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  1. Jesus, Virginity, and Anal Sex

    November 18, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    I shared this hilarious video from Garfunkel and Oates on Facebook the other night because well, it’s pretty fucking fantastic. But after I watched it the second, okay, fifth time, I realized it skimmed along the same conversation I’d had with my teenage daughter about anal sex, but in reverse. Minus the Jesus part. Oh, and the clitoris being Satan’s doorbell, but other than that, it was pretty close. And as a sex-positive parent, it’s my job to teach her anal sex isn’t a loophole, it’s a choice– HER choice. Also, Jesus doesn’t belong in anyone’s holes. Wait…


  2. Porn Stars Explain Net Neutrality

    November 15, 2014 by Heather Cole

    The words “net neutrality” have been bandied about a lot these days. There’s a current smear campaign by Senator Ted Cruz sweeping across social media and the media in general. This tidbit came from Twitter: “‘Net Neutrality’ is Obamacare for the Internet; the Internet should not operate at the speed of government.” But if you know anything about this issue, then you know net neutrality is about the control of bandwidth which, in turn, controls content.

    Here’s my favorite post so far explaining the ins and outs. Heh. In and out…

    DEAR SENATOR TED CRUZ by The Oatmeal

    Comcast bullying Netflix into paying them millions of dollars to grant their viewers access to view Netflix content was surreal. And they got away with it! Now the issue is in the spotlight again, because people like Senator Ted Cruz want to base how the net operates on money. Those who pay the most, like Comcast, get the best speeds and unfettered content. Low income families, on the other hand, will be shafted. In the daily struggle of existence in poverty, do you think high internet fees are a priority?

    The beauty of the internet is that it’s a great equalizer. People come together that normally would never have met in our physical reality. The internet doesn’t care what your household income is or if you’re in your mother’s basement. The internet is this swirling mess of freedom and chaos that’s accessible to everyone, and I really want to keep it that way. You should too.

    Just in case you were still confused about why this applies to your life, let these lovely porn stars enlighten you. *giggle*

     


  3. Playing Big Sister in Age Play

    November 14, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Girl with lots of sweets. Anime style.

     

    A friend asked me to help with a BDSM scene. A long-time associate of hers, Jimmy, enjoyed wearing diapers, liked humiliation, anal penetration, and age play. My friend would take the role of “Mommy,” but she needed someone to be the big sister. Since I had the schoolgirl skirt and Mary Janes, I figured why the hell not? The idea of being someone’s kinky fairy godmother and making their fantasy come true appealed to me, even if I was slightly nervous about what that would entail exactly.

    I wore my short plaid skirt, ruffled white shirt, and pulled my hair into pigtails. I grabbed a long coat that hid my costume so I wouldn’t alarm the neighbors, and I set out for Mommy’s play space. I always get a case of the butterflies before a scene, even when I’m not the focus of the action, and I wondered what Jimmy would be like. I didn’t have much experience with age play outside of my own D/s relationship, and I worried that I wouldn’t know how to play “correctly,” as if there even was such a thing.

    The stereotype of Dominant women was that they wore latex or black leather all the time, and strode around in heels with a whip in hand. I had never seen my friend wearing any of that, and when I arrived, she was dressed in black skinny jeans, a scarlet red top, and heels. She didn’t need head-to-toe leather to appear dominant. It was in the way she moved, her energy, and the instructions she gave me. She assured me that I’d be fine and should follow her lead. I nodded and crossed my fingers that she would be right.

    Jimmy was a man in his fifties with graying hair and casual clothes. He was shorter than me with a compact frame and quiet disposition. He smiled at me like we were meeting for the first time at a coffee shop and not in a room with multi-colored sex toys and large bottles of lube residing along one wall. He shook my hand and didn’t appear nervous at all when Mommy introduced me as Heather, his big sister. She then turned to me to explain that Jimmy was my new adopted baby brother. I smiled at him and welcomed him to our happy family, and then Mommy got down to the business of taking care of baby.

    Mommy told him to take his clothes off, and then we all traipsed to the bathroom so that he could “get clean.” I twirled my hair and lounged against the door frame as Mommy cleaned Jimmy’s penis and balls with wet wipes. She explained to me that dirty boys needed to be cleaned, especially naughty boys who liked to play with themselves. Mommy asked him if he had saved himself for her, and he nodded. Then she snapped her latex glove and told him to bend over, so she could inspect her efforts. Jimmy obligingly parted his ass cheeks, and Mommy stuck a finger into his anus. He gave a soft moan as she slowly moved in and out of the tight hole. I watched his cock harden with her attentions, and she gave Jimmy permission to stroke himself.

    My posture may have been casual, but I found their interactions fascinating. It was the first time that I’d participated in a scene with a male submissive where I could observe and absorb the dynamic. Usually I was the receiver of the dominance and sadism, but in this particular situation, I had a front row seat.

    “You’re not allowed to come,” she warned him. “If you come close to orgasm before I give you permission, you may beg me for mercy.”

    “Yes, Mommy,” he replied in a breathless voice.

    With the inspection finished, Mommy withdrew her finger and tossed her gloves into the trash. “Let’s get you into your diaper, baby.”

    We walked back into the other room, and Mommy laid out all the items she would need for Jimmy’s change. Talcum powder and a large adult-sized diaper with blue sail boats sat beside the massage table. She instructed him to lie down with his bottom on the diaper and his legs spread, and then she turned to me. My task was to sit between his legs and powder him. I nervously grabbed the baby powder and eyed Jimmy’s penis. In retrospect I should have focused more on the sensual feeling of powder on skin, but all I could think about was making the powder go where I wanted. I squeezed too hard, and a giant plume of white powder puffed into the air. I suddenly got a case of the giggles.

    Mommy made clucking noises with her tongue and shooed me off the table. She neatly fastened Jimmy’s diaper. Then she handed me a coloring book and crayons.

    “You two can color, while I get a few things from downstairs. Look after your brother, Heather, and be a good girl.”

    “Yes, Mommy,” I said and put the coloring book on the floor. “We can color here, Jimmy.”

    We shared the crayons and began coloring a Ninja Turtle. Spread out on our stomachs with our legs in the air, I felt exactly like the little girl I was supposed to be playing.

    “You’re pretty,” Jimmy said.

    “Thanks, little brother.” I could feel a slow grin tug at my lips, a plan forming in my mind. “So tell me, Jimmy, are you a good boy or a bad boy?

    Jimmy heaved a loud sigh and furiously colored a turtle’s mask orange. “I try to be good, but I always seem to get into trouble somehow. How about you, Heather? Are you a good girl?”

    “Oh Jimmy, I am most definitely not a good girl.” And to prove my point, I broke my purple crayon in half and threw it across the room.

    Jimmy gasped, so I did it again. This time with a green crayon. “Let’s see if Mommy notices.”

    There was the click of the doorknob turning, and the door swung open. Part of me felt very naughty, and I couldn’t look up to meet Mommy’s eyes. I watched her heels cross the carpet, a flush stealing over my cheeks.

    “Have you two been good?” she asked.

    “Mommy, Heather broke two crayons!” Jimmy yelled.

    I had marked Jimmy as a goody-two-shoes from the beginning, and he had played his part perfectly. It took all my control not to burst into giggles again. Mommy frowned at me.

    “Heather, that is very bad. I’m going to have to punish you.”

    I tried to stifle my grin. “Oh no, Mommy. That would be terrible.”

    She shook her head at my obvious glee and motioned for Jimmy to get back up on the table. “I’m going to spank Heather, and since you’ve been a good boy, you may pleasure yourself while you watch.”

    As Jimmy settled himself, she unfastened his diaper and handed him a Hitachi. She warned him again that he had to announce if he was close to orgasm. The Hitachi buzzed to life, and Mommy pulled me over to a bench against the wall. I went over her lap, my ass sticking prominently into the air. With a few tugs, she had my white cotton panties around my knees, and I felt the first sting of her palm on my buttocks.

    I adored a good spanking, and I hadn’t had one for a long time. Mommy found a rhythm, and I closed my eyes to relish the feeling of stimulation and helplessness. Her fingers landed tantalizingly close to my pussy, and it was no stretch for my imagination to envision something even more personal happening. She switched to a closed fist when her hand tired, and the firm impact of her fist on the meat of my ass pushed me even closer to orgasm.

    “I think she’s enjoying her punishment a lot, Mommy,” Jimmy commented.

    “I think so too, baby, and your sister has such a nice ass to punish.”

    I squirmed on her lap and looked over to see Jimmy fully erect as he smoothed the Hitachi along the length of his shaft.

    “Let’s switch,” Mommy said and helped me stand up. Then it was Jimmy’s turn to receive Mommy’s attention, and she made him lie down on a medical pad she had spread on the floor. His diaper was discarded, and Mommy donned another pair of latex gloves.

    “Stand over his head, Heather, and let him see you.”

    I blushed and did as I was told, gratified when I heard Jimmy’s breathing increase. Mommy lubed up her fingers and pushed two into his anus as she worked the Hitachi up and down his cock. The effect was immediate, and Jimmy moaned his pleasure. I let one of my fingers skim the edge of my short skirt to find the thicket of hair at the junction of my thighs. I didn’t have to see his face below to know that Jimmy was watching.

    “See, little brother? I love being naughty,” I murmured, stroking my labia with a finger.

    Jimmy writhed against the floor, breathing hard. “I’m close, Mommy!”

    “Good baby. Good Jimmy. Come for Mommy.”

    And he did.

     


  4. Betrayed by My Girly Bits

    November 7, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    Madamenoire.com image

    Photo credit:  Madamenoire.com

    For nearly three years now, I’ve felt as if I’ve been betrayed by my girly bits. I had unexplained pain in and around my vagina that was often accompanied by a raw sensation and a dull ache along my inner thighs. The pain seemed to wax mid-cycle and wane when my period came. I stopped taking the medication I had been given to lighten my heavy flow, because for whatever reason, with the blood came relief. I tried to avoid things that would spark a flare up, like sitting on a hard chair for long periods of time and wearing non-breathable workout pants made of lycra. Not that it really made much of a difference, though. I finally realized if the pain was coming, there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

    The uncomfortable state of my vagina and vulva has led to numerous doctor visits, referrals that didn’t seem to make sense, and thousands of dollars spent on lab bills. And with no definitive diagnosis for the pain that ruled my life, I left every appointment with false hope and unnecessary prescriptions– antibiotics that wreaked havoc with the delicate balance of my vaginal ecosystem, and anti-fungals and yeast infection creams that have made my skin ridiculously sensitive. Not to mention the buckets for the gallons of tears I’ve cried.

    Again and again, I thought back to when the trouble began, wondering if the laser hair removal I’d had could have been a culprit, but my technician, doctors, and the internet didn’t seem to think so. Or maybe the wicked bacterial infection from the embarrassing anal-to-vaginal fuck-up was the underlying issue. Maybe I still had BV or another stubborn yeast infection and they couldn’t see it; maybe the plethora of tests had been wrong. I wondered what I’d done to deserve it.

    Other than Heather, I rarely shared the details of my Vagina Report with anyone. Not even Mr. K received the daily updates. The chronic pain didn’t affect our sex life, so I kept him in the dark about the severity of it. I was his sex object; his fantasy come to life, and I worried that constantly moaning about my painful vagina would tarnish his image of me; make me less sexy in his eyes. I hardly complained to him because I was the best girlfriend ever, but when I say my vagina was always in my thoughts, it’s far from an exaggeration. I was always aware of it, even in my sleep. I had dreams of painful sex with hemorrhoid cream used as lube, and nightmares of raging infections. Laugh if you will, but I woke up in tears. Not from pain, mind you, but from fear I would never feel normal again.

    What was wrong with me was a question that plagued me. All I wanted was to find the answer–whatever it may have been–so I could deal with it and move past the non-stop worry. I feared I had some sort of disease or infection that was undetectable, or worse, one they hadn’t even discovered yet. I panicked over every little bump, raw spot, or twinge, spending sleepless nights on the internet trying to match it to SOMETHING. The stress of it quickly wore a ‘worse-case-scenario’ pattern through my brain.

    Then I met a Nurse Practioner who took one look at my nether region and said, “That looks dermatological to me.”

    “Are you fucking kidding me?”

    “Nope. Change to Tone soap, Dreft detergent, and two rinse cycles.”

    With renewed hope of a pain-free vagina, I wanted to jump down from the examination table and give her a super big hug–pantsless.

    In a big way, she was right, and within a few days of following through with her recommended changes, I felt huge improvement and an even bigger wave of relief. As time passed, though, the pain didn’t go away completely, so I underwent a battery of repeat tests, receiving the same negative results. And when the ache escalated to it’s original intensity and the raw sensation returned, I sat on the table begging my Nurse Practioner for help, but she was already halfway out of the room, dismissing my pleas. She said there was nothing wrong with me, but my vagina said there was.

    Deflated and determined to find an answer, I turned to the internets, who had been my self-diagnosis enemy in the past, but this time it gave me what I was looking for– Vulvodynia. My constant vulvar pain seemed to fall within the realm of the disorder, but when I asked my NP about it, she said there was no way to test for it and gave me a recipe for making Boric Acid capsules to reset the balance inside my vagina.

    I’m sorry, what?

    Vulvodynia is defined as chronic vulvar pain, possibly triggered by trauma, infections, overuse of medications, or nothing in particular. How’s that for non-definitive? Basically, it’s nerve pain, which brought my mother to mind because she suffers from Fibromyalgia. I had to wonder if there was some hereditary correlation there, and if that’s the case, thanks a fuckload, Mom.

    Anyway, after reading thread after thread in Vulvodynia support groups, I noticed a lot of women–especially perimenopausal women–saw a drastic improvement in their degree of pain when taking Calcium Sulfate. Great. Another supplement to waste money on. I bought it, though, expecting nothing more than temporary relief, if it helped at all. But that wasn’t the case, and within hours of taking the first pill, the pain had disappeared– VANISHED.

    I don’t know what it is about that particular supplement that wrestled my vulvar pain and won, but I do know I feel like a super huge weight has been lifted from my loins. I don’t freak-out over the raw sensation or the shooting pain through the left side of my vagina anymore because they’re gone. I still have to stay away from scented products, and lycra workout pants will throw my vulva into a bona fide hissy fit, but I’m learning to manage my delicate nature. At risk of sounding cheesy, I feel like a woman again–a sexual one, and I don’t feel my vagina these days unless I want to.


  5. Secret Lives Anthology is HOT! (off the press)

    October 31, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Recently I had the opportunity to write a short story for the anthology, SECRET LIVES, and I’m so proud of what we accomplished.

    Seven Sexy Stories of Supernatural Secrets

    Inside you’ll find 70,000 words of erotic paranormal romance featuring shifters, ghosts, vampires, aliens and all sorts of sexy creatures that like to go bump in the night.

    Tempted by Blood by Jacqueline Sweet—When the boy you love won’t give you what you need, maybe his evil twin will.

    Knights in White Bondage by A. Regina Cantatis—An enchanted thrall and her Mistress visit a fetish resort, where they fascinate their fellow guests and attract the attention of a would-be knight in shining armor.

    Forking Around by Audrey Lusk—When you see the world differently from everyone else, it takes something unseen to make it a less lonely place.

    Mrs. Wong’s by Troy King—Take one jaded fixer, one mysterious young woman, a dash of magick, add a seedy dive, and mix thoroughly.

    Spooked by Ruby Madden—When Clementine inherits an aging Victorian mansion from her late aunt, never did she suspect she’d uncover a mysterious secret about a lover from the past, brought to the present, in the form of a ghost.

    A Dangerous Seduction by Heather Cole—Soledad has everyone fooled that she’s an ordinary librarian until a mysterious shapeshifter makes her want to reveal more than just her true identity.

    Vixen by Christin Lovell—Plus size Jessickah Banderkoff is a bartender by day, a guardian to the Underworld’s Kingdom by evening, and the vampire king’s lover by night, but every good thing must come to an end, right?

    And it’s only $.99 on Kindle!

     

    My story introduces Soledad, a librarian with a dark past. All she wants is to blend with the supernatural community and succeed at her prestigious job at the first paranormal library in the United States. Fate has other ideas, and when she runs into (literally) a strange shapeshifter, Sole considers revealing everything.

     

    Secret Lives-7-erotica

     

     

     

     

     


  6. Heather Orgasms in Public

    October 30, 2014 by Heather Cole

    sexy legs 2 VA

     

     

    Last Thursday found me seated in a plush, purple chair, surrounded by curious university students from freshmen to grads. I was the hypnosis subject for a presentation to the alternative sexualities group on campus, and my assignment was to go under in order to demonstrate the erotic applications of hypnosis. All I had to do was sit back, close my eyes, and mentally walk down the circular, marble stairway, my hand gliding along the cool wrought iron. At the bottom would be a big, leather chair in front of a fireplace, and once I sat down and relaxed, the real adventure would begin. I had done this a hundred times with my master and my kinky friend, Kuma, but these were complete strangers, some of them from traditional backgrounds with little exposure to kink.

    The students were a diverse lot, both in ethnicity and in sexual orientation. Many of them identified as kinky, but not all. And there were several representatives from the debate team. The overall feeling was one of welcome and inclusion, so even though I had a case of the butterflies, I felt safe, which was a crucial component of being hypnotized.

    I had my hair back in two buns and wore my favorite red dress which made me look like June Cleaver complete with ballet flats. On the drive to the university, Kuma said he knew exactly how to introduce me, and that I was the perfect example of ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ Later, even though I knew the intro was coming, I still blushed when he said, “Heather looks like a soccer mom, but she’s owned property 24/7 and a dirty little slut.” It was a great icebreaker. *snort*

    Kuma began his presentation and gave an overview of hypnosis, eventually addressing the topic at hand: how to use hypnosis in an erotic context. We had discussed my preferred method of induction in the car, and he first walked me through a basic relaxation technique. I closed my eyes and deepened my breathing, my focus centering on the journey within. My nervousness dispelled with the familiar sensations of letting go of consciousness. The world dwindled to the present moment, and nothing existed but the voice in my ear and my breathing. I was lying on my back in the sea, my body buoyed by gentle swells as I stared up at the blanket of stars above me. I relaxed further as I floated, and then I was walking down the grand staircase, and at the bottom I found the chair and fire. I knew these places as well as I knew my bedroom and kitchen at home. It was like saying hello to old friends and sitting down beside them for a chat.

    Kuma first instructed me to remember everything upon awakening, so I could answer questions about my experience later. After the logistics were out of the way, he described a purple collar that I was wearing around my neck. Slowly it began to constrict as my fingers clawed against the leather in a vain attempt to remove it. Kuma told me I couldn’t breathe, and he was right. I gasped for air, and my face felt hot with the effort to draw in a breath. Finally he released the collar, and I collapsed back in the chair, sucking air deep into my lungs.

    During hypnosis part of my brain took a vacation. I don’t know any other way to describe it. Gone was my sense of self and ego. When I looked back at the experience, I was a robot Barbie version of myself. My focus was pure; there was the voice commanding me to do things and the desire I had to fulfill those commands. It was a place of simplicity and obedience, which was why I enjoyed it so much.

    After the ever-tightening collar, Kuma’s wicked fingertips rained liquid fire across my body. Everywhere he touched me, my skin burned as if he placed the hot tip of a match against my flesh. Later he told me that my skin had reddened wherever he made contact, but because my eyes were closed, I didn’t see it. I only knew that it hurt, and I couldn’t get away.

    And then there were the orgasms. Captive in my cocoon of hypnotic suggestion, I had three powerful orgasms in front of complete strangers. My body bowed with overwhelming pleasure, played like an instrument and completely out of my control.

    When Kuma finally brought me out of hypnosis, my hands were “glued” to the wall. It was such a mind fuck to know that there was no rational reason that my hands were stuck. I knew intellectually that I should have been able to pull away and sit down, and yet, I couldn’t. It was a mindfuck in its most direct form, and I had consented to it. Sometimes I have to shake my head at the boundaries I’m willing to push, and I’m grateful down to my tippy-toes that I have trustworthy friends that will take me to those places safely.

    The discussion that ensued was lively and warm. There were others in the audience who had experiences of being hypnotized, and one young woman went under when I did. Kuma attempted a group hypnosis with some success, and I had the chance to ask others about their hypnosis experiences. Overall it was a great evening, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

    Late that night when I was home and in bed, I reviewed the evening and wrote a long email to sir about it. I felt a twist of sadness that he couldn’t be with me, that it wasn’t his voice coaxing me down the stairway or his reassuring presence in the chair beside me. Later he replied that we would try an induction long distance, to see if he could hypnotize me through Skype. I’m not holding my breath, but as all things with my sir, it will certainly be an adventure.

     


  7. The Problem with Hardcore Pornography

    October 25, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    internet pornography

    Yesterday, Kayla Lords shared Upworthy’s  video on Facebook of Cindy Gallop talking about how hardcore porn is defining the way sex should be. She said, “There’s an entire generation growing up that believes what you see in hardcore pornography is the way you have sex.”

    That’s a pretty powerful statement, and a super big problem.

    As a mother of two teenagers, it’s my responsibility to make sure they understand they have a right to choose what happens during a sexual encounter when that day comes. Pornography won’t sexually educate my children, I will.

    I also think hardcore pornography influences more than just how the younger generation thinks sex should be. I believe it gives mature men misleading ideas about the sexual nature of women, including ridiculous notions such as all women get wet while watching the young carpenter fix the broken step on the back porch, or that women are dying to suck the UPS man’s cock when he delivers a package. That may be the case for some women, but chances are, it’s not for most. Not all ladies possess the skill or adore deep throating either. Just sayin’. So that, in my opinion, adds to the problem with hardcore pornography.

    Anyway, watch Cindy’s video and check out her website, MakeLoveNotPorn.com.

    ~Nikki


  8. Why You Should Vote for Sex

    October 14, 2014 by Heather Cole

    images (5)

     

    Everyone is talking about voting. The November elections are just around the corner, and we’ve been talking about the sex elections here as well. In short, you should vote for sex.

     

    You can vote for us at Kinkly:  Kinkly’s 2014 Sex Superheroes Contest

    You can nominate us at Between My Sheets:  2014 Top Sex Bloggers 2014

     

    So why should you take three minutes to vote or nominate Vagina Antics? It’s not like we can make birth control affordable and accessible to women everywhere… or can we? Part of what we strive to do on our blog is expose our readers to sex positive messages. Maybe you love reading about our adventures but wouldn’t do them yourself. That’s OK. We’re not here to convert you or say that we’re holier than thou sexually because we push sexual boundaries.  The point is that regardless of your sexual orientation, gender, or the sexual choices in your personal life, we want y’all to see the breadth of what’s out here. Acceptance and tolerance are direct results of education, and although we’re not formal educators, we try to present sex, kink, and relationships in a positive way. Voting for us is getting the word out, so that we can touch even more people. Um… wait… I mean expose ourselves to new friends. Hold on… that’s not quite right either.

    If you’ve already voted and shared our blog with someone, we thank you from the bottom or our dirty, little hearts. Hell, we thank you for clicking on our blog and reading every week. Without you, we’d be broadcasting Vagina Antics with only my mama reading. (and she tells me all the time that my language is shocking)

    A vote for Vagina Antics is a vote for sex and kink positivity. Damn, we need t-shirts.

    HUGS and *boob smooshes*

    ~Heather


  9. Masturbation Monday: The Cucumber

    October 13, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Cucumber Pic

     

    It’s an old cliche:  the bored housewife decides to use a cucumber as a masturbation device. I had joked about surveying the produce aisle for sex toys, but in all my years as a sexually active woman, I had never placed food in my vagina. In fact, Nikki and I have preached, “NO FOOD IN THE VAG” for as long as we’ve had this blog. Because let’s face it, the vagina is a delicate ladygarden. A cucumber, though, with it’s protective peel and generous girth… I mean, it really gets one’s imagination spinning. Right?!

    Last Wednesday found me seated in a plush chair facing the flatscreen of my computer, my thighs spread wide for sir to see. I was nude and carefully positioned so that I was completely exposed. He stared at me from beneath heavy lidded eyes and gave me instructions in a voice that made goosebumps ripple over my flesh. It didn’t matter to me that half the world separated us physically. He was my Dominant regardless of distance, and despite the prickly feeling of vulnerability, I responded in the same way that I did when he was directly next to me. The man owned me, body and heart. And my responses were partially the product of habit and training, and partly devotion.

    His first command was that I fellate the cucumber. I blinked at him and felt ridiculous, but I did as I was told. I awkwardly placed the wide vegetable in my mouth, the taste of green peel coating my tongue. As sir coached me with encouraging words, I moved the cucumber in and out, pushing it further and further into the back of my throat. It was much wider than my esophagus and could only go so far. With watering eyes, I pulled it out and gasped for air.

    “It’s too big, Daddy,” I said and wiped my eyes.

    “You’re such a good girl to try. I miss your mouth, whore.”

    I blushed and squirmed beneath his gaze, unbidden lust rising inside me. I had been so careful to keep my desires leashed. Shoved inside a steel trunk and wrapped in chains, they had sunk to a shadowy place inside me while I dealt with the sadness of sir’s departure. I had spent weeks mourning the distance that now separated us, and more than one of our calls had consisted of me weeping in front of the computer. My body missed him with a physical ache, but I refused to acknowledge how deeply that sexual need was rooted. Dealing with the day-to-day challenges of missing him filled my time. I wasn’t ready to open the trunk and feel all of that captive sexual energy pour forth.

    A towel stretched beneath me to protect the fabric of the chair from lube and my own juices. A second cucumber and the bottle of lube sat on the table next to the computer, and I had two extra-large condoms nearby as well. Sir’s low voice demanded that I lube up the American cucumber. (The English cucumber was saved for my ass and a later date). I adjusted the angle of my hips so that they were raised slightly and squeezed more lube on to my fingers. My fingers worked the cool liquid around the lips of my pussy and then into the wet heat. I was physically ready, my body responding eagerly to the stimulus and my master’s presence.

    Nervousness made my hand tremble as I placed the cold cucumber at the entrance to my vagina, and in slow increments, I pushed it inside. It felt smooth and alien, stretching me wide. I glanced up at the computer screen to see sir’s eyes widen and a slow grin cross his face.

    “That is so fucking hot,” he said. “Now fuck yourself faster.”

    I complied, my eyes falling to the side as I felt another blush start. Spreading myself open for another person wasn’t exactly new territory for me, but there was something extra dirty about being on camera. Maybe it was the anonymity of it even though I knew the man on the other side intimately. And then there was the foreign object that I used to impale myself. I felt wicked which lent an illicit quality to my masturbation. All these elements combined into a whirlwind that fueled my desire.

    Every thought left my head, though, when I changed the cucumber’s angle to stroke along my G-spot. Suddenly my entire physical awareness snapped to attention, every synapse and nerve focused on the building pressure of an orgasm. My gaze met sir’s in an unspoken question.

    “I want you to get close, but I’m not going to let you come. You’re not permitted to come,” he said sternly.

    I nodded, too engrossed in the pleasure that rolled through my body. I was almost there.

    “Please may I come, Daddy?” I panted.

    “Beg.”

    “Please please please may this girl come, Daddy? Please let this girl come for you.”

    The words slurred in the rush to expel them. My hand slipped along the cucumber that was now slippery with my arousal. I could feel my inner muscles tightening in anticipation of orgasm, and the vibrations, both and internal, almost pushed me over the edge. The fantasy in my head imagined that I could feel

    “Come for me, baby.”

    The orgasm exploded, golden sparks of ecstasy sparking through me. My eyes squeezed shut, and I cried out, the cucumber falling from my hand. Sir murmured his appreciation as I fell back, my legs sprawled like a rag doll.

    “You’re such a dirty girl barebacking a cucumber like that,” he said with a smile.

    I giggled. “I probably should have bought organic.”

    “Thank you, Daddy. This girl is happy to please you.” I made a motion to sit up, but he stopped me.

    “Let yourself relax and enjoy this moment. There’s nothing but me and you. No rush. No responsibilities.”

    Two months ago I would have placed my head on his lap so he could stroke my hair as I basked in the afterglow. That was impossible at the moment, so I smiled and let my eyes drift shut. Sir was right. For this brief space, it was only the two of us again. I loved being there with him, and at the same time, I acknowledged that it was fleeting. We couldn’t remain on Skype forever.

    “Pick up the cucumber, babygirl. I want you to go again.”

    I pushed away the bittersweet thoughts to grab the vegetable. Later I would peel and slice the still-warm cucumber for my salad. Dinner would be eaten alone with the erotic thoughts of my faraway lover and the echoing sensations of our electronic date. First, though, I had to orgasm again.

     

    Want more #masturbationmonday? Check out Kayla Lords’s post and the other steamy, sexy participants!

     

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  10. Kayla Lords is here!

    October 11, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Today we’re chatting up Kayla Lords: mother, author, sex blogger, and kinkster, not to mention a hundred other titles, including submissive to a loving Dominant. This is the time when we’re voting for our favorite sex bloggers, and I admit that I’m constantly lured to Kayla’s blog, A Sexual Being, on a regular basis. That woman knows some kinky fuckery. Let’s give Kayla a warm Vagina Antics welcome!

    Heh. Warm vagina. I SAID IT!

    ~A Further Note from Heather~

    Kayla sent me the press kit for her latest book released today, Bound by Love, which included two excerpts. I posted one of them, towards the bottom of this post, but the second one… well, it was so smokin’ hot that I had to leave my computer for some *cough* alone time. That girl can write. *fans self* 

     

    Heather:  On your bio, you hint at your sexual rebirth which happened in the aftermath of a divorce. You’re a mother of two as well. Nikki and I can both relate to that second-half-of-life overhaul. Can you tell us a little more about your sexual transformation?

    Kayla Lords: Ok, first of all…mmmmmm, warm vagina, mmmmmm. Sorry, I had to bask in the idea of that for a moment. Now, down to business.

    It happened slowly and yet, at the same time, it happened all at once. I have lived in my head for my entire life, always thinking, planning, processing, and making up stories. Since puberty hit, a lot of the stories in my head were sexual. While I was married, I figured it was normal to constantly fantasize about men other than my husband. During the divorce, I was basically an asexual hermit. I didn’t think much about sex, and God knows, I didn’t worry about it. Once I received the divorce papers, I went a little wild. I hooked up with a man 20 years my senior who only wanted weekly booty calls (which was fine with me). After that ended, I met up with an old flame from high school. He and I were SO wrong for one another (hindsight being what it is) but he’s the one who pointed out that I never climaxed with him. He could tell I was close, but I always held back. (The first guy didn’t notice or didn’t care.) He told me point blank that my lack of orgasms was a turn off.

    I was crushed. I had real (albeit fleeting) feelings for him, and I enjoyed sex with him. I turned the problem over in my head for a while. I’d been blogging in the vanilla world for a year or so, and I’d learned that I could blog my way through my problems, thoughts, concerns, and even obsessions. I decided I wanted to figure out how to have an orgasm (since as far as I could tell, I’d never had one) and that I would write about it because I knew I couldn’t possibly be the only one with this problem. I knew I couldn’t use my own name in case I was found by people in my professional world. I also decided I would use this opportunity to get the sexual stories in my head out of my head.

    From there the rest is sort of history. The more I “practiced” masturbating and learning how to let go enough to have an orgasm and the more I wrote and read erotic fantasies, the more comfortable I became with my own sexuality. Now, I forget that the me that lives in the vanilla world isn’t really supposed to talk about kinky sex and masturbation in public. (Oops!)

    Heather:  Is your story, The Adventures of Sir and Babygirl, similar to your journey with your current partner and Dominant? When did you know that you were kinky?

    Kayla Lords:  The identifying details are fairly different but yes, the story is the tale of John Brownstone (aka Southern Sir) and myself. I base Sir’s emotions on what I see from my own Sir/Daddy and what I want him to feel and experience, too. But every emotion that Babygirl has is something I’ve felt at some point – even if the situation is completely different. Writing the books is both cathartic and extremely difficult. I feel like I open myself up even more than I do in my own blog within the book. Writing and then publishing the books makes me feel very vulnerable.

    I had an inkling I might be kinky (even though I didn’t know enough to use that term) when I was still blogging under my real name. I was lurking on all kinds of erotic blogs – refusing to comment but soaking it up. Once I started my blog and created my pen-name, I was free to read and comment where I wanted to. When that happened, a whole new world opened up to me. I loved reading blogs and stories that were BDSM in nature, especially Dominance and submission. I found myself on Tumblr staring at the most extreme photos, squirming in my chair, blushing, and looking over my shoulder to make sure no one could see what I was doing (note: it was midnight in my own home and my kids were asleep!). I’d only been blogging a few months when I finally admitted to myself and the world I might be submissive. When I met my first Dominant and had that experience, there was no doubt. I finally gave myself permission to admit that I like rough sex, I like pain, and I need to submit to a Dominant. The rest since then has been like going to Disney World and trying to decide what ride to go on first – I want to try it all (well, almost all).

    Heather:  What inspired you to start Masturbation Mondays, and how can bloggers/authors get involved?

    Kayla Lords:  Masturbation Monday, as a thing, came about because I’m obsessed with two things – people getting off and my website’s statistics. I get a rush when someone tells me my words made them masturbate or have sex (or at least want to do those things). I like writing something so hot I turn myself on, too. These days, I don’t masturbate without permission and I rarely ask because that’s taken care of for me – when He wants to. LOL

    But I also noticed that the days with the highest views on my site are on Mondays – when I use the hashtag #MasturbationMonday. And the posts with the most views throughout the week were usually Monday posts. I knew it wasn’t because I’m that good of a writer. I knew it had to be something about the hashtag itself. I worked with John (aka SouthernSir) to create a site for Masturbation Monday and admittedly copied a lot of how Marie Rebelle formats Wicked Wednesdays each week (with slight differences).

    The idea is to give writers and bloggers a way to showcase their hot posts plus a reason to blog. The biggest lament from writers and bloggers is that they don’t know what to blog about – a foreign concept to me because I have too much content in my head and not enough time to write, lol. To participate, all anyone has to do is write a post about masturbaton or a post so erotic it makes someone want to masturbate, add a Masturbation Monday badge and link to their post, and then go to the Masturbation Monday weekly post and add their link. I encourage authors to join in by sharing a hot excerpt from a current release – but the focus needs to be on the content not just on selling a book.

    In return, I spend time each week promoting the Masturbation Monday site to writers and readers, and then I go through each post every Monday. I read, comment, and share each post with my own followers on Twitter and Facebook using the hashtag that started it all. I want people to discover new writers. I want writers to get new readers. And, above all, I want to get more people hot and bothered and wanting to masturbate. (For the record, the only “downside” to reading 10-15 erotic posts in one sitting is that I’m decidedly squirmy by the end with no permission to take care of business.)

    Nikki:  As a mother of two young ones, how do you balance parenting, writing, and your kinky lifestyle? Especially since you now live with your Sir.

    Kayla Lords:  The hardest balance is between writing and parenting. The kinky lifestyle isn’t hard at all to balance except that there’s never any time for the really kinky stuff. Let’s start with being kinky and parenting.

    I get this question a lot and I figure some of your readers wonder too (even though both of you do an excellent job of balancing it, from my perspective). Here’s the deal, y’all. I don’t crawl around on the floor, wear a collar, or flash my boobs when my children are around. That’s all private stuff – just like vanilla sex is private and shouldn’t be done in front of children. What my kids see is that I’m respectful to my Dominant, that I take care of him, and when he asks me to do something, I do it. If I disagree, it’s always in a respectful manner. They have no clue they’re seeing kink or a different lifestyle – they see two adults being courteous, respectful, loving, and even playful with one another. The rest is kept behind closed doors or for those really rare occasions when he and I are home but the boys aren’t. We’re already talking about the possibility of the boys visiting their grandparents for part of the summer when school lets out. If that happens, no one will hear from us for weeks because I’ll most likely be trussed up, ball-gagged, and strapped to the Hitachi just to make up for all the times we can’t be kinky.

    Ok, parenting and writing? Oh holy hell, that’s a major balancing act. In order to really write and feel good about it, I have to have complete silence so I can get lost in the words and simply create. I get about three hours a day of uninterrupted time to work – and unfortunately, most of that is spent on the vanilla writing that pays the bills. I have created elaborate ways to get my kinky writing done. Video games are my best friend, and I’ve taught my oldest how to get himself a drink and a snack. On Sunday’s, John plays interference for a couple of hours while I sit down and schedule all my blog posts for the week. After dinner, I might sit and write if it’s something I’ve told myself has to be done immediately – guest posts, contributor stuff, etc. In the afternoons, I might get a few hundred words written, but not even that if even one child is feeling rowdy or ornery. Case in point, answering these questions took 45 minutes longer than I thought it would because of homework, juice, Mario, and kids being kids. Next year will be easier because both boys will be in school all day.

    Nikki:  What is your long term vision for Kayla Lords, author and sex blogger extraordinaire?

    Kayla Lords:  Hmmm, long term? Well, I’d like to actually deserve the title “extraordinaire,” lol. I really enjoy writing and sharing my view of D/s, my erotic thoughts, and all the rest. I can’t imagine that ending any time soon.

    As an author, I hope I’m able to write, publish, and sell enough books that it becomes a viable income. I’m not trying to make a million dollars – simply help pay the bills. Right now, I make so little as an author that I simply pump that little bit I get back into the few costs I have as a writer – graphics, covers, etc. I have plans (very long term) to attend conferences and learn from my fellow writers – and maybe one day share what I’ve learned, too.

    As a blogger? I’d like to help teach people about what D/s looks like in a loving relationship. I’d like to be able to show people that it’s not scary or weird or deviant to want what we want. I’d like to be a good representative to the outside world of what kink can mean. I’m constantly seeking out writing opportunities (free and paid) to write about BDSM for different audiences. I am interested in speaking about it within the lifestyle – not to instruct someone on how to be submissive but to let them know that it’s not just fantasy, it’s real, and this is what it is from my perspective. I also want to help build a community of writers and readers who can learn from one another while still turning each other on.

    As a sexual submissive who lives and creates in the online world, I think I have a responsibility to the D/s community to be a good steward for the community. There’s so much really bad, dangerous information out there that those of us who write about the lifestyle have a duty to share the truth as we know it and to be examples for people. I hope, long term, I can continue to do that, but possibly on a larger scale.

    Nikki:  What are your thoughts on BDSM erotica’s staying power?

    Kayla Lords:  I think BDSM erotica is here to stay. As with anything, it’s popularity will ebb and flow. I’m not a huge fan of 50 Shades of Grey but even I can admit that it brought a lot of people to the lifestyle that might never have otherwise realized what BDSM is. I don’t mean the posers, fakes, and abusers (they were out there already, BDSM just gives them temporary cover until they’re outed). I mean the people who thought their kinky desires were somehow wrong or deviant, that there was something wrong for them for being who they are. There are always going to be people who enjoy some degree of kink – even if they don’t identify as kinky. There will always be people who see BDSM as a forbidden fruit – making it that much more tantalizing. Because of that, BDSM erotica will always be around in some form or fashion – just like it was before 50 Shades debuted. In a couple of years when the 50 Shades frenzy dies down, it’ll be something else, but there will always be someone writing about BDSM somewhere. Hell, I might still be writing kinky shit when I’m 90. You never know!

    Warm, squishy boob hugs to both of you for letting me come play in your freaky corner of the world today! And for giving me a reason to both read, write, and think the words “warm vagina.” Hugs, kisses, and boob flashes to you and all your readers!

     

    Congratulations, Kayla, on your latest release! I thoroughly enjoyed the first Sir and Babygirl story, so I’m super excited to read the next in the series. Thanks so much for talking with us today!

    Click below, y’all, and pick up your copy today!

    Bound_By_Love_cover__Finished (2)

     

     

     

    In the second set of adventures, Sir and Babygirl’s relationship, built on a mutual love of kink and a need for the dominance and submission lifestyle, must move forward or stagnate. Can Babygirl set aside her fears of heartbreak? Will Sir convince his sweet submissive that he loves her completely? And just how many erotic adventures can these two get into as they navigate their growing relationship?

    Find out in the sequel to The Adventures of Sir and Babygirl. This time, Sir and Babygirl are Bound by Love.

    Purchase Links:

    Amazon US: http://amzn.to/YifPW5

    Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1rz6tku

    Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1CG6zds

    Smashwords: http://bit.ly/ZgNxwb

    All Romance:  http://bit.ly/1xj8vWn

     

    Excerpt:  

    The door bell rang. Sir! Katie felt a mixture of relief and stress.

    “I’m so glad you’re here. But I’m so sorry too. The place is a mess. Olivia’s had one tantrum after the other this after – no nap, which is all my fault – and I don’t even have dinner started. I know you expected some-.”

    Sir placed one finger over Katie’s lips, silencing her. “Can I get in the front door, please, Babygirl?”

    Katie nodded. At the sound of Sir’s voice, she felt a sense of peace fill her. One wish had been granted at least. She was his Babygirl from the first word. He smiled as a look of calm washed over her face. Sir replaced his finger with his mouth, kissing her softly.

    Babygirl looked into his eyes, leaning in for more. Chuckling to himself, Sir wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and devoured her mouth with his. Her lips parted, her tongue meeting his. He lapped at her tongue. Sharp teeth teased her lips. She responded with her entire body, wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on tip-toe, as if she would crawl inside of him if she could.

    Sir pulled away, smiling at Babygirl’s swollen lips. He gazed into her eyes, taking in the distant look that replaced the stressed one that greeted him moments before. Taking her hand, he lead her into the living room.

    Sir whistled between his teeth. “Damn. I didn’t realize one little girl could do so much damage.”

    With a slightly calmer tone than before, Babygirl recounted the afternoon’s adventures. As she spoke, tension filled her voice again. Sir snaked his hands over the back of her head, into her hair, and pulled. Her voice trailed off into a whimper.

    “Shhhhh, sweet girl. Sir is here now. We’ll deal with this together, ok?” She nodded, squirming and fidgeting. “Is something wrong, Babygirl?”

    She blushed a deep red. “You make me squirmy, Sir, when you do that.”

    “Do what, Babygirl?” He didn’t hide the amusement from his voice. “This?” He gripped her hair tighter and pulled her head back until she was looking into his eyes. She nodded, whimpering again.

    “You like that, huh? I’ll have to remember that for later.” Sir released his grip on her hair. “Now, let’s deal with the situation at hand, shall we? Can Olivia come downstairs?”

    Babygirl sighed. “I can’t leave her up there all night, I guess. Although finding some gypsies to sell her to isn’t the worst idea ever, either.” Sir tipped his head back as he laughed, long and loud.

     

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