Tag Archives: sexuality

MY BISEXUALITY

Certain youthful thoughts will forever be engraved in my mind. I remember the day I got glasses because I tripped stepping off the curb; I was wearing shorts and pink clogs. I remember my first boy crush; we couldn’t have been older than 5 years old. We used to sleep next to each other, on our individual cots, during nap time. I remember one day when we were stretch partners; we put our feet together, held hands, and rocked back and forth. I remember this distinctly because both he and I rocked way too close to each other’s genitals, and after that, we were never stretch partners again.

Another thing I remember was my first girl crush. We went to the same school, lived in the same building, and lived on the same floor. She would always come over my house so we could play after school and on the weekends. I remember us seeing a (heterosexual) couple kiss on TV, and we wanted to try it. One day, when she was over, we hid by the kitchen table, and we kissed. After our lips made contact, we opened our mouths to allow our tongues to dance. When the kiss was done, we never mentioned it again. At eight years old, I didn’t quite have the language, but I knew I really enjoyed the kiss.  

The kiss we shared felt just as passionate as the flirtation I shared with the boy, from when I was five. So, at a very early age, I knew I felt a like for boys and girls, I just didn’t call it bisexual. As I got older, my attraction to women never waned, I just suppressed it for my like of boys. When you grow up in Catholic school, have a Baptist grandmother, and a heterosexual family, you don’t question anything, you just go with the flow. So, for years, I said nothing. I occasionally watched lesbian porn, on late-night TV, but didn’t read into it having to do with my sexuality.  

At the age of fourteen, I joined a youth chorus. There must have been a fine-print that I missed because almost every member was either gay or bisexual. I instantly felt at home. I finally felt free to explore that side of my sexuality without being judged. I flirted with my female and male peers; I even had a girlfriend for about a week. But, when she asked me for money, I broke it off. When my sister-in-law got wind of my questioning sexuality, she assumed they were trying to ‘turn me out.’ There was an exchange of words between her and another girl. And, just like that, I was back in something resembling a closet.    

I flirted with women on and off, but nothing ever manifested. When I was diagnosed with herpes, I put the entire idea to rest. I wasn’t allowed to be a questioning bisexual; so, I had to pick a side and stick with it. For almost a decade, I lived my life as a heterosexual woman, and most of the time, I was content. But, from time to time, I wondered what it would be like to flirt and be intimate with a woman; but fear of rejection kept me quiet.   

Then one day, when I was on PositiveSingles.com, a couple came across my feed. We chatted, met up for drinks, and a few weeks later, I had my first threesome and sexual encounter with a woman. I loved every second of it. Sadly, my time with them was short-lived, as they broke up soon after. I wanted the experience again, but it proved way too difficult to find women with a mutual attraction that wanted to meet. It also became evident that lesbians did not like women that were bisexual. And too often, the women that claimed to be bisexual preferred a consistent male presence, instead of a female one. I wanted to explore being with women only at that time.  

I wasn’t sure where I stood, so I decided the only way to know if I really enjoyed being intimate with women, without investing too much time, was to go to a sex-club. At my first sex club, and most after, I engaged with women. I enjoyed the feeling, but I still questioned myself. When I appeared on the Whoreible Decisions podcast, I defined my sexuality as bi-flexible. Since I never saw myself in a romantic relationship with a woman, it seemed unfair or a lie if I said I was bisexual. Fast forward a year later and countless sexual trysts with women at sex parties, I’m turning a new leaf. As my desire to engage with women at sex parties is beginning to disappear, my passion for real intimacy with a woman is increasing.   

When I’m walking down the street, and a beautiful woman walks past me, I don’t think to myself, damn, I want to eat her pussy (like a man would). I think I want to get to know her, and I wonder if she wants to get to know me, then we’ll see what happens. Despite being totally satisfied in my primary relationship, I want to explore a female connection on an intimate level.   

Every so often, I wonder how it would feel to walk, holding hands with my female love interest. I wonder how we would meet and what our first date would be. I wonder if she would be ok knowing that I’m polyamorous and a swinger. Would we intermingle our lives, or would we keep things separate? And I wonder if our sexual chemistry could transform into love? These are just some of the things that float through my mind when I think about my bisexuality. 

I MAKE MY BAD DECISIONS SOBER

For as long as I can remember, I never loved the feeling of being drunk. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good margarita with my Mexican, or bottomless mimosas during brunch. But when it comes to getting drunk, it’s just not my thing; I prefer to get nice. Because I don’t get drunk, I can never use the excuse, ‘I was so drunk, I can’t remember’ line. This means I have the unfortunate responsibility of having to playback, in excruciating detail, all the events of a drunken night with friends, or a day of drinking that ended up in a fight.  

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no goody-two-shoes. I’ve thrown up across tables, fell asleep in bathroom stalls, and in many clubs. But, like an elephant, I remember everything that happened leading up to the moment I fall asleep. I can recall the exact sip that put me over the edge. On a drunken birthday, I remember picking up dollars from the floor and handing them to the strippers on stage. I remember waiting on line to use the bathroom, then falling asleep on the toilet. I remember the bathroom attendant looking over the top of the stall to make sure I was alive. And I remember my friends escorting me back to my section and letting me go to sleep. I woke up when the ship docked.  

I used to envy those people that blacked out, for the sole reason of zero accountability. I always saw the ‘too drunk to remember line’ as a cop-out or an excuse to do fucked up shit and get away with it. –” I’m sorry I slept with you best friend; I was drunk.” — I wished that I could fuck up majorly and, like Jamie Foxx, blame it on the alcohol, but I couldn’t. For a while, I envied those people; Then, when I started attending sex parties, I learned to love my ability to remember.   

If you’ve never been to a sex-club or swinger party, they’re always BYOB. To my very first party, I brought a bottle of Bacardi Coconut Rum. I had the bar-lady mix it with pineapple juice, took a few sips, and then scoped out the room. The liquid massage the rum offered my body, was just the right amount of relaxation I wanted and needed. I engaged in some great conversations, ate some pussy, sucked some dick, was in a threesome, and rode a man’s face. And the only reason I remember every detail of that night was because I was sober.   

When I started attending LS (Lifestyle) parties regularly, less and less alcohol was needed. For starters, attending parties with a guaranteed partner removed a lot of pressure. And since I screened my partners before the party, I had an assortment of dicks ready to please me. Secondly, with the right amount of people, the party jumped off rather quickly, and with everyone having a good time, a drink to loosen up wasn’t necessary. That high school dance feeling of, waiting for other couples to dance, did not exist. I was extremely comfortable being one of the first couples to start things off. Lastly, I wanted to be in total control of whatever happened throughout the night. I need to know what titty I’m licking, dick I’m sucking, pussy I’m eating, and whose dick is fucking me. In a room full of bodies and chaos, I need to have control; and I couldn’t have that if I was too far gone. Would I recognize the person a few days later, while walking down the street? –Of course not! But, at that moment, I knew that every decision I made was mine, and that was all that mattered.   

In addition to wanting to have that control, I wanted to be able to remember how it all felt. I wanted to remember the kiss on my partner’s lips when he sees the outfit I changed into. I wanted to remember the feeling of my lingerie against my skin. I wanted to remember the feeling of eyes on me. I wanted to remember my partner kissing me, then laying me down on the mattress, and removing my panties to devour my pussy. I wanted to remember the weight of other bodies on the bed. I wanted to remember the feeling of tangled limbs and hands caressing my legs in the air. I wanted to remember the feeling of my toes and nipples being sucked and licked. I wanted to remember the feeling of a veiny dick in my mouth as my partner devoured my pussy into a screaming orgasm. I wanted to remember the moment he turned me over to fuck me. I wanted to remember the smell of the pussy I bend over to eat and the feeling of her breasts in my hands. I wanted to remember his hands around my throat, restricting my airway as he rammed my pussy and found his orgasm. And, in the end, I wanted to remember him pulling me back to kiss my lips once he reached his orgasm.  

I make all of my bad decisions sober because I want to be in control, and I want to be able to recall the memories of each encounter. I want to remember the feelings of inhibitions lost and lust that enveloped the room. I may forget the names and faces, but that intoxicating feeling will stay with me forever, all because I make my decision sober.   

CAN’T CLOSE THE FLOOD GATES

I don’t recall when I saw the first women squirt. But it seemed like overnight, the world was suddenly obsessed. Every time I searched for porn, my feed was bombarded with women gushing all over the screen. As squirting gained popularity, it became every man’s mission to make me squirt. From dating apps far and wide, once the topic changed to sex, every man would gloat about how he made this girl and that girl squirt. They all proclaimed to have the magic touch; however, when it came to me, they were never successful.  

The first time I squirted was after seven hours of masturbating, and several clitoral orgasms. I felt my body quiver, and then I released a steady stream of fluid. The release happened a few more times when I was having sex, but the amount never matched what I saw in porn. At the beginning of my sexual revolution, it caused me to question my abilities. But, as years passed, I learned that some women didn’t squirt; and I was ok being one of them. That all changed when I purchased my Liberty Womanizer.   

It’s true what they say; once you open the flood gates, they can never be closed again. Night after night, I would pleasure myself and, every time my sheets would end up soaked. I squirted at a sex party while sucking my man’s dick. I even squirted with another partner as we masturbated side by side. My Womanizer never failed me. And, when I started using my Womanizer during anal, it was no different. While my ass was being impaled, and my Womanizer sucked my clit, every orgasm was multiplied and liquified, at the same time.   

During my duo-partner threesome, I used my Womanizer; and like clockwork, I released a gush of fluid all over his bed when I reached my orgasm. My primary and I were used to it, but I could tell that he was a bit shocked (to say the least). It wasn’t the first time I used my Womanizer with him, but it was the first time I squirted with him. The surprise and excitement of it all must’ve been too much for him because he never finished. However, the next time we met he knew exactly what he wanted.  

I arrived at his apartment and immediately got comfortable. He poured me a glass of wine, and we sat down on the couch. We talked a little bit; then he put my glass down. He stood in front of me and pulled out his dick. I had told him over the phone that I was itching to suck his dick, so he wasted no time. As I sucked his dick, he massaged my breasts, and my pussy got soaking wet. I sucked, gagged, and slurped until he exploded in my mouth, but I didn’t stop there. I continued to play with his cum, and as it mixed with my saliva, I let it drip onto my breasts and the floor. When he couldn’t take anymore, he pushed me away, and I giggled as I fell back against the couch. He went to the bathroom, and when he returned, we went into the bedroom.   

He undressed me while delivering me passionate kisses, and once I was naked, he went down to devour my pussy. It was messy and intentional, and with his finger pleasing my ass, he brought me to a phenomenal orgasm. I was ready for him to fuck me, but he wanted to explore my pussy a bit more. He licked his left fingers and slowly inserted his middle, followed by his index finger into my pussy. As I responded to his fingers, he slipped his right index finger into my ass and finger-fucked me into submission. When he was satisfied, he turned me onto my side and ran his fingers up and down my moist openings. My pussy yearned for his dick, and I was eager to be fucked, but he was in bliss, teasing me. I started to grow sexually frustrated, then he whispered in my ear, “I want to fuck your ass.” — Say Less!  

He slid the condom onto his dick as I grabbed my Womanizer. I bent over on all fours and lifted my ass in the air. He delivered a few licks to my booty-hole, and when I placed my Womanizer on my clit, he slid right in. As he pushed passed the tightness of my opening, I bit my lip in response. He gripped my waist tighter and began to pick up his pace. Each thrust, combined with the stimulation on my clit, brought me closer and closer to orgasm. When I felt myself reaching the peak, I screamed at him, “Fuck my ass!” and he pounded into me repeatedly. I felt my ass clench around his dick, and with an exhale, my pussy exploded. He continued to fuck my ass as I continued to shower him with my juices. A mixture of screams and obscenities filled the room, then he delivered his final thrust and moaned, “Fuck!” When he was done, with my face still buried in the mattress and my gaping ass in the air, I turned to him and said, “That’s what you wanted all along, didn’t you?” He simply answered, “Yes.” I passed out onto the bed, and after he tossed the condom, he joined me. When we both woke up, about an hour later, I took a quick shower and headed home.   

During the Uber ride home, I thought to myself how surprised he was when I squirted on him during the threesome. But, the second time around, he pressed all the right buttons to make my body do precisely what he wanted. The first time, I apologized; but this time, it was all induced. So, when I got dressed and saw that his sheets were still wet, I knew that his mission was accomplished.   

F*CKING UP SHEETS!

There’s a joy that one feels when you leave home and stay at a place that’s not your own. I, like many people, love a good vacation. However, with the rising costs of living, lack of time, lack of funds to go on holidays, and inadequate paid time off, many people don’t get to experience the minimums that a working life has to offer. Whenever I get to be out and do my own thing, I take it all in. I’ve become quite the connoisseur of using Airbnb for mini-trips away or for weekends when I want to be alone with my guy. Between work, writing, reading, and training, it’s refreshing to relax and be the definition of lazy. It’s also refreshing to know that the sheets you fucked up, are not your responsibility to clean.  

Last weekend, my man and I had a weekend all to ourselves. We went to a show on Friday night, followed by dancing. When we got home Saturday morning, we didn’t leave the house until Sunday when we checked out. Saturday morning, he woke me up for breakfast in bed; so, I fed him my pussy twice; then, we went back to sleep. When I finally truly, woke up around noon, I made us breakfast. We stayed inside all day and watched Sabrina on Netflix. When we got hungry again, I made us dinner, then we finished the season, and moved onto watching The Magicians. Cuddled on the couch, I had never felt so at ease. The day was the definition of amazing, and the events of that evening were the strawberry gusher on top. 

We showered together and the hot water cascading on our bodies felt intoxicating. Once in bed, we kissed passionately, then I went down to please him. I used all the tools in my arsenal: from my tongue swirl to my sucking pulse, all in an effort to deliver unto him pleasures that made him squirm and moan. When he told me that he wanted me to ride him, I put on a condom and happily obliged. I used my glutes and hamstring strength to bounce up and down; then, I eased up when he thrust his hips deeper into me. When we had our fill of that position, he laid me on my back, opened my legs wide, and pounded into me. With a few needed lube applications, to keep the party going, I moaned out with every thrust that massaged my spot. In between the cocktails of “fuck!”, “yes!” and “oh my god!” there were many “I love you!” exchanges. I wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust my lower body to meet his. When we had our fill with missionary, before we changed to doggy, he devoured me once more. With his mouth on my clit and finger in my ass, he delivered me an amazing orgasm.  

With my ass up in the air and face buried into the pillow, he proceeded to make love to me; and I devoured every second of it. The beads of his sweat dripped onto my back, and their cool delivered an exhilarating chill. He went to reposition himself and stick it in my ass. Before he entered, I got my womanizer…  

NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT! 

For the record, I don’t enjoy anal sex alone. The nerve endings in my ass do not receive pleasure the same way my pussy does. No matter how much lube my partner uses, I can feel the penis rubbing against the skin of my ass, and it delivers to my mind a visual image that shuts down the pleasure highway. So, since I started adding anal sex into my repertoire, I always use my womanizer. The sucking motion of the toy distracts my brain, and it makes the entire experience pleasurable beyond measure. Every time I’m fucked in the ass, with my womanizer on my clit, I have an orgasm. This time would’ve been no different; however… 

Once I powered it up and placed it onto my clit, I told him he could start going slow. I felt my booty hole open up as he slid into me; in collaboration with the sucking motion of the toy, I felt my body reaching an orgasm. As he began to pick up the pace, my clit began to throb like it hadn’t before. He continued to deliver me pleasure-filled thrusts until my body lost control. I first felt the wetness start to drip down my thigh, in between his thrusts; then, just as I had reached my peak; with shaking orgasm and a loud face-in-pillow-stifled roar, my abdominals clenched and my pussy released a squirt of fluid, in amounts I had never released before. There was nothing I could do but ride my orgasmic wave and, since he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough; he had no option but to shower in my juices. Thank god for the towel I laid down prior!  

When I came back down from my high, he slid right back into my ass and proceeded to fuck me until he reached his orgasm. With both of us covered in each other’s fluids (me in his sweat, and him in my squirt), we passed collapsed onto the bed. 

After a few minutes we took a quick shower; then, thanks to some more carefully placed thick and fluffy towels, we were able to fall into a deep sleep. Up until that night, I had only ever squirted in the shower or in my bed. It was not my goal that evening to fuck up the sheets, but I was elated that it wasn’t my responsibility to clean them up.  

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!