I love perverted sex. In fact, some of the perverted sex I love the most is considered too fucked up for public consumption by other kinky people.

I love kinky people. The community, warts and all, is a home for me.  And like any extended weird family, we have our disagreements.

I know for a fact that there will be people reading this who are on the other side of this discussion. But when it comes to talking shit about people who don’t do sex the way we do, I have strong opinions.

When I’m in a room full of kinky people and someone says “I feel so sorry for the poor vanillas. I just don’t get how they could be so lame!” and goes on to expand on how kinky sex is the best way to have intimate relations, that “they” will “never understand” how much “better” our sex is, and I see the majority of people in the room nodding or clucking their tongues sympathetically, I realize something.

We become that which we reject when we paint people who don’t fuck the same way that we do with a broad brush.

The two best lovers I have ever had weren’t “kinky.” According to them. They were sadistic, deliciously sick, fucked up sex maniacs. They slapped me around, said all sorts of horrible shit to me, fucked my brains out, and still felt pretty good about themselves.

Neither one of them had ever taken a Kink class, set foot into a play party,  or could tell SSC from WTF.

Now you “Enlightened” perverts can pooh-pooh that and wink knowingly and say “Oh, yeah, they were kinky. They just didn’t know it yet.”

But who the fuck are you to tell people how they should identify?

Kinky sex is NOT, by default, better sex. It is for YOU if you are kinky. People who don’t do BDSM are not all  ignorant or unenlightened. (more…)

Wondering, poly-minded people, from your experience, how you handle this situation!

Poly person #1 asks you to hook up / get down. You’re cool with it, and it just so happens you know  / are friends with / are otherwise cool with their partner, PolyPerson #2.  How do you approach this negotiation? DO you talk to both individually? Sit everyone down? Ask Poly Peron #1 to clear it and then take their word that it is all cool with PolyPerson#2?

And what it there is some gut twitch? Do you back off if PolyPerson#2 seems O but you just have that…feeling?

How do you approach this diplomatically without alienating, stepping on toes OR missing out n a necessary interaction / negotiation?

What is YOUR preference?

I love the Folsom Street Fair. I love that there is a day in the year that hundreds of thousands of freaks and gawkers run around being freaky. I love that we are given this leeway, and I love that our local government supports the Leather Community the way that it does.

I am not so sure that I am entirely positive on this recent development.

Every year there are a handful of complaints about the sexual antics at the fair. This is pretty normal. Folsom pushes boundaries, and this is something to be expected. It usually is addressed in a low-key manner, and is forgotten within a few weeks.

Today, I saw an editorial in the SF Weekly, decrying a proposal to set up “public sex tents” at Folsom. This sounded a little extreme, and I thought it was probably some sort of scare-tactic to ruffle the feathers of those who are already not fans of Folsom, and to build momentum in the increasing conservatism in San Francisco.

Got some gigs booked for NYC, people! I am deeply delighted honored and straight up wiggly at the prospect of going Home and being able to perv out with new and old friends.

Here is the line-up so far…and if you know of a venue or organization whom I ought to contact and squeeze in to this trip, give me a holler!

I’ll be presenting for the FANTASTIC Lesbian Sex Mafia on March19th. As of now, I’m leaning towards the class on “Playing with Taboos” HOWEVER I am open to suggestions! (more…)

“I am never impressed by sheer brutality in BDSM. I AM impressed when someone can evoke a DESIRE for sheer brutality in BDSM.” ~Mollena

This occurred to me as I was reading page upon page of profiles on a couple of kink oriented sites where dominants were talking about how hardcore they were. Strict dominant this,  and bend you to my will that and posturing and preening as though all of the badassery in the world were enough to make them desirable partners in the tango cum chess-match cum hand-to-hand combat cum lovemaking that is BDSM.

Well, it isn’t.

When I encounter the concept of “breaking” in a slave, I realize that paradigm still doesn’t work for me. I can’t be “broken” and remain useful. Brutality isn’t the lead-in for successful power-exchange. I believe there to many reasons for this.

One reason is that most people who are planning on launching such brutal attacks are, at the core, wishing to remain in consensual headspace. Whether you adhere to SSC or RACK, the fact is that, eventually, you’ll stop. That is the point.  SO! Assuming that you can keep dominating until the bottom submits in a shaky premise, at best. As a responsible dominant, you are obligated to refrain from damaging the physical and / or emotional health of the bottom. The paradox of “breaking” comes into focus thusly: if the bottom, sub or slave is willing to really relinquish that control and let yo do “whatever you want,” are you really going to push to structural failure?

The visual of a palm tree bending in gale force winds comes to mind. All of that frontal assault and energy and the tree survives the fury.

What amazes me, again and again, no matter how long I am involved in BDSM is That Moment. That Moment where I consciously let someone  hurt me, and desire it, too. Even to the point of truly drinking in the darkest of energies.

(more…)

A few years back, I saw an insanely rough sex moment in an adult flick.

A man was hitting it doggie style, shagging the hell out of a woman while pulling her arms into a painful stretch behind her. He then abruptly folded her arms together on the small of her back, swung his leg up to the couch, and planted his foot firmly on her head.

Suffice to say I found this deprecating cruelty terribly arousing. Pervert, remember?

Then a few months ago I came across the same thing again, and squealed in delight.

And then I wondered…as I often do, “What the hell is wrong with me?”

OK, pervs…come on. Is that not…hot??

It could only be better were he fully clothed, wearing boots. There is something hot and humiliating about being nude when your partner is fully dressed.

I simply adore the sensation of being vulnerable and bare in front of someone who is dressed and dominant.  If clothes make the man, boots make the man hot as fuck.

(more…)

Which is a pithier query than one might think.

See, being uninitiated in the vagaries of my journey and experience within the BDSM community, he couldn’t have been aware of how charged a question this was for me.

(more…)

My knuckles pressed into the pale hollow formed by his hip as the muscles and bone slipped beneath skin damp from the shower, and I slid my hand up his side, ribs evident beneath an expanse of freckles.

“What’s with this Jesus of Nazareth post-fasting look you’re rocking here, dude?”

He laughed, somewhat ruefully.

“Yeah that happens when your focus on food being pleasurable shifts: you don’t really think much about eating. A protein bar is fine…” he trailed off as I wound my leg around his much longer one, my body shifted towards him and my breast was within reach.

“But your tummy issues are better?” I slid my arm under his head, hair damp, my chin on his forehead.

“Yeah…”

His reddish goatee scratching a heated trail of skin sensitized by the scrubbing sensation from my throat to my mouth as his insistent lips caught and nipped skin eliciting my sharp inhalations that drove him to more aggressive exploration of my body his hands pulling and pinching and twisting an arm between my legs my knee bent his elbow on my thigh and wait somehow under my head. His blue eyes meeting my myopic brown ones he pulls off my glasses and I laugh

“Now I can’t see…”

“You wanna keep your glasses on?”

“It might be interesting to see how long they last.”

He is close enough that I can see him his gaze dropping from mine to slide appreciatively down my body as he grabs fistfuls of me rippling reverberations of almost subaudible desire a counterpoint to one hand on my hip another squeezing the flesh on my belly and another or is it the first hand on the back of my neck nipple caught I must have lost track of his hands but one now is insinuating between my thighs going for my pussy but I keep my legs tightly together until his leveraging wins the day.

“Why are…open your legs, baby…” and though I’d usually comply something makes me shy at that moment absurd yes but once he gets the upper hand as it were he quickly realized the subtext of my reluctance is that “Goddamn your pussy is wet baby…” Fingers slipping in the flagrant fragrant evidence of my complete inability to “play it cool” once I’m raring to go and I was distracted from being embarrassed soon enough since I was shortly focused on his cock as it prized open my jaw and my hand gripped in that pushpull reaction I tend to have when getting face fucked. But when I have a gagging mouth full of cock I’m not necessarily able to do my best…work…as it were so I push away harder the barest edge of my teeth tugging lightly on the skin of his cock and…

…there…

…the perfect depth angle and position for me to…

“Ahhhhfucking hell my god baby you are such a good little cocksucker …” a violent hiss of breath and his cock is rapidly a fading memory on my dripping tongue as he pulls me over towards him with his free hand, the other busily fisting his upthrust cock “I have to fuck you. Right now. Right fucking now…” condom on…then his balled up fists on either side of my head his muscled forearms on either side of my face as he fucks his cock into my cunt my hands my fingers my fingernails dig into the sway of his back my breath caught in my throat as my feet

…my … feet…?

my feet feel as though they are on fire then legs hands shaking… my body begins a slow implosion that will I know take him with me but for him slowing down slowing slowing even as I’m on the brink of an orgasm then the brink is past and my own eyes rolled back into my head are blind to anything but the punishing reward of an orgasm that smites me from myself even as the tendons in his neck reflect the immense willpower he exerts as he holds fast on the brink over which I’ve already fallen and I regain a bit of the present and he is slow slow rolling slow “No…not yet…not yet…not yet…” his mantra as the muscles on the underside of my legs aftershock to their own seismic sexuality and I breathe one two feeling that no it isn’t over not yet, not yet and I laugh through my nose as he leans in to whisper that he “Isn’t done yet…” and I slide. Deeper, deeper and further.

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“You don’t have to freak to hit the peak” ~ Courtesy of @BigOlPoofter, via Twitter