I don’t think of myself as an exhibitionist.

This is strange, considering how much I love having sex in public.  (So. Much.)  The potential of being seen – not actually being seen, but just the possibility – makes my knickers slicker than a snake oil salesman.  When The Texan suggested we go off the trail while hiking for a quickie, I almost died of pure joy.  Seeing a hiker off in the distance – not close enough to see us, but close enough to want to investigate should we make more noise – made me clench around him tighter.

There was an evening a couple of years ago when I was walking around a playground taking pictures with a partner when he suddenly reached under my dress to slide my red panties off (putting them in his breast pocket like a gentleman), sat me down on a piece of equipment, pushed my skirt up, and started lapping at me; I think I came in under a minute, and it was incredibly intense.  It was the only time I ever had an orgasm from oral sex with that partner (whom I otherwise had a MILLION vaginal orgasms with); he thought for sure it was because we were outside where people might see us.  I shrugged that idea off – until I started taking naked photos of myself.

I cannot get through a photo shoot without wanking.  Something about knowing that I’m taking these photos to show other people – that I’m exposing myself to someone who at the time of the shoot is unseen, someone who might be turned on by those pictures – arouses me to no end.  If you’ve seen Sinful Sunday photos of me, you can be sure that a) my cunt was shiny and slippery at the time, and b) I stopped taking photos at some point in order to rub one out.

I love walking around my apartment naked and fucking in windows, always wondering if anyone is looking up or over and then won’t be able to get it out of their head for weeks; I also have stranger gangbang fantasies that I don’t actually want to enact.

Still – I don’t consider myself an exhibitionist.  I don’t want to watch other people watching me.  I don’t want to directly expose myself to people without their consent, my sexual gratification isn’t reliant on other people’s reactions, etc.  The idea of going to orgies or swinger’s clubs doesn’t really appeal to me except as a novelty.


Thinking about someone happening to look over from their apartment to see my sweaty body pressed against the 18th story window as I was getting pounded from behind this summer in my friend’s apartment – hoping that it’s a catalyst for a wave of desire that then consumes that person and carries over into their sexual relationships – makes my pulse quicken.

Riding The Texan on a picnic bench in the dark last year, his dick barely out of his jeans and my dress hitched up around my waist, knowing that anyone could stumble into the area of the park we were in at any moment – even if it was highly unlikely – engulfed me in a desperate, greedy lust.

Not seeing you, but knowing you’re there – invisible, but felt – makes my body stand on edge, warm and wanting.

Always Be Condoming

I’ve had a couple of experiences this year wherein I was playing with someone for the first time, and things were hot and heavy.  After lots of making out and touching, stroking, licking, and nibbling each other’s various body parts, I was lubed up and desperately wanted to be penetrated.  I come much more easily from penetrative sex than oral sex, so I usually want to have penetrative sex if it’s on the table (especially if it’s on an actual table).  In both cases, the guy was hard as stone; however, once I rolled on a condom and we started fucking, he lost his erection.  This in and of itself is not a big deal – boners can be pretty random.  They often come and go for no reason at all, and I’m all about being sexual and sensual and completely enjoying being with my partner in myriad ways without a hard dick present.

What struck me as odd, though, is that after sex with both of these gentlemen, they apologized and said that they weren’t used to having sex with condoms.  I then asked: “The women you’re with don’t care whether or not you use them?” Nope, they said.  Usually they don’t.  I’ve heard this from numerous other (straight) male friends as well – that they don’t bother wearing condoms if the women they’re with are fine with them not wearing one – even strangers they take home from a bar.  The thought then occurred to me that maybe I’m the anomaly here.  I’ve always insisted on condom usage – even with most of my partners when I was in monogamous relationships and on the pill (I realize this is strange)!

When I was very young, I watched two loved ones die of AIDS-related diseases which catapulted me into ten years of volunteering for various HIV, AIDS, and STI-related organizations and non-profits.  I guess Always Be Condoming just got drilled into me during my adolescence and has never gone away.

Two thoughts on this: one, I grew up with actual sex education.  It wasn’t much; it certainly wasn’t comprehensive or sex-positive, but it was something – we learned about barriers and contraception.  We learned that this shit was important.  I was in high school during the passage of the 1996 welfare act that first funded abstinence-only education (thanks, Bill Clinton); it didn’t go into effect until I’d already gone through sex ed.  Abstinence-only curricula often preach medically inaccurate information regarding the use of condoms, so people who have been taught in states that receive abstinence-only funding are less likely to use them.  The funding of comprehensive sexuality and relationships education is imperative to safer sex practices.

Two, every poly person or swinger I’ve been with consistently uses condoms with their (non-primary, if they have a primary relationship) partners, which is one reason that STI transmission rates for ethically non-monogamous folks and monogamous [sic] folks are pretty similar.

Don’t get me wrong.  I relish the sensitive feeling of the satiny skin of a hard cock inside of me, and there’s nothing I love more than being pumped full of jizz and feeling it drip down the insides of my thighs (or then having it fed to me…), but seriously.  Seriously.  I suggested to the first guy this happened with that he might try masturbating with a condom on to get used to the sensation – at least the cleanup is easy.  I’m curious now as to what other people’s experiences have been like in terms of condom usage.  If you have a dick or fuck people who have dicks, do you insist on condoms for PIV sex, or let it slide – and why?


It has finally started to cool down a bit here; still, I had to turn on my A/C yesterday while doing yoga.  For the time being, I appreciate being able to be in my house naked and warm, and am taking advantage of it while I still can.



Sinful Sunday

The Butters: A Lube Review

LTASEX was one of the first sex blogs I ever started reading on a regular basis, so when Jerome asked me to review his new creation, a lube called The Butters, I was so excited!

The Butters is an all-natural lube – no parabens, no glycerin, no added colors or scents or chemicals.  It’s vegan and plant-based, and I can pronounce and identify all of the ingredients, which makes me feel good.  It’s not just lube, though – it has a multitude of uses.  The first thing I used it for was makeup removal; as someone who wears makeup infrequently, it was nice to have something to remove my foundation once in a while that wouldn’t dry out my skin without having to buy a special product.  The second thing I used it for was shaving my legs (I usually use conditioner), and it worked great!  I’ve used it for moisturizer as well, and I’m kind of sad that I don’t have Docs to shine with it.

Bullshit-free, people. Bullshit-free.

By the time I got around to putting it on my naughty bits, I was already sold.  The Butters is longer-lasting than water-based lube, but not as fluid as pure coconut oil; best of all, you can use it on silicone toys (but don’t use it with toys that are made from porous materials).  Something I really like about this lube is that I can use it externally and not have to re-apply (a reason I like to use silicone lube on my vulva) while using a silicone toy internally at the same time and not worry about getting silicone lube on it accidentally. This lube is fantastic for butt toys – I’ve used it with beads and plugs, and it’s perfect!  I like that it’s slippery without being runny – it’s creamy instead.  I’ve used it for manual sex, externally on myself and on a male partner; in a long hand job session, I only needed to grab a bit more lube once!  My partner was really into it, too (I believe his exact quote was, “Where can I buy this?!”).*


As for vaginal use – I think that’s a personal call.  There’s a lot of discussion and disagreement among sex educators about using plant-based oils as vaginal lubricants; if you’re fine with other oils, this might be okay as well. I’m prone to yeast infections, so I prefer not to use oils inside my vag at all.  And a quick PSA: Please don’t use oil-based lubes with condoms, kids.

Something I love about The Butters is the discreet packaging – once you take the label off, it’s just a small black tub.  It could be anything – meaning you can leave it in plain sight and never have to answer questions about it.  I wish it came available in a pump or squeeze tube, though; maybe someday down the road?  One of the best things about it is the price; at half the price (or less) of other lubes on the market, it’s a steal!  A 4oz tub of The Butters is only $4.50 compared to the $8 – 10 price range of other lubes at that size.

The Butters has a faint scent kind of reminiscent of a new silicone toy – not unpleasant, but present.  Not strong enough to smell if your nose isn’t right next to it, but it will stay on your fingers for a little while.  It kind of looks like semen when it’s being rubbed over a body part, which is delightful… and hot.  Overall, this is a great lube.  The texture, the endurance, and the multiple uses won my… heart.  Highly recommended! And if you’re not in the market for oil-based lube, pop over to LTASEX anyway for a good dose of entertainment and education.

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*Answer: http://www.getthebutters.com

A bit of sunshine

I hate my birthday.  Not because I hate birthdays or getting older; I LOVE celebrating other peoples’ birthdays and often make cakes, send cards and small packages by mail, and call friends. I always remember.

Which is why it’s so painful that the people I love most never remember mine.  I’m not on Facebook and my birthday isn’t on any social media, so no one’s getting e-notifications.  I’m always so grateful that I have an amazing sister and mom who remember, and they send cards and call, making me feel loved… but every year I go to sleep feeling pretty crummy that most of my friends and partners forgot.

My birthday this year was one of those days when everything went wrong from the minute I woke up; I had a terrible morning.  In the afternoon, I was running late to my second job because there’s a transportation strike happening, and I was stressed about time and making sure I had everything I needed for lessons.  I rushed in, opened my classroom door, and:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JO!” screamed eleven elementary school kids as they jumped out from behind the furniture, spraying fake snow everywhere.  They had decorated the classroom beautifully and made a huge card full of loving notes and drawings.  And I sobbed.  I just lost it – I’ve wanted a surprise party my whole life, and it came from the most unexpected place.  They stared at me, confused. I tried to tell them my tears were happy tears as I kept crying, and they were like, “Teacher, smile! It is a happy day!”  It was a gorgeous, shining moment in an otherwise long and draining day… being a teacher is  so validating sometimes.  I love my students like they’re my children, and when they love me back, it’s the best feeling in the whole world.

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Back Words

For me, backs are without a doubt the sexiest body part.  Poets write longingly of a radiant smile, cherry lips, shining eyes, perfect skin; those things are lovely, but none of them catch my eye like a clear-cut scapula or beautiful lats, especially in women.  I love the roundness of breasts as much as the next guy; nice abs can make me sweat, and I appreciate dynamite gams… but when I see a woman with an open-backed shirt or dress, I stop in my tracks.

Muscular backs on men are hot*, but to me, muscular backs on women are a thousand times hotter.  Maybe it’s because most of our strongest muscles are in our legs, so we have to work for it.  Maybe it’s that women’s backs aren’t overtly sexualized by the media the way other body parts are, so there’s something tantalizing about them.  Maybe it’s waking up next to my lover and seeing the way the sun lights up the hills of her shoulders and the graceful slope into her lower back; or maybe it’s that I’m a dancer and I associate intimacy with strangers with having a hand placed squarely in the middle of my back, or mine in theirs.  These hands control my movements, subtly guiding my direction.

My strong back allows me to pick up partners who wrap their legs around me, and I love nothing more than being picked up myself (which is quite easy – I’m a small lady) and pinned against a wall.  The way a tongue feels gliding all the way down my spine makes me squirm in the best way possible, and I relish the feeling of a thuddy flogger hitting the space between my shoulders and the middle of my back over and over and over again until I’m sweating and breathing it all in in a heady subspace – then touched light as can be with a feather or run over with a wartenberg wheel ‘til I’m shivering and soaking wet.  I try to imagine what my partners see when they’re fucking me from behind, holding onto a shoulder with one hand and a hip with the other, and I love pressing down into the small of someone’s back as I’m pegging him or thrusting slowly into her with a strap-on.  Watching the ripples of someone’s back muscles as we move together makes me want to keep going past the point of exhaustion.  Most of all, I love how tiny my own back feels in the care of someone with big hands.  I feel secure.  Falling asleep with someone’s hand filling the small of my back feels reassuring.  It says: I’ll be here next to you when the sun comes up, and we’ll start our day together.

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*To a point; I’m turned off by the huge muscles of bodybuilders.

Del Mar

I was feeling a bit mermaid-ish coming out of the shower the other day… if I only had a tail to swim in.  Or shells big enough to actually cover my breasts.


Sinful Sunday


Indra liked the way the crisp autumn air stung her cheeks as she squatted close to the ground, her urine stream splashing a bit onto her shoes from the crunchy fallen oak leaves between her feet.  This was a sensual time of year: everything smelled rich due to harvest or decay.  The light was more golden, connections between people more heightened as friends and family came together after vacations apart.  She stood up, buttoning her jeans, closed her eyes, and inhaled the earthy scent of burning branches for a moment before starting her walk back to the cluster of tents she and her friends had set up earlier that day.  She could see the glow of their bonfire in the distance; she, too, felt radiant.

Fire, Flame, Wood Fire, Brand

Coming closer to the tents, Indra stopped short when a movement caught her eye.  Still hidden in the forest, her hand grazing the scratchy bark on the tree next to her, she squinted to see more clearly the silhouette of someone inside their tent; the campfire in front of the tent made the shadow visible from behind.  Whose tent is that? she wondered as she intently stared, craning her neck to get a better look.  Suddenly understanding what she was seeing, she flushed and took a step toward camp – then stepped back to look again.  His hand was down his pants, methodically and slowly stroking.  She stepped toward camp again… but then immediately came back for more.  Now he had pulled his cock out; its shadow looked comically large in the firelight.  She laughed a small, barely audible, nervous laugh, unable to look away as he licked his hand and rubbed it over the head of his cock, then all the way to the bottom of his shaft.  Her cunt warmed, thickened, pulsed.

An unexpected shout of “INDRA!” from a friend jolted her and sent her heart racing, but she couldn’t avert her eyes, couldn’t move her feet.  Maybe if she just stayed silent… she heard boots pounding leaves and panting breath coming into the woods; she stayed stock still but for a slight rubbing of her thighs.  Catching her breath, Ellen jogged up to Indra, asking for toilet paper.  A few seconds too late, Indra switched her glance over to Ellen, trying to find words that were sticky in her mouth, and snapping out of her reverie, patted her pockets for the desired item.  “What were you staring at?” asked Ellen, whose eyes were adjusting to the darkness.

“I just – uh – nothing,” she replied, her vulva now aflame.  Ellen looked into the camp and audibly gasped when she saw it.  She grabbed Indra’s warm hand in hers and they looked on silently, blood thudding together.  “It’s so hot,” Indra whispered.  Ellen, a bit tipsy, leaned into Indra’s ear and whispered, “Can I touch you like that?”  Indra, still looking at the tent, just swallowed hard and nodded, her nipples like cherry pits.  Ellen unbuttoned Indra’s pants and lowered her zipper just a bit before sliding her slender hand into the slick folds of Indra’s vulva, rubbing her juices up and over her clit before moving two fingers inside of her.  She looked behind her for a moment to get the rhythm of his stroke and tried to match it, curling and pressing her fingers inside of Indra.

Indra grabbed the branch above her with both hands, holding onto it like a log in a river with strong currents.  She moaned aloud; Ellen moved her lips back to Indra’s ear to whisper, “Don’t make a sound.”  She covered Indra’s mouth with one hand while continuing to fuck her with the other.  She didn’t know if it was the voyeurism or potential exhibitionism – could anyone else see them? – that made her insides growl and roar, but either way, she came hard onto Ellen’s hand, her muscles clamping around Ellen’s fingers.  Ellen gently pulled them out, licked them, and placed her hands on the sides of Indra’s face before lightly kissing her still-ajar, chapstick-covered lips.  “Thanks!” she said quietly, grabbing the tissue out of Indra’s pocket, and bounding away into the woods, leaving Indra there to watch a small stream of ejaculate bubble out of the staff in her friend’s hand, both of them finally satisfied.

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