Open, Sesame

In the summer following my freshman year of high school, a big group of my friends and I walked to the beach to lie about on the sand, play volleyball and chicken (there’s a game invented just for horny teenagers) in Lake Michigan, and secretly perv on each other’s bodies.  At fifteen, our hormones were raging, which resulted in a lot of ridiculous “I’m flirting with you without flirting with you” language and furtive touching. 

I’d had a massive crush on a classmate for months – a tall nerdy guy with soft hair, glasses, and a wicked sense of humor.  We were good friends; he knew how I felt, but said he didn’t want a relationship.  When the sun got too hot to bear that afternoon, we all walked to his house to relax and cool down.  His room was dark; we had turned the lights out, and the blinds were drawn down, letting in only small rays of bright July sunshine.  We smelled like lake water and all of us piled on the small bed together to be cooled by his ceiling fan and warmed by each other’s bodies. 

I snuggled up to him as close as I dared, desperately wanting to reach out and touch him, even more desperately willing him to touch me.  I could almost feel his heart beating, and the fabric of his shirt touching my bare skin sent excited shivers throughout my body. 

And then he did touch me. 

He touched my stomach, and I moved into his touch.  His hand moved down to my leg, which I pressed against it, afraid to breathe, silently begging him to go on.  He traced his hand up my thigh and slid his fingers up my jean shorts and over my panties, moving them gently and deftly over my vulva.  Moving them back and forth, back and forth, until my body was a quivering mess and I thought for sure I was going to moan out loud and give myself away. 

I’d already lost my virginity at this point; had been fingered, had given blow jobs, had kissed lots of boys.  But this was the first time I’d ever felt genuine sexual desire.  Hunger.  It was like there was a parasitic beast inside of my gut saying, “Godohyesgodpleasepleasepleasetouchmetouchmemoretouchmetherefuckyes, yes, yes.”

This came out of not wanting to please someone else, but wanting someone else to please me.  This came out of a throbbing place in my cunt that welled up and said, “Yes.  This is for me.  This is something I crave.”  This came out of a growly place inside of me. 

And I loved it.  I knew when it happened: This is important.  Pay attention to this feeling.  Embrace this.

I still love it, but things are different now.  Now it’s much easier to say, “I want you,” and get on with it.  I miss that place where you know you want to fuck someone, and you know they want to fuck you, but you’re both trying to keep that desire in check, and sometimes, in the dark, with your friends around, it bursts out of you anyway – because it’s more powerful than you are.   


I Fucked Up.

I fucked up big time. 

I’m a bisexual woman who is very flirtatious by nature.  I’m a polyamorous woman who understands and appreciates ethical monogamy as a valid and rich relationship model.  Unfortunately, I’m also a heavy drinker on Saturday nights, and I sometimes don’t make the best judgments.

I don’t flirt with my girl friends’ girlfriends.  I don’t flirt with my female friends’ husbands or boyfriends.  But I most certainly – and often – flirt with my male friends’ girlfriends.  Most of my guy friends take this with a grain of salt; they laugh, or they think it’s hot, or they wish it were more than flirting. 

Or maybe they don’t.  Maybe it annoys the fuck out of them, but there’s a societal pressure on men to say they want to see two women entwined.  Maybe they’re seething inside their heads.

Last Saturday night, I was behind the bar – the bar I call my second home – with said bar owner’s girlfriend.  This guy is a good friend and one of the most genuinely generous and compassionate people I have ever known.  I made out with his girlfriend in front of the whole bar, thinking it was no big deal.  She enthusiastically participated, and we were just being drunk and silly.  Or so I thought.

When I walked out from behind the bar, I was immediately yanked aside by a mutual friend, who looked me in the eye and said, “Not cool.”  I didn’t understand… until I looked backward and saw my friend looking at me with hurt eyes.  He called me back, and took me into the kitchen.

“Why would you do that to me?” He asked.  I have never felt so ashamed in my life.  He said that people were coming up to him asking him why his girlfriend was kissing someone else, and he didn’t know what to tell them.  Because I was drunk, I burst into tears and started profusely apologizing… I told him I loved him.  That I would never intentionally hurt him.  That he’s one of the best people I’ve ever known.  That I didn’t know what to say, either, except I’m so sorry.  I didn’t give excuses or reasons, because there weren’t any. 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry isn’t enough when you hurt a friend. 

I know ere’s nothing I can do to make it better except let the natural balm of time run its course… but.  Nothing except time and a little more fucking awareness of people’s feelings.

Strawberry Season

One of my favorite things about living in Korea is that the produce sold in the markets (and usually in the grocery stores, too) is seasonal; some fruits and veggies appear for a month or two, then vanish.  When strawberry season hits, you have to nom on them quickly before they disappear!

Click on the lips below to see who else is being sinful this Sunday!

Sinful Sunday


I. Love. Being. A. Unicorn.

Not a polyamory unicorn – to that I say, Oh HELL To The No.  No one hands an OPP down to this gal.  I love being a one-night stand threesome unicorn – a magical woman who for one inspiring night can spice up the sex lives of a couple who has been together for a long time with a little bit of novelty.  I love seeing people in couples watch each other as they’re playing with someone else – that particular facial expression that’s a mixture of arousal and love. Playing with a couple who has never had a threesome but has always fantasized about it is an intense and exciting experience – their joy and enthusiasm literally rubs off on me.

I love hearing, “Fuck, this is hot!” from a man (wish I could say I’d experienced a threesome with two other women – but, you know, bucket list) as he’s fucking his wife from behind, watching his own cock thrust into her while also watching her going down on me – seeing my face flushed, eyes closed, moaning, feeling every centimeter of her tongue on my vulva.  I also love hearing, “Fuck, this is hot!” from a woman as she’s furiously masturbating while watching her boyfriend pound me hard, hand gripping my hair tight as he can, feeling my cunt clench around him while I’m staring at how beautiful she looks in her shiny sex glow.  I love sitting on a man’s face while making out with his girlfriend while she’s riding his cock… and no one can say, “Fuck, this is hot,” ‘cause all our mouths are busy.  It’s truly the best thing ever.

I know there are million couples looking for a third to fulfill their fantasy; thought it might be helpful to see what someone who loves doing this and has sifted through a LOT of threesome posts looks for in a post:

1)      The couple has been together for a long time. To me, this signifies a likelihood that they really care about each other’s well-being and safety.  I prefer married couples for this reason.

2)      The post is well-written (I.e., no text slang), and the couple actually says something about who they are and what their interests are.

3)      There’s an emphasis on the woman’s pleasure if it’s a hetero couple.  Bonus if a man is writing it and says something along the lines of, “This is for her – I’ll be there watching and would be happy to join if that’s something you’re comfortable with.”  EXTRA HUGE bonus if a woman wrote the post.

4)      There are no pictures or descriptions of genitals.  This is totally a personal preference, but I don’t give a shit how hung you are or how nice your ass is if you don’t know how to use your words.  When a couple sends me (hopefully recent) photos, what I really want to see is their faces.  

5)      They’re taking time to look for someone who fits their needs and respects their boundaries (which says that they are okay with me taking time to find someone who fits my needs and respects my boundaries).  Any post that says, “Looking for someone tonight” is a red flag to me.  They want to meet their potential third in a public place first to get to know that person and say there’s no pressure to hook up if there’s no chemistry. 

6)      Along the same lines, they are open to some email correspondence and conversation beforehand to talk about things like logistics, barriers, STI testing, etc.

If you’re looking for a bisexual lady threesome unicorn, here are some places you can look!

  • A paid site like Adult Friend Finder, Kasidie, or any number of other swinger dating sites
  • Good old Craigslist.  People knock CL, but I love it.  I have met some wonderfully genuine, fun, and hot people on CL.
  • The relatively new 3inder app
  • OKC (apparently you can sign up as a couple?)
  • FetLife 
  • Your friends!  I know so many couples with whom I would love to have a threesome.  Unfortunately for me, the couples I want to bang usually say no because one of them isn’t into it, and I haven’t been attracted to the friends who wanted me to be their third.  

This was originally meant to be a post about fantasy threesomes with famous couples (I’m looking at you, Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem), but sometimes posts have a tendency to morph into something else entirely.  Do any of you have fantasies about threesomes with famous couples?


Ephemeral (NSFR)

Cherry blossoms burst open for a week following warming weather and spring rain, then begin to flutter off branches almost as soon as they’ve blossomed; it’s important to appreciate them while they’re here.  Their fleeting beauty is replaced by bright, verdant leaves that last until mid-autumn and are stunning in their own right.

Color photos saved for another post…
For other (I’m sure) spring-themed photos, click on the lips below!

Sinful Sunday


“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”- Anaïs Nin

“Push harder,” he says, staring down at me, watching the sweat trickle off my brow.  “One more this time.”

“I can’t,” I say, meeting his steadfast gaze.  “My muscles won’t do it.”  “You can,” he replies, never breaking eye contact. 

He lowers the barbell down into my waiting hands and I let the steel, still warm from my last set, rest against my palms momentarily before gradually lowering it and pushing up.  Again.  And again.  And again.  He’s not holding on, but he’s there, his eyes darting between my hands, my pecs, and my eyes. 

“Slow and steady,” he says.  “You got this.”  I push.  Eight.  I struggle and feel the barbell heavy in my small hands, but I do it.  Nine. 

“One more,” he demands, his voice authoritative but reassuring.  With everything I have left, I shove the barbell upward, closing my eyes and straining.  He puts his hands underneath it just as my arms straighten, takes a firm hold of it, and says, “You can let go now.”  My arms, instead of dropping, lower slowly until they’re hanging limply at my sides and my fingers graze the grungy mat underneath the bench.  Eyes still closed, I feel proud but too tired to smile. 

After stretching, we walk home together, taking turns sipping a protein shake.  In his apartment, which has started to feel like home to me, I go into the bathroom to turn on the shower; before I can get there, he grabs my arm.

“No,” he says, pressing me against his blue tile wall.  “I want to taste you the way you are now – sweaty and salty.”  He pulls down my yoga pants and drenched panties and inhales deeply, like you would with a glass of dark red.  Looking down at him, nuzzling his nose into my public hair and smelling me, preparing to lick me clean before we even get into the shower, I finally smile.     


My very, very favorite thing to do is go blues dancing.  More than driving on lost highways.  More than eating the toastiest bagel on a winter day.  More than sex.

Yes.  More than sex.

Dancing with a good partner is what makes me feel most alive and in my body.  It makes me feel graceful and beautiful and sassy and carefree and so incredibly intimately connected to my partner, even if (s)he is a total stranger.

I’d take a great dance over good sex and a good dance over mediocre sex any day.

I desperately wish people still went dancing on dates.
For lots more favorites, click the lips below!
Sinful Sunday
*Sorry for the crap quality of the photos; they’re stills from a video shot in a dark swing dancing venue.


In South Korea, cherry blossoms mean spring has sprung; right now, everything is in bloom, and the country looks like a beautiful pink and white fluffy heaven.

(…and now, so does my crotch.)
My very favorite K-pop video of all time is also called Bloom; it was banned from Korean television for featuring masturbation!  
Here’s to growth, warmth, and blossoming.