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.]

A Moral Reckoning? Rethinking Open Relationships

I’m thinking about crossing that line in my moral sand.
I’ve always been the one-guy-one-gal type, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe it’s just the old Catholic/societal brainwashing, and whether, maybe, I’m really built a little differently than what “tradition” often serves up.
I think I ultimately prefer monogamy. But I think the notion of having that kind of commitment, and dare I say obligation, in my life right now scares the living shit out of me.
Seriously, I just don’t want to have the grief that comes with serious devout commitment right now. The need to worry how they’re doing, the obligatory Fridays & Saturdays spent together, and all of that. I just don’t have it in me to give that much of myself to anyone right now. It’s hard enough to give it to myself.
I’ve considered the “friends with benefits” option, but I have to say, the responses I’ve gotten are essentially from, well, sexual babies and morons. You know, the eager-beaver types who claim they want oodles of sex and all that.
But, really, all they want is just to get laid. Most of these chumps wouldn’t know how to handle a woman with real libido if the Energizer Bunny came and gave ’em an all-night seminar and a schwack of caffeine to get the job done. Continue reading

Edwards: The Politics of Infidelity

I’ve never been a John Edwards fan. Any guy who claims he’s a leftist for poverty activism but spends $400 a month on an unremarkable haircut just strikes me as being strangely out of touch with the very people he claims to be fighting for.
But, then again, I pay $15 for my haircut, so what do I know?
Haircuts aside, the guy’s in hot water and I feel for him and his wife. It’s come out now that he fucked up and had an affair in ’06. Is it the only one? No way to know for certain. Does it matter? Not sure it does. Is it really a scandal of this proportion? Really?
I mean, there are sex scandals and there are sex scandals. The Walter Mosley “Nazi” BDSM video, that’s a scandal. Governor Spitzer blowing thousands and thousands of dollars on hookers while married and in office, that’s a scandal.
A guy cheats on his wife? Scandalous, but not a scandal. It’s not worth much ink, as they say. Infidelity sucks, but it happens.
I don’t really see who gains from this story coming out, or how it should reflect on his ability to govern, or why we need to know or care.
As far as I’m concerned, there are three kinds of cheaters.

  • There’s the Accidental Cheater: The kind of partner who’s really invested in the relationship and has always been faithful, but who had a weak moment at a weak time where the chemistry and intensity was pretty insurmountable, and instead of being perfect, had the misfortune of being human and fucking up, in more ways than one.
  • There’s the Situational Cheater: The partner who had every intention of staying faithful and being “there” in the partnership, but with a lack of sex and poor communication and isolation developing and maintaining within the relationship, decides to seek companionship elsewhere to get what they “need” emotionally and physically.
  • There’s the Compulsive Cheater: The Compulsive would cheat no matter how good a relationship is and smacks of the sex-addicted type. This is kind of person who wants to sleep around but isn’t honest enough about it to be in a polyamorous situation, sometimes because they think they deserve sexual variety but don’t want their lover to have it.

Then there are the people who don’t believe in cheating. And I’m one.
I think it’s a shitty fucking thing to do to someone. When I found out I’d been used as an “other woman” once many years ago, when the guy lied about not being in a relationship with an old friend of mine just to get me in bed with him, I actually told my friend about his infidelity. I’m just that way. Honest and old-fashioned, that’s me.
Still, I don’t know if I could get through 30 years of marriage without ever having an Accidental Cheating occur. You get that perfect storm of chemistry and sexiness and opportunity and timing and mood, and sex can be a pretty hard thing to turn down. Whew, can it.
Edwards slept with a woman making a documentary film about his campaign. You think she wasn’t fawning over him a little? There’s nothing sexier than someone who worships you a little but has brains and a life of their own. When someone smart, accomplished, and hot adores you a little but in a liberated and articulate way, it’s really a turn-on. Anyone who’s been on the receiving end of that knows what it’s like. Wild. Or maybe she was just empathetic on a tough day. Who knows?
I’m not laying blame on her, though. It takes two. I’m just saying it’s understandable that something might happen in some scenarios, that hormones are a challenge to overcome at times.
But it sure as hell beats getting a blowjob from an intern half your age in the Oval Office and lying under oath about it.
I mean, if the guy came clean long, long before it ever hit the press, and the family knew of it in entirety, and his wife says she was told very soon after it all… is it really our business?
Doesn’t it say more about the guy that he could have the affair, tell his wife, and then work with her to get past it? Doesn’t he get some credit for honesty? How long do you have to be married before you’re allowed to make a mistake you not only own up to, but repent to?
No relationship is without its flaws, and no person is without errors. We all make mistakes in a life that’s dictated by in-the-moment impulse decisions.
I may be very much opposed to cheating in all its forms, but that doesn’t mean I could never forgive a man for making that mistake. And it doesn’t mean I think I’ll never be above being human and making that kind of mistake, either. I’m a passionate person. I’m moral, honest, and loyal, but I’m also passionate and impulsive. I fear the latter two qualities might one day overwhelm my virtue, and I too could fall guilty of such a mistake.
If, however, I ever do fuck up like Edwards did, I would hope my lover could see more than just the mistake, and instead of just latching onto their anger and the sense of betrayal, they could take me at my word for my regret and self-disdain. I would hope for a chance at redemption. I would hope for the chance to prove my remorse and reestablish trust.
Edwards was lucky and got just that. Who are we to judge him more harshly than his lover and partner of 30 years? It’s their relationship. If they’ve made their peace and they’re working together to overcome it, then who the fuck is the media to second-guess it, and why do we care?

My First Time (with a Home Pregnancy Test)

There I was, desperately locking and re-locking the bathroom door in the back of a Subway sandwich shop, panicking that I might be heard, or maybe the Catholic in me felt the location was just morally wrong for that sort of thing, but I didn’t give a shit. The time was nigh, now or never, or at least now-sooner-than-later, as fate might have it anyhow, so I was doin’ it. Continue reading

Condoms for Everybody! No?

Deep, deep, deep down in the world’s frigid underbelly of Antarctica, a last crucial ship bearing supplies for the dark, cold winter months ahead has landed. And now the serious work of the next few months of frigid, brutal winter can begin.
According to Reuters, the 16,500 condoms provided to the scientific community of 125 at the McMurdo American research base are given matter-of-factly and free of charge by the bigwigs in the government. Bill Henriksen, the manager of the McMurdo base, says “Since everybody knows everyone, it becomes a little bit uncomfortable” to buy the evil pieces of latex rumoured to protect individuals from pregnancy and STDs 99% of the time.
If you’ve broken out your trusty calculators, you know that it works out to, if every single person had to use a condom for every sexual act, that it would mean each of the 125 people would have sex 132 times in six months. But since only one condom is required per 2 people, I figure that means 264 sexual encounters. In six months. That’s a lotta double-headers and triple-plays, methinks, or sex every day with 80 bonus plays.
Six months of freezing total darkness, no sun, nada, and locked behind the walls of the United States’ most remote outpost, living on cafeteria food, monthly flown-in supplies, and luck.
Those condoms should come in handy. Thank god for the government!
Hey, wait a second! The government that is worried about embarrassment for a bunch of parka’d science geeks stuck in frozen world of ice, rock, snow, wind, and total darkness is the same government that prefers, back on the mainland, a mandated education of abstinence-only in high schools and discourages teaching that condoms are effective sexual protection, and never, ever provides them or makes them easily accessible?
What?
Kids are living in hotbeds of sexual activity, in the middle of a fast-paced real world not covered in snow, ice, and total darkness, but instead is alive with sexual advertising in the media, peer pressures, and, with more working parents than ever before, kids have more opportunity to shag themselves senseless than ever before. Yet they get abstinence education, and these people who are actually working for the government, being paid very nicely to live on government land and eat government food while they study frozen amoebas and whatever the fuck else, they get condoms given to them with the implicit understanding that, while sexual harassment of coworkers ain’t allowed, it’s understandable to fuck ’em when it’s dark and cold outside?
I say kudos to accepting the reality of the latter, and that they should extract their heads from their asses on the former. The reality is, people will have sex. Whether it’s a frozen wasteland or the teenage wasteland of high school, knees will be a-knockin’. Sex will happen.
So why not prepare for all eventualities and make condoms more readily available to teens and college students, too?
I mean, in Antarctica, you could try the whole “Sorry, folks, but you can’t fuck your co-workers, so no condoms for you” argument, but anyone with a brain will know the base doctor’s going to be seeing a whole lot of yeast infections in the coming months, you know? (Or any one of hundreds of other sexually transmittable diseases, from the clap to AIDS.)
So the bigwigs embraced reality and did what they could to work with it.
Too bad you’ve got to live in Antarctica before you’re governed with a little reason by the Conservative Bush administration, eh?