Tag Archives: SEX

Sexuality

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. 

LIKE A COZY SWEATER

Sex (for those that enjoy it) is a wonderful thing. After a long day, sex can often be better than a stiff drink. I love everything that leads up to sex; and it often starts from when he licks on my nipples, to when he buries his face in between my legs and tastes all of my juices. After he delivers me my first orgasm, he gets on top of me and slowly enters me. As I can feel his penis pressing through the tightness of my entrance and once he’s inside; I can only describe it as, amazing. But what does that really feel like, it’s hard to describe. As he proceeds to fuck me, in as many positions as my limited flexibility will allow, I revel in the pleasure of knowing that he too is loving every single moment of being in my body. When he finally reaches his orgasm, I deliver myself an invisible pat on the back and know that I have, once again, satisfied my partner. It’s one thing to know you’re a good fuck, but I’ve never known how good, until my partners started verbalizing it.  

The first time, I remember, a partner attempting to describe how sex with me feels, I was in my late twenties. This particular partner loved to fuck me; the problem is, he never lasted long. I would freshen up to go and see him. We’d kiss, he’d play with my nipples and he’d be hard as a rock. Then once inside, he’d deliver a few good thrusts; and although I could feel him trying to hold out, all the time he would fail. One afternoon I was highly upset, and I called him out on it and his response was, “he missed me”, and my pussy “was too good”. I asked him what he meant; because he made it clear that this only happened with me. So, I needed to understand what he felt. He described sex, with me, as; an ice-cold coke on a hot summer day, when you stopped drinking coke years ago. I guess I understood what he meant, and I was grateful for the accolade; but I had made up my mind that his sex was no longer worth the walk across the street for me.  

At the last swinger-party I attended, my partner and I had an amazing time. After he pleased me, I happily returned the favor, then we proceeded to enjoy the other party-goers. Every once in a while, in between our individual pussy devouring and sex sessions we would circle back around to one another, and reconnect. As the party came to an end and the lights came on; two of the men I had played with during the night couldn’t stop bragging about how good my “punany” (as one guy called it) felt and tasted. They kept calling it; good, amazing, and fantastic. They asked him if he was my man, to which he said yes. Then they proceeded to congratulate him on being able to enjoy me whenever he wanted. I didn’t quite know what to say; but “Thank you” and blush. 

In a room full of pussy, I was semi-surprised that mine garnered such accolades. I’m aware that when there is an emotional connection, the sex can be much more magical. But these were two strangers, and there was nothing but animal lust driving the interaction. I mean- sure, I do my Kegels; but, could sex with me be that different from other women? I had to take their word for it, until it was solidified with this remark.  

I had an amazing sex session with M_Tinder. We hadn’t connected in a while because we were both busy; but he didn’t let distance stop him from sending me enticing pictures and telling me what he planned to do to my body. When I arrived; after chatting with his roommate for a bit, we headed to his bedroom. After kissing, he made his way to my breasts then to my pussy. He used his tongue to deliver me an intense orgasm and long after he drank my juices, he kept on going. He took his time fucking my body in a variety of positions. He fucked my ass while I used my womanizer on my clit and found another, more intense, orgasm. Then, he switched out the condom and finished fucking me doggy style. We passed out, and in the morning, I showered and left for work.  

I was sitting down and eating my breakfast when he messaged me to make sure I had indeed enjoyed our time together. I told him I had a fantastic time and I asked him the same. That’s when he responded “Yes! Your pussy feels so great and comfortable.” At first, I took a moment to process exactly what he meant by it. More often than not, comfortable means just that, but without pizazz or anything special. So, needing better clarification I said, “Like a cozy sweater” and he replied “Exactly!”. Then it all made sense.  

You know the feeling of cold in the winter time. Not just any cold, but the cold that gets under your skin and sits in your bones to where nothing feels warm. Then, you find or buy this nice, fluffy, soft, cozy sweater that warms you up and then you just want to go to sleep… That’s how my pussy feels.  

DEFINING LOVE

Love is defined as: an intense feeling of deep affection; a great interest and pleasure in something; and the list goes on.  

On some level, we all can identify something or someone that we love. I love my family; although I may not always like them; the love I genuinely feel for them is undeniable.  

Another thing I love are desserts; especially Applebee’s Triple Chocolate Meltdown. Even though, I hate what it does to my waistline and my conscience, I can’t deny that; when that microwaved chocolate cake with chocolate syrup center, drizzled with way too sweet white and dark chocolate, with the scoop of ice cream comes to my table; the outside world does not exist. From the first break of the cake as the chocolate oozes, and I try to repeatedly gather the perfect bite with just enough ice cream, to the final bite; I can undoubtedly say that I am in love; if only for 5 minutes. I can scream from the mountain top, the love I have for something that has probably, single handedly, been the cause of all the new diabetes diagnoses, since its inception. But telling someone I love them… Ugh! Can we just eat cake! 

I grew up with the image of love as one person to another. Sure, I always knew of polyamorous love; I just never saw examples of it working in real life. When I decided to live a polyamorous life, after years of being a serial monogamist, I wasn’t sure what to expect; all I knew was that I loved the feeling of butterflies and I needed that aspect to intensify any connection I would garner. Then I met you.

I felt your love for me early on. Maybe it was how often we spoke; or the fact that you always wanted to be around me. But, from the very beginning, when you first laid eyes on me; and I was in a threesome with two other men; I didn’t have to be anyone but myself. Sure, you didn’t love me that night, but after our first few dates, I was certain you soon would. 

You said (actually texted) the words when I was going through a dark patch with my family. I knew you was going to say it before the message came through; and although it was great to know your true feelings; it did absolutely nothing to make the situation better. It just meant that you were going to be there for me, and that was enough.  

The last time I said I love you was in 2013. In 2012, I met my now ex-boyfriend. We had connected on the dating app Badoo; I was so confident that he was the one, and that there would never be another. So, within a month of us online dating, before we even met in person; he told me he loved me and I told him back. We dated for just over a year before the once strong and undying love I had for him actually died. When I finally ended the relationship; he told me that I never really loved him. Hmm? I was certain that I did, in fact, love him, at some point during our relationship. I looked back at our pictures and they looked like love. I though back to all the times I cried for him, (I cry very easily, so maybe that’s not the best example). When I looked at all that I had done for him during our relationship, I knew that I wouldn’t have done any of it, if I didn’t love him. So, what the fuck was he talking about? How could tell me, the feelings that I had for him were never real? Then, years later, it finally hit me… His love was not my love.  

My love isn’t the jump off a cliff, walk into the fire, sacrifice my life for you love; like his was. My love is practical yet whimsical. My love is stern, but it can also be pliable; it can be loud and it can be quiet, it can be suffocating and it can be distant. However, above all things, my love for another will never be stronger than the love I have for myself. I can love someone with all my might, but if that relationship no longer brings me joy, I have no problems walking away to be on my own.  

So, after him, I reserved the declaration; because if tomorrow comes and I want to go back into my shell; it’s important to know what we shared was real and it was love, even if it didn’t and/or doesn’t last forever.  

I was sitting at a jazz show, listening to the music being played. As the lady on the stage sang about love; it was in that moment I knew I loved you. It struck me as odd because I was at the performance to see one of my other partners perform; but, the thought of you ran through my mind and found a home in my heart. I started to get warm all over, it could’ve been the 3 drinks that I had; but then it happened again. When I was walking down the street talking to myself (as I sometimes do); Boom! There you were again. I tried to apply logic and reason, I picked the way I felt about you apart, I dissected it like a dead frog on a metal table, and it still came back – love.   

I could drive myself mad trying to define and break down what it means to be in love while polyamorous, but I just know I love how I feel now. The love that we share doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s, because we are not like everyone else. I simply want to live and love in this feeling for as long as we’re meant to. 

END OF HOT GIRL SUMMER

It’s official; today I left my house with my long flowing skirt, tank, denim jacket, and sandals; and DAMN! My toes were cold. I tune into my Monday morning, Whoreible_Decisions podcast and BOOM! The topic was the End of Hot Girl Summer (HGS). And with that, it’s only right that I write an homage piece on this fucking amazing summer that I had.  

To start it all off; and if you’re new to my blog; I’ll just offer a quick re-cap. Early this year, I went public with my sexual status (as HSV2 (Herpes) Positive), I also claimed my polyamorous, non-monogamous, and bisexual labels. With all of this out in the open I proceeded into the dating world, and to much of my surprise, it has been nothing short of a dream come true. 

The Men: 

I met my first post-poly partner in the Spring; after our first date, things progressed rapidly. We’ve managed to keep the connection intense and when we reconnect, it’s still as hot as the first time. We still continue to have amazing sex and explore new avenues of pleasure. I love sucking his dick and the taste of his cum. He loves eating my pussy, and I love when he plays with my ass. He was my first re-introduction to ass-play (Tabooty 1 & 2) and he aided in opening up an entirely new world of sex-ploration for me, which we are still exploring to this day 

I met my second partner a few weeks after the first; and he and I took things much slower though. He was in an open marriage and our schedules, in the beginning, didn’t always align. So, to keep the sexual tension hot, he would send me pictures of him jerking off and I would return the favor with videos of me playing with my pussy. He had(s) a beautiful dick; and all the videos we exchanged made me even more eager to experience him. It took almost 6 months before we became intimate, but once we did; we both acknowledged that the wait was totally worth it.  

I met my primary at such party, and he’s quite possibly been the best person to explore this revived lifestyle with. He matches my sexual libido, and he enjoys the many ways of kink, like I do. I could go on and on about all the amazing sex and sexual experiences we have; but what keeps me coming back is how he makes me feel. I don’t wonder when I’m with him; for now, we live the same lifestyle so I don’t have to convert him. He supports me in all of my extra-curricular activities, and he’s corny just like me.  

Parties: 

I attended my first of many sex parties. I accepted and relished in the fact that I enjoy being an exhibitionist. I love being pleased (in every way) while people gaze. I love the feeling of not-so-random hands caressing my breasts, as my partner devours my pussy; or a hand slaps my ass as I’m bent over sucking my partners dick; and I enjoy eating pussy that’s attached to a beautiful woman. I love knowing that the people at these parties are turned on by the sight of me, and I love how honest and freeing it feels to be in a room with like-minded people. 

Plugs: 

With ass-play back on the table; I found myself cruising the anal section at various sex-shops a little bit longer. I purchased a butt-cleaning kit, that came with a silicone butt-plug. I got fucked with a plug in my ass. I got a plug with a rainbow tail attached; and I even had some fantastic anal sex with my womanizer on my clit (That story to come soon). My primary just got me a present of jeweled butt-plugs that I’m so eager to play with in the near future.  

Podcasts: 

Last, but not least, I have to mention that; a lot of the comfort in coming out about all the things I enjoy sexually was aided by listening to the Whoreible_Decisions podcast. Knowing that two women, of color, were (are) so sexually free, allowed me to be more comfortable with my own sexuality. I was always a little freak, but much of what I did remained hidden. I did what I did in private, for fear of being judged, ridiculed, and/or outed. After listening to their podcast; I learned that whatever I put out there, with confidence, may never be used against me. If I owned my decisions and sexuality, no one could make how I choose to receive and/or give pleasure an act of shame.  

I had the pleasure of being a guest on their show in August, and I was able to shed light on living polyamorously, while being herpes positive. On the heels of the podcast, so many people reached out to me and told me how much hearing my story helped them. It makes me happy to know that my truth can help others; so, I know that I’m doing the right thing. Wanting to expand more upon that truth, I started writing my memoir. I’m so happy that I’ve been gifted with the ability to share my stories with my listeners and I hope you all will continue on this journey with me.  

Be sure to stay tuned; I have so many more, amazing stories coming to you; and I know you’re going to love them.  

SEX & SOCKS

The warmth of my partner, his skin against my skin, hand cupping my bare breasts, and legs intertwined as he spoons me from behind is all that I need, after a good sex session. When I’m with my partner, the only barrier I want between he and I, is a condom. That means I want him totally naked; and that means NO SOCKS!! 

It’s been a hood-urban legend that men who have sex with woman, with their socks on, don’t really care too much about said woman. Although I used to believe this, without a doubt; recently, I’ve come to believe there is a grey area. Take for example, my primary guy at the moment; he loves fun socks: Stitch (from Lilo & Stitch), and Jack Skelington (from The Nightmare Before Christmas), and the list goes on. When we have sex, his feet are bare. But, seeing as his socks are dope, I would be willing to let him slide. Not to mention, there is also a huge debate on Reddit. Those that are pro-socks; claim that- in addition to keeping the feet warm, they may aid with the female orgasm. I’ve never had a problem getting off without socks so I don’t care to start wearing them now. Let me also make it clear; I’m not talking about fetish foot wear either (more often worn by women); body stockings, tights, thigh-highs, and ruffled socks fall into a different category, all together.  

The socks I am talking about, are the old school 6 to a pack, white tube socks; I don’t even give a fuck- if they are Nike socks… If I’m butt-ass naked – then he should be too.  

Some men: Latino, Caribbean, and White are more often than not, barefoot when having sex- I notice these things. I also noticed, especially in my youth, dealing with niggas, (niggas as a state of mind vs. an actual race) many of them kept on their socks. I’ve witnessed quite a few men take off every item of clothing, down to their underwear yet, leave on their socks. So, I asked the question, “If a man has sex with his socks on, what does it mean?” 

I got a good amount of responses that, socks offered better traction. To me, it would seem more logical for both socks and sneakers, instead of socks alone. And some women agreed with my original idea that; if a man wears socks in the bedroom – he isn’t serious about you.  

The overwhelming response was: he has ugly feet. This answer got me on two sides. On one side: You’re willing to have sex with me, but aren’t vulnerable enough to let me see your feet?  And two, why are your feet so jacked up in the first place? 

I find it my obligation to say this… TAKE CARE OF YOUR DAMN FEET!!! This goes for men and women. I recently saw a porn movie where the chick had on a tacky weave and some dingy tube socks. I was able to overlook the weave but her having on socks pissed me off on a level I didn’t understand.  

I judge men that wear dingy socks with slides. Seriously! You can’t afford a clean pair of socks? 

I judge women that wear socks with slides, period! Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in those socks… 

I judge men and women when their feet are dry and ashy. How hard is it to lotion your damn feet? 

And, I judge women that show their toes when their polish is badly chipped. How difficult is it to buy a bottle of nail polish remover and cotton balls? 

So, seeing a woman (or a man) in a porn with socks on, pisses me the FUCK off. This is supposed to be a fantasy! There is nothing fantastic about dingy white socks. At least get some fancy socks. 

1- This should go without saying; but, wash your feet when you’re in the shower. I mean, actually take a cleaning device (rag, loofa, exfoliating gloves, etc.) to your lower body parts with soap and scrub. Because soapy water running on your legs and feet, does not make them clean.  

2- Once out of the shower, moisturize your entire body (not just the parts that people will see). This means your feet! I will not have my legs all scratched up because you don’t care to lotion your feet.  

Ceasar from Black Ink Crew posted a picture of his crusty feet on Instagram and I was disgusted. The fact that some men walk around thinking that crusty toes are acceptable- is NOT OK.  

Let me make this clear… 

It is not ok for men to have gross feet.  

It does not make a man gay, if he goes to the nail salon to get a pedicure and/or manicure.  

So, please take care of your feet and hands.  

Occasionally people, especially women, get corns and bunions, from wearing heels or ill-fitting shoes. This is common, so this is not what I’m referring to.  

I’m talking about the people that don’t pay attention to the color of their toenail changing and 3 years later the shit is either some weird yellow or green shade, black, or thicker than a notebook. Bad toes, like bad teeth don’t happen overnight. So, that means you neglected your feet for years? I have to wonder- What else on your body do you neglect? 

You should always put your best feet (and hands) forward. When I’m single, I’m still at the nail salon every 3 weeks getting my nails and feet done; I wouldn’t have it any other way. I block out the 3-4 hours it will take; I often come in with some images of what I want, and let my lady do her job. I question women that only care about their nail maintenance when they’re in a relationship. I often wonder…Do you just give up when you’re single?  

But, back on the topic of sex and socks.  

There’s nothing I love more when my guy rubs my feet. I love when he runs his hands up my calf to my feet and pushes them back and over my head. I especially love when he’s hammering away at me and he takes my toes and puts them in his mouth.  

You simply can’t do that with dingy tube socks on. NO! NO! 

The Wonders of Coconut Oil Part 2

Be sure to read “The Wonders of Coconut Oil Part 1” before reading Part 2

So- there I was, vagina slathered in coconut oil, in preparation for my upcoming sex appointment. Like I said in the last post; I should’ve cancelled it, but my hormones got the best of me. I put on my lingerie, dress, heels and left to get in the Uber that he called for me. He lived in a fucking walk-up, and since I hate stairs, I was not too thrilled and sweaty upon arrival. 

When I finally arrived at the pearly gates of his apartment door, he greeted me with hug and passionate kiss. Shoes came off and we went to sit on the couch. His apartment was nice, for a bachelor, and it had all the essential furniture. The only downside was that his mattress was on the floor. What is it with grown men refusing to invest in a bed frame? But, the rest of the apartment was nice and clean so I couldn’t get hung up on this minor detail. 

We talked for a bit while he made me a drink and listened to some music and discussed various kinks, and Dos & Donts. We kissed and then the chemistry of the alcohol took over. I went in between his legs and pulled out his penis and began to enjoy him. He filled my mouth, just right and I became more wet with each lick. Before things got too heated, we went to the bedroom. His fingers began to explore my vagina; and the spells he casted were nothing short of magical. My body had fully surrendered to the power of his digits; all of a sudden, I felt an oozing of fluid and I was spent. I had only ever squirted on 2 occasions prior to that; once, when I was masturbating for hours at home, the other, was with one of my college-age partners, with zero intention. After he made me squirt (notice I said- not cum); we had sex. Rough and animalistic, the way I sometimes love. Ass slapping, light choking, and anal play had me moaning and juicing on all cylinders. I collapsed down on the bed from penetrative exhaustion. After a moment we went back to sit on the couch. He smoked a blunt, then made us some vegan grilled cheese sandwiches; he oiled the pan with Organic Coconut Oil (LOL!) He made us each another drink and we ate our sandwiches. I must say for vegan cheese, from the perspective of a meat-eater, the sandwich was quite yummy. 

After our nourishment it was time for round two. He removed my dress and began sucking at my nipples as his fingers made their way back to my vagina. He put his hands around my neck and aided in me standing up- my juices began to trickle down my leg as he escorted me back to the bedroom. This time I wanted to be on my knees as he stood in front of me, and I took him in. I sucked, licked, twirled, and flicked my tongue with a mission. POW! He delivered a gentle slap to my face and I, to my own surprise, grew more aroused. I took him even deeper into my mouth, delivering aggressive head jerks for the tip of his penis to hit the back of my throat. He ejaculated on my breasts, hot and sticky. After he cleaned me up, he got in position to deliver me more pleasure. He made me squirt 2 more times then, on the third time I rubbed at my clitoris as his fingers explored both my vagina and ass-hole. I let out a roar that would put the lions to shame, because he covered my mouth until my limbs went limp. He grabbed a condom then laid me on my stomach and began to repossess my body until he came. I dozed off for about 10 minutes and woke up to him sitting on couch. We sat and talked for a little bit, until it was time for me to go. I took a quick shower and I was on my way. 

The realization of the fucking I had just put my body through didn’t set in until I went to use the bathroom at the movie theater. I went to wipe and I wanted to punch myself in the throat! My vagina was utterly fucked raw. When I got home, I went into the bathroom looking for possible battle wounds that could explain my discomfort; other than the more intense red color everything looked normal. After my shower, I slathered coconut oil all over my vagina.  

When Tuesday came, my vagina and my throat felt a little off. So, in conjunction with going to the walk-in GYN after work, I called all my partners I had played with that weekend for sexual re-con. Who else at the party did you fuck, when was the last time you got tested, and when was the last time you were sick? Eventually, with daily applications of coconut oil, that soothed and moisturized my pubic and labia, the discomfort subsided. A week later, my results came back and everything was negative.  

It had never crossed my mind that maybe my body was just not used to all the fucking I had just put it through. If I was going to continue living this polyamorous, non-monogamous, occasional swinger lifestyle I would have to adopt new methods for vaginal care. Vitamin D (the kind that comes in a bottle), probiotics, coconut oil, and lots and lots of lune. Sure- I’ve gone many rounds of sex before, but never the way it happened that weekend. There was really only a sliver of time at the party where my vagina wasn’t being either, penetrated, rubbed, or licked. And, although it felt amazing- it was very-new indeed.  

I learned then that lube, would forever be my best friend; and, that Coconut Oil, really, does do wonders.  

The Wonders of Coconut Oil (Part 1)

Coconut oil has been around for generations; however, within the past decade it has become the “IT” oil for everything. From cooking, to a skin moisturizing, to hair deep conditioning, coconut oil is the thing to have. We started buying coconut oil in the big jar at Costco; we haven’t gotten around to using it for cooking yet, but hair and skin are a definite must in my house. I was walking with my mom and her friend (both nurses), and my mother’s friend mentioned coconut oil suppositories for vaginal yeast. I’ve been a Monistat user for as long as I can remember, but knowing coconut oil is organic, non-chemicals, and a natural anti-bacterial; I figured the information would be good to know for the future. Little did I know the future would be right around the corner.  

The following weekend I went to a sex party. I started following a group on Instagram that threw parties. Before I decided to attend, I made sure there wasn’t a rule that people in my situation weren’t allowed. Once the hostess confirmed that, as long as I told my partners and gave them the choice, it was ok for me to attend, I made preparations. Armed with super high-heels, a black dress, and a snatched waist – I was ready to party. I went downstairs to meet the driver and in less than 30 minutes we were at the hotel. The party was in a suite and everyone was dressed super-casual. Thank heavens I had changed out of my heels and put on my flip flops or I might’ve felt a bit over-dressed. I instantly connected with a guy there. We sat down and talked about the lifestyle, I told him about my diagnosis and, as his mother was in my same situation, he was well aware of what it meant. I saw a man I had spoken to earlier on Instagram enter and we exchanged shy helloes. About an hour later the suite began to fill up. At 11:45 we all went around and introduced ourselves, went over our dos and don’ts, and explained how long we had been in the lifestyle; then it was dress-down hour. Luckily, I packed a robe; because, if I hadn’t, it would’ve been tits, corset, and thong on full display. I may enjoy public sex, but I’m not that much of an exhibitionist yet.  

The man I had spoken to earlier in the night asked me over to the corner with him; then it was ON! We made out, deep sensual lust driven kisses, then he went down on me, I briefly exchanged the favor, then we he bent me over slipped on a condom then we had sex. We had at it for about 10 sex minutes. Then the gentleman I connected with on IG came around and asked to play. He had expressed earlier in the evening that I was the only reason he came to the party; so, I definitely wanted to make his trip worth the while. We briefly kissed, then it was condom on and he was deep inside, hammering away at me. I had to hold back my moans because I didn’t want my other guy to get jealous. Damn!- He pulverized me, and I loved every second of it. After we were satisfied, I needed a break; my arms were sore and I wanted to give my vagina some R&R. 

When I resurfaced, another party-goer, who observed me in action, asked if I would sit on his face. I told him; I was taking a break, but I would get back to him. I took a moment, had a drink, went to the bathroom to re-freshen up then I went to another room to simply be a voyeur. There were two couples going at it and a woman was getting pleasure from another female. Guy A came up behind me as I was watching and started kissing my neck and rubbing my breasts; guy B came in front of me and started rubbing my clit and it wasn’t long before they escorted me back to the corner of the other room. 

Back at it again, being pleased while giving pleasure, I was in a fantasy that I had always wanted to live out. I could feel my body needing some lube, but my bag was all the way across the room, so I just kept going. I played with both until I came then I decided to relax again. There was a scuffle amongst the gentle-man partygoers that was broken up, but then it got out of control, with guy A on top of me. We stopped all action and the party was over.  A man that can find a reason to fight around all that pussy- had some serious issues.

I changed back into my normal-girl attire and exchanged numbers with Guy A. He had to stay upstairs, as he was a partial host/security and Guy B took me to the elevator and waited with me for my uber to arrive. While waiting, the man that requested I sit on his face was downstairs waiting for his car too. He and I exchanged numbers, as well as Guy B and I. My uber arrived, I said good-bye to Guy B and I was on my way home.  

I texted them all separately to notify them that I got home safe and they all replied a Good Night. In the shower, my vagina was sore. Even though I’d been having sex, my M_Tinder partner had been much more, gentle than both the men were that night. I needed a fast-acting option to soothe my lady parts and I remembered- coconut oil. I grabbed the jar out from my parent’s room and put a good amount down-south; immediately, I felt like a brand-new woman. I was so happy too, because; even though I should’ve rain-checked, in a few hours I was to have a play-date with a man I connected with on Feeld (J_Feeld). So I was off to sleep and allowed the wonder of coconut oil to work their magic.

Part 2 (Next Week)