Category Archives: casual sex

Opting Into Ignorance

Freedom of education? Not on my tax dollar, bub.

The province of Alberta, here in Canada, has opted to make matters of sex, sexual orientation,* and religion OPTIONAL for their students. Parents can yank their kids out of school when they disagree with the premise at hand. [Story here.]

Religion? Okay. Fine. I’ll give you that. Make that optional. I not only understand having strong beliefs on faith, I respect it. I do not, however, understand refusing to listen to other views, not having faith in your children to be intelligent enough to hear more than one viewpoint, or shutting down education when it seems fit,  because I feel that teaches children that the teachers and education itself are not credible.

But on matters of sex? Sex education?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Continue reading

A 2009 Wish for Smut Writers

[Note: These opinions of mine are strong. Aren’t they always? But it should be said that I think it’s with irony, too, as the majority of sex bloggers I’ve followed on Twitter tend to speak of condoms as necessity, not options. I believe the sex blogging community is indeed having responsible sex more often than not; this posting isn’t about their personal practice, it’s about the image they’re portraying in their writing, which I would like to see more match their reality.]

I know the perception is that condoms aren’t sexy.

I know it fucks with the cadence in real life, stopping the action to fumble for protection, but putting on a condom CAN be hot. It CAN be incorporated into the play.

So why don’t smut writers include donning protection during casual sex scenes they write?

People are using less protection than they were 10 years ago. In fact, reports in the UK are that a staggering half of over-30 singles regularly have unsafe sex.

How fucking dumb are these people? Well, pretty dumb. If you’re having casual sex without a condom, I think you’re a fucking moron. Continue reading

Update on Murder

It’s official — my brother’s friend was murdered by a filmmaker trying to recreate a death from the show Dexter. He had paid actors and everything. John, my bro’s now-deceased friend, was indeed lured to the garage in which he would be killed (as there is no corpse, but investigators say the “forensic evidence” gathered in the garage is overwhelming) by the sick film-making fucker who posed as a WOMAN on Craigslist to get our friend out on a “date”.

Had John not emailed his directions to his date to a friend of his, the murderer and the location of the crime may have gone unfound by the police.

We’re all “internet” types — we’ve probably all gone on internet dates. Just because you THINK you should be safe because it’s mostly normal people on the web doesn’t mean that’s the case, and this crime makes it obvious that even men have a lot to be concerned about when it comes to meeting strangers, even if the stranger is supposed to be female.

I’m not trying to say no one should ever meet anyone off the internet, but going to someone’s home on the first date? Fucking moronic. Meet in public places. Follow your Spidey-sense. Do not ignore gut instinct. Do not get into their car unless you’re certain you can trust them. Be very, very scared, and very, very cautious, because this case ain’t just some TV show come to life. This wasn’t some big-city crime where some anonymous characters just up and offed someone. Edmonton is a small city, and this was in the suburbs, on a quiet street that’s well-patrolled by cops.

This shit happens in real life, and we all need a fucking reminder sometimes to be vigilant. Well, this is that.

RIP, Johnny. Here’s the most recent CBC story on the crime. And another story about the links to the show Dexter and other weird shit regarding this crime can be found here. Even the producers of Dexter have come out and admitted total shock that someone would copycat one of their fictional murders. (That “shock” is yet another thing I feel the urge to write about — and slam — but hey. Another day, another posting. This crime won’t be resolved for months.)

A Frank Posting about Giving Head

I refused to give my “partner” head last weekend. This came as a shock. Having been somewhat drunk on good red wine, I had a good excuse. Truth is, it was an excuse.

Somehow, in all my writing, I’ve apparently made it sound like sitting around with a penis in my mouth is about the best thing I could imagine doing. Like my thoughts are along the lines, always, of “Oh, GOLLY! A cock in my mouth! I’ll take two!”

While some people are that type, and I wish ’em all the power, I’m not. I’m unaware of how this perception that I am has come to be, so let’s clear that up for a second.

I am penis-positive. It’s not the penis, it’s me. More on that after.

Here’s the deal. There seems to be more or less three schools of thought out there on giving head. One is that it’s the best thing ever and having a penis in the mouth is like life coming up all sunshine and roses albeit on the salty side of it all. The second is that it’s a necessary evil, and something one partner does for the other, because that’s just how things are done. The third is that it’s an icky-icky thing to do, and not gonna happen on some people’s watch. (Silly people.)

I don’t fit in any of those categories.

I’m not crazy about a penis in my mouth. Honestly, I’m not. I’m not adverse to it, either. (Well, sometimes.) It’s just not one of those things for me.

However…

My “aversion” is physiological. I mean, I’ve always been one of those people who’s not crazy about taking pills and has to fight the gag reflex at the dentist, so sometimes a blowjob just isn’t that fun… other than what I get out of it — providing that little something for a partner that you just can’t get out of any other sex act. And it’s worth it, for that. Absolutely, without a doubt. Even if it means fighting the gag reflex.

That said…

I really, really enjoy giving one of those detail-focused, drawn-out blowjobs to a guy I’m genuinely into. But it’s not about the blowjob as much it’s about what I’m doing to HIM. It’s about the pleasuring and teasing and taunting, taking to the edge and backing off, and doing it again and again until I’m through with him. That’s quite fun. Yes, it is. It’s power and generosity and control and gift-giving and dominance and wickedness and affection and play, all bundled up into one awesome thing.

I know that blowjobs are something I’m really, really good at. Like, really. There’s a reason my three-year-old Good Girl’s Guide to Giving Great Head [part 1 is here, part 2 is here] is a hugely plagiarized blowjob-giving sex-tip writing on the web, you know.

I believe, if you’re going to do something, you better goddamned do it well. Being a Brownie, Girl Guide, going to Catholic school, and being a librarian and bookseller* has served me well. I’m a keener to perform my services to the best of my abilities, I have a powerful work ethic, overwhelming guilt when I fail, but I’m well-read enough to get it done right the first time.

Having said that? I’m not keen to bring out my number one trick, something I consider the most intimate thing I can do to a man, for any old shag. I’m liable to casually sleep with a man before I’ll give him head, if that makes any sense to you at all.

Nothing like keeping some surprises around about just how far you’ll go to please someone. Always be improving, right? Never stagnate.

Or at least that’s my motto, as old-fashioned as this lay-first, head-later mentality of mine sort of seems.

But I think it’s important to distinguish that, for some of us, it’s not about the penis, it’s about the act and the gift of the action. Maybe that’s not ideal in some mens’ minds, I don’t know, but it’s certainly worked all right in my endeavours.

Any thoughts you’d like to share, dear reader? Femmes, you relate at all, or…?

The Day-After Blogging Shame

You know, this whole recovering-Catholic thing plays so badly with writing any kind of exposés about my own sex life.

I feel horribly guilty, like a first-class cunt, for having posted my thingie about my “underwhelming weekend sex” yesterday. But then I got to thinking about it.

First, I placed an ad for sex. I made it very, very plain that I was looking for someone who was a talented, attentive lover with brains. But the sex, I said, was the whole point. I was very, very clear about this. Not about having a relationship, having a boyfriend, bringing someone to staff parties, or being a couple. Sex, sex, sex. And not even one-time sex. Someone who wanted a good shagging and often, that’s what I wanted. And I mentioned I had two very key things: ample libido, and killer endurance.

Second, the guy read my blog. He knew I wasn’t just some average chick who was happy to play around for five minutes. I mean, I write a sex blog! If a guy’s going to bring his “A” game out to play with anyone, wouldn’t that someone compute to be someone they knew to be into quality shagging, someone who ran an ad seeking quality shagging?

Third, if it was underwhelming sex but he’d tried in ANY OTHER AREA — intimacy, cudding, conversation — afterwards, I’d have given him a pass. Because he was cute and nice and I’m a sucker that way. But, nothing.

Fourth, if you’re going to take the risk of having casual sex, shouldn’t you really indulge in the experience? I mean, you’re taking a shot at the whole “possible transmission of STDs” gamble, so HAVE SEX, right?

Fifth, it really is for the greater good. I would like to think that, if I’ve stopped one guy from doing the foreplay-only-as-long-as-necessary, get-off, and-forget-about-her kind of sex I had on the weekend, then I feel I’ve done a good service.

Because, whether it’s initiating what’s hoped to be an ongoing casual sex relationship, just a here-and-now shag, or something more, one of the most important things about sex is to feel appreciated — and spent.

If you don’t even feel appreciated at the end, not spent, and just used, and not even in a good way, then why even go there?

Honestly, I’ve probably felt more used out of this experience than I have since I was in my early 20s. Used, absolutely. And that, friends, just isn’t fair.

So perhaps we’re at a more honest place about why I’m so pissed about that experience. Because whatever else my ad might’ve said I wanted, getting used wasn’t one of them.

(Now, had I been used for great sex… Well, y’know, that’s something I might make an allowance for. )

Don’t forget, I’m on Twitter now. Come have a boo.

Further Notes on My Underwhelming Weekend Sex

Yesterday, I made rather not-so-subtle reference to the fact that I finally got laid last weekend in this posting. I wasn’t going to say anything, really, because I was decidedly underwhelmed by the experience.

But then, you know, I thought, “It’s for the greater good! People must know!” So, without getting into detail here, let’s talk about it again.

I was quite looking forward to this particular fellow and thought it would be great because he made it sound like “play” was something he enjoyed.

For a number of reasons, that wasn’t the case. DP commented on yesterday’s posting to kind of defend the honour of men all over this fair planet. He said, more or less, that men invariably suck the first time they’re sleeping with someone new.

Not a newsflash. Every guy I’ve been with has been pretty disappointing penetration-wise on the first try. I generally try to tell myself it’s a compliment, they’re just so EAGER that they have no control. Which, of course, is pretty often the case.

So I’ll never judge a guy on the sex itself, not the first time. No, I take other things into consideration. Does the kissing wow me? How was foreplay? Was it rushed and done only as a means of instigating sex, or was foreplay itself enjoyed for what it is — play? Was it fun? Was he as thoughtful of me as he should have been? And when it came to AFTER sex — was one orgasm all that mattered to the guy? Did any other affection and after-play take place? Was there even a conversation? Was it fun? Was it about intimacy and play, not just orgasms?

Unfortunately, my weekend encounter failed in every single department.

Here’s a tip, men. When it’s your first time with a woman, do not be a fucking twit and get completely drunk. Why? A), It’s offensive. Let’s see. Fucking me, or getting a hangover, and you choose? B) Your performance when fucking is going to SUCK anyhow, so why are you impeding your performance even more? C) Booze you can buy any day of the week, but these legs opening for you? Priceless.

Now, since I’ve been around the block enough to know that men obviously don’t perform well the first time, I should be able to compare this time to all my other “first time” encounters, right?

Right, and this is the first time I’ve ever, ever been left anywhere near as frustrated as I was when this fella left. And it’s too bad. I wanted to like him. But if all I’ve got to go on is that he got drunk, barely got me off, got himself off as quick as possible, and then never touched me again?

Yeah, failed that mission, pal. And, besides, when it’s the first few times I’ve usually got to push the fellas out the door and fend off a few more kisses and gropes and groans on the way. This was just… so not that. I thought I was being Punk’d.

And you, dear male readers, need to learn not to make the same mistakes. Foreplay and afterplay are where you compensate for your performance. If I’m kissed like there’s no tomorrow, and toyed with in any number of ways that arouses me and/or satisfies me, and inspires me to see the fella again, then I’ll completely forget about the first encounter’s disappointments and only remember how much it set to stage for playtimes to come.

Except this encounter, of course. Pity.

And, believe me, I am disappointed. I wanted to like this fella, but I just haven’t got it in me for drunken fratboy lovers when I’m pushing 35, even if they’re cute, smart, and fun. No. I want men.

Women, what say you? Men, how do you feel like when fellas like this are doing the representin’ for your race?

AFTER THE FACT: So, upon thinking about this this morning, I realize this posting might sound sexist, as if it’s only men who underwhelm on the first encounter. I, of course, know this isn’t true. So, tomorrow (or Friday) I plan to write about how *I* might underwhelm (and possibly other women) on the first encounter, and why that can’t be expected to accurately reflect the lover I am after that first night. So, check back later this week for that little ditty.

And don’t forget, you can follow me on Twitter now.

[Note: So I did a Google search for “unsatisfying sex” images, and after scouring 17 pages of results, nothing represents “unsatisfying sex” but god knows if I search for “hard cocks” it’ll be thousands of pages of results. Is this somehow suggestive of the fact that unsatisfying sex is a myth, and hard cocks are over-abundant? Hmm. Yeah, I don’t think so.]