I answered an ad I found on Craigslist in the W4W section. Natalie’s been training as a domme and is looking for a girl to practice on. I think I might be that girl.

I’m excited and thrilled and scared as hell. First are the traditional scares for my safety; is she going to murder me when she gets me into her apartment? Will there be a man there to steal me away into sex work forever?

Secondly are the fears about being with a woman, something I’ve only done a few times before and nowhere near as in depth as what Im planing with Natalie. Playing with women has always excited me and Natalie’s cute and seems like she’d help make me comfortable with the scene. There’s something incredibly erotic about the thought of another woman running her small soft hands over my tight skin and caressing me in ways that come naturally to her.

We’ll meet for drinks someday this week and I’ll be sure to keep everyone updated. Fingers crossed. This could be my first lesbian fuck.

Blogging changes people. I does some people loads of good and turns others into mindless numbfucks who spend too much time writing about themselves and not enough time examining what that says about them.

I blog because I love to write. I love to write, and I’m decent at it and it’s a hobby I find fulfilling. And I’m smart enough to know that it will get me nothing in life in terms of practical usage. I’ll never make money for it. I’ll never be published and I’ll never manage to make it a full time career like AAG does. And I don’t care. It’s not about attention. It’s about getting better at something I love while at the same time working out some kinks in my thinking about tough topics. When I have to sit down and formulate a coherent explaination of the going-ons of my brain, I iron out all the confusion.

My blog has already helped me through so much. It’s helped me assess my love for Him and learn what I want from our relationship. I’ve discovered what I need and what I’m comfortable with, and writing on my blog has kept me from doing some stupid things, like writing angry letters or staging awkward confrontations. It’s a catharsis and it’s an escape.

I haven’t needed either of those lately. Things have been perfect and I haven’t wanted to ruin anything by overanalyzing. Things are so clear to me and I have no need for working out issues because I have none. Life is obvious and I’ve never been happier.

So, formal apologies for neglecting the readers. I promise, I’ll be back.

sugasm #141


The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #142? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Comedy vs. Tragedy
“Are you on your period? What? Did he just say…”

Ian, or, Sometimes Sex is Hilarious

“In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex.”

A Wish
“I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
Road Rage

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

How Do You Flirt With Milk?
The Hunt

I Don’t Usually Date, but…
I have huge tits.
Men on Pointe
My Femme Cock
Nibbles and Bits: Vegetarian? Really? Doh!
Present and first love making

Sex Advice
How to Make Her Want Anal Sex

Play Safe
The Power of Suggestion- And How It Helps You Meet Women

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Gisele Bundchen Topless and Nipple Slip Pictures
HNT – Purple Lace Part Two
Lady Sascha Does HHNT
Marta – Professional
Once upon a time HNT

Pornsaint Tara Tainton
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet -HNT
Sam Bound

Sex Humor
It did not work
When your mother has more sex than you do…

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Can’t Get Enough

Fiction – The Wrong Smith Girl
Getting to fuck the neighbor 15
In any language,…
Le Cadeaux
Nine: of nasty names
Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me
The Parking Garage

The Ride.
Rub a Dub Dub
The Second Time Around
Spin the bottle-the conclusion
Tits~n~Teets 2
TNT – Part 2
The Wanting

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Can A Film Prostitute In 1930’s Shanghai Fare Any Better Than One Of The 100,000 Prostitutes Working The Streets In The City?
Donate To Satine Phoenix’s Tantric Exploration
Escort X: Find great escorts
Spanking erotica interview with Alison Tyler
The value of erotic blogging
Wanted: Your Orgasms Caught on Tape

BDSM & Fetish
Auction of a Slave
Changing Cravings For Pain: A Survey
A Beautifully Cruel Predicament Bondage Scene
Fitting Punishment
The house in Vienna
July MVK: Play piercing

Leather Retreat 2008 – The Toll Booth
Mz Berlin Gets The Bastinado And Rack Torture On Hogtied
Necessary Roughness
Routine Maintenance, pt. 2
A Scene in Three Parts … (part III)
Taken and Collared as a Sex Slave while her husband sleeps
Trying on new shoes, Friday night edition

The staying power of this relationship is extraordinary. I stare at him from across the room and I’m overcome with lust. He touches me and I get butterflies and goosebumps and I melt. I remember a year ago, when he would lean over and kiss me and I would get hot and faint. I’d have to sit down immediately after or I’d fall over. He spent hours holding me and fucking me and every time was better than the previous.

And it still is.

I’m amazed. I find myself falling more and more in love with him and he’s not even trying. Or maybe he is and I’m unperceptive. I’m scared and excited. I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love. And it has a fucking expiration date which makes it worse and better.

I get that I’m being meta. I get that I’m over analyzing and barely making sense and somehow it doesn’t matter. This is what I feel, damnit. And it’s wonderful and it makes me want to scream and cry and hold him and never let go. Until I burn up or burn out. Whichever comes first.

sugasm #140.


The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #141? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
“Are you a sex blogger or a sexy blogger?”
“It builds a community that I am so proud to be part of.”

The J Word

“And while you’re with her, I’ll be with him.”

Transcending moment
”It’s that place between fear and arousal, and they are so very closely related.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
Chill Pleasure

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

BDSM & Fetish

Bathroom bang
Bros Not Hoes – F/m Spanking Video Clip

Cock training
Galerías de spanking: Spanking Server
Games Grown Ups Play
The Most Amazing Sex (and I didn’t come)
Mr. and Mrs. Kink Have Great Sex (Again)
My First Ever Fetish Photography Shoot & Other Wonderful Things
New spanking gallerie – Two girls spanked
Religion and BDSM

TES Fest 2008 was fabulous!
Your Slut

Sex Advice
Ask Miss Bliss-How Do I Know If A Girl Likes Me?
Fetish Safety – Branding
The Kivin Method: Guaranteed Orgasm for Women

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Advanced Exhibitionism

Autobiography of a Masturbator: Porn O’Graphicus, Part 2
Club Tantra: My Experience, Unabridged
Fucking no foreplay
Getting to fuck the neighbor 9
HNT – Peach
Insanity never felt so good
Interludes – part 1

Memoir Of A Married Woman
Popping His Cherry
Re: Dinner Last Night
“Red Bottoms” (Complete)
Sloppy Seconds, Then Thirds
That Time of the Month
Whiskey Kisses (unedited)

Sex Work
Sex Worker Solidarity: Catalina

Happy Thoughts on Being a Phonesex Op…
Stamp on my forehead saying “ask me about your fetish”

Sex & Politics
Natalia Antonova on Objectification and Desire
Teen Sex: The New After-School Special?
Women Enjoy Relative Sexual Freedom this 4th of July

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Bedroom Radio #18: Artemis Hunter and the Silver Bullet
Calstar Spanking – Severe deep stripe marks
Cheerleader is tired in gangbang video
Free video audition of Amsterdam sex performer
Half-Nekkid and Getting Shaved
HNT – A bit cheeky
HNT – Purple Lace
Making Love to the Camera
Mz Berlin Took This Picture Of Herself In Her New Wasp Creation Corset

Sex Humor
Top 6 Reasons for Not Shaving Your Beaver

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Catalina loves Lochai
Comstock Films
Drink Semen for Better Health
Interview about spanking erotica with Spanked contributor Teresa Noelle Roberts
January Seraph Is A Hot Femdom Dominating Jade Indica In Lesbian Latex Role Play

The Monday Buzz: The Bandito
Penny Flame Fucks A Handyman With A Strap-On and Feeds Him His Own Cum
Product Research: Blow Job Dildo
Yes! Yes! Yes! Personal Lubricant

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Be nice… until it is time to not be nice…
Finding out your good friends are swingers
Naughty Text Messages and Perverted Friends Makes Life Fun

Sex Advice Review: “Tips to Better Sex and Sleep”

I have huge tits. And it’s a huge problem. Yes sure, they make me nice and curvy. He likes them, and so do Homeboy and Jonathan (in fact, I can’t say I’ve ever met any straight guy who DIDN’T) and that’s certainly one of the benefits, but having a positive attitude towards my breasts is something I have issues maintaining.

The main problem is finding bras. In high school, I’d wander around various specialty stores after learning that Victoria’s Secret didn’t carry my size, and after perhaps an hour or two of shopping, I’d come home with a tiny bag holding one or two bras that I’d charged to my parents’ credit card (“What, are they made of GOLD?!”) The bras were always slight variations of the typical granny-bra: thick straps, ugly lace over full coverage cups, minimum of three or possibly four clips in the back, and always in strange nude or off white shades. I lived in T-shirts and high-necked tank tops that wouldn’t make the bra or my breast size so obvious.

I’m a relatively small girl. One of the most striking things about my breasts is how tiny I am around in contrast to how huge my cups are. As if finding clothes that fit over size F was hard enough, I’m a 36F which makes it twice as hard. My disproprtiveness serves as both a pro and a con; on one hand, it’s much less obvious to others how large I really am, but on the other hand if I wear anything relatively low cut, I look like Tits McGee.

This is an issue that I’ve spent hours talking to my girlfriends about (some that ask me to donate cups to them when I die, others that share in my misery). One gave me some great advice about a year ago, but I’d been weary to try it until recently — buy bras online. There’s more stock, more colors, better prices and no pushy salespeople. So I broke down and ordered online, and I have to say I’m a lot happier about my breasts now.

I found a bra that fits perfectly. It’s low cut and sexy and has only one clasp in the back and I’ve gotten so many compliments on its prettiness. I’m not embarassed about taking off my shirt. Quite the opposite — I want to show everyone!

One issue taken care of, now it’s time to conquor the rest. But as long as I’m getting more comfortable with myself and happier with my body, I’ll work at it.

bed wetting.


It’s been suggested that I ask my readers for help regarding a specific and important issue: What to do about female ejaculation.

Most of you know by now that I’m not one of those girls that can’t come. In fact, it’s never been a problem for me. All I need is the tiniest bit of stimulation and I’m far over the edge, lost in pleasure. And when I come, my partner and I both know it. Not just because my thighs and PC muscles flex and squeeze so hard that I push anything that’s lodged inside of me out, but because I squirt. A lot.

The longer I’m on edge or aroused, the more I come. I’ve gotten used to it and comfortable with it. I don’t get weirded out and I’ve found that most of my partners fully appreciate my warm gushes. What neither I nor my partner appreciates, however, are the drenched bedsheets that lay under us as we try to fall asleep after a fuck.

In high school, I used to focus the warm stream of air from a hairdryer on the sheets and dry them in a relatively short period of time. But back then, sleeping in the bed after an orgasm was hardly an issue. Fuck sessions took place more often in a car or in the middle of the afternoon than they did in a bed before going to sleep. I was also with much less talented lovers who stopped after giving me one or two orgasm instead of the 6+ I get these days.

I’ve tried towels folded into various layers, placed strategically under my hips or directly over my cunt as I squirt, but the bed still ends up soaked through and we end up sleeping on another towel. I’m out of (feasable) ideas. Here’s what I’ve heard so far, along with why it won’t work:

  1. Separate beds for fucking and sleeping. There are hundreds of reasons why this suggestion fails miserable. If you have enough money and space to have separate beds, more power to you. I barely have space for myself and certainly don’t have room for an entirely separate bed. This also kills all options of spontanaity. Imagine waking up from a nap to your lover licking between your legs, only to have to stop him/her. “Wait. We have to switch beds!” Fuck that.
  2. Sex on the floor/in the shower. This fails for many of the same reasons as above, but mostly because those are both typically dirty places. Especially when there are roommates. Especially at a man’s place. They also don’t lend themselves to many practical positions; hard floors hurt backs and knees and showers are slippery and lack enough sturdy surfaces. Those make for special treats sometime but certainly can’t be the norm.
  3. Change the sheets after sex. But I come too often to change the sheets each time. I also tend to soak through layers, more often than not drenching the mattress pad or even the mattress.

So readers, I’m on my knees, begging (not sucking, for once) for your help. Please!

He beats me when he’s sober too, but it’s even more convincing when he’s drunk. He gets sloppy and impulsive when he’s been drinking and he puts less thought into my torture.  He’s not as delicate and he cares less about how much I’m enjoying his smacks. He’s rough and selfish and makes no attempt to hide it from me. He curses at me and calls me his whore and abuses my cunt until it’s raw.

Those nights, when he’s frisky and won’t stop touching me, those are the nights I come the most. Those are the nights when I’m left sitting in a puddle of my own cum drenched in both of our sweat. He’s distant but present and it lets me lose myself. Animalistic, some might say. And when I’m on my knees and he’s fucking me doggy style it looks that way. But if he’s guilty of primitiveness, I must be too. I eat it up and enjoy every minute, licking the salt from his chest as we spiral out of control.

In the morning, we’ll both be hungover. Him from his alcohol and me from lapping up his attention. The spots behind his eyes will fade faster than my bruises. Those will last a week and gradually heal, reminding me of this drunken night every day until they do.



He told me he loves me.

He kissed me and looked me in the eye and as his voice cracked with nervousness he spat it out in almost a question. He wrapped his arms around me and kised me again and held me as I felt my insides flush hot and my skin tingle. He pulled away and I smiled, trying to form those three little words in my mouth to answer the question that I knew was burned into his brain. I failed. He walked away.

I retreated to the bedroom where I sat with my head in my hands and fought back tears. Him. He loves me. No three words have ever made me so happy. Another person has never excited my brain and body as he does, as he did by releasing that phrase. I’ve heard it before and I’ve said it before and never has to held so much weight as it does with him.

And so I sat, staring into space as the cogs in my cortex turned at full speed. I hadn’t said a word for nearly ten minutes. I hadn’t breathed a sound since he’d wrapped his arms around me. Half of me wanted to rush out, to stand in the middle of the living room and scream in excitement, to slap him with the same words and rush to him and let him hold me as tears streamed down my face.

But still I sat, giving in to the other half of myself that prefered to savour the moment. I rode out the heat wave that surged in my veins and gradualy steadied myself. And as I finished stitching myself together and regaining my composure he stepped into the bedroom and sat in front of me, eyelevel with me. And I said it. In the tiniest whisper I said I loved him too, waiting as the heat flushed back and I doubled over in his arms. He held me and kissed me and rubbed his hands down my back and we sat in silence. Silence, because the feelings that buzzed around in each of our heads, which we’d ordinarily consider emoting, had already been said. All that was left was silence.

like a game.


Ejaculation without orgasm? Impossible. Yet here he was, not 15 seconds after fucking my brains out, dehydrating me as I shot warm musky fluid from my cunt onto his floor, ready to go again — to hold my legs behind my head and plow into me with a cock so hard I’d never imagined it possible.

He’d already come on my face — my chest was still sticky with its remnants. But though he’d emptied himself onto me he was full of heat. I closed my eyes as he sank into me and pummeled my insides and came again, this time moaning as he released and collapsing on top of me. And I thought my body was amazing. This time, he wins.