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  1. Decriminalizing Sex Work

    September 11, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    Prostitute picking up businessman

    Recently Amnesty International made headlines by proposing a policy to decriminalize sex work.

    “Sex workers are one of the most marginalized groups in the world. In many countries, they are threatened with a whole host of abuses, including rape, beatings, trafficking, extortion forced eviction and discrimination, including exclusion from health services. More often than not, they get no, or very little, legal protection. In fact, in many cases these violations and abuses are carried out by the police, clients and abusive third parties.”

    It should be noted that Amnesty International wasn’t suggesting that sex work be legalized. With their policy of decriminalization, they hope to offer sex workers the protection of basic human rights and to take them out of the role of “accomplice” to a crime, which is their livelihood.

    “The decriminalization of sex work means that sex workers are no longer breaking the law by carrying out sex work. They are not forced to live outside the law and there is better scope for their human rights to be protected.”

    “If sex work is legalized, it means that the state makes very specific laws and policies that formally regulate sex work. This can lead to a two tier system where many sex workers operate outside these regulations and are still criminalised – often the most marginalised street based sex workers. Decriminalization places greater control into the hands of sex workers to operate independently, self-organise in informal cooperatives and control their own working environments in a way that legalization often does not.”

    To read more about Amnesty’s policy, click here.

    Some may be surprised to know that sex work doesn’t only include street-based sex workers or escorts, like Escorts and Babes. Adult film actors/actresses, exotic dancers, brothel workers, incall/outcall workers, phone sex operators, rent boys, nude models, webcam models, full-body masseuses, adult film producers, dominatrixes, and adult website owners are all part of what is considered sex work.

    Since Amnesty International published their proposal some sex workers, like this male escort, have been voicing their stories. Most of the sex workers I’ve met, and read about, didn’t choose sex work because they thought they’d earn the respect of their community and have fun. They were men and women who were trying to keep a roof over their family’s head and food on the table. And all human beings, regardless of their jobs, deserve basic human rights like access to healthcare, and legal protection.

    The sex trade is never going to disappear. That line about it being the ‘oldest profession’ is true. There will always be a demand for sex and people willing to pay for it. Rather than vilify the people performing this service, we have the power to give sex workers dignity and decriminalize their work. We could change things so that it’s not a risk to their personal safety to earn a living. Decriminalization also means giving workers a chance to do something different and make different choices if they want, instead of branding them with a scarlet letter on their official record that will limit any future jobs unrelated to sex. Decriminalization of sex work means breaking the cycle that marginalizes its workers, so that legal efforts can focus on human trafficking and those forced into sexual slavery.

    I wrote this article at my favorite cafe, and a stranger approached me and asked what I was writing about. I told him the title of the article, and his reaction was to ask me why I cared about “Pasquale the street walker” and Pasquale’s abuse at the hands of the police in some foreign country. I was taken aback at first. Shouldn’t we all be concerned about the people living at the fringes of our society? I was surprised that he considered the plight of a sex worker a problem for developing nations. Honey, sex work is right here in the good ‘ol USofA. It made me want to challenge his privileged viewpoint, but I was flustered that 1. he had asked specifically about my topic, and 2. I had answered honestly.

    When I replayed our interaction, I wish I had answered differently. I wish I had asked him his personal opinion. “If a white, older man paid me to tie him up, spank his bare bottom, and then impale him with a large phallus in his anus in a private home, should I be denied a safe place to live? Should I be refused medical insurance? Should I fear for my personal safety, because I was paid to perform a service? You, dear stranger, may have a strong reaction to the nature of the particular service. But should I, the service provider, be denied basic human rights for fulfilling it?”

    Sex work is a taboo subject in this country. Most people want to go about their lives like it doesn’t exist, or we only talk about it in reference to a bachelor party or the incredibly unrealistic, Pretty Woman. And I get it. It’s challenging to separate how we feel about the morality of paying for sex from the people who are fulfilling the sex work. In my opinion, we’re all human beings and we all deserve to be treated as such. ~Heather

    And something else…you never know who is a sex worker. It’s not like they wear a t-shirt or a super-cool badge. Most sex workers fly under the radar, not wanting their profession to be known for fear of being outed to public scrutiny, or worse, being arrested.

    A sex worker–in any industry–could be the single mother in the car in front of you, dropping off her child at school. It could be the man shopping for produce at the farmer’s market, or the young woman attending college classes. You don’t know the reasons why they chose the job that they did, and believe me, it is a job. So if you do happen to meet a person who is a sex worker, be nice and have empathy. You may not realize it, but we need them. They are a vital piece in becoming the sex-positive world we are working toward, so for fucks sake, show some respect. ~Nikki

    Category Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,,, | 3 Comments

  2. An Almost Threesome

    March 13, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Happy girl kissed by two young boys

     

    Ever since my friend told me about her experience with the pizza delivery man, my fantasies have run rampant with visions of sir tying me up and offering me to a stranger. I’ve had threesomes before, but they had all been F/F/M. I’m usually the wingman to the main couple (a male and a female) in the threesome, and I was comfortable in that role. Being the main dish, so to speak, had never been a fantasy of mine until the delivery man anecdote. That situation changed everything and gave my spankbank a jumpstart.

    I shared my ideas with sir, of course. We talked about my past threesomes and what I enjoyed about them and didn’t. The truth was that I liked orders, and when left to my own devices, I had a tendency to be reticent and observe. So having someone tell me to, “get on that dick” was really helpful to me. I also liked having a plan. Now I knew that sex didn’t need a map to every nitty-gritty detail, but I liked having an overview of activities for the threesome.

    What can I say? I’m a planner.

    My experience with “just let it happen” usually meant that nothing happened, or the orgy you hoped for evolved into something different entirely. None of that was wrong, and sometimes it was awesome when I got the unexpected. When it came to satisfying my personal tastes in the bedroom, though, I wanted someone else to be the boss who gave me orders and who followed a general plan negotiated upon the desires of everyone involved.

    The more sir and I talked about it, the more the fantasy threesome became something we both wanted to try in real life. He wanted to give me the gift of a M/M/F threesome, and I wanted to be his fucktoy to be shared and used. We discussed the details and negotiated the rules. We agreed that: I would be blindfolded the entire time, there would be no double-penetration (I was too nervous to relax enough for anal penetration), and I didn’t want the stranger to kiss my lips (on my face). And sir had a friend that he thought would be perfect as our third, because the friend had had previous threesomes and was sexually adventurous. Our stars had aligned.

    The night arrived and sir left me tied spread-eagle to his bed and blindfolded to answer the door. I had watched him light the cluster of votives on the bedside tables, and the lights had been dimmed before I was blindfolded. Music played quietly near my head, and to calm my nerves, I focused on my breathing. I thought I was managing rather well, all things considered. I could barely make out the soft murmur of voices through the closed bedroom door, and my heartbeat accelerated when I heard the scrape of chairs against the tiled floor of the living room. It was almost time.

    The bonus of being blindfolded was that I could focus on my other senses. I didn’t care if I found the friend attractive, and being unable to see helped reinforce the parameters of my role as a pleasure toy. You don’t ask your toy if they’re in the mood to play. You just play with it. And that’s what I wanted. I offered myself as a fuck toy to my sir, and he had seen fit to share me. I felt thrilled, and simultaneously, like there was a cloud of butterflies trying to break free of my stomach. Gross but true.

    It was sir’s hands that touched me first. He kissed me, and I recognized the feel of his lips and the scent of his skin immediately. I responded eagerly as his hands began to explore my body, and when they hovered over my pussy, I silently begged him to fingerbang me. I wasn’t disappointed. He made me orgasm several times in that position, and then the bed shifted beside me. I heard the clink of chain and recognized the sound immediately. Sir had a flogger in his hands. I struggled against my bonds, knowing that he was going to flog my thighs and pussy. Again, I wasn’t disappointed. There was the rush of air as it was thrown, and I squealed and thrashed as the strands landed on my most sensitive parts. At different moments I wondered when the friend was going to jump in. I thought that since he wasn’t into BDSM per se, that he might wait until we turned from the bondage aspect and toys to straight up sex.

    Sir didn’t give me much of a chance to ponder the situation. He stole my breath as he rode my body, his large hand squeezing my neck. I felt the keen edge of a blade scrape against the curves of my breasts, and then the stinging slap as he brought the edge of his palms across my nipples. I was buffeted by sensation and unable to anticipate any of it. Eventually he untied me and made me sit up. He snapped the leash on my collar and led me stumbling from the bed. I was ordered to bend over and present myself to the stranger, and I did so with my face burning. I couldn’t see the man, of course, but I could feel his proximity. My ass and pussy were on display for his approval, and the fine hairs on my body stood at attention, waiting for the feel of his skin against mine. Every particle of my being waited in anticipation for the stranger to touch me, but again, I was mistaken.

    Sir pushed me to the bed and thrust his cock in my mouth, and I was distracted from the question of our third by a trip down the spiralling rabbit hole of hypnosis. Sir painted a tale of wealthy men at an elite club, where I was the entertainment for the evening. After he brought me out of my trance, he put me on all fours and fucked me from behind until my arms were too fatigued to hold my body in position any longer. Briefly I considered the other man in the room with us, but my thoughts didn’t dwell on him. My body was being pushed to endure, and at that point, I only had enough energy to hold on tight for the ride.

    After sir had finished with me, I lay in a heap on the bed, not even trying to peek around my blindfold to see what the men were doing.

    “Stay,” sir told me. “Good girl.”

    I had moved beyond caring about the stranger. My body was spent and thoroughly used. I had fucked, sucked, and taken all the pain and humiliation that my owner had chosen to lavish upon me. I wanted nothing more than a shower, an extra thick cheeseburger, and a bunch of snuggles. And water. Water would have been nice too.

    I think I might have dozed off, and then sir was beside me again, tucking me into the crook of his arm. I asked if I could take off the blindfold, and he said yes. It took a moment for me to catch my bearings again, and then I inquired about his friend.

    The man had gone home without ever touching me.

    I met the friend the next night, and we all had dinner at a Turkish restaurant. He was humorous and gruff, and despite his reticence the evening before, I liked him thoroughly. I suppose we never know how we’ll act in a situation for certain until we’re actually in that situation. And I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was a teensy bit disappointed that the friend didn’t participate. Apparently we had blown his mind with the stuff we did in bed, and he had only wanted to watch. He told sir later, on an occasion when I wasn’t present, that he had felt like he was watching a sex show. I think that’s a compliment? Sir joked that he should have ordered the friend to fuck me while he went into the other room and watched The Walking Dead.

    Nah.

     

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,, | 7 Comments

  3. Conversations From the Workplace

    December 20, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Pizza Delivery 2

    I worked with a woman who I would classify as a dominant personality. I had lots of evidence to support my determination as I observed her in action, her confidence skillfully overriding those more hesitant or reluctant. She classified herself as a dominant depending on the  situation, and when we worked together, that’s the side she chose to present most often. She was charming in her absolute certainty of action around the workplace, so you can imagine my delight when she shared her stories about being a submissive. The dichotomy between who she was professionally and who she played with in her personal life appeared to be polar opposites. The more time I spent in the kink community, however, the more I came to understand that these two sides often belonged to the same coin.

    I listened to her submissive tales with wide eyes, my jaw dropping when I saw the photos of the predicaments he placed her in, bound and immobile with her breath restricted. Her Dominant had a wide sadistic streak that made my toes curl with trepidation. My friend, though, embraced this in a way that made sparks fly and my panties drop. I might not have felt compelled to do some of the things they chose to experience, but I sure as fuck loved hearing about them. I was dying to hear about their latest visit together, of course, and this is what she told me.

    They decided to order pizza after work one night. She was at his place, and while they were waiting for the pie to be delivered, they began messing around in the bedroom. One thing led to another and she ended up naked and on all fours. He bound her in place and lowered a blindfold over her eyes.

    The doorbell rang.

    She said she waited, listening for his footsteps to enter the room again. It was quiet. Suddenly a cock pushed at her lips. She pulled back as much as she was able, still unable to see, and tried to make sense of what was happening. She tasted latex and knew there had to be a condom, but she didn’t see why he needed it.

    “I don’t understand,” she said.

    “Be quiet. Do what you’re told,” he replied.

    She did, and she did it willingly. She started fellating the cock, and after a few moments, a second man entered her from behind. She was spit-roasted, caught between her Dominant and a stranger, none of whom she could see. She said it was one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to her. Or maybe that was what was going through my head as I listened.

    The man using her mouth had an orgasm, and after he pulled out, she heard him say, “I have to finish delivering the pizzas.”

    As soon as she told me this, I burst into laughter. It turned out that the pizza delivery man was a college buddy of her Dominant. It was like a Penthouse Forum letter come to life. I have to confess that I felt a flash of envy. Delivery suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

    I wonder if he took that blowjob in lieu of a tip.

     

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,, | 3 Comments

  4. Heather and the Gangbang

    December 16, 2013 by Heather Cole

    I sat on a thick oriental rug and watched the other masters and slaves from beneath my lashes. I felt shy, butterflies of anxiety erupting in my gut. I had been told to sit and wait for my master, so that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t recognize the faces around me, and I felt too awkward to approach any of them and start a conversation. They sat or stood, the chairs grouped in a loose semicircle at the center of the room. I stared at the pattern on the rug and tried not to fidget.

    Finally sir strode over to me with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mischievous look. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like soap and sandalwood, and part of me calmed at the familiar scents.

    “I love you,” he murmured into my ear. “You are my treasure. Do you know this?” One of his hands grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back so he could see my eyes.

    “Yes, sir,” I replied, wincing slightly at the small pain.

    “Good girl.”

    He laced my fingers with his and led me to a sage green couch at the side of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but its wide cushions looked more like a bed than a couch you would see in a living room. My butterflies came back with a rush when I saw the dark leather circles of my cuffs resting on top of it. I turned to sir with a questioning look as he pulled out a silk blindfold from his pocket.

    “Do you trust me?” he asked. I nodded wordlessly, and I felt the cool material smooth down my forehead and over my eyes. “Do you trust me to make all your fantasies come true?”

    I could feel my lips tremble as I tried to form the response he required. Some of my dark fantasies should not have been forged into reality, because they often strayed into that gray area of consensual non-consent with strangers. But I couldn’t think of what to say other than ‘yes.’ There were no stipulations made with sir. I either trusted him with every ounce of being or I didn’t trust him at all.

    I couldn’t see the other masters and slaves in the room, but I heard their movements. I recognized the heavy fall of a flogger against tender flesh and the wet slapping noises of rough sex. There were moans and cries, and even though I wanted to see, I was also grateful for the blindfold. That way I wouldn’t know who was watching, and I could focus completely on my owner.

    Sir stripped me and then gently pushed me back on to the couch. I felt the warm slip of cotton rope around my wrists and ankles, and sir eased me into a spreadeagled position. I felt completely exposed, my flesh rippling into goosebumps. I also realized that I was growing wet between my legs with anticipation. I squirmed against my bonds, trying to sense where sir was. In that moment all I wanted was him inside me, claiming me and easing away my nervousness.

    I felt movement beside me and then the familiar weight of my master. His cock slid inside me, and I eagerly raised my hips to take all of him. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm as he thrust inside me, but the couch dipped again, and I felt another set of hands on my body. The rope was loosened, and someone pushed me so that I was on my side. Sir was still inside me, but he had changed position too and my leg was now held up in the air. I stiffened when I felt a second cock push against my anus. I gasped at the size, and my master’s voice was in my ear.

    “His cock is huge, and you’re going to take all of it. It’s going to feel amazing.”

    He was right. My misgivings about the man’s size vanished as soon as sir said the words. He told me I would love it, and my body obeyed even as my thoughts struggled to keep pace. I was safe with sir. He would protect me even as he pushed my boundaries. Silently I embraced the new intrusion with each movement of pleasure. The man’s size stretched me open in a way I had never experienced before, and I was awash in a mixture of shame and excitement and unadulterated lust. As I was impaled by sir and the stranger, a feeling of ecstasy washed through me. I held my position as well as I could, relishing the double penetration with my quivering body. I cried out when the orgasm took me, my fingernails digging into my palms.

    Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and my head was pulled back. I felt the blunt head of a third cock push past my lips, and instinctively I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I was overwhelmed by the sensations overloading my body. The cock reached into the back of my throat, and my thoughts clicked off. I was nothing but a body caught and stretched like a butterfly pinned to a mat. I came again and again, my moans swallowed as the cock moved in and out of my mouth. The man above me grunted as he came, and then the man in my ass ejaculated. I swallowed, thinking that we would stop, but two more men took their places. As my master whispered encouragements and maintained his steady rhythm, I relished the feeling of submitting to him and being used as his pleasure toy. The sensations were intense, hedonistic indulgence overriding all logical thought.

    I was still licking cum from my lips when I felt the two men leave my side, and then sir was untying the ropes. I frowned when sir told me to keep my eyes closed as he removed the blindfold. Sir hadn’t finished, and he was the one that I wanted to please the most. But I felt like I had no bones. I was a puddle of sweat and sex, and my body ached from being penetrated. Even the back of my throat felt raw. Sir scooped up my sore body and moved to the edge of the couch and grabbed my hair.

    “On your knees at the edge of the couch.”

    I knew better than to protest, and part of me wanted to finish him. Master had gone to the trouble of making this fantasy come true for me. The least I could do was repay him with an orgasm. I felt my way to the floor and knelt between his legs. No further instructions were needed as I found the sensitive flesh between his thighs. He used my mouth roughly, always one hand twisted through my hair, angling my head in the way he preferred. Saliva dripped from my chin to the floor, my excitement growing at the sounds of sir’s pleasure. I hoped he would finish on my face, and the act was all the more precious because it was a rare event. With a final guttural yell, sir pulled out of my mouth and came on my face. I smiled as the sticky, wet cream covered my nose and cheeks and dripped down on my chest. I waited, still grinning, for the command that I could open my eyes and get up.

    “As I count backwards from 5, you will gradually awaken from your trance. You will remember everything we’ve done here, every word and every sensation. 5… 4… 3… opening your eyes and beginning to stir… 2… 1… fully awake.”

    I opened my eyes to find myself kneeling beside my bed in a pool of saliva and cum. There was no room full of masters and slaves, no rope or strangers penetrating my body. It was just me and sir and my vivid subconscious. I looked up at him, amazed and slightly chagrined.

    “I figured that a hypnosis gangbang would be as much fun as the real thing without the added hassle of finding and organizing the participants or the risk of contracting an STI,” he said.

    I’m sure I responded, but what came out was probably a stuttering garbled mess. I was in shock. Good shock, but shock nonetheless.

    As we cleaned up and eventually climbed back into bed to snuggle, I went over and over the events of the evening. It felt like the gangbang had physically happened and I had experienced a triple penetration. I think I said “I can’t believe it” a million times before sir shushed me to sleep. That night is now tinged with a dreamlike quality, but every part of me believes it happened. In fact, my ass was sore the next day like it had been stretched to accommodate a very well-endowed man. It was the most amazing mindfuck I had ever experienced.

    I wonder where we’re going next.

     

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,, | 3 Comments

  5. We’re Porn for Women and We’re Proud

    December 12, 2013 by Heather Cole

    When Nikki and I began this blog almost two years ago, our focus was on writing about our evolving sexual identity and new sexual experiences and connecting with readers despite any differences of kink, relationship style or personal grooming disasters. Our goal was to connect with others in our kink community, the online and sex blogging communities and hopefully appeal to a broad readership. Because even though what we did in the bedroom and out of it may have been different from what y’all did, many of the emotions were similar. We wanted to offer titillating anecdotes, but more importantly, we wanted to communicate authentically about sexuality. And we hoped that you felt us. You know… felt us deeply.

    During our newbie year of sex blogging if you had called Vagina Antics “porn,” we probably would have disagreed. We’re writing about our lives and trust me, sweeties, my life is definitely not a porn shoot. For one thing, the dialogue is better. But mainly we’d disagree because the word “porn” alienates a lot of people. Like any label, it doesn’t describe the breadth of what we write here. However, at the same time we realize that for many people, our antics are something they’d search for on PornHub. Or at least they’d think about searching for it on PornHub.

    When we were featured in the article “Porn for Women: A Tasteful Guide to Sexy Time” by Rachel Zar, Nikki and I were ECSTATIC to be considered part of the porn genre and to be numbered among these wonderful websites, writers and bloggers.

    Here’s what Ms. Zar had to say about Vagina Antics:

    “First of all, the writers of this blog, Heather and Nikki, are super kinky. They’ve tried stuff many women wouldn’t even dream of — orgies, BDSM, laser hair removal down there… But the great thing about these two BFFS is that their writing is so relatable, funny, and honest that they’ll have you accepting all these sexy habits as normal ways of life — and probably even craving to try them yourselves.”

    I have to chuckle at the use of “normal” in this instance, because both Nikki and I see our sexual practices as completely normal. But I understand what Ms. Zar is saying, and it’s precisely what we’ve wanted for this blog and our books. Maybe the concept/position/toy strikes you as unusual or exotic, but we still want you to enjoy your time here. We want to entertain you and make you think both in and out of your pants and get you wet/hard/horny. Yup, we want to take over the world with our vaginas. Metaphorically speaking. So thank you, Refinery29 and Rachel Zar, for including us in your porn extravaganza! We hope y’all enjoy the ride.

    *vagina high-five*

    Heather

     

    Category Sex | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  6. Ask Heather: Where Are Anal-Loving Ladies?

    November 12, 2013 by Heather Cole

    Orange candy heart that reads ask me against white background.

    I have a question for you that I don’t quite know how to ask, so I will be as polite as I can.

    You are a rare treasure of a woman, and as a man that loves anal sex I have been hard pressed to find a woman that even remotely enjoys it. It’s usually seen as taboo, or nasty even though I know all of the ways to keep it sanitary. So here is my question. Are women who enjoy anal really so elusive, or am I not looking in the right places? I admit, even men’s gully holes are starting to look good to me at this point.

    ~Dark Passenger

     

    Dear Dark Passenger:

    Thank you very much for the politely worded question and the compliment. I appreciate both. Now let’s talk anal sex.

    Finding a person who shares your fantasies or kinks can feel like trying to find a needle in a haystack sometimes. And I’ve never understood why people place anal sex in the taboo category or see it as scandalous. In my eyes, anal sex is a part of regular, vanilla sex. CRAZY, I know. There are other women out there who feel the same <points at Nikki> and it will take patience to find them. But I know that they’re out there. I’m absolutely positively sure that they exist. Wearing a scarlet ‘AS’ on our shirts would be helpful, I know, but since many of us are undercover taking-it-in-the-ass lovers, patience is more practical. Keep the faith, Dark Passenger!

    Have you tried looking at a fetish site? Anal play is popular with many kinksters. In fact, there are anal groups that you can join to discuss your mutual adoration of ass play. But even more important than zeroing in on a certain website or concentrating all your focus on a woman who loves anal sex, I think it’s most important to find someone willing to explore it. Sometimes all it takes is someone willing to try something new or explore a concept again with a new partner. I’m speaking from first hand experience, because I didn’t always love anal.

    In college my first anal sex experience was super hot. It was like discovering a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow–unicorns and glitter abound! But many of the men I later dated didn’t even broach the subject of anal. Eventually I married, and I entered a nine-year anal sex dry spell. My ex-husband proclaimed that as far as he was concerned, I didn’t possess an asshole and he thought it was disgusting to even contemplate touching a sphincter during sex. So like I said, I went a looooooong time without anal sex. After my divorce, when I re-entered the dating world, anal sex became a hot topic again especially when I began dating kinky people. The challenge was that for a variety of reasons, anal sex had become painful for me.

    This is the part where I think finding a willing woman can be as great as finding one that is an anal whore (and I mean that as a huge compliment) right out of the box. When I started dating the man who is now my Dominant and master, I realized that if I wanted to please him in all the ways that I could, I would have to find a way to enjoy anal sex again. Sure, I could bite my tongue and take it up the ass like a good girl, but as much as sir enjoys anal sex, I knew I’d be having it a lot. Luckily for both of us, my soulmateclone Nikki Blue published a fantastic guide to anal sex and I started doing my homework.

    I learned a lot from Nikki’s guide, and sir and I have tried anal sex in different positions, with different lubes and under all sorts of conditions. Stairs are tricky. *cough* I’ve had some amazing anal sex again, but the biggest lesson I learned was that having a willing partner to explore new sexual territory is the most important component. Because as much as you think you know about a sexual topic, you could probably learn more. At least, that’s how it was in my case. All I needed was a little direction and a gentle push from sir. <snort> I’m totally restraining the cock jokes here. ANYWAY…

    It takes patience to find a willing partner, and then more patience as you explore anal sex together. Guides like Nikki’s are very helpful, and if you can show your partner that you’re willing to take it slow and that you’re focused on her enjoying the experience as much as you do, then I predict many pleasure filled times ahead of you. Don’t lose hope, Dark Passenger. We anal sex loving girls are out there. Keep in mind that sometimes we don’t realize how great it can be, but we’re willing to try if you are.

    Here’s a song to .

    Hugs,

    Heather

     

    Category Anal Sex, Ask Heather | Tags: ,, | 3 Comments

  7. Call Me Deep Throat Jr

    June 1, 2013 by Heather Cole

    When you’re a collared and/or owned submissive, or a submissive in a long-term dynamic, there’s often talk about training. The training can range from a basic set of assumptions like “you will text me good morning and goodnight every day” to complex and formal protocols regarding anything from kneeling when the Dominant enters the room or setting the table a certain way for every meal. Although we call it training, it’s a lot like learning your partner’s preferences in any relationship. One difference is that in our dynamic, we have punishments established for when I fail to meet the rules. Because I can be damn cheeky on occasion.

    One of the items on our training list was learning to deep throat. When sir first broached the topic, I thought he was exaggerating. He had a tendency to voice his fantasies out loud, which I adored, but hearing him describe me as a “sword swallower” made me pause. Up until that point I had never really been confident with my blowjob skills in general, so imagining myself with his cock past my tonsils and down my throat seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Plus, I have the most sensitive gag reflex in the universe! (not hyperbole) I was well into my twenties before I could manage swallowing pills. Yes, my mama crushed them up in grape jelly for me so hush. Instead of voicing my incredulity that I thought sir had me confused with a carnival performer, I replied “thy will be done” in the most un-sarcastic tone I could muster. (Yes, I really said that.)

    The next day I woke up to an email with a list of links regarding deep throat techniques from sir. He’s very thoughtful like that. I read that there was a numbing spray popular with the porn industry, but I was more interested in managing my gag reflex naturally. This meant that every day I brushed my tongue with a toothbrush, moving side to side and further and further back along the muscle, to deaden the physical reflex. Did I gag? Oh yeah. But I kept doing it.

    When sir visited, he’d test my progress by crowding his fingers in my mouth or pulling my tongue. He began giving me my vitamins, his thick fingers pushing the pills back along my tongue as I tried to relax and breathe and not bite him. I started having flashbacks to my life growing up on my grandparents’ farm. Have you ever seen livestock de-wormed? Well, pilling your slave kind of looks like that. You hold their head, there’s a struggle, eyes roll, and water and spit goes everywhere. At least I didn’t stamp my pointy hooves all over sir’s bare feet. I mean, I was mostly domesticated after all.

    The other trick of deep throating was figuring out when to breathe. When the tip of his penis reached the back of my throat, my nasal passages immediately closed up. It was a natural part to my gag reflex. If sir was moving rapidly in and out of my mouth (face fucking me) then I could manage to breathe through my mouth with the movement of his cock. Going slow and deep was a different matter. Inhaling as I went down on his cock, opened up my throat. I could stay like that with him down my throat, but eventually I needed air.

    The worst part was gagging. I learned not to eat for several hours before I saw him, and then came the day where he was ready to put me to the test. Into the shower we went. Well, he stood in the shower and I knelt outside the tub and leaned forward. He gave me a warning, and then he pushed into the back of my throat with his cock. One stroke, two strokes, and then I gagged. The first couple times weren’t bad, like when your cat is warming up a hairball–it’s more movement than actual product. But the fifth time… I vomited. Actual barf on his actual penis.

    One of the things that I adored about this man was that early on in our relationship, he told me that we were going to get messy together. He told me that he had every expectation of reaching past my sense of modesty to see all the pieces of me. Our bodies weren’t sterile machines. We sweated, we smelled of sex and other things and our bodies produced fluids. Through it all, sir encouraged me and relished the fact that I couldn’t hide myself from him.

    Coming from a long marriage where I was expected to not smell of anything but soap and pure thoughts, this part of our dynamic was refreshing and nerve wracking at the same time. When I puked on sir’s cock, I was horrified. I realized that there were people that had a fetish for that, but I wasn’t that person. Tears leaked out the corners of my eyes from throwing up as I stammered another apology.

    “The only thing I feel sorry about is that you lost your vitamins,” he said.

    I looked down in confusion and saw the mostly dissolved remnants of my daily pills. I started to laugh, amazed that I had just vomited and was feeling good about the experience. Sir said he wanted to work on deep throating a little longer, so I resumed my position and went back to it. (I puked twice more.)

    I’m happy to report that I’m even better at deep throating now. Sir and I are going to take a trip to the toy store to buy a long flexible dildo so I can work on going even further. That sounds really weird, doesn’t it? Sometimes I peek at myself from the outside and wonder, what kind of freak wants to deep throat a ten inch dildo? This freak does, my darlings. I’m going to be a great party favor.

     

    (Oh, if you’re trying this at home, make certain that you establish a noise or hand signal or smack on the thigh for when you’re in distress. This will come in handy if you’re restrained and deep throating in the shower and water goes up your nose. Trust me on this.)

     

    Category Oral Sex | Tags: ,, | 4 Comments

  8. My First Orgy

    February 5, 2013 by Heather Cole

    This past Saturday I experienced a first. I attended my very first orgy with absolutely no idea of what that would entail exactly. I had some general impressions from Hollywood, of course. I’ve watched Rome on HBO, people. If orgies were like TV, then I knew what was supposed to go down: barely clothed, toga-wearing people eating and drinking, sprawled across chaise lounges, the space full of writhing bodies and wandering… hands. I had the Hollywood idea in my head of a free-for-all sex party, but it wasn’t the nudity or sex that made me nervous; I was anxious about the “free” part.

    Over the past month I’ve realized that I share best, both physically and emotionally, when I’m grounded in the surety of my relationships with my partners. This shouldn’t have been a shocking revelation, least of all to me. But when my girlfriend, Liri, invited me to an orgy thrown for her boyfriend, Matt, the free-for-all sex party sparked some anxiety. I suddenly felt uncertain. The fearful voice in my head whispered that no romantic partner of mine would want me to attend such a thing.

    I felt torn by the contradiction. On one hand I identified as a sex slave, and part of me got off on being used for sex in whatever way my partner wished. I enjoyed multiple partners in various configurations, so an orgy would appear to be right up my alley. If the writers for Rome were correct, Saturday was supposed to be about letting go to have sex with whomever crossed my lap. The flip side of that desire was that I was painfully aware of boundaries, and it was my worst nightmare to go bungling through them. Or worse, I feared that I could make a sexual advance or indulge in a sexual act that somehow jeopardized a friendship or my romantic relationships. I asked myself if it was possible to enjoy an orgy at all while honoring the parameters of my relationships and the boundaries of others.

    Some days I feel like I over-articulate my emotions, but I’ve survived a relationship where I relied on a traditional construct, a marriage contract, to convey my love and loyalty without actually voicing those sacred feelings. I’ll never take such things for granted again. And I think what I needed to hear from Zen and Liri and Boy Scout was that they felt as committed to me, in their unique and different ways, as I was to them. I needed them to know that no matter who I had sex with at the orgy, none of that jeopardized my love and relationships with them.

    I felt better after I talked to everyone, but there was one last piece I was missing. My safe haven of rules and commands where I have one focus, to serve my Sir. My poly relationships don’t work because of a list of rules we give each other. My D/s dynamic, however, works precisely for that reason. I confessed that I needed some rules in order to navigate the orgy to both Boy Scout and Liri even though it was difficult for me to voice that need out loud. I articulated that I craved to be put in my place and marked. I needed to go into that situation knowing I was owned, and even though it was a sexy free-for-all, I had to be grounded. My poly relationships were all in order. I needed my D/s dynamic to be too.

    How does this slave go about getting her needs met in the face of an impending orgy? I called it “full-blown brat mode,” and I learned some valuable things as a result. For example, I can’t say “shut up” to Sir. I can’t call him a “good boy.” And I sure as fuck can’t eat his fresh-off-the-conveyor belt Krispy Kreme donut while he’s out walking the dog. When I opened the door to Matt’s house on Saturday, I had bruises on my back and ass, compliments of Sir and his belt.

    I walked into the kitchen wearing a short black dress and red heels and got a drink. Several guests couldn’t make it, so it was going to be in intimate orgy of seven. We stood around the kitchen island making small talk and eating hors d’oeuvres until Liri asked, “why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” I blinked at her in surprise and replied, “you didn’t tell me otherwise.” Naturally my clothes came off (I’m a good girl that way), and she invited everyone upstairs to play the game, “let’s see how many times we can make my girlfriend come.” That’s a kick ass game, by the way. I have to add that it was also a bit surreal. At one point there were four people covering parts of my body with kisses and bites as my girlfriend used the Hitachi on my clit and Laccaria used the nJoy on my G-spot. Then there was the roundtable of friendship spanks while kissing the sweet lips of the woman across the table from me. There were ice cubes on my clit as I breathed in the sweet cleavage of a voluptuous female, and I squealed against her skin when Liri left teeth marks on my red, paddled ass. Yes, I believe that can be classified as some wanton sexual revelry.

    It wasn’t an episode of Rome, though. For one thing, we weren’t paid actors who had to pretend to have sex with people that they pretended to be attracted to. There wasn’t a casting agent to ensure that every person who attended had the correct attitude for the orgy. Nor was there a script to follow where everyone fucked and was sexually satisfied. We were real people, most of us good friends, and we had regular human concerns like having a bad bout of PMS and being stressed out from an impending move. There were relationships in flux, and people who weren’t in the mood to fuck… we were regular people at an orgy with our own baggage and our own expectations that sometimes didn’t mesh.

    I had my clothes pulled off twice before I could finally get out the door, and if I wasn’t the dedicated blogger that you read here every week, I would have stayed naked and stayed a helluva lot later. But I drove home like a good writer should and texted my people that I was safe and sound and in bed. That was the best part… saying I love you to all three of them before I closed my eyes. I really am one of the luckiest girls in the world.

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,, | 15 Comments

  9. Group Sex for the Over Thirty-Something

    September 12, 2012 by Heather Cole

    I have this conundrum. My girlfriend’s birthday is this month, and I’m plotting with her boyfriend (yes, you read that correctly) to plan a celebration. Just the three of us. Matt and I are in charge of all the details while Liri just has to show up and enjoy herself. The first question Liri and Matt asked was what rating our gathering deserved. Rated-G wasn’t ever an option despite all of us enjoying episodes of My Little Pony. Rated-PG was much more likely, but given the three of us and our healthy sexual appetites, things could easily stray into R territory before plunging headfirst into a solid X rating. We’re kinky, poly people with a shared love of Liri. Yup, this situation has sex cocktail written all over it.

    The issue is me. I don’t have group sex like I used to in my twenties. Not that I’ve had a lot of experience with group sex. There was an almost foursome that came close but disbanded at the last possible moment. Even an accidental ingestion of Ecstasy and four-person nakedness could not overcome a language barrier. It’s not my fault I couldn’t translate “grab my cock like it was a microphone” from Spanish. Then there were the weekend parties in Ecuador where we’d end up with three other couples fucking in the same room. Like I said, it was almost group sex, but not quite. If I had to sum up sex during my twenties, I would choose the word voracious.

    I keep asking myself, “what does group sex mean for me now?” I’ve spent many years ignoring caution and my tender heart, blithely having sex whenever the spirit moved me. Part of me still says, “shut up, Heather, and just fuck them silly.” That was the overriding voice in my head for most of my twenties, and although I had a lot of fun, I was also left wanting something more. A decade later, after the potential feel-good sexcapades of today, I’ll be thinking and analyzing. Yes, dammit, over-thinking and over-analyzing. I’ll be worried if I blundered through a boundary somehow and made someone uncomfortable followed by worry regarding my performance. (Yes, women worry about that too.)

    Ultimately the nagging feeling that stops me is that I want sex to be significant, and how traditional is that? It’s true, though. I don’t think exclusivity equals significance as it would in a monogamous paradigm, but I want my partners to understand that this doesn’t happen with just anyone. And the fact that I choose them, means a hell of a lot to me. I want them to feel that too. As I’m sitting here re-reading what I just typed, it struck me that if I cared less about Liri or Matt or my long-distance relationship with B, I wouldn’t have thought so hard about what sex would mean between the three of us. If they were less significant to me, I’d probably be stripping down for the sex cocktail already.

    Being a part of the kinky community, I probably have more opportunities now to have group sex than I ever did. Having sex with play partners is a common practice here. Especially with like-minded poly people. Private play parties feature lots of nudity and toys and fetishes of all sorts. Sex is often a component of that, and although I take no issue with anyone indulging in it, I’ve stopped short of sex at a party. Well, there was the one time when Liri flogged me and then had sex with me on Matt’s living room floor in front of other party-goers. But other than that, I haven’t participated in a group sexual dynamic. Mostly out of consideration for my relationship partners. AGAIN WITH THE THINKING AND PONDERING!

    Matt and I haven’t made any firm plans for Liri’s private celebration, but I’m fairly certain he and I won’t be fucking each other. As much as we may be willing, I also get the distinct impression that we’re careful of each other’s relationships with Liri. This is new territory for all three of us. Our girl Liri, on the other hand, may end up naked and tied up on the dining room table. Because what kind of celebration would it be if we didn’t have a present to unwrap?

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,, | 7 Comments

  10. A Sex Blogger Who Doesn’t Want Sex

    July 10, 2012 by Heather Cole

    If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably figured out that M and I parted ways last week. It’s the most devastating break-up of my life, and at some point I’ll write about it. Right now, though, I’m too deep in it to know where to start. There are not enough words to describe losing my Master, dearest friend and lover all at one fell swoop. I’m the walking wounded, someone with a gaping hole in their my chest. Like a zombie but prettier and with better shoes.

    My world has been reduced to accomplishing the basic tasks of living and caring for my daughter. Much of it is accompanied by tears, and the best way I can describe it is feeling like I’m mourning a death. But I’m getting out of bed at least.

    Most days.

    My sexual desire has dwindled to nothing, and the thought of being part of a bdsm scene makes me hyperventilate. The man who identified my submission as a gift and who taught me that kneeling could be a powerful act is gone from my life. It feels like he took the key to my sexuality with him. In theory I know that this is temporary. One day I will want both those things again, and I’ll kneel for a different Master. Excuse me for a second while I throw up…

    *deep breath*

    It’s an odd thing to not feel sexy or desirable or horny. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of days that I don’t feel one of them. But I’ve never had it all go away at once. Those feelings have fled, and I have no inkling of when they’ll return. I haven’t touched my vibrator or myself. My bed has become the place where I cry myself to sleep, not a place of love and fantastic sex.

    B is coming to visit next week. My handsome B with his kindness and warmth and understanding. I want to be a good girlfriend. I want this visit to be like our last with lots of sex and love and laughter. But I’m afraid that I can’t. I’m afraid that he’ll hold me and I won’t be able to stop sobbing.

    I talked about my lack of a sex drive for the first time a couple days ago. I explained to B that it wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex with him, I just don’t want to have sex at all. Great explanation, right? Very reassuring. But he was understanding and wonderfully supportive. He said that he wanted to be with me regardless of whether or not we had sex. I felt better after he said it, but there was a whisper of doubt in my head. What if your sexual feelings never come back?

    I trust that everything will return to normal at some point. Everyone is telling me that, even though I can’t feel it with any certainty. I know the words to say and the actions of flirting and sex, but I have none of the powerful emotion that fuels it. It’s like holding someone’s hand in the dark. I know that the darkness can’t last forever, but I can’t see the pinprick of light in the distance yet. I can only grasp the hands around me and hold tight and wait for the sun.

    Category Sex | Tags: ,, | 13 Comments

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