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Posts Tagged ‘Nikki Blue Sex Blogger’

  1. Anal Sex Month

    August 21, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    I know that we are ass-deep in Anal August, but life, mostly business, has gotten in the way of writing about one of my favorite topics—butt love.

    Anyway, I thought it was time to give a new cover. I love this one hard because she has stretchmarks. Sadly, I had to cover them with the title, but you can still see them peeking through. You may have to squint one eye and close the other to see them, but they’re there.

    And because the book has a sexy new cover, AND to celebrate Anal Sex Month, I’ve given it an irresistible new price of 99 cents.

    For realsies, y’all.

    Oh, and to the dude who said the old cover reminded you of a grandma taking it up the ass, I’m watching you.

    , Smashwords, Barnes & Noble

    Category Anal Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,,,, | No Comments

  2. The Dating Dilemma

    August 3, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    kissing

     

    As she cruised OKCupid with her own dating agenda, a friend of mine came to a screeching halt on a profile that brought me to mind. Excited, she said the suited-up piece of younger man-candy wore a mask over his eyes, touted that he was into “50 Shades type stuff,” and listed a guide to anal sex as one of his favorite books.

    Everyone but me, it seems, is ready for me to date.

    “You could have fun with him,” she said. “And he’s wicked-cute.”

    Of course I rolled my eyes dramatically, but still, I had to chuckle at her enthusiasm. I told her that it wasn’t enough to even make me quirk an eyebrow. And it wasn’t. If anything, it made me resist the idea of dating again that much more.

    That Christian-Grey-wanna-be-type is part of the reason behind the tightly wound ball of anxiety in my stomach when it comes to dating. I know they’re out there, so many of them, waiting to exact their so-called dominance. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather stay home on a Saturday night alone, drinking vodka out of my Queen of Everything coffee cup while binging on Netflix.

    I’ve actually given a lot of thought to the idea of dating lately. Not actually doing it, perse. It’s more like I’ve taken every common reason not to date I’ve ever heard and adopted them as my own. And there are a laundry list of them. Reasons like I don’t have the time to write an irresistibly witty profile, my focus is on work, I want to lose a few pounds of fluff first, I have a mountain of junk mail to shred, and people are stupid. Okay, so they’re more like excuses than legitimate reasons, except for the last two, but what it all boils down to is the idea of dating makes me nervous.

    When my marriage imploded four years ago, I didn’t date–I fucked. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted, but I was finally free to sift through the complex pieces of my past–my confusing sexual history–to make sense of who I was, who I had always been. And I did make sense of it, mostly. I didn’t want a relationship, and I damn sure didn’t want love. Then I met Mr. K, a play partner turned boyfriend who unlocked a door deep inside of me that I never knew existed, and for that, I will be forever grateful. Over the next three years, we indulged each other’s fantasies. We fucked with abandon and we loved hard, but did we actually date? It’s hard to say.

    What is ‘dating’ today? But more importantly, what is dating when you’re 45? Do you connect online and make plans to meet at a coffee bar? A wine bar? A pressed juice bar? And how does a sex blogger date? When is the appropriate time to say “Hey, man-I-possibly-like, I write about sex ON THE INTERNET, and you too can read every kinky detail of the group sex, anal sex, and sexy sex I’ve had!”

    See what I mean? Total anxiety.

    Most of my friends clearly don’t understand my worries when it comes to dating, or me for that matter. They say things like “You should just go to the places where your people go.”

    I’m sorry, what? Where my people go? What the fuck does that even mean? Or I’m told how hard dating is because someone always seems to have this one friend who is drop-dead-gorgeous and can’t get a date, but it’s probably because she’s so beautiful.

    True story.

    I’m pretty sure that translated into “You’re ugly and will die alone.”

    There’s always the old-fashioned way of dating, or happenstance, I guess. But I refuse to go out with anyone I meet in a bar. Been there, done that more times than I can count. It rarely develops into anything beyond a one night stand, maybe two. Those days are long gone for me. And I can’t meet people through business outlets since I work from home and most (all) of the men at the events and luncheons I attend are gay. And in the grocery store, I’m too focused on condiments to really notice anyone who might try more than once (3 times) to strike up a conversation with me, apparently.

    I love this bottle of BBQ sauce so much that I can’t possibly notice you or even say hello to you, handsome man passing by me three times in the aisle. -Heather

    Oh, stop judging me, Heather.

    But seriously, when it comes to new things, I’m all for giving it the old college try. Sashimi? Sure! Peeing in my mouth? Of course! Dating? Wait, what? I watch my single friends go through the motions of online dating, the string of disappointments, and I’m like nah, I’m good.

    Truthfully, I know why I’m hesitant to date again. They’re called feelings and I’m super protective of them. It’s incredibly difficult for me to open up to people; to trust. I don’t do it lightly. Have I been jaded by my past experiences? Probably, but I know that’s something I need to work on. I know who I am this time around, though, and I know what I want. I want first date jitters, butterflies, and hand-holding. Am I a bit of a romantic? Abso-fucking-lutley. But most importantly, I want to not only feel like a priority, I want to be a priority.

    I could go on forever about the things I don’t want in a relationship and partner attributes that make me throw up a crucifix shouting “Be gone, demon!”, but I think that’s the problem. I spend so much time focusing on what I don’t want, it’s holding me back from making myself available to the things I do want, if that makes any sense.

    I took time off to take care of myself in a healthy way after my relationship with Mr. K ended, which is something I’d never done before. I took a lot of time, actually, and by doing so, I let wounds breathe and heal instead of recklessly covering them up with booze and unfulfilling sex as I’d done in the past. It was one of the most responsible decisions I’ve ever made and one I’m damn proud of. But I’m afraid I’ve reached the point where my time off has become another excuse to hide behind. For the most part, my heart is open to dating again, I think, but my head is still working to catch up. It’s getting there, slowly, and one day soon, I’ll finally take that step forward into the dating pool, and when I do, I’ll refuse to settle for anything less than extraordinary, because I fucking deserve it.

    Category Dating | Tags: ,,,,,,,,, | 13 Comments

  3. Do’s and Don’ts of Unicorn Hunting

    July 25, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    Unicorn

    I’ve done my share of unicorn hunting and believe me when I say that searching for that perfect fit for your threesome is exhausting. And it’s frustrating as hell. The countless hours I’ve spent courting prospective playmates only to have them flake out when our date drew near is time I’ll never get back. Most weren’t even unicorns at all, it turned out. Instead, they were attention seekers with no intention of following through with their juicy promises. They were all bark and no bite, which is a terrible shame because I like biting, a lot.

    Anyway, now that my FetLife profile no longer says that I’m in a relationship, it seems the tables have turned the hunter into the hunted. I’m not cool with this, and I can assure you, my kinky friends, that I am no unicorn. And I’m fairly certain that the reason behind my aversion to being the plus one between the sheets is my need for a significant amount of control, or it’s that whole topping from the bottom thing. That, though, is a can of worms I’ll save for later.

    So, if you are considering a unicorn quest of your own, here are my top tips to start you off on the right foot:

    Choose the appropriate site – Don’t assume that every unattached woman on FetLife is open to being the delicious center of your naked sandwich–it’s offensive. Joining a site like Swing Life Style will exponentially improve your odds of a successful search.

    Read the profile – Regardless of whether the unicorn of your naughty dreams is listed on FetLife or Swing Life, don’t skim over her profile. Read. Every. Fucking. Word. Look for consent that she is open to receiving such an invitation. If it specifically states at the top of her profile in italics that she is not looking for a Dom, a sub, or a play partner, don’t ignore her statement and message her anyway certain that you will be the one to change her mind. *eye roll*

    Don’t copy/paste – Look, people aren’t stupid and most can tell a copy/paste message from the get-go. Unicorns know how bait-casting works, but even though she’s not the only one you’re fishing for, you need to make her feel as though she is.

    Prepare for rejection – It happens, and in this case, silence speaks volumes. If days pass and she hasn’t replied to your message, she’s not going to, so don’t send another asking if she’s given any thought to a sweaty meeting. Don’t ask for her email, her phone number, and for fucks sake, don’t tell her how sexy she is with a lengthy mmmmmm—that’s harassment, jerkface.

    Timing – Unicorns need time to prepare for a sexy romp with a couple–they need to feel safe knowing their limits will be respected. Don’t make plans to meet for an introductory drink with the assumption she will get naked with you an hour later. It rarely works that way.

    Most importantly, be respectful, be patient, and don’t be a douche. ~Nikki  

     

    Hello, it’s your friendly neighborhood unicorn here. Unlike Nikki, I’ve only been on the side of the hunted, and I prefer to keep it that way. Yup, I like complementing a couple as a willing third in the threesome. True, I was *this close* to being the filling of a man-meat sandwich, but that was unusual for me. I’m most comfortable in a supportive role to the main couple. And this brings me to my first piece of advice:

    There are Different Breeds of Unicorn – We all have our different definitions of the label ‘unicorn,’ which typically corresponds to the qualities one is hunting for. “I’m dreaming of a unicorn who is ____ and has _____ and who is totally into _____.” The trick is finding that unicorn who also desires the qualities that you possess. The mythical part of the equation is that the unicorn will always give/contribute to the threesome without asking for anything in return, like emotional or physical gratification. Sweeties, that is a myth. Unicorns want to get off too. The truth is that we come in all genders and sexual tastes, and guess what, we unicorns have our own personal preferences about who we cavort with. For example, I can’t unicorn with anyone without my Dominant’s permission, so even if I’m attracted to a couple and want to play, I have to clear it with my sir. If the couple isn’t cool with my protocols, the entire thing is a no-go. Sometimes you luck out and can find a tasty third to your twosome on a hookup site. Everything can look perfect, but understand that the unicorn may be scrutinizing you as much as you’re checking out them.

    Just Because You Found A Unicorn, It Doesn’t Mean They Have to Fuck You – Hey, Mr. Married Guy Who Wants a Chick to Seduce His Wife, I’m talking to you. And everyone else. But mostly to you. You may have a boatload of unspoken expectations regarding the unicorn you found, Mr. MGWWaCtSHW, but that doesn’t mean she has to comply with your irritating unspoken/sort of articulated plans for her and your wife. CONSENT is a huge, important part of unicorning. It’s an important facet of relationships in general, but in this specific scenario—and I can’t say this enough—unicorns don’t have to fuck you if they don’t want to. Even if I slept with you and your partner just last week, there is no written rule that says I have to do so again. And if you attempt to manipulate me into complying based on the fact that I ‘did it before,’ I will knee you in the balls on my way out of the door. No means no, and if it seems like I’m teetering on the edge of a rant, it’s because this has actually happened to me and it PISSES ME OFF.

    Communicate and Be Safe – Nikki referred to this earlier. If you’ve started a dialogue with a unicorn regarding the possibility of a threesome, be clear about your expectations and what you want from the encounter. Everyone should discuss their limits, the things that are OK to do and those that are out of bounds. It’s really important for unicorns, regardless of gender, to feel safe in a situation. They may be saying positive things leading up to the big night, but if for any reason they don’t feel safe or don’t want to continue, they should bail. (see #2) There are ways to do this politely, and the sooner you, the unicorn, know it’s not going to work, the faster you should notify the other party. But there is never any time when it’s acceptable to coerce or threaten someone into compliance.

    A Gentle Approach – Why do you think medieval literature insisted that only a virgin could lure a unicorn out of the woods? Because we are special! If you go clomping through the forest with your armor, a pack of dogs, and 30 knights from the round table, I can promise you that every unicorn within miles will be hiding from your loud ass. In other words, if you are a M/F couple looking for a F-unicorn, for the love of all that’s holy, DO NOT have the M of your couple approach the F-unicorn first. Even dudes with the best of intentions come off as sleazeballs. And your message shouldn’t be titled: “I’m looking for a playmate for my wife.” Bring your computer over here, because I’m gonna barf on it. Your rates of success will increase if the female part of your couple reaches out to the female unicorn first. Even if the woman doesn’t really know what she wants, or if it’s her first time with another woman, her saying exactly that will be better received than a man reporting it second-hand.

    Sometimes Things Don’t Work Out Like You Thought They Would – Oh group sex… you are such a wily and capricious activity. The more people you add to a sexual situation, the more chances you have of things going differently than planned. Sometimes this is totally awesome. Other times, not so much. Just keep in mind that your “unicorn” is actually a human being of flesh and blood. They’re there to participate in your fun, but that’s no guarantee that everything will be rainbows and cupcakes. Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. But if everyone communicates about what they want and how they want it, your rate of success will be even better

    Remember: be safe, communicate like crazy, and keep an open mind. Some day, your unicorn will come. Er, you’ll come with a unicorn. Wait… ~Heather

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,,, | 4 Comments

  4. The Masturbation Monologue

    February 13, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    masturbation-sex-positive-parenting-sex-blog-vagina-antics

     

    Photo via Depositphotos

    I must have been only seven or eight years old when my mother slid open the frosted glass shower door, catching me as I explored my clitoris in the privacy of the tub. Her eyes flew open wide and she gasped as if it were the most horrific thing she had ever happened upon. She snatched me by my arm until I stood naked on the blue bath mat, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I’m certain it must have stung at least a little when the palm of her hand connected with my wet thigh two, maybe three times, but what I remember from that moment were her words; the judgement on her brow. She scolded me, pointing her manicured finger at my face while saying I was to never EVER touch my privates again, that doing so was a sin and God would know if I did. The ‘God card’ is funny when I think about it now, because my mother is and always has been about as religious as my shoe.

    My mother never spoke of that incident again, and it was her reaction that sparked the feeling that something was wrong with me for my sexual urges. It didn’t stop me from evolving into a very sexual creature, but the feeling of defectiveness plagued me for thirty-something years. I don’t ever want either of my children to feel the sex or self-pleasure they choose is shameful and dirty. So the Saturday morning my teenage daughter sat cross-legged on the center of the kitchen island while I made coffee, I let out a breath and went for it.

    “If you haven’t looked at yourself with a mirror, you need to,” I said as I leaned against the counter across from her, drinking coffee from my pink ‘Queen of Everything’ mug. “And don’t think it’s weird to do so, because it’s not.”

    She nodded, surprisingly not mortified that her mother had just suggested she examine the reflection of her most intimate parts, so I took that as a green light to continue the conversation. From there, I slid gracefully into masturbation, making sure she understood it’s perfectly natural and something she should never let anyone make her feel ashamed of.

    “Look at it this way, if you don’t know what you like or don’t like, how are you going to tell someone else when that time comes?”

    “True. Do we have waffles?”

    And just like that, she took control, closing the topic without so much as a pregnant pause. I smiled inwardly, proud of the girl who is like me in ways she has yet to realize.

    My daughter is sixteen and the relationship I have with her is the polar opposite of the one I had with my mother when I was her age. Hell, the one I still have. I’ve worked hard to make sure she knows she can come to me with ANYTHING without fear of judgement. I don’t break a sweat or dance awkwardly around topics that make most parents, I assume, terribly uncomfortable. I talk openly with her about sex and safety, pubic hair options and the pros and cons of it, slut-shaming, BDSM, and the newest feather to my sex-positive parenting cap, masturbation. Some of my friends are horrified by the words that pass between mother and child, saying they would never talk with their children about such things. They judge me a little, but that’s okay because I know my kids will be equipped with the knowledge they need, and I’m pretty sure that makes me the best mom ever.

    Category Masturbation | Tags: ,,,,,,,,, | 4 Comments

  5. P is for Pro-Choice

    June 16, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    best choice

    Some things were done a little differently in the south. For example, whenever a girl was knocked up in the small, Georgia town where I was raised, she got married. It was as simple as that. And as crazy as it sounds, I knew two girls who were fifteen—the age of my daughter—when they took on the grown-up roles of wife and mother. They were too young to even drive themselves to their obstetrician appointments, or anywhere else, for that matter. As most parents saw it, though, if they were old enough to have sex, they were old enough to accept the repercussions of their actions. Of course, the shotgun unions weren’t destined for the long haul, and they usually crash landed in divorce court before the five year mark. But not before they’d had at least one more baby and had been saddled with no hope of ever pursuing the life they once dreamed of.

    I was seventeen years old when my birth control failed, and like anyone that age should have been when they found out they were pregnant, I was scared. That dark ring in the center of the home pregnancy test spelled out my future and it wasn’t one full of rainbows and sunshine. I would become another statistic; a young divorcee who had been battered and bruised. I would eventually be that single mother who had no skill or education, struggling everyday to put food on the table, that is, if our fights didn’t escalate to a fatal level before I found the courage to walk away. THAT was the life I saw and not the one I wanted.

    My boyfriend, who was twenty when I got pregnant, had it all figured out. He said we were going to get married and have a family anyway, so we would just start our life together sooner than expected. He swore he would take care of me–he promised everything would be okay. I wanted desperately to believe him, but deep down I knew it was another vow he would break. When I resisted his plan, telling him we were too young to be parents, his happiness of jump-starting our future swiftly turned to anger. Once again, everything was my fault.

    After days of non-stop fighting and emotional explosions, he took away my right to choose by hurling me backward against the open tailgate of a pickup truck. I bounced off of it, landing face down on the driveway, but as I lay there my thoughts weren’t about what could happen to the baby I carried–I wondered how I was going to explain my fall and whatever marks it left behind to the friends and gawkers around us. Lying had become a knee-jerk reaction.

    I didn’t miscarry from the impact, but the damage done was irreversible, and when the ultrasound showed that the placenta had begun to tear away from the uterine wall, my doctor labeled the complication ‘high risk’ for both me and the fetus. Sure, I could have had my cervix sewn shut and gone to bed for the duration of my pregnancy, but I was just a kid myself. There was no way I was emotionally able to handle that. At that point, terminating the pregnancy was the best option for me, but even then it was far from easy.

    Don’t misunderstand, there was never a moment where I didn’t want to have the baby, but I was only seventeen years old. And for every reason my boyfriend and my heart threw at me to keep it, my head countered with logical, reality busting rebuttals why I shouldn’t have.

    Few people knew about my pregnancy and even fewer knew about the abortion that followed the very public tailgate tumble. Those who were sober enough to retain what they’d witnessed that night gossiped briefly around town about a miscarriage, but no one knew enough to back-up the tales. All of the reasons I had an abortion were in my best interest, but even then I was terribly ashamed of terminating my pregnancy. Because of that, I let their assumption stand. In a way, I began to believe it myself because it was easier to swallow than the truth.

    I was still in denial five years later when my pregnant stepsister and I were escorted through a sea of angry protesters who threw things at us while screaming “baby killers” as we entered the clinic for her abortion. My mind didn’t race back to the time I sat with my boyfriend in the waiting room of a similar one years earlier, because it was a painful memory I had suppressed. In fact, it wasn’t until I wrote the first draft of BROKEN four years ago that the shame I’d lived with for so many years finally lifted and I was able to say I’d had an abortion out loud.

    The thing is, though, I wasn’t a person who used abortion as a means of birth control—it was accidental. I was someone who had gotten pregnant by a man who was physically and emotionally abusive, the pregnancy was high risk, and I was a teenager.

    I know now that the miscarriage I had in between my daughter and son wasn’t God’s way of punishing me for the abortion I’d had so many years ago. And it wasn’t the reason I’d had such difficulty conceiving my son. Those would have been cruel punishments and I don’t believe God operates in that way. I don’t wonder what my life would have been like if I’d made a different choice because I already know the answer to that—a sad and painful one. I don’t live with fear of being judged for my choice anymore either. If people do judge, they’re not who I want in my life anyway. I now stand behind the choice I made long ago, hold my head high, and speak openly about it. I’m no longer ashamed–I have no reason to be.

    If I had to relive that time in my life, would I do things differently? Some, but my life experiences are what has shaped the person who I am today and that, my friends, I wouldn’t change for the world. I’ve even asked myself if I would choose abortion again and the answer is absolutely. Why? Because it’s my life, my body, and my right to choose.

    A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198

    Category Randomness | Tags: ,,,,,,,,,, | 5 Comments

  6. An Anal Heart-to-Heart

    May 17, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    Paper heart, anal sex advice

     

    With my friends, I’m open about my love of anal play, all forms of it. And with Mr. K, I top, bottom, and I relish in every delicious moment of both. I also enjoy dispelling the stigma attached to anal penetration, and engaging in lively discussions about the pleasures of it—the intimacy. I’m an open book about the joys of anal sex and will speak candidly to anyone who asks, but when my teenage daughter broached the subject, I confess I was a bit unprepared.

    As we cleaned out the garage one afternoon, out of the blue she said that she knew of girls at her high school who’d had anal sex. I was like wait, what? I mean, I’d heard tales and read articles about college age girls experimenting with anal sex under the misguided notion that it kept their virginity intact—and to prevent pregnancy—but fourteen and fifteen year old kids?

    Fuck me…

    I took a deep breath. This was my daughter, after all.

    When most girls her age, I assumed, wondered about handjobs or blowjobs, she wanted to talk about something that, for all intents and purposes, should have been well beyond her radar. She wanted to talk about anal sex, which to me, is sex in its rawest, most vulnerable form. And I knew that whatever it was that I said to her would define her impressionable thoughts about the act. It was a conversation I couldn’t fuck up.

    How much was I going to tell her, though? Was I going to tell her how much I loved anal sex with Mr. K? Um, HELL no. Even I have limits to what I will say. They’re few, but I do have them. I did, however, tell her that even though she may think anal sex is dirty and kind of gross, one day she may have a much different opinion.

    Let me shed a little light about my daughter for a moment. She’s a cautious one, more so than I am, and she just recently had her first kiss. It was an act of affection she realized she wasn’t ready for. It made her so uncomfortable that she told the boy he was moving too fast and ditched him. There are days I wonder if she’s truly mine.

    Anyway, I made sure that she knew that there was nothing wrong with anal sex, that it’s a sexual act that both men and women find great pleasure in, but it’s not to be taken lightly. I told her she was way too young to comprehend the amount of trust that is required for anal adventures. Then I went further, using the doorway she’d opened as a teaching moment, emphasizing the risks of STDs, STIs, and of course, the long term effects of anal sex done incorrectly.

    “There’s a wrong way to do it?” she asked, her eyes super-big.

    “Oh yeah,” I said. “Anal penetration should never be rushed. And sometimes, regardless of how well you clean, things can get dirty.”

    “Ew, Mom. I really didn’t need to know that much.”

    “Yeah, you did. You just don’t know it yet.”

    I don’t know how many kids would feel comfortable enough to talk to their parents about anal sex, but I can’t imagine that those numbers are high. My kid was, though. She was afraid, not so long ago, to confess her first kiss, but after that hurdle, she trusted our relationship enough to come to me about a topic that even she recognized as a sensitive one. Will I ever tell her that I’m a super-huge fan of anal sex? Probably not. But I will tell her that if she ever decides that she’s curious about it, she should wait until she has a partner whom she trusts implicitly, and that regardless of what misinformation the kids at school are spouting, opting for anal sex over vaginal penetration does not classify you as a virgin. Nor should it ever be thought of as means of birth control.

    Dumbass kids.

    For anal advice, check out

    Category Anal Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,, | 11 Comments

  7. Accidental Scat

    February 13, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    Naked female body covered with chocolate

     

    Anal play—many varieties of it—are a super sweet selection on the sex menu Mr. K and I share. It has been from the beginning of our relationship. Anal activities are like the two sides of a coin that he holds in his hand. On one side I’m dominant. I face-sit him, smother him, and as he begs for it, I shove my fingers into his mouth after they’ve been inside of my ass. But when he flips that coin—and he always does—I’m incredibly submissive. I crave his hands around my throat, his presence in my thoughts, and “good girl” rolling from his tongue. I never really know which way the coin will land until he tosses it. Yes, he totally tops me from the bottom.

    Because we desire ass play the way we do, I’ve always been diligent in making sure my butt cave is sparkling clean for anal adventures. Plus, I’m big-time OCD. My anal cleanliness has often astounded Mr. K, though. So much that he bows to it, worships it, and doesn’t hesitate to pluck my plug from my asshole with his mouth. It’s kind of like my superpower. But during a recent round of ass lovin’, he realized the taste on his tongue was suddenly amiss. It wasn’t the mildly tart flavor he dreamed about in between visits. It was scat, y’all.

    “Um, baby, you’re not clean,” he said as he examined my asshole.

    Horrified, I bolted upright on the bed with a million thoughts buzzing through my brain. How did it happen? WHY did it happen? I’d done everything I was supposed to do to make sure I was clean, everything I’d always done. But what really freaked me out was that Mr. K found me unclean with his MOUTH. I feared it would ruin his taste for anal play.

    Embarrassed beyond belief, I wigged out. “What? But how can that be? I’m the Queen of Clean!”

    He chuckled, gargled with mouthwash—twice—and washed his hands. “You were the Queen of Clean.”

    Don’t misunderstand, I know the risks of coming into contact with butt stuff. I even wrote a about it, but until then, it had never happened to us. To be honest, I think I was far more upset about the anal derailment than Mr. K. For us, anal is intimacy in its purest form. It’s powerful, deeply felt, and even though the absence of it was noticed, the night was no less magical. The next morning he got down on his knees behind me, spread my cheeks, and flicked his tongue across my sensitive pucker. I wanted it desperately, but I panicked, afraid I wasn’t clean. He confessed he was worried too and refocused his attention to my pussy instead. It was the first time I’d held anything back from him and that alone was enough to send me into a tailspin.

    In the days after, we talked and laughed about it, agreeing that one anal misadventure in two years wasn’t bad at all. I vowed I would do my best to make sure our next anal playtime would be a squeaky clean one. But the morning of his most recent visit, I woke to find I’d started my period and anxiety bloomed. It wasn’t the thought of Auntie Flo turning our sexy time into a threesome dynamic that made my stomach turn, it was the fact that anal cleansing is extra challenging during my period. I worried that anal ecstasy would once again be thwarted. I’m no quitter, though, and I persevered until I was in the clear. Although, I did tell Heather I may consider using an enema next time to make double sure I’m as clean as possible. Because I’m anal.

    Still a little gunshy, I didn’t breathe easy until I heard the muffled sounds of Mr. K’s pleasure as he spread my cheeks open. Then all at once it seemed, my anal confidence returned in a rush, and I watched him in the mirror as he licked, fingered, and inhaled what he loved. The desire to feel him push into me while his skin pressed to mine was suddenly overwhelming and I begged him to fuck me, to take what was his. I needed it. We both did. And as he asked how much I’d missed Daddy’s cock deep inside my ass, he filled me with his come.

    I snuggled up to Mr. K and turned on to my back to prevent butt germs from migrating to my vag, both of us feeling a sense of relief and somewhat giddy. He told me how amazing I was, joked that the Queen was back, and high-fived me for successful anal. I laughed and relaxed into his arms, realizing how silly I’d been about our little setback. Yes, it was embarrassing, but in the grand scheme of things it really was a minor incident. The simple truth is that regardless of how hard we try to control them, our bodies are fickle and tend to do whatever the fuck they want. And sometimes, shit just happens.

     

    For more information on the do’s and don’ts of anal sex, read

    Category Anal Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,, | 12 Comments

  8. A Field Guide to Hunting Unicorns

    May 2, 2013 by Nikki Blue

    Pink Unicorn

    According to the Urban Dictionary, a unicorn is a bisexual person, usually (though not always) female, who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple, and not demand anything or do anything which might cause problems or inconvenience to that couple. They are mystical, magical creatures, and the pursuit and capture of them can be quite tricky. For Mr. K and I it has been a time consuming and incredibly frustrating safari, and it seems we’ve encountered one disappointing let down after another. There were times we considered giving up the search for a unicorn altogether, questioning the legitimacy of their existence.

    We’ve been hunting them for awhile now and contrary to popular belief, most unicorns don’t have tell-tale marks separating them from the masses, making them easy to spot. They’re not covered in glitter, and they don’t wear pink leather chaps. They are masters in the art of camouflage, and they blend in well among soccer moms and business professionals. There are also different species of unicorns and it’s impossible to distinguish where they fall until you’ve already invested a significant amount of energy into learning their manner. Are they a true unicorn whose knowledge of the Unicorn Handbook is not to be trifled with? Or are they newbies with a holier-than-thou attitude when answering your sext?

    Mr. K longs to experience the magical properties of a unicorn. He wants to pet one and play with it and watch it bow its silky nose in deference to my kick-ass unicorn domination skills. Although I want to fulfill the fantasy for him, sifting through all of the fakes and wingnuts is exhausting, y’all. So, if you’re considering your own quest for the elusive unicorn, the following may save you wasted effort and a tremendous headache. Oh, and bulk up on patience because you’re gonna need it. LOTS of it.

     

    • Unicorns see in magic color vision, so when meeting one for the first time it’s best to wear colors that hold their attention, such as pinks and purples.

     

    • Unicorns love Skittles because they’re the colors of rainbows, obviously.

     

    • Some unicorns are attracted to shiny things and designer bags.

     

    • If a unicorn makes excuses about meeting face to face after sexy emails have been exchanged, or disappears altogether, they’re a dude.

     

    • When the unicorn’s cell phone in their profile photo has an antenna, odds are good that the selfie is WAY outdated.

     

    • Tasers work best in the apprehension of unicorns. They’re more discreet and less bloody than crossbows or so I’ve heard.

     

    • If a unicorn asks to move into your home as a nanny to your kids before ever setting eyes on you, she may have inhaled too much glitter over the years and is now cray-cray.

     

    • If a unicorn says that all play must be bareback because of her “allergy to all condoms,” RUN.

    Last week, I had a lunch date with a unicorn Mr. K and I recently met on a swinger site. We made arrangements to meet at a neutral location and I wore white jeans because hello, white jeans. And because the myth of unicorns states that they’re lured into captivity by a virgin dressed in white.

    Virgin… *snort*

    Anyway, I chatted with the unicorn about failed marriages, kids, careers and alligators. Her confession that she likes rope play surprised me and I might’ve purred when she said she is submissive in the bedroom. She was, however, quick to point out that she doesn’t like pain, which was a broad statement that I felt needed clarification. Does she consider nipple clamps pain? Spanking? Tit slapping? Being tied to a chair and forced to watch Twilight repeatedly?

    “Define pain.”

    She laughed when I asked, saying all of the above were acceptable except for anything that would leave marks. And sparkly vampires. She’s funny, she has quite a bit of swinging experience, and seems to have a firm grasp of unicorn-ing. She also understands that when Mr. K is in town our time together is precious and she respects that. She is looking forward to meeting us both for a drink to see if they click too.

    The perfect unicorn doesn’t exist (except for my soulmateclone), and the idea of a perfect one is an unattainable fantasy. The right unicorn is a reality, though, and both the hunter and the unicorn should be selective, taking the necessary time to make sure the situation is a good fit for all involved. Is this unicorn the right one for us? Only time will tell for sure, but right now we’re waiting patiently with our family sized bag of Skittles, and when all systems are go, we’ll cast our magic net made from pure fairy dust. Organic, of course.

     

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,,,,, | 9 Comments

  9. e[lust] #41

    November 15, 2012 by Nikki Blue

    
            
    Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #42? Start with the newly updated rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
    
            
    ~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
    
            
    The 2 weeks of my sex life I lost to Zoloft – “My G-spot felt non-existent. My clit felt numb. The masturbation didn’t hold my interest, and my mind wandered.”
    
            
    Baby Girl – “You fill me with a desire to learn so that I can teach you. I push you to trust yourself as I trust you.”
    
            
    Denial – ““Not yet,” he says, pulling both of my arms back, leaving my clit screaming for attention.”
    
            
    ~ e[lust] Editress ~
    
            
    Dangerous Lilly
    
            
    ~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~
    
            
    Thoughts: Contractual Considerations
    
            
    All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
    
            
    Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
    
            
    Alley-Oops
    
            Challenging Sexy
    
            Open Me Up
    
            How this blog started
    
            Speaking of NRE
    
            
    Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
    
            
    How to Pack for a Con
     Rape Culture Rant
    
            The Female Orgasm: A Brief History, Part 1
    
            
    Kink & Fetish
    
            
    Ball Gag Safety For Beginners
    
            Choose one word to describe yourself
    
            Drool
    
            Drawing out hurt
    
            Dirty, Nasty, Perfect
    
            Evolution of a new fetish: veiling erotic
    
            It was always a trap…
    
            “unnamed”
    
            The Panty Loan
     Watersports: Not As Easy As It Sounds
    
            
    Erotic Writing
    
            
    A Writing Challenge – Blindfold
    
            about to be devoured
    
            Blow Me Away
    
            Girls’ Night Out
    
            Hot Girls with Gay Bodyguards
    
            Leaving You Wasted!
    
            Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Sexeh and Sexbee
    
            Questionnaire
    
            Retrospective
    
            Vampire girl #14
    
            
          
    
          
    Category Announcements | Tags: ,,,,,,,,, | No Comments
    
          
    
        
    10.