal. And we made out in amidst the chilly fall air and heat of the water. His finger went to roam around my anus, and when he attempted to insert a bit, I commented that we needed lube.

“So let’s get lube then,” he stated, holding out a hand to help me out of the hot tub.

I should’ve known the bed is not a good place to go when avoiding sex.

In bed, he used a generous amount of lube and fingered me to an anal orgasm – a rarity and one that I was shocked that I experienced. As he nibbled on my neck, he whispered that it was too bad that we decided we didn’t want to try anal sex, because it was the perfect opportunity to try it.

He had a point; I had just orgasmed anally from fingering, I wondered if I could from sex. I felt terrified, but tried to sort out the emotion and felt that maybe it was because the one and only time before that was so horrible.

Shouldn’t I get over that experience?

“Yes, we should, but it requires a lot of lube.”

“We should what?”

“Try it.”

“What is it?” The clarification of consent was crucial to him, it seemed, after my sharing of the last experience.

“Anal sex.”

The problem with a man who just began inserting a finger, and wasn’t educated on it, was he immediately pushed himself in after applying a lot of lube (or at least it felt that way).

I jumped up and away from him, complaining of how badly it hurt.

He apologized profusely, felt terrible about hurting me. He said he was barely in, and I needed to relax.

I laid back down on my stomach and was willing to give it another try.

…And he moved slowly the second go round, telling me to breathe and relax.

…And it hurt, but it may have been from the first attempt.

…And I should have worked up to sex, instead of barely getting any anal stimulation and going from a finger thinking I could do more.

…And I was getting over my anal issue, dammit, so I breathed and willed myself to relax and he stroked in and out until it was just a dull uncomfortable.*

He slid out too far by mistake, and in looking down, saw a mess, so we stopped there.

Not the most successful, but for me, it was an uphill mental battle far more than anything physical.

I don’t know if I’ll try anal sex again, but I’m hoping to no longer feel sick to my stomach terrified of it.

And I cried, goodness how I cried after we were done.

…I didn’t want him to view me as disgusting (he had stated when we first started dating that he viewed anal sex as disgusting) and I was messy. Would he leave me (and was that a remnant feeling that my ex left me with)? What if he didn’t like the experience and I forever hurt his chances of liking it because I was a wimp with how badly it hurt?

…And I cried because I was overcoming the last time; the memory flooded back in great waves and threatened to drown me in the panic.

Mr. Texas pulled me into a shower where he held me for a long time before washing us up, before holding me again, before pulling us out and drying us off. He pulled me into bed and held me until I was strong enough to hold my composure.

He thanked me for allowing us both to experience anal sex for the first time together.

And I was grateful he put that spin on it (even knowing the experience I was overcoming), because he was right, it was the first time.

Because I felt like I wanted to experience anal sex, and that made all the difference.

 

*It may have felt good had not the first slide-in hurt so badly; a fact that I am pondering a lot.

Oct 292016
 
IMG_2245

Photobomb

I’ve talked about a lot of fail moments this week (though nowhere near the humor my sister can write about those experiences).

Here is a moment where this was not the quite the sexy photo I was going for.

Sinful Sunday
Oct 272016
 

I wrote a post back in February on trying anal sex for the first time with my husband – who had just left me weeks prior. I stated I felt that it needed a trigger warning, but I wasn’t sure why.

And then I sat on the post for four months because he didn’t want me to post it, was outright upset with it, and I thought (and still think) it’s because it showed he cheated on his monogamous girlfriend with his wife.

I posted it when he did some asshole things to me and why should I care and protect him? Also, because the bad decisions of that weekend still nagged at me, and I felt that I didn’t read enough real stories of desperate people trying to hold onto a relationship with terrible decisions (like how I was the other woman and trying all sorts of new things with my ex).

It shocked me to see the consent issue come up, because I hadn’t thought of it, but once I read the comment, that was exactly why I felt like it needed a trigger warning. (It’s hard to believe I didn’t think of it, now, when my writing definitely looks like non consent.)

And then his girlfriend felt the urge to defend him and question me in the commentary, and while she didn’t state it was her, I knew it was and confirmed it with him. (She interacted several times with me but I didn’t keep the entirety of the interactions because I feel it is inappropriate that she addressed me at all – I never once addressed her on anything.)

“You made it seem like rape,” he declared, upset, defending her action.

“It felt like it was at the moment,” I shot back, and then realized…yes, it did.

It was not the consensual non consent scene, hell, it wasn’t even edge play by either of our standards. When he proposed anal sex before he came that weekend, I told him probably not, but that I would think on it. That morning I told him I wasn’t interested in it. And then he pushed for it during a head space a bit foggy with orgasms. And while I said maybe, I did not say yes. And when he pushed for it, I told him no. And when I asked him to stop, he blood-chocked me unconscious.

The fallout led me to crying hysterically for hours and finally crying myself to sleep. It led to him yelling at me to get a grip on myself and my emotions. It led to me not being to articulate what bothered me so badly about the experience. It left me seriously depressed (or maybe that was being divorced, ditched, all the way across the country from my support system?).

And it wasn’t until the comment that consent wasn’t given that I realized why this moment devastated me so fully.

But let me perfectly clear – I am not calling this rape.

Maybe this is where the shades of gray and debate can come out.

I am only saying that it felt like rape; and this is the first and only time I have felt like that.

First and foremost, while my safeword did not occur to me, I did have one. My ex truly expected me to use it.

We have talked about this sensitive topic since then; I truly do not believe that he meant for the experience to feel the way that it did. I believe that he expected me to safeword if I felt that strongly about “no” after talking to him months later. And I truly did not even think about using a safeword, felt like my “no” and “stop” were enough; after all – just the day prior we discussed needing the safeword before a scene. I didn’t use a safeword with him just having sex with him – never felt that was needed.

Perhaps this is a horrible complication with using safewords, when stop and no don’t always mean stop and no.

I still take responsibility.

I am still his friend, and still hope to be so. I hope he doesn’t take offense, as I mean none, in reflecting on anal this week.

And I still feel that the scene needs a trigger warning – if nothing else for me – I can’t even reread it and haven’t since I wrote it (other than the third italic sentence I added in the beginning to clarify a comment). Hell, even reflecting on it, I feel sick.

Oct 252016
 

So my slutfest first introduced this type of thinking and my online dating adventures have definitely continued it. Men, who if I had met them in person would probably never have broached anal sex without really knowing me better, were asking if: a) I would have sex with them; and b) did I do anal? Yet from the relative safety of anonymity behind a screen, felt like anal would be a good topic to approach me with immediately, before meeting me.

Now, let’s separate my online approaches with slutfest versus honestly wanting a dating experience with.

Slutfest: my online profile was created by my beautifully creative sister, A. She was the one who coined the slutfest experience between her and girlfriends after a bad breakup. I would have never presented myself so boldly, but she did a great job – there was no question that I wanted to have sex with men with no strings attached. I didn’t want a conversation, I did not want a date, I wanted them to come to my house and fuck me.

So the men who responded might have felt so bold to address their sexual needs and desires with a virtual stranger before meeting up.

But what surprised me is that every single man asked about anal sex and if they could have anal sex with me. Slutty doesn’t mean use every hole I have indiscriminately – though at least most of them checked first before trying to have surprise butt sex.

Up until that point, I had only had anal stimulation, and only with one man, my husband. I told them I was uninterested, and I was. One man did give me anal stimulation and even tried for anal sex after I expressed my disinterest.

Dating: so my first few months produced one vanilla guy after another after another. Not too big of a deal, as that’s how Mr. Texas and I discovered each other, but I have already learned that I just can’t be without kink in some regards. No one asked for anal, no one approached me for sex, it was getting to know you questions and I was perfectly fine with that. But I at least needed to date someone who was open minded to kink, because after the vague getting to know you stage, we just weren’t compatible.

So I modified my online profile to state that I was kinky and would need someone who was open minded.

And opened the flood gates where apparently being kinky equates to being easy, being indiscriminate about having sex, to the anal approach as a first question. I am always a bit surprised by assumptions: sluts can be discriminate about who they have sex with; kink does not equate to sex or even anal sex (though it can).

What had changed since then is that I had engaged in anal sex and it was a terrible experience. Having lost my anal virginity, as it were, didn’t change my interest in the act at all.

And I don’t view anal sex as being kinky.

There is something about being online that brings out the bolder people, I’ve noticed. I sincerely doubt men would approach me with these topics in person just introducing ourselves, and I have even less confidence that they would approach anal sex as a desire from the get-go. Perhaps it’s because I address kink in my profile that men now compelled comfortable enough to approach anal, but kink was added for a compatibility issue not to state that I was looking for quick anal hookups rather than getting to know a partner and dating them.

What is about anal sex that men on online dating sites seem to be looking for? It’s like the elusive unicorn for a threesome.

I have nothing against anal (it just wasn’t for me), but I am baffled by how this seems to be a trend with online hookups/dating.
Wicked Wednesday

Oct 232016
 

So, after a long separation from Mr Texas, I started picking back up with him again. Our kids saw each other still, so it’s not like I sought him out.

After a week of sex, where his fingers slipped once or twice between my drenched cheeks and I moaned in appreciation of the anal stimulation outside, I decided I was going to work up the nerve to ask for it.

Understand: this is a big deal to me. I am shy about anything to do with the topic of anal for some reason. I had also, perhaps foolishly, decided that since my one and only experience with anal sex was so miserable that I shouldn’t like anal stimulation at all, that it made no sense.

As we were drinking in the hot tub – gosh I missed our hot tub times, his fingers brought me to an orgasm and intentionally slid back afterwards. I sighed in appreciation.

“Do you like your butt hole played with?”

I was mortified- he just came right out and said it in that abrupt and undignified way he had. (It’s true: he once said that I was like a pig in the mud when it came to kink events.)

And he had already stated that he had zero interest with anything to do with anal from the very first day of our relationship. What would he think of me?

But I had already resolved to ask for at least outside stimulation, so I hid my blushing face and nodded. He knows when he turns me shy.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me. You’re so open about things.”

“This one is hard for me,” I muttered into the jetted water.

“Okay. Do you want to try it tonight?” I hesitated, then nodded. I wanted to drown in embarrassment. “Well then let’s try it. How do I go about it? I haven’t even done anything like this before.”

I was relieved he handled the matter so well.

I had been embarrassed about asking my ex husband for it, but my husband wanted to do all types of anal play, so it felt safer to ask for it after he made me realize I liked it.

But Mr. Texas – vanilla and stated already his distaste for anything anal – that was a scary experience.

He keeps reassuring me that he is more open minded, that he realized he was judgmental without being exposed to things first, and that he would try to get more out of his comfort zones if I was patient.

I was trusting in that as I opened my mouth and explained what kind of stimulation I was wanting.

Oct 212016
 

understanding-flutterby-header
Photo courtesy of Understanding Flutterby

Welcome to Elust 87

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #88 Start with the rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

On Secret Identities

Dividing lines…

Ember and Ash

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Bdsm: Our pleasures are our obligations

Southpaw

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Change your Cookbook: a monogamuggle’s guide to cookin’ with poly folk

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

When Love is not enough.
the fantasy and reality of my arrival

Blogging

Shine a Light

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

When You’re Bad
How Women Use Their Sexuality As A Weapon
Dear Fans: Quit Kinkbashing

Erotic Fiction

Big Daddy
(Re)Verse
The Front to Back Challenge
Pretty
GAME OF TWO HALVES – role shift
no. 106

Erotic Non-Fiction

He’s Cumming
Washing up
Chew Toy
So many friends with benefits

Poetry

One Stroke
-25.09.16_12:52-
Early Morning Haikus

 

ELust Site Badge

Oct 182016
 

*This was written by Atargatis. When I saw the mermaid prompt, I realized I had a gifted mermaid friend who was also an amazing writer, and asked if she was interested. I think this is an amazing story.

By 19, I’d had no serious suitors, had never even kissed a boy. My only experiences were “practicing” with girl friends in the dead of the night. I’d given up hope of finding a woman willing to be different in our small town, willing to run away with me. So I found solace in wandering the cliffs by the sea. It was one overcast day that I heard singing from the rocky shore below. I carefully lowered myself down to the rocks.

Her long, pale green hair hung in gentle waves upon her breasts. Her skin was pale and seemed to glow with light reflected off the water. Her lips were plump and the pale pink of the inside of a shell, and they matched perfectly the soft nipple peeking through her hair. Her breasts were larger than my own, and round and perfect. Her slim waist flowed into the swell of her hips, and it was there the scales began. They were darker than her hair, and gleamed like fish scales. They ended in a paddle like tail that trailed in the water.

She was the source of the music. Her voice was high and light, and she idly combed her hair.

I climbed over the rocks to get closer, trying to keep quiet so I didn’t startle her. My heart was thumping in my chest and my stomach swirled with nerves and arousal at the sight of her. I was about five feet away when a stone turned under my foot and she turned to face me.

Her eyes were large and black in her delicate face. Her perfect mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She lowered the comb and smiled at me. “Usually men are drawn to my song. You must be a special woman.” I blushed and her smile widened, revealing pearl-white teeth. “Would you like a kiss?”

I nodded and beckoned me toward her with one long-fingered hair. Her lips met mine and they were warm and smooth and tasted like saltwater taffy. Her hand rose to my cheek, slid back to cradle my neck and deepen the kiss, her tongue stroking skillfully against mine. When we parted, her cheeks were flushed as pink as her lips. “Let’s go somewhere.”

She took my palm in hers and rose to feet that had replaced the tail. She guided me behind her as she easily strode over the rocks, leading me up the cliff once more and to a ruin. I followed her in a dreamlike state, taking in her long, bare legs and firm, round ass. As we crossed the threshold into the crumbling building, she turned toward me once again and let go of my hand. Our lips met and I wound my hands in her soft hair, traipsed them down over her delicate shoulders, running down her ribs and settling just under her full breasts. The heat of them beat down on the back of my hands.

We lowered to our knees and she gently pushed me down onto my back, pulling out of the kiss to lift my shirt as we readjusted. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured before taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

Her body was now flush against mine, a leg sliding between mine and working my skirt up. I cried out and held onto her shoulders as she nibbled, kissed, sucked, licked my breasts, my eyes shut tight. It took a moment for me to register that she’d stopped. She was holding herself over me and staring down with those large back eyes.

“I have never lain with a woman,” she admit. “I am not certain how it works.”

So I guided her down to her back to replace me, and laid my palms against her perfect breasts, returning the kisses she’d laid on mine. And my kisses continued down to her navel, where I gently licked, and down to her rounded hips, which I nibbled. The sounds each of my attentions evoked was more erotic than all my fantasies. Her moans were soft and breathy, and her scent when I reached the cleft between her legs smelled musky and feminine.

The curls were darker than her hair above, almost a murky green, strange. I laid a hesitant kiss atop them. She was on her elbows now, gazing down at me, her dark eyes hooded. I slid my hands between her thighs and parted them, groaning at the wetness between them. Her head tipped back as I brought my fingers to tease her entrance. Finally, I lowered my mouth to the nub right between her lower lips, and sucked.

As my fingers entered her and began gently pumping her core in time with the licking and sucking of my time, her moans grew into frantic cries. One hand caught tendrils of my hair while her other twisted a pink nipple. Her hips ground against my face and I felt as though I was riding a wave as she came, more juice flooding between her thighs.

As she caught her heaving breath, she laughed, palmed my cheeks to guide me to her mouth, and kissed me again. And then she rolled me over with a mischievous grin, easing down my body.

The rest of the night was a sticky, sweaty, beautiful mess of breasts and fingers and tongues. I fell asleep on her soft chest while she stroked my hair.

And I woke at first light, cold and alone.
Wicked Wednesday

Oct 132016
 

The rope was tightly bound, cut into muscles and fat and skin that bulged around in protest. So long since I had been in painful rope, and the legs were spread and tied to the sides – again a long time since rope had been used so intimately.

I loved the feel of the painful rope, zero control over how exposed I was – though my hands were free and a memory of the last time I was this spread evaded for just a brief moment.

Then it past as he turned on the vibrator and placed it against my lips, slowly worked between them. He fucked me gently, he fucked me quickly, screams tore from my body as pleasure assaulted it, multiple orgasms, a breath, again. I shuddered and arched and begged for him to continue, for him to stop.

I became overwhelmed and he stopped, slowly removed the ties, complimented the gorgeous marks that I couldn’t help but run my fingertips over.

He wasn’t done yet. He had me stand in front of him on the bed and pinched my nipples into clamps, painful even with a pull – which of course the first thing he did was pull. He slid his other hand between my drenched thighs and rested his fingertips at my entrance. In my hazy brain I didn’t see it as a predicament – I was instinctive by that point from the multiples. I only felt his fingers enter me and bring me to another orgasm at the same time as the clamps were pulled painfully and my nipples felt on fire.

That was his predicament – he told me later- that his fingertips would just tease at my entrance and hold the clamps in place. My own body created the pain from my lowering and fucking his fingers and therefore pulling at the clamps. As always, I will put myself through some pain to achieve an orgasm – or in this case several, the pain adding a heightened sensation to the pleasure.