Everything you learned from Mister Rogers about how you treat other people—that’s how you treat other people when you’re fucking them, too. It’s simple stuff, mostly, and you don’t need some Sex Expert to dispense Sex Wisdom to know it: Be honest. Ask permission before touching things that aren’t yours. Be safe. Don’t bully or make fun of people. Don’t throw tantrums when you don’t get everything you want. Keep your promises. Use your words. Brush your teeth. Really, this is the whole foundation of my sexual ethics. It’s not Betty Dodson and it’s not Susie Bright. It’s Fred McFeely Rogers.
“I’ve been kissing girls for quite a long time although I’ve always considered myself straight.
Only very recently I came to terms with my bisexuality and allowed myself to explore more.
I met this girl on Facebook and we instantly clicked. We started talking everyday and after a week or so we went out.
It was all very easy. We got along really well, both physically and emotionally.
We went out a couple more times before she invited me to her house. I FREAKED OUT. I was having a great time with her but didn’t know if I was ready to take the next step.
Anyway, I decided to go, With lots of alcohol to calm my nerves.
As soon as I got there, I realized she was quite nervous too since she opened the bottle of wine pretty quickly!
As we drank, we talked a lot and both of us started to relax. We ended up drinking two whole bottles of wine and, of cousre, were quite loosened up.
We decided to go to her bedroom, put on some music and “talk” some more.
We never really got to the end of that conversation, though.
As soon as we got there, she kissed me, I kissed her back and then I sure I wanted to go on. She took off my shirt, I took off hers. She unhooked my bra, I did the same. I was mimicking her actions. It wasn’t her first time but it sure was mine and I don’t remember feeling so lost.
But this feeling didn’t last long.
She threw me on the bed and started running her finger up and down my belly. Slowly kissing my neck, breasts, stomach, inner thighs …. sigh. All of a sudden my underwear was on the floor and she was buried in me, her hands holding my hips, tight but gentle. I don’t know how long this went on but I couldn’t be happier to be there.
I twisted my body and then I was on top and I wasn’t scared anymore.
I kissed all the way from the back of her neck to the back of her knees. As I slid up, I could feel her shivering and my instincts took over. I was already feeling her warmth, tasting what she did to me and what I was doing to her. We never wanted the night to end.
And in a way, it never did.”
when a porn vid suddenly gets kinda weird
“Today’s my birthday, and in preparation a few days ago, my boyfriend got me to send him a list of all the things that turn me on the most. Like neck kissing, lip biting, when he pins me down and teases me… may have gotten a bit carried away because I had a list of about 20 things by the time I was done.
But he came round today and included every single thing I’d said into what may have been the best sex of my life! Amazing! I just need to share this with someone because oh. my. god.”
Fact: writing things down can be a really good way of communicating if you get a little shy talking about things face-to-face!
just a quick reminder there’s no wrong way to masturbate
but if what gets you off is doing handstands in the kitchen late at night while you scrunch up your nose and imagine darth vader reading you random encyclopedia entries, then girl, handstand away
I JUST FOUND COMEDIC GOLD ON A PORN WEBSITE OMFG
I WAS LOOKING UP PORN TO SHOW MY ROOMMATE JAMES DEEN AND I FOUND A GUY WHO CALLS HIMSELF LIMERICK LARRY AND HE WRITES POEMS ABOUT THE PORN VIDEOS
I CAN’T BREATHE
This is fucking brilliant.
all my porn comments
are neat, elegant haikus
thats just how i roll
“Last night I made a really impromptu decision to drive three and a half hours from my college to the base my boyfriend is stationed on. This was because i don’t have friday classes and didn’t have to be at work until 2pm, even though he went back on duty at 5am because this might be the last chance to see him before deployment.
So i got there a little before midnight and we went into the hotel room and he wasted zero time. Usually when we have sex it’s very balanced and maybe focused more on him because i looooove pleasing him. This time was way different. First he had me strip him of his cammies (the only thing hotter than a man in uniform is that man while it’s coming off) as soon as that happened he was on me.
At first he said he wanted to thank me for driving all the way down there and slowly started teasing my clit and fingering me. He really had me going when he discovered this little spot on my stomach that takes my horniness from a two to a ten. That’s when he decided to have some fun. he went from thanking me to “punishing you for all the teasing over text, snapchat, and skype.”
i mean hey, bad acts need punishment, right?
so he switched off between running his fingertips over that spot and rubbing my clit really hard. then he found when he hits my clit a certain way i involuntarily shake. he was now hitting that and making me BEG him to fuck me. then when he finally did he went for a couple thrusts then pulled almost all the way out just to distract me by my stomach spot and slam back into me
he went on doing this for like 10 mins until he came. but i wasn’t so lucky. he kept me shaking for another 45 minutes. at one point he asked me how many times i had came and i honestly lost count. they all started blending together into one delicious feeling.
from now on, i will listen to my brain when it tells me to go places. (also, thank you marine corps for taking him away so we feel the need to fuck like there’s no tomorrow in the few moments we get together.)”
“A while ago I had a sleepover with my best friend. She was asleep and I was awake and we were sleeping in a double bed. Then she rolled over & put her leg around me, and her hand fell on my boob - in her sleep. I got SO turned on. I’m not gay or bi, and I don’t think of her in a romantic light or anything… but I would completely love to have sex with her in the future. I always end up thinking of her when I fantasise by myself but I feel a little guilty.”
Aw, don’t feel guilty. Snuggling with people is pretty hot! As is having your boobs touched… and yep, if you’ve read this blog for a while you’ll know fantasies about girl-friends are really common too.
Also, "in her sleep"? Well, maybe ;)
how i discovered pleasure, got messed up by religion, had to deal with painful sex and eventually started to get over it all
“When I was twelve, I had my first orgasm by sitting cross-legged on my bed and gently scritching at my clit and inner labia through my undies. It wasn’t going anywhere but for some reason I saw it through, and then WHOOPS, massive first-time orgasm. After that, I had lots of fun experimenting, not really even knowing what I was doing. I cut up underwear to make thongs and nipple-less bras (I didn’t even have boobs yet and I’d certainly never seen porn), I tied myself to my bed, humped pillows, played imaginary dom/sub and enacted fantasies of being an older man’s sex slave—all sorts of things I didn’t even know other people did! It was wonderful. I even squirted once, before I knew what squirting was.
Unfortunately, when I was fourteen I decided to give church another try (I’d been skiving off Mormonism for about six years). The Mormons in the area where I lived were nothing like your stereotypical Utah Mormons; they were mostly hard scientists and engineers who had converted to Mormonism as adults, and so they didn’t buy into any of the voodoo. In fact, they were pretty much normal people, and my church experience was by no means tainted by cultishness. But while they (apparently) talked to the boys about porn and masturbation, I guess they didn’t think young women ever felt those urges. And because no one in my life was acknowledging it, I slowly began to believe it must be seedy and somehow sinful, and so eventually I went to my bishop to confess and seek forgiveness.
In that church, if you confess your sins, you do it face-to-face with your confessor. My bishop was also the father of my best church-friend, and I had to sit there and tell him in humiliating detail about my “sins”. At the end, he obviously didn’t know how to respond—I don’t think he’d ever had to deal with this before, certainly not with his daughters’ friends. He said, “Well, how does all this make you feel?”
"Um…I don’t know, guilty?" I said uncertainly, hoping he would reassure me and help put my mind at ease. I was sure that it was only the overwhelming silence and sense of taboo that was making me suspect I must be sinning. It’s not like I was hurting anybody.
"Well, if you feel guilty about it, then that must be your conscience telling you to stop," he said, clearly relieved to have arrived at an answer. He blessed me and we prayed together, and I quit cold turkey.
Fast forward many years. I became an adult, quit the church, fell in love and became sexually active. Only now, unlike when I was a free-and-easy twelve-year old experimenting without any preconceptions, my sexual identity was buried under encrustations of guilt and self-loathing that I couldn’t will away. On top of that, I also had undiagnosed vulvar vestibulitis for the first several years of sexual activity. I didn’t understand why I dreaded sex physically when my imagination wanted it so much. I feared that my dislike of it would destroy my relationship, and it was a huge toll on my partner. I didn’t even register my vulvar pain as “pain”, I just assumed that sex was like that for everyone and I was being a baby, or else that (as my sex-therapist told me) I just had unreasonable expectations and all those stories of aggressive sexual enjoyment are nothing but a huge conspiracy propagated by competitive women.
Eventually, I learned to identify that my dread of sex was caused by real, physical, quantifiable pain, and not merely that I suck. I went to a doctor, ditched the sex therapist, and learned about how to make it better. It turns out that one of the best things I can do as a vulvar-vestibulitis-haver is to bang out a few g-spot orgasms on my own before attempting penetration, so that everything gets loose and excited down there. That’s “homework” I am happy to do.
I guess the point of all this is that so much of sex has to do with the mind, with the baggage I brought into the equation. I can’t undo those damaging years in church. I can’t (and wouldn’t want to) undo the 800-mile bike tours without a properly fitted lady saddle that gave me vulvar vestibulitis as a teen. But you know what? There was a time when I hadn’t heard anything about masturbation, I had never had an authority figure confirm that if I wanted to feel guilty about something then I probably should feel guilty about it—and those were some of the best orgasms of my life. I know it is possible for me to feel that kind of liberating sexual pleasure again. And until then, I’ll be over here doing my homework.”
that was really great. thanks so much for sharing.