Before, they would wander and grasp desperately for any sort of positive reinforcement but I couldn’t offer it. There was no sensitive spots screaming or even whispering “Yes” for me to echo. Now, I crave them more than any other part. If I said I don’t know what happened, I would be lying. What happened is that I have come alive, experiencing sensations like never before. Now, I find myself wanting his hands more than ever. I desire the pressure, stronger than his tongue or cock. The way his fingers can curl this way or that and the variety in their touch.

Being a “hands-on” kind of person, reading this is quite… good.

I was besotted, completely immersed in thoughts of her as I clutched at the sheets and strummed my own flesh. I thought about how wet she became around me, how hard her nipples grew, our flirting evident in both of our bodies, the need to satiate the other at the very surface. I thought about the first time I tasted her, slipping my fingers in between her delicate folds, opening her slowly with each gentle thrust as my tongue flickered over her clitoris…

A delicious slice of fantasy.  Sometimes you don’t need the person— the mere thought alone (or in this case, scent) can be just as powerful, if not more.

And speaking of Library Vixen…

It passes almost as soon as it enters and my thoughts turn to you looking at my picture as my hand moves down my body into my pajama bottoms, I was curious to see if I was wet. I was. Easily I slide my fingers between the plump lips into the stickiness of my thoughts.

Writing in my mind, I wonder if you will like what I write this morning, sentences begin to structure and form. As I compose, I sink two fingers into the kitty; I tighten around them and keep them there, then with my other hand I push them in deeper. I slowly bring them back out and between the two wet fingers I caress my clit, feeling it grow beneath my touch. My recollection takes me back to the library where you are about to go down on me…I try to recall your words—“my desire to taste her is overwhelming,” I instantly feel my kitty clench at this contemplation, I comply by again plunging my fingers into the wetness of my cunt, which now longing to be taken care of.

I have mornings like these.  Well, except that it’s usually somewhere in the neighborhood of 4:29 AM, and I’m a man.  So, in some way, I don’t have mornings like these.

But I really wish I did.

Promiscuity and casual sex are not bad things. They can both be very lovely. However, self-respect and putting yourself first should be the requirements! Can you imagine this message given to girls?

Sally: Mom, I think Bill is really cute, but I just don’t know about him. I am not sure I am ready to go all the way with him.

Mom: Well dear, are your masturbating to orgasm? You know what I always say, you can’t be a good lover to someone else, until you are a good lover to the most important person in your life!

Sally: But mom, maybe he can help me feel sexier and get more in the mood.

Mom: Pish posh, young lady! If you want to grow up to be a proper, open woman with a healthy life, you need to take control of your own body. Now I am going to give you my credit card, and you go down to the local Toys in Babeland and they will help you out! This is your health, young lady, and you need to take it seriously!

I really think just two new words are not enough.  I agree on the general point— the vocabulary we have is inadequate.  We are left trying to describe the difference as “sex-positive,” and “open.“  But as aag and her friend point out, these words already have their own weight.  “Promiscuous” has its own connotations, and I’m afraid that while it looks like it might fit, it sadly won’t.  Kind of like how the word “slut” gets (ab)used.

There is a difference.  It should be known, acknowledged, and by all means recognized.  It’s about respect: not just from others, but from within.

Sadly, I don’t think we can (so easily) come up with a label, or a way to make this distinction.  Like all forms of self-discovery and truth-seeking, sex and our sexual identities is only possible to experience.  As much as I believe we can read about it, learn from it, and be informed, it’s my gut feeling that much of it has to be learned on our own.  After the lessons (however difficult) sink in, the words, writings, and perspectives of others will make sense.

And with that, I regrettably don’t have anything to add.

Many of you already know that one of my favorites Library Vixen’s blog has been shut down last week by Blogger. When I noticed that Library Vixen’s blog was under the review by Blogger, I was quite suprised by it. I believe she had the adult content warning to her blog, therefore, the readers who proceeded to read her blog should have known about the content of her blog.

True, her blog was very raw and passionate. I really loved the way she presented her life through her sexuality. It was honest. But even when she warned the readers about the content of her blog, there were people who chose to haunt her down – it’s very disappointing. I have added the content warning since last week because of it. I’m not sure just how far is too far to tell our stories to the world—for you to read.

I’ve always thought Blogger’s “adult content” click-through warning was a little bit of an annoying shit.  And going further down this path, their terms of service is vague.  Here’s the thing: most blogging platforms are like this.

Admittedly, any service is going to be held liable for the content, even though this is an entirely unfair concept.  It’s akin to blaming the ISP, webhost, and browser for a pornography-related website.  Would you sue the television channel for airing an explicit show— wait, that’s already been done.  So how far is too far?  Perhaps we are already there.  And I’m sorry to be so harsh about this one example, but applying self-censorship or an obtrusive warning is pretty much agreeing and kowtowing.

Listen, it’s the Internet.  With anything else, the answer is this: if you don’t like it, leave.  Close the browser.  Go elsewhere.  There is always a choice.

The only way to have true control over your writing is to pony up the money and effort to host your own blog, website, or whatever.  Don’t play under someone else’s rules, don’t give away the ownership to your own work.  Simple as that.

Oh, and Library Vixen’s new blog is here.  Good work, enjoy the freedom.

It had been a long time since we fucked at his place – his bed has so much more bounce than mine that I was having a bit of trouble matching his pace as I began to quicken my movements. He sensed that I needed to be fucked hard and fast, so he grabbed me and held me close and still and began fucking me rapidly from underneath.

It was exactly what I needed.

There is something mouth-watering about reading someone else’s satisfaction.  A tug at the tensile strands of our own needs and wants, suddenly at the forefront of our minds, maybe.