One day in the summer of 2004, I woke up with what I thought was a UTI. I’d had them before and detected the tell-tale burning sensation. I made an appointment with my gynecologist. Little did I know that this would be the beginning of a condition I’d never even heard of but that would leave me in chronic pain for years to come: vulvodynia.
(more…)
As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases made via one of the links below
(at no additional cost to you).
Slut, whore, cunt, bitch—what do these words have in common? If your answer is “degrading terms typically used to describe women,” you’d be correct. But if you said “names that Mimsy likes to be called in bed,” you’d also be right. So how is it that words I find highly offensive outside the bedroom are unbelievably hot in it? Welcome to the world of erotic humiliation. (more…)
In the following true story, the names have been changed but the dicks are real.
“What exactly is a ‘fun’ swinger sex party to you? Sucked off 9 times and fucked by 14 people??” a friend texted me. I had just described my evening at a hotel swinger party, an experience that would be a fulfilling sexual adventure by many people’s standards.
“I think I’m just not a swinger,” I replied. (more…)
“Sex isn’t something you do; it’s a place you go.” —Esther Perel, Couples Therapist and Author
In my past long-term vanilla relationships, the sex and desire always faded, and in some cases dwindled to almost nothing, usually around the same time the guy and I moved in together. There were myriad reasons for this: physical ailments, depression, lack of communication, mismatched libidos, lack of true chemistry. But the heart of the matter was, well, the heart. The familiarity and affectionate routines that inevitably developed over time, and were enhanced by living together, encroached on eroticism and eventually smothered it. Metaphorically, sex wasn’t a place we went because there was nowhere to go. The people we were during sex were the same people we were in the rest of life. Sex wasn’t a departure from ourselves; it was merely a continuation. (more…)
On the eve of Supreme Court Justice nominee Brett Kavanaugh’s hearing in which Christine Blasey Ford would deliver wrenching testimony about how Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her in high school, my partner, Vagabond, tied me up, hit me, slapped me in the face, called me a slut and a whore, and fucked my brains out. I loved every second of it and all of our BDSM scenes. How? Consent. (more…)