Tag Archives: sex positive

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME

When I was a little girl, my street was closed off for a block party. I remember being in the middle of the road, with my colorful dress swaying as I danced to the music. I remember posing for pictures, raising my hand in school, auditioning for various social groups, and enjoying being the center of attention. You see, at a very young age, I was a performer, and as I got older, I perfected my craft. 

I live on the fourth floor, and on more than one occasion, over the 20 years I have lived at this address, I have left my curtains wide open. Over the years, I’m sure my neighbors have seen me sing and dance in my room, undress, have fantastic sex and masturbate at all hours of the day. There were many times when my mom would enter my room when I was getting dressed and close my curtains. She’d make a remark about my body being all over the internet that I’d brush off, and when she’d leave, I’d wonder if anyone was watching. I’d always been an exhibitionist at heart. So, it was only natural that, once I entered the sex-positive space of a sex club, I let my true freak-flag fly.

I’m 25% voyeur and 75% exhibitionist. I enjoy watching people have sex, but I really love being watched. When I used to masturbate, I used to imagine a crowd of bodies around touching me all over, helping me reach my orgasm. When I attended my first sex party, I was finally living out a long-awaited fantasy. The random hands caressing my ass, rubbing my legs, and pinching my nipples heightened my orgasm. After every party, I grew more emboldened.

As my primary partner and I attended more parties together, we often took center stage (not a real stage, just a bed). He would eat my pussy, I would suck his dick, then we’d fuck. We’d occasionally play with other people, then come back together to end our night. Having to tell a man you have herpes with another man’s dick in your mouth is no easy task. So, I got into the habit of inviting men that I already knew and were aware of my diagnosis. It would ensure that the night would be fun, my partners knew my status, and I would be thoroughly fucked by the time the party was over.

At the last few parties we attended, I started taking time to please myself when my pussy needed a break from actual fucking. So, while he was either cleaning up or playing with another woman, I took the liberty to pull out my Womanizer. I would lay back, relax, and let the fantastic sucking motion bring me to a wet orgasm. Every party where I used my Womanizer, a moist spot was left behind as evidence —Sorry. Not Sorry—

The last party I attended was a Luau themed party at Caligula. In the corner, I was getting fucked when one of my other partners entered the room, positioned himself in front of me, and pulled his dick out for me to suck. I was in heaven. —I’ll never know where or how this came to be my bliss, but I have no desire to turn back.— Nonetheless, they switched positions, and once again, I was getting pleased from both ends. Then my partner positioned me on his face and ate my pussy as I sucked my guy’s dick. When we were all thoroughly pleased, we went and danced for a bit. A little conversation, some flirtation, then we all ended back upstairs in the infamous corner. Another MFM threesome and my pussy needed penetration rest. 

The room was dark, so I laid back on the bed with my body facing the room, and I pulled out my Womanizer. I turned her on, and shortly after, the sensations started to radiate through my body. I moaned and writhed with pleasure as the guests in the room speculated what was causing me to make my sounds. Hearing their wondering voices made my breathing quicken, and as I had my orgasm, I let out a loud scream and a steady stream of squirt. I realized the bed was now soaked, so I pulled up the sheet to signal for the attendant to switch it out. 

I wanted to freshen up, so I tip-toed to the 6-person shower. I removed my lingerie, turned on the water, and soaped up. I had an audience, and I liked it. I thought about playing with myself to give my onlookers a show, but my clit was still sensitive, so I just showered and went back to the room. 

I ended up back with my original players and a special guest star. He had told me earlier that day that he wanted to fuck my brains out; and that he did. For what felt like an hour, and a shower break somewhere in the middle, I was fucked while slobbing two knobs. With lube and persistence as my best friends, I survived the pounding he delivered to me. When he finally screamed, “I’m about to bust!” and did, the entire room was cheering for me. They all knew that I had just taken a thorough beating, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Not too long after we finished, they began announcing that the club was closing. When I went to take my last shower, I was approached by BDE (the guy from Corset, Collar, and Lingerie – Part 3). I don’t know if he remembered me, but I definitely remember him. I gave him a short hello and went back to my partners. 

I may not care for eyes on me when I’m walking down the street or on the train. But, for some reason (maybe because it’s a sex-positive space), I love knowing that my sexploits are on full display. I suck with more passion. I moan so the person downstairs can hear me. And like a marathon, cheers from the crowd keep me going, so I can fuck longer. When I’m at a sex party, I feel that people are watching me, and I love it.

DID MY CAT SHRINK?

I know the vagina is a beautiful work of art. Sure, it bleeds once a month, but it also brings life into the world. And throughout history, a few wars have been waged to attain it. Its allure can make a man want to get a better job, or it can drive a man to sell his car and remortgage his home. The vagina has undeniable power. And, sadly, I think mine may have shrunk. 

I attended a sex party while I was on my period last year. And since I didn’t want the night to be a total waste, I sucked a few dicks. And one that stood out from the rest. It was chocolate, long, thick, and hard. I hoped that I could one day ride him into the sunset, so I was elated when he asked me for my number before leaving. We kept in touch, on and off. Then, a year later, during a pandemic, we finally made plans to link up.  

He asked me if I wanted to join him and swap with a couple he met last year. I agreed. To be completely honest, I wasn’t 100% enthused about the swap, as he and I had never even had sex. I didn’t want the first time I rode his horse to be at a county fair. None the less, he booked the hotel, picked me up, and we headed to New Jersey.  

When the couple arrived, we started drinking, played a game of strip-adult-charades, then things started. The woman and I began by licking at each other’s nipples; then she went to use the bathroom. When she returned, I was on my knees sucking my date’s dick like the world was ending (because it just might be). The length of his dick presented a challenge I was eager to conquer. With my mouth a slippery mess, my left hand playing with his balls, and my right tugging at his nipples, he almost lost control, and to avoid his orgasm, he pushed me away. The other guy wanted to see what I was working with, so when I returned from rinsing my mouth, I gave him a sample. When it was time to fuck, it was hard for him to keep it up. And my annoyance only increased as I heard the screams and moans from his wife getting pounded out by my date. I was annoyed as fuck!   

Eventually, her man got his head in the game, and it was decent. But I knew what I wanted, waited a year for, and hauled my ass all the way to New Jersey for. My date had stamina, so after her man had his orgasm, I needed to get off. He walked to the bathroom to clean off, and I pulled out my Womanizer. As I watched them in action, I imagined I was her. I moaned and yelled commands to “fuck her harder” and “fuck that pussy.” When I had my orgasm, I let out a moan, and a moment later, he came. We all took a moment to freshen up and find out more about each other, and then it was back to business. I needed to feel him inside of me, and I refused to wait another year.  

I sat on the edge of the bed and took him into my mouth, and instantly he was hard. He played with my clit as I sucked with a mission. When he pushed me back on the bed and slipped on the condom, I was happier than a dentist’s child on Halloween. He pulled me down to him, and he slid into me. His initial entrance felt terrific, then something felt off. The sensation that I used to take like a champion was no longer there. In my fucking years, I definitely fucked dicks longer than his. So, what was it? Every thrust was a mixture of pain and pleasure, but more pain than I usually like. When he bent the girl over to fuck her doggy-style, I envisioned throwing it back and giving him a run for his money. Thank God I’m not a shit talker because I surely wouldn’t have been able to cash that check. I managed to fight through the pain and still throw it back and take the dick, but I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me.  

When he came, we cleaned up, and we swapped one more time. Luckily, the second time around, the other guy had no problems staying up, and I rode him like a cowgirl in a western movie. I used my low squat form to bounce up and down, then I grounded on my knees to move just the pussy, and finally, I winded him into an orgasm. The final time we fucked, he bent me over, and once again, there was that feeling – What the Fuck! – He wasn’t as painful as my date, but when he switched to missionary, I was very thankful.   

The couple left, my date had to pick up his kids, and I remained in the suite. After I showered, I laid in the bed and wondered- is my vagina shrinking? My first had a seven-inch dick, my 10-year fling had an eight-inch dick, and my last two exes ranged between seven and eight. I took every last one of them all like a fucking champ. So why was I, all of a sudden, wincing at a dicks? I may not fuck donkey dicks as often as I used to, but my partners are not, by any means, small. They all (yes- they) have nice sized dicks, so it made no sense.   

Last week I went to a sex-party with my guy, and we had a blast. I fucked some lengthy Johnson’s and I was ready for more, until the last one. When I was sucking his dick as my man ate me out, I could tell he was big, but I didn’t realize how big. When he put on a condom to fuck me, it was then that I realized I was in for a rude awakening. Not only was he long, but he was rock hard and as amazing as every slow grind felt, each rapid pump felt like a dagger. It was as if I could feel him hitting a rib. I considered telling him to stop, but my fucking pride got the best of me. I used to be able to fuck these like no problem. When he asked if I would do doggy-style, I said, “Hell No!” It started to feel better, and soon as his rhythm became thoroughly enjoyable for me, he came. After him, I was done.   

I wanted no more sex, and I didn’t want to see another dick for the rest of the party. I don’t know if my pussy is shrinking, or it’s just used to what it’s used to. But I’ll continue to push the barrier. The vagina is a muscle after all, so if you work it- it works for you back. 

MY MOM FOUND MY PORN-OH NO!

I must’ve been between the ages of 8 and 10 when my mother first caught me masturbating. When she walked in on me rubbing one out, with my wash cloth, the look on her face was pure shame. I remember rushing my clothes back on, apologizing over and over on how I would never again do it, and how I would wait until I was married to have sex. Fast forward to today, I’m 33 years old, I’ve had more sexual encounters than I can count, and I currently have 3 sexually-romantic partners. I guess you can say, I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.  

My mother found out, from reading my journal, that I was having sex. To say it kindly, she wasn’t pleased; but there was nothing that she could do. Sex was never something I voluntarily abstained from for too long. I was very aware that my mom wished that I would slow down, but I simply really-really liked having sex and I wanted it as often as I could get it. I loved the feeling and I liked knowing that I had the power to control my sexual destiny; and with time, I grew very confident with my sexuality. Unfortunately, I knew my mother wouldn’t see it the same way. Growing up in a patriarchal, society that shames women and our sexual bodies; I knew (long before I had the language) that I had to keep my sexual exploits from my mom and the rest of my family. I got very-very good at the art of omission and lying about where I was going and what I was doing.  

Over time, as I got older, my mom began to see the real-reality. Her daughter, despite having 0 kids, still to this day; was no good-girl. Her daughter liked sex, a lot. And, her daughter wasn’t always the most careful. And one time, her daughter made a porno. 

Now, for the record; it was amateur at best, so it was more of a sex tape. But she was not happy when she found it.  

As a graduation present, my dad got me a new Apple Desktop computer. Around the same time, I worked at a well-known restaurant in Harlem and I was heavily flirting with one of the servers. He was cute to me, and he had what I could only describe as ‘Swag’; but what I later came to define as BDE (Big Dick Energy). The way he walked with such confidence showed me that he would fuck the shit out of me, if given the chance. We flirted for a few weeks at the job and via text; but I still played hard to get. Then, one day he sent me a picture of his dick with the message “Come get this Cali dick”. My pussy got soaking wet and I knew I had to jump on it.  

I don’t recall the timeline; but I remember inviting him over to my house when I knew my parents were away. Up in my room, I sucked on his large dick until my heart was content. Then, some-how, we ended up naked. The kisses were decent but I knew what I wanted. I was feeling daring so I decided to turn on my computer to record us fucking. Every thrust felt fantastic and since I was much smaller than I am now; my body looked extra sexy. When it was all done, he got dressed and left. I stored the video in a blocked folder on my desktop, powered it down, and things went back to normal. 

Weeks had passed and we even had a party at my house where all of my friends and family came over to celebrate. That night, most of my friends crashed on the couch in the living room. When they all left in the morning, he remained. With my mom and dad, upstairs asleep, he bent me over and fucked me on the living room floor. After our quickie, he left; it couldn’t have been more perfect timing, because my dad came downstairs shortly after.  

The video had all but slipped out of my mind for at least a month. Then I got an enraged call from my mother saying; “OH! So, you’re a porn star now?” Not only had she found the video, but that my dad just so happened to be in my bedroom when she found it. Sure, I was embarrassed; but I was, to say the least, dumbfounded. 

Keep in mind that this is 2011 and my mother was (and still is) as tech savvy, as a snail is fast. Not to mention, this was a Mac, and before then, our house was all PC. So, the fact that she still had major difficulties getting online; but was able to find the video, in the first place; I had to chuck it up to fate. Some sex gods wanted her to find that video.  

Giving her time to cool off, I took my time going home when I got off of work. I couldn’t pull a Shaggy (It wasn’t me), so I had to own up to it. She had known for the better part of a decade that I was sexually active, so the sex wasn’t the issue. What she was pissed about; was that I used the Brand New computer to record myself fucking AND that my dad saw it.  

In the end, she couldn’t really punish me in response to everything; I was 23/24 years old; I had a job and the computer was, obviously, non-refundable. So, after a few weeks of evil stares casted at me; eventually she got over it. But I know in the back of her mind that sometimes she’s still pissed that I made a porno. 

POLYAMOROUS DOES NOT MEAN SEX ADDICT

Two weeks ago, I finally deactivated and deleted my remaining dating apps (Tinder & Hinge). I came to the conclusion that; with the writing of this blog, working on my memoir, trying to get into shape, being an advocate for herpes, and dating 3 men; I have no energy, nor desire, to meet anyone new. So, I decided to call it quits and to focus on further building the connections I already have established.  

Over the past few months, after claiming my polyamorous label; I have put a lot of time, energy, and emotions into maintaining my relationships. So, it rubs me the wrong way when people dismiss my identification and connections, and say “so you’re just fuckin’ people!”; because, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! There is so much more to it than that. 

When I decided to live this lifestyle, I was prepared to answer the many questions that the monogamous world would ask. The; “what does polyamory mean?” or “how can I be comfortable knowing someone I care about is with someone else?” The answer to those two questions often goes something like this… 

You love your mother, father, and siblings. When you start a family of your own you love your partner, your child, etc.; love just keeps on growing. LOVE NEVER RUNS OUT. Now, you may fall out of love with someone, but love cannot be measured as a chart that gets divided amongst your loved ones, because it’s forever replenishing. So, when I identify as polyamorous, that is my goal; but before love, comes like.  

The above questions are fine; especially growing up in a monogamy-aiming society, there are bound to be people that do not understand the idea of having multiple romantic loves.  

However, I wasn’t prepared to have to defend said lifestyle. Against A) those that choose to belittle the decisions that we make with statements like: “if he loves you, he won’t share you” OR B) “what about all the STDs out there?” First of all, I’m a woman, not a pie. What does love look like anyway? And, secondly, I’ve found that those in this non-traditional lifestyle often get tested far more frequently and are more open to talking about sexual health, than those that are extremely close-minded to this way of living/loving. (Not to mention; I got herpes from what I thought was a monogamous relationship). 

In addition to defending my lifestyle choices, I’m also fighting off the, what I like to call, lifestyle-nomads. Lifestyle-nomads: are those people that truly have no desire to build connections. They may be the ones trying it on for size, or latch to the label because, on paper, it mirrors what they’re doing, but it lacks the deeper foundation. Just because you want to fuck a bunch of people and you want a date or two before, that does not make you polyamorous; that makes you non-monogamous. Living towards a polyamorous love-style is the ability to like freely and honestly, with the goal for like to become love. The goal is to have long-lasting connections of the heart and spirit, regardless if there is sexual intimacy.  

Now, being the sex-positive woman that I am, (who is, in layman’s terms- single); I can, technically, have sex with as many men and women I want. But, that’s NOT what I want. I love the connections, conversations, butterflies, honesty, and vulnerability that dating, in a romantic capacity brings. I never did and I still don’t get those feelings with just sex. Outside the walls of a sex-club (where a nick-name and a condom are enough); emotional, spiritual, and intellectual stimulation are necessary for me to become repeatedly engaged. I have conversations with my partners, I go on dates with my partners I spend time with my partners, and in addition to them knowing about what I do when I am not with them, they all know of each other. There is an honesty and transparency I associate with being poly, that I didn’t associate, when I was dating prior.  My partners make me happy and put a smile on my face, and I can only assume I do the same for them. So, when someone absentmindedly dismisses them as just a phase or sexual object; ignoring the amorous (love) aspect from the title and only focuses on the poly (many); not only is it very unsettling, it’s also not true. 

The second thing I didn’t expect was encountering so many half-assers.  

As started prior, polyamory is not for those that just like a lot of sex. For those people that are always horny and just want to have sex with everything that walks; that is non-monogamy. Another major part of being truly polyamorous is arriving at that space of love, and finding joy watching your partner experience love with someone else, with no fear of their love diminishing your own. COMPERSION! 

This COMPERSION is the part that many people find most difficult. Many people are happy to be open/non-monogamous/swingers, but the idea of love being added to the relationship, many people don’t want to explore that reality.  

In addition to the lack of compersion, I encounter a lot of misogynistic imbalance as well, in the poly community. I do now, and always have felt that polyamory, non-monogamy, and open-relationships only work when both partners are willing participants. One partner cannot be allowed to play the field, while the other has to sit on the side lines. 

Ladies, if your man can be with another women; yet you can’t be with another man; then that relationship is imbalanced. Ladies (and men) if your partner won’t stop cheating; so, you turn a blind eye and claim non-monogamy; again, that relationship is imbalanced.  

The recipe for a successful alternative relationship is an even playing field, constant communication, and checking in; there are rules within the storm, and both/all parties have to agree and follow the rules. That does not mean, if he/she has 3 partners, I need 3 partners too- NO! My schedule may only allow me 1 partner in addition to my primary, and that’s totally fine; after all, it’s not a competition. Decide what it is you want and do what works within the confines of the union that you two have set up. 

The last thing that bugs me, is the oversexualization of the polyamorous and non-monogamous community.  

We are Sex Positive; NOT Sex Addicts. 

Sorry to burst your erotic bubble; but I DO NOT think about sex all day long. Now, there is nothing wrong with those that do; I’m just stating that’s not me. If there are 24 hours in a day, I may spend all of 5 minutes total with sex on my brain, and that’s not even every day. So, it’s literally a turn-off when every exchange is about sex. I’ve joined several group chats, claiming to be for the poly community; and it was a stream of titties, vaginas, penises, and sex positions; I left each one within a week. I’m too busy to think and talk about sex all day long. Especially when it’s with people that I may or may not ever have sex with.  

I love sex when I want it; that goes for type, and locations. I enjoy anal play and anal sex; that does not mean that every night I want my ass fucked. I enjoy going to sex parties and engaging with multiple partner; that does not mean I want to go to them every weekend. Lastly, I enjoy being with women; that does not mean I need to eat pussy every day. It’s important that people understand that about me and other sex-positive people. Just because we openly talk about sex, that does not mean it’s on our minds 24/7. After all… polyamorous does not mean sex-addict.