Protected: open up for me. you’re mine today

Posted on May 14, 2008 in Penny, stories to turn you on | Enter your password to view comments.

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… while they’re hot

Posted on May 9, 2008 in _dating | 2 Comments

Okay, on a lighter note?

I didn’t mention it two weeks ago, when Penny and I had our last date, but we broke my cock that day. My infamous Silky/Mr. Bendy (named differently depending on where you buy it), my very favorite cock – because you can pack with it, and play with it, and it actually works – unfortunately, that’s incredibly rare in the world of cocks.

This was the blue one that Penny broke – uh, I mean, that Penny and I broke, together – and it’s the third one I’ve broken. (Remember broken, breaking? That was the second. The first time I broke it, with Callie, I wrote that up, too, but I can’t find the link.)

Unfortunately, that’s just one of the things about Silky’s reality – it doesn’t last.

So, Eden has a blue or a purple version of Silky, and Babeland has pink or black – but I’ve never actually seen the black one in stock. I’ve ordered it before, only to be sent the pink one. I started thinking it was the unicorn of cocks, a myth, an urban cock legend.

But? It’s in stock. And the one I reordered as a replacement came tonight. Man, they sure all nice all new and hard, spine all bendy and supple. Mmm, this weekend’s date with Penny is going to be fabulous.

If you want a black one, order it now – who knows how long it’ll stick around!

While we’re on the subject of things you should order while they’re in stock, take note of Bear Bergman’s book Butch is a Noun, published by the fantastic Suspect Thoughts – it’s gone into a second printing after being out of stock for a long time. I’ve got plenty to say about this book, I’m very fond of it – remember the video of Bear reading the opening chapter a few months ago? Snag a copy while you can.

2 Comments | Category: _dating | Tags: , , , , , ,

Protected: a potent alchemy

Posted on April 28, 2008 in Penny, stories to turn you on | Enter your password to view comments.

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on piercing: earlobe, clit, cock

Posted on April 22, 2008 in _dating | 8 Comments

I put an earring in my left ear over the weekend, a simple stainless steel hoop that goes through two of the four holes I have had in that ear since I was 14 – an orbital. I used to want a transverse lobe piercing, because it is unusual and because of the potential to make a sphere out of two rings, I used to find that image beautiful. But I’m liking the orbital. More subtle than anything hanging down below my earlobe.

I haven’t had earrings in my ears for years, since before that red tie photograph. I occasionally stick a post through the holes just out of curiosity, to see if they’re still open, and they always are. I usually don’t leave an earring in though, and now, two days later, I’ve got that dull ache of flesh being forced out of its natural state of being, but instead forced open, forced apart. Difficult to sleep on my left side (as I often do) or cradle a phone on my left shoulder (which I also often do).

I like the awareness that a new piercing brings to a body part. How conscious I am of the way my earlobe feels when I’m doing anything, getting dressed, slinging my bag over my shoulder, listening to headphones.

Last night I dreamed of kissing, shoulder and clavicle and neck and jawline, eventually slipping her earlobe between my lips, feeling my tongue meet it, hot and smooth.

Having this ring in my ear is making me crave another new piercing. I have eleven, all together, though only three – four, now – have jewelry in them. I remember saying at some point that I no longer wanted adornment piercings, only functional piercings.

I’ve wanted a clit piercing for years. Always thought I’d get a vertical hood piercing, and still might – lately, considering the primary way I get off these days is strapped on, clit-against-harness, a piercing might be great for that kind of thing. (Might also make strap-on sex incredibly painful for a while, so that’s a hesitation.) I’ve also liked the idea of a triangle … that is more and more appealing. Not sure I have the anatomy for it exactly, and I hear there are hard to do, and must be done by someone particularly skilled. The story is that Elaine Angel (Buck Angel’s partner, I believe) is a master at triangles, and no longer practices in the US but does recommend a few of her apprentices. Perhaps I’ll make a trip to Philadelphia this summer.

What I’d really like, right now, actually, is to get my cock pierced.

I’ve been thinking about that for a while, but haven’t found someone to do it yet. No, that’s not true – I haven’t really done the research, and I haven’t asked around. I must know a few kinky folks who have piercing kits, and I think I’d trust them to do one of my cocks – what I’d really love to do is pierce my favorite Silky packing cock, but the flesh of it is actually quite thin and splits easily, I fear once it gets punctured it would just rip open and the cock would be ruined. It’s not silicone, but I’m not sure about it either. Perhaps the same thing would happen?

Possibly, then, I should pierce one of my non-playing packing cocks, which would mean that it is much more for adornment than function. That’d be alright, to start with anyway, until I figured out how to pierce one with which I could actually play.

8 Comments | Category: _dating | Tags: , ,

my favorite harness: review

Posted on February 26, 2008 in swag | 4 Comments

My very favorite strap-on harness, reviewed over at Eden Fantasys. It meets my three major requirements for harnesses:

  1. interchangeable O-rings,
  2. thin harness straps that hit my clit, and 
  3. g-string style, also so it hits my clit

I love how small it is, it’s easy to conceal and comfortable under clothing, and it’s nylon so it washes so easily. Plus? It’s only $16.

Have you used this harness, or one similar? What’s your favorite harness style, & why? Leave a comment here or, better yet, over at the Eden review.

My other reviews for Eden:

4 Comments | Category: swag | Tags: , , , ,

Review: Mia-Z (harness)

Posted on December 18, 2007 in swag | 3 Comments

The Mia-Z Harness by Outlaw Leather, out of Seattle.

I’ll entice you with the one key little detail here, then you should head on over to Eden Fantasys and read my full review.

Here’s the thing about this harness. It’s gorgeous & comfortable, and you can strap a cock on, la la la, just like you usually would, but then … then? The way the front leather triangle is built, you can add a second cock that will slip right inside the harness wearer (assuming the wearer is female bodied).

It’s like an instant double, with any of the two cocks you choose.

I discount my own penetration pretty easily … but this reminded me how different orgasms are when my own cunt has something to grip.

Take a look at more photos, specs, and my full review …

3 Comments | Category: swag | Tags: , , , , , , ,

big – I mean really big

Posted on November 29, 2007 in swag | 10 Comments

Speaking of really big cocks (we were, weren’t we?) – this just shipped for me to review:

Uh.Wow.

Eden says it is 5 1/4″ long, and 6 3/4″ around. Um … that means it is thicker around than it is long.

I’m not even sure it’ll fit in my harness. Do I have an O-ring big enough? Can I weild this thing, wearing it? Will I have any idea how to use it, how to fuck someone else with it? And … secretly, I want to know, can I take it?

I’m incredibly interested, and shuddering at the same time.

I guess I’ll find out.

10 Comments | Category: swag | Tags: , ,

my very favorite cock

Posted on November 23, 2007 in swag | 9 Comments

My very first sex toy review is up Eden Fantasys (whose name makes me want to get out my red English Major pen and correctly pluralize the noun), and what other toy to start with than my beloved packing cock.Apparently, though Babeland calls it Mr. Bendy, it is actually known by the manufacturer as Silky, and comes in blue and purple as well as pink (which is the only color I’ve ever seen at Babeland).

I really do love this cock – and, while I am absolutely man enough for pink, I am quite excited about my new blue one.

Actually, I feel kind of selfish about this cock. I don’t want to tell you where to buy it or how awesome it is, because it’s mine. But, in the spirit of spreading the love, I am resolving to get over that possessiveness …

From the review:

I have spent years – since I first came out and began having sex with women, since I first started honing my butch identity and wanting a cock to be part of my sex life – searching for a cock I could not only pack with, but also play with.

And? Here’s the secret: this is that cock.I have a special place in my heart for Babeland – clearly, since I’m mentioning it in my plug for my Eden review – particularly because they are built on queer politics, community, and culture. Their staff members are primarily queer and absolutely queer friendly, they know all about gender and gender expression, and I never feel out of place in that store. It was the first non-skeevy sex toy store I’d ever been in, and for that reason, I just love it. Support the dykes, yay.

But despite my love for Babeland, sometimes their product selection falls a bit short. By which I mean, sometimes they just don’t have what I need.

And that’s a place where Eden is fantastic. They have a really great selection of toys – not only cocks & harnesses, but also slappy and stingy toys, lube, condoms, books, DVDs, all sorts of things. Their queer content is not perfect, but it’s there, and they are working on building it further, which I think is fantastic.

Buy this cock on Eden Fantasys now!

9 Comments | Category: swag | Tags: , , , ,

in which sinclair bottoms

Posted on July 3, 2007 in The Femme Top, stories to turn you on | 6 Comments

Part one of three

I’d never been with a girl who identified as a top. All the girls I’ve slept with, while some of them were more toppy than others, have absolutely been on the submissive side – and that tends to be one of the things that draws me to them. I know how to read those signals. I know what the lowering of the eyes, looking up at me under her eyelashes, means.

I’ve been topped, don’t get me wrong. And generally, I like getting off, I like giving my body over to let someone else touch me, to guide them to what feels good, to let myself get to that moment of fully physically letting go.

I hear this is actually fairly rare, for a butch top. I don’t know what to tell ya about that. We’re all different, I suppose.

Point is, I’m not entirely unfamiliar with submission – but, at the same time, it is not my ‘default’ mode. It is not where I am most comfortable, these days, and it is not my impulse most times. But, as you probably remember from the few times I intentionally bottomed in my last relationship, it’s hard for me to do and, even, harder for me to write about.

So what was I going to do with this stunningly fucking hot femme top once we got to my bed?

This is what kept rattling around in my head as we took (sexy) public transportation back to my (ghetto) apartment.

I thought, it won’t make that much difference that I’m a top and she’s a top. It won’t change much between us. We probably won’t have a heavy SM scene, and that is what I tend to associate primarily with topping and bottoming – dominance, and submission.

But already, the making out at the bar was a little different. I wasn’t calling the shots. She was responding to me, yes, her lips changing mouth opening tongue teasing in accordance to mine, but there was something else underneath it. A force coming from her. The way she kept control of it all.

“Open your mouth,” she ordered, only barely pulled away from my lips, I could feel her breath moving against my mouth as she said the words. She kept her hands on my hips, my ribcage, positioning me where she wanted me. She sucked my tongue, hard. “Like your tiny cock,” she whispered into my ear, grinning. She bit my bottom lip, drew blood, leaving teeth marks inside that I continued touching with my tongue all night.

Most of the time, it made me want to take her all the more. Fight her for control, push her down and restrain her arms so she couldn’t restrain mine.

Sometimes, though, I sunk into the refuge of submission, the giving-over of my body and mouth and, later, cunt. I not only let her guide me through the kisses, I tried to ask her to. Tried to ask her with my body and gestures and movement and open mouth.

I spent the evening fighting my impulses, the ones to take control. Push her down on the bed and tilt her pelvis back to slide my hand inside. Instead, she flipped me onto my back (I stopped struggling), and said, “Do you have something you want me to fuck you with?”

I inhaled. Sharply. Caught off guard, not the first time that night. “Yes, I think … I do.” Damn. Submission stirred somewhere deep in me, my stomach, between my legs, and I wanted her to take me like that, wanted to feel full, feel splayed open, feel cradled. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable, but I trusted her with my body in a way that felt new, considering I barely knew her. Maybe that’s why it was safe. Maybe it was because of the way she knew how to touch me, knew how to unwrap my breasts, finger the back of my neck, press against my thigh, just how I like it.

And I was suddenly grateful she knew how to take control, I was feeling fuzzy-headed and uncertain around her. Was that the submission? Could be. I certainly don’t usually feel that way when I’m in charge. I got my pink cock out, wrestled in the toybox to find an unlubed condom. I’d never been fucked with it.

She eased back on top of me, hips against mine, legs scissored together. Hands on my hips, my inner thigh, my breasts. Squeezing hard, sometimes painfully. I loved it. Brought me to the edge of my body and made me cry out, made everything sensitive, made everything feel. I attempted to keep quiet.

Her kisses made my vision and the palms of my hands blurry and taut. It was hard not to press her shoulders to the bed and ease my thighs between hers, press her knees apart. Tear at her hair. But there was also such sweetness, such precision, such tenderness between us – I wanted that, too, but I wanted more, I wanted to feel her pressing me open from inside, I wanted my cock in her mouth, I wanted, wanted, wanted.

Desire rose and fell on an isotope slope, gripping me fiercely. She knew just how to pull want from this body of mine. After a particularly efficacious kiss, I spiraled, eyes rolling, hips bucking. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to be opened by her.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, as she held herself above me, inches away, “please.”

Her eyes flashed and she grinned. Held my gaze, my open face, steady for a moment. “Can I go down on you?”

“Oh, god yes,” I breathed out. Please do, yes, god yes, echoed in my head, and though she may have liked it I’d (further) begged, I was glad I didn’t say it. It was hard enough for me to ask for it once.

How did she know so well what I like? … It occurs to me now that she’s read, among other things, the extensive sex survey/interview of myself, and there is a lot – quite a lot – of personal preferences listed there. I should send that to all my lovers before we fuck. (Just kidding.)

6 Comments | Category: The Femme Top, stories to turn you on | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

keeping my desire in check

Posted on October 10, 2006 in Allyson, stories to turn you on | 5 Comments

She and I spoke last night. Not Callie, not the ex girlfriend, but the girl I’ve known for eight years whom I went to visit this past weekend. As we talked she was lying on her couch, one arm over her head, one leg over the back of the couch, and I know exactly how that looks. Exactly how her living room is configured.“I can’t stop thinking about your skin,” I said. “About you, naked on your couch.”

“You want me naked on my couch?” she asked.

“Yes.”

And then she was. She said, “You’ve got my hands and my mind wandering.”

We talked about the things we didn’t get to do. Her mouth on my cock. (Why didn’t we do that?!) I wanted to have her in every room in her house, though that would’ve taken some coordinating. I wanted to get my cock out more, and she wanted to ask me to get my cock out more, but got shy and didn’t. I wish she would have. She wishes she would have. Why didn’t we do that? I wish I would’ve been more bold about it.

I guess I still get that twinge of “reproducing the gender/sexual binary,” “women fucking women isn’t about a cock, that’s exactly the point,” and “there’s plenty to do without it” …

Well, lesson learned. I know what I want. At least fifty percent of the time. Maybe seventy percent.

You would think I am pretty good at getting what I want. At asking for what I want, or setting it up. And I knew she wanted to feel my cock inside her, feel my weight on top of her. We’ve talked about this for years, literally. I remember calling her after I bought my very first strap-on. What year was that? 2000? So small, in retrospect, with a vinyl harness. Tsk tsk. I was so young back then. Now, I have half a dozen beautiful cocks of different sizes & shapes and three harnesses, though the one I usually use is a thin O-ring harness because it is very small, and therefore the easiest with which to pack. Plus, the jock-strap style of the thin straps hits my clit perfectly and can actually get me off while fucking, which is incredible. Incredible.

I get hard just thinking about it.

“I like that you know what my cocks look like,” I said. “Now when I tell you I’m putting on my red one, squeezing lube onto my fingers, and taking my cock in my hand, you know what that looks like.”

“Wouldn’t it have been nice,” she said, “if, when we’d gotten home from the battlefield, instead of just fingering me in the kitchen, you’d bent me over the counter and fucked me?”

“Um … yes.” Fuck.

“I’m getting up, I’m moving into the kitchen. ‘Cause now, you know what that looks like. And I can bend over the counter and imagine you fucking me.”

Oh god, this girl.

I cleared my throat. I will keep my desire in check. I will not lose control. “The counter seems a little high. Is it comfortable?”

“Not really. I’m on my tiptoes.”

“The kitchen table might be a better height. It’s glass though, it might be kind of chilly, or sharp on the edges.” I assessed every surface in her house for its fuckability.

She moved to the kitchen doorway. Told me she wants to remember how it felt when I lifted her hands over her head, pressed my hips into her into the door so she couldn’t move.

I told her, if I was there now, I wouldn’t let her linger in the doorway. I would push her onto the table a little too roughly.

She gasped as she laid herself on the tabletop. Her torso was bare, nipples against the cold glass.

“Is it the right height?” I asked. (It is. I already know it is.)

“Yes. Cold.” She whispered into the phone.

“Remember my mouth next to your ear?” I started. “Remember my fist in your hair? Remember how it feels to have me standing behind you, my hand pressing between your shoulderblades?”

I whispered, “I’m going to slide inside you … ”

Tangle my fingers in your hair and grab a fistful. Crane your neck just a little. Watch your mouth open and gasp and your breath fogs the glass, feeling the tip of my red cock against your pink pussy. I’d move the dick to curve down instead of up so it would hit still your clit from inside. Your cheek against the cold, smooth surface. Pushing your legs apart, hand between your thighs, pulling on your flesh, fingers on your outer labia so I can hold you open. Slide inside you slow. Gripping your hip with my right hand. Sliding my arm under you to cradle your waist as I keep sliding in and out, in and out, harder, a little harder, a little faster.I will lose myself in this position. I will lose control. I will not keep my desire in check, I will begin to slide inside faster, hips bucking against you in a rhythm and pattern coming from inside me, a fierceness I never remember I have. After a while it stops becoming even an in-out motion and just becomes me vibrating, grinding hard at every angle, every circular motion, feeling your muscles pull on my cock which pulls on the strap between my legs, rubs against my clit.

Like that. Yes.

And my thighs pressed together, clit straining to be touched, to be pressed against the base of my cock thrusting into you.

Yes, like that. Like that. Oh god.

“Are you touching your clit?” I asked. “While I fuck you? Remember what it felt like to have my cock inside you?”

She groaned. Gasped. Made all those little noises that I knew, that I’d heard next to my ear, whispered into my neck, that I’d pressed out from inside of her.

God I loved making her come. Every fucking time. Surprising, and so beautiful.

One of my favorite moments was at dinner, at her favorite Italian restaurant where I drank too much wine and got her to talk about theatre, about the show she did recently, about what she’s going to do next. She was so animated. Luminous. I just watched her from across the table, her eyes shining, skin glowing, hair tussled from all the sex.

She had excellent after-sex hair. All curvy and full of waves and body. Mine was horrible: typical boycut-number-four which goes flat and gets cowlicks if it isn’t carefully sculpted.

She said one of her favorite moments of the weekend was when we were at the rock show on Saturday night. It was hot inside, though cold outside, and she carried her thin jacket until I took it from her, folded it gently and draped it over my arm. Held it for her all night.

Later, back outside, I held it for her while she slid her arms into it. She said felt taken care of. Like a girl.

And I felt butch. Tough and indestructible and oh-so-honored that this beautiful creature would even consider letting me hold her jacket (let alone all the things that I was to do to her later that night). I wanted everyone to see that I had taken it from her, that I was holding it for her. I kept one hand on the small of her back, kept touching the hem of her shirt, feeling the knitted fabric between my fingers. Remembering how the folds of her labia felt just as soft.

She also said there was an alley outside that building that would’ve been a perfect place in which to fuck. Damn, if only I’d known.

It’s been hard to separate from her since I’ve returned home. But she knows I am in no place to give my heart away. She knows my limitations.

She’s reading this right now.

5 Comments | Category: Allyson, stories to turn you on | Tags: , , , , , ,

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