A Winter Tale

It was one in the morning when Heather – beautiful Heather with the high cheekbones, toned arms, and loosely-flowing honey-colored hair – grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the pub and into the building’s lobby, an entrance to said pub and a music venue next door.  A place that hundreds of people walk through every weekend.  She casually leaned against the wooden paneling on the wall and pulled me in toward her; I was shocked and thrilled and confused (did I mention she was also straight Heather?) and my heart stopped beating momentarily.  She brushed her lips against mine, still holding my hand, which she then slid into her panties.  I moved my fingers down through the slippery folds of her labia, holding my breath, wondering if this was really happening.  I gently pushed my hand further into her panties, sliding my two middle fingers into her while rubbing her clit with the heel of my hand; she moaned softly and closed her eyes, letting her body relax.  For a minute.  Then she swiftly undid the buttons on her pants and gave me a sultry look; it took me zero seconds to get on my knees and slide her turquoise panties to the side so I could run my tongue from her fourchette up to and over her clitoris and then back down again, eagerly tasting her.  I spread her labia with my fingers and pressed my lips to hers, gently sucking her clit before licking her again.  I felt her hips tense up and move ever so slightly as she placed one hand on my head, caressing my hair.  She tasted sweet and sour and wonderful, and I let her juices stick to my lips, completely oblivious to the fact that we were in a seriously public, well-lit place.  She wasn’t quite as oblivious; as quickly as it started, it was over; she was tapping my shoulder, telling me we should get back inside before someone caught us.  I looked up at her and smiled from the cold floor, tracing my fingers up her vulva as I stood.  Okay, I said, wolfishly licking my lips.  We walked back into the bar as normally as we would have had we just gone for a smoke, sat down with our friends, ordered a shot, and continued talking.  She never brought it up again – in fact, I only ever saw her once again – but it was a lovely shared moment on a winter evening long ago.            

And I leave you with that, internet friends.  I’m heading to warmer climes on Friday morning and will return in March!  Wish me luck on getting some travel booty; I haven’t had sex in SO LONG (okay, it’s only been a month, but it feels like forever). 

Stay warm, everyone!

Hot in Here

A Nelly ear worm for you!  You’re welcome.

These photos were taken inside a Finnish sauna in the nicest love motel room I’ve ever stayed in.

Everything leads to wanking for me.
It was a hedonistic night that involved making a sex video!  I always thought I wouldn’t want to see myself getting it on, but when we went back to my place and watched it together projected onto my wall, it just made for more hot sex, and you can’t go wrong with that.

This will be my last Sinful Sunday until March; I’ll be travelling in SE Asia for a month.  Have a lovely February, everyone!!!   

To view other hot Sinful Sunday pictures, click on the lips below!
Sinful Sunday

Let it Grow

Last week, I wrote about the origin story of these lyrics; here they be!

(To be sung to the tune of that D*sn*y song you couldn’t escape from for at least a year):

The lights glow bright on my bare crotch tonight
Not one hair to be seen
But resembling prepubescence
Is really not my thing

You’d think avoiding lice and crabs is worth the pain,
But once you shave it all you gotta keep going

Once you start it’s so easy
Get past the itch and you will see
And yes, the process might be slow
But worth a go

Let it grow; let it grow
Don’t shave it off anymore
Let it grow; let it grow
Throw your razors out the door
I don’t care what they’re going to say
Let those pubes grow out
Big bush is accepted here anyway

You think that having wild hair
Will make your junk seem small
But when you put your dick inside me
Don’t feel that way at all

Hair growth won’t change what you can do,
And it feels good to run my fingers through
It’s a much softer ride for me
So I feel free to

Let it grow; let it grow
Put your face in my furry pie
Let it grow; let it grow
Wave razor bumps goodbye
Here they sprout, and here they’ll stay
Let those pubes grow out…

My power bush is big just like the seventies
I’d pluck some errant hairs, but only if you beg me please
I want to bring the trend back to the recent past
I’m never going back; these pubic hairs will last!

Let it grow; let it grow
That baby crotch is gone
Let it grow; let it grow
Like a wild and untamed lawn
Here they sprout in the light of day
Let those pubes grow out – big bush is accepted here anyway.

I’m thinking I should write several more of these and record them on an album called Disney After Dark… but it’s possible that’s already been done.

If you are an excellent singer (or a terrible singer; I’m no judge!) and want to make a video of yourself or an audio file of yourself singing this, I’ll post a link to it on this page!

If you want to re-post these lyrics, great!  Please include a link to this page.

Disclaimer: I love bare vulvas.  I had one for several years, and I think they’re beautiful.  If you’ve got a naked crotch, I’m not dissing it!  ❤

One thing leads to another… (NSFR)

So you know when you’re taking dirty pictures of yourself… 

… and you get a sudden urge to masturbate RIGHT NOW?

What’s even better is when that wank leads into a “Hmm… my camera is already set up; why not make a video for my sweetheart?” leads into “I should also probably try this new sex toy that I bought myself recently” leads into “and add this other sex toy.”  

P.S.  Jilling it (sorry, Jill) while wearing wrist restraints is surprisingly hot.  

P.P.S. The Korean word for vagina is pronounced Jill, so it’s kind of an apt term.  

Check out other fun pics by clicking on the lips below:

Sinful Sunday

Natural Woman

I was sitting in a BBQ restaurant with The Texan last year, chatting about my newfound appreciation of pubic hair.  He’s really into it; when we first met, I wasn’t.  Until I came to Korea, I shaved everything.  I only stopped shaving my pubic mound when I started noticing the old ladies in the gym shower staring unabashedly at my crotch, wondering what terrible travesty had happened to make all of my hair fall out (or perhaps thinking, “Why would someone do that on purpose?!”).  Shaving / waxing isn’t much of a thing in Korea, so most of the ladies here have lush, glorious bushes. 

I, on the other hand, grew up in a culture that demands its women be perfectly plucked and hairless, so I came to Korea bare.  When The Texan asked me to grow it out, I was uncomfortable at first.  “I don’t know,” I said.  “I’ve been shaving for over a decade.”  Cool, he said, buuuut it would really turn him on if I let it grow a little bit.  So I did.  I let it grow out for a whole month – until I had a date with someone else and shaved it off again.  And I was surprised a few days in how much I wish I hadn’t.  My vulva felt cold and itchy and generally unpleasant.  I realized there are benefits to having pubic hair – I’ll never scratch a partner during that phase in between shaves; my crotch doesn’t look like that of a pre-pubescent girl; much less maintenance is involved.  It’s actually pretty darn nice.     

One day in the shower, he asked why I shaved.  I told him that I like the way it feels; that it wasn’t for my partners, it was for me.  I told him I shave because I want to.  And I do love the day of and the first day after shaving where I’m all silky smooth; it feels better when I masturbate because my skin is more sensitive, and it feels amazing to the touch.  But a few days after shaving, it doesn’t feel so great.  I don’t want to shave too often because I don’t want my precious puss to get razor bumps, and I’ve never even considered waxing because of the price.  After not shaving for a month and then shaving it off for my date, I started rethinking my previous stance.  Was I really doing this for me?  Or was I doing it for what I perceived my partners wanted?  Once a partner actually directly stated what he was into and I tried it, it turned out that I really liked it.  Or at least, to a point.  If The Texan had his way, my cunt would be a woolly mammoth; once it gets to be a little too woodsy down there, I start deforesting.  I mean, I do wear a swimsuit in public at times.

Anyway, the BBQ restaurant.  I was telling him how much I was enjoying letting my pubic hair grow out, and I made a joke that I liked it so much I was going to write a song about it.  His laughter only encouraged this absurd line of reasoning, and so all of this is to say I wrote a song parody about pubic hair… which I’ll be posting next week. 

Anticipation breeds appreciation, right?

The Silhouette Inside

I wanted to post this last week for the January windows prompt, but alas, I was on a series of three planes back to Korea.  I live on the 6th floor of a high rise building in the middle of downtown in a rather large city, and no one ever bothers looking up.  Too bad for them, ’cause I’ve done a lot of naughty things in this window…

See who else is letting us peek into their virtual windows – 


Sinful Sunday

Catching Feelings

I have this very distinct memory from my junior year of high school of being angry at my high school sweetheart because he wouldn’t let me have a threesome with a girl I’d had a crush on for years and her mega-hot boyfriend (ungh that dude was ripped).  I didn’t understand what the big deal was – it was just sex.  It wouldn’t change the way I felt about my boyfriend; he would still be my love.  A year later, I broke up with him because I had a huge boner for someone else, and society says the rule is that you only get to have one romantic relationship at a time.  I was devastated; he was completely heartbroken.  I still loved him deeply and didn’t want to end things, but I wanted to explore a relationship with this other guy and didn’t see any other way that could be possible except to cheat, which I wasn’t willing to do (yet).  The cheating part came later when we started sleeping together again while he was dating one of my good friends.  Teenagers.

Looking back on this now, it’s quite obvious to me that I was never a monogamous-minded individual.  In my early twenties, I cheated on multiple boyfriends with multiple people; I always tried to justify this by telling myself that something was missing from my relationships.  Sure, I couldn’t identify that thing, but something must be broken to make me stray, right?  But… nothing was broken.  I just loved two (or three) people at once.  I can’t imagine how my relationships would have been different if I’d had a vocabulary or framework to deal with and understand those feelings.

Coming off of a gutting post-cheating breakup, I decided that I just couldn’t be in romantic relationships anymore if it meant I was going to keep hurting people.  So I did what any hot young twenty-something would do: I banged a LOT of people and told them all I just wanted casual sex.  I didn’t, though.  I wanted to love and be loved.  I wanted to sleep next to the same people on a regular basis.  I wanted to spend holidays with partners I cared about.  I just didn’t see that as being a possibility when I wanted to be with multiple people. 

I built a fortress around my heart.  Even when, years later, I accepted that I was ethically non-monogamous, I still wouldn’t identify as polyamorous, joking that I was “barely amorous,” so how could I be poly?  But two years ago, out of the blue and much to my consternation at the time, I fell in love – hard – and my heart cracked open just enough to believe that maybe this poly thing could work.  Aaand then it got emotionally sucker-punched by the first person I’d had a real relationship with in years.  The first thought I had in my devastated state (my devastate?) was that I was right – poly wasn’t for me because love wasn’t for me.  Emotions are too complex and uncontrollable.  Tears and anger are for the birds.  I should just have sexual relationships without making myself vulnerable, even if it meant I’d never have what I wanted in my relationships.

And then this miraculous series of events happened.  After Sucker-Puncher left Korea, I read More Than Two over the course of a couple of months.  I stopped talking to him for a spell so I could build better boundaries and do some heavy self-reflection and healing (and when we started talking again, I came to our conversations from a more honest and aware place).  I spent a week on a beach in the Philippines writing out answers (by hand!) to questions from the book to reflect on what I wanted in my relationships, who I wanted to be, and how I was going to get there.  I had this incredible travel affair with a lovely Welsh gentleman, during which I came to appreciate loving connections and successful short-term relationships.  And two months after I came back from vacation, I met The Texan, who loved me in a way I’ve always wanted to be loved and let me be exactly who I am.  I finally figured out that being vulnerable is essential to getting what I want, even if it is trying at times (and it’s really fucking trying at times).  It wasn’t that poly wasn’t for me – it’s that my needs weren’t being met and I didn’t know how to ask for them to be.  Now that I’m able to vocalize and advocate for my needs and desires (and have given myself permission to do so), I’m starting to get what I want out of my romantic and sexual relationships… and it only took twenty years to get here!

I came out to my mom as polyamorous when I was home for Christmas; she seemed completely unfazed.  It was way easier than coming out as bisexual (Her initial response to that was, “But I want grandchildren!”  Sorry, mom.); this time, she just said, “Okay, honey.”  I still haven’t told her that my long-distance boyfriend is married, ‘cause, you know, one step at a time.

2015 was a phenomenal year; it was the year I finally came to love and accept myself wholly as I am (most days, anyway – I am still human), which allows me to love those around me more freely and compassionately.  It was the year I figured my shit out.  It was also the year of the ass!  Really – what more could someone want in a year?  My parents always told me and my sister when we were growing up that thirty-five was the best year of their lives, and so far, it’s been absolutely lovely.