Top 100 Sex Blogs 2018

This is a re-post of Molly’s Top 100 Sex Blogs List of 2018, sponsored by Chaturbate.  Molly is absolutely indefatigable in her efforts to bolster the sex blogging community in a time of pushback and suppression from government and social media.  She is a goddess among us, and her hard work on this is proof!

To all the amazing sex bloggers who tear open their hearts, spill their guts, and allow us to pick their brains – thank you.  Please, please, PLEASE check out the New Voices page as well; I’m especially enthralled with My Controlled Ascent, Jayne Renault, and Knkstriped.

1. Rebel’s Notes

Rebel has been in the top 10 of this list for that last few years as her blog is always of a consistently high standard however over the last year her writing has taken on a new depth and vulnerability as she has tackled a number of difficult subjects relating to her life including grief, depression and the loss of her sex life due to her husbands illness. She has written about these subjects in such a raw and honest way never shying away from the difficult aspects and that is something I hugely admire about her. As well as this she continues to be a force for good within the community, running Wicked Wednesday and of course this year the amazing Smut Marathon. She absolutely deserves this number one spot for being a truly awesome sex blogger.

Follow her on Twitter: @Rebelsnotes

2. Floss Does Life

Floss has absolutely wowed me with her blog this year. It is well designed making it easy to navigate around and serving lots of juicy content. Her writing seems to have blossomed over the last 12 months and she has tackled some challenging kink related topics and also written a whole host of truly delicious erotic fiction. She is force to be reckoned this and I am excited to see what the future holds for her and her blog.

Follow her on Twitter: @_floss_84

3. Temperatures Rising

This is Mrs Fever third year in top 10 of the list which reflects that fact that she continues to write to such a high standard exploring all sorts of topics through think pieces, fiction, pictures and prose. Her writing is exciting, intelligent and thoughtful and I am never not hooked when I read her words.

Follow her on Twitter: N/A

4. Girly Juice

Again another blog that featured in last years top 10. Kate continues to absolutely be at the top of her blogging game producing well written and diverse content.

Follow her on Twitter: @girly_juice

5. Scandarella

When I grow up I want to write erotic fiction like Ella Scandal however her blog is not just fiction but has a wonderful mixture of content that includes reviews, personal essays and fiction. Her writing is always excellent no matter the subject or genre but her fiction is some of the most exciting and diverse erotica around.

Follow her on Twitter:@ella_scandal

6. Coffee and Kink

Amy was one of the two blogs to win the New Voices Awards last year and I had a sneaky feeling that she was going to take that strong start and turn it into something special and she has definitely done that. She writes on a wide variety of topics as well as penning some very sexy erotic fiction. I really think she is one to watch out for in the future.

Follow her on Twitter: @CoffeeAndKink

7. By Aurora Glory

Last year I had a feeling that Aurora was one of the blogs on the list to watch out for and it seems I was right. Despite having a challenging time in her life she has continued to produce excellent content on her blog including reviews, images and powerful personal essays as well continuing to explore fiction writing too.

Follow her on Twitter: @AuroraGloryBlog

8. Sex Matters

Another new name to the top ten this year is May More. Her blog design offers up lots of opportunity for you to discover content and when you do what you find is quality writing across a variety of subjects including some truly fabulous erotic fiction.

Follow her on Twitter: @more_matters

9. The Beautiful Kind

Kendra was in the No.9 spot last year and I am not surprised to see her here again. Her blog is a treasure trove of fascinating content in which she truly shares herself and her life, the good, the bad, the sexy and the not. Her honesty is inspirational in my opinion

Follow her on Twitter: @TBK365

10. Pandora Blake

Pandora/Blake’s blog truly reflects the diverse nature of the work that she does within the adult industry from making queer porn, sex work, sex educator work and her work for Backlash and the against censorship of adult content on the internet. You find all this and more this blog.

Follow them on Twitter:@pandorablake

11 Pain as Pleasure @bibulousone
12 Little Switch Bitch @_littlesbitch
13 Miss Eve E @MissEveBlogs
14 Hey Epiphora @epiphora
15 Candy Snatch @candysreviews
16 Red Hot Suz @redhotsuz
17 Cara Thereon @thereon_cara
18 Mx Nillin @MxNillin
19 Cara Sutra @thecarasutra
20 On Queer Street @OnQueerStreet
21 Brigit Writes @BrigitWrites
22 Submissy @5ubmissy
23 Sexual Destinies @VictoriaVista1
24 The Other Livvy @theotherlivvy
25 Tabitha Rayne @TabithaErotica
26 Super Smash Cache @supersmashcache
27 Miss Scarlet Writes @MissScarletUK
28 The Big Gay Review @thebiggayreview
29 Teachers Have Sex @teachershavesex
30 Miss Ruby Reviews @MissRubyReviews
31 Feisty Fox Films @feistyfoxfilms
32 Kelvin Sparks @ksparksreviews
33 Exposing 40 @exposing40
34 I’m an Adult @Indigoisanadult
35 Innocent Loverboy @innocentlb
36 Submissive Feminist @SubFeminist
37 Victoria Blisse @victoriablisse
38 Phallophile Reviews @phallophilerev
39 Joanne’s Sex Machine @joannesreviews
40 Petra Pan @PetraPanReviews
41 Wriggly Kitty @wriggly_kitty
42 Dildo or DilDont @Makeupandsin
43 A to sub Bee @sub_bee
44 Princess Previews @PrincessPreview
45 Hannah likes dirty words @HannahLockhardt
46 Backwoods Bedroom @bkwoodsbedroom
47 Subs missives @Sum1Sub
48 Pillow Princess Reviews @PillowPrincessR
49 Modesty Ablaze @ablazingmodesty
50 Joellen Notte @JoEllenNotte
51 Emmeline Peaches Reviews @EmmelinePeaches
52 Annie Savoy @asavoywrites
53 Kitten Boheme @kittenboheme
54 Suggestive @suggestive
55 Forbidden Writings @Charlton_Tod
56 Master’s Pleasing Bitch @MPBjulie
57 Kilted Wookie – The Zen Nudist @Kilted_Wookie
58 Cleareyedgirl @_Masterseye
59 Nicci Haydon @NicciHaydon
60 Chronic Sex @chronicsexchat
61 You Won’t Tame This Sassy Cat @sassycat38
62 Le Journal @Little_xsecret
63 Ace in the Hole @_aceinthehole
64 Down the Bunny Rabbit Hole @LuvbunnySL82
65 Isabelle Lauren @romanticisa
66 Jerusalem Mortimer: Between the Lines @JaimeMortimer
67 Midnight at the Oasis @midnightoasis64
68 Maria Open’s Up @MSM1647
69 Love, Violet @fireandhoney
70 HisLordshipUK @hislordshipuk
71 Happy Come Lucky @ht_honey
72 Pieces of Jade @piecesofjade
73 Sex is my New Hobby @sexismynewhobby
74 Steeled Snake @steeledsnake
75 Exhibit A @EA_unadorned
76 Fondlers Aonoymous
77 Cerebral Sexuality @sexcerebral
78 Dr. J @DoctorJAuthor
79 Accidental Masturbator’s sex blog
80 Mischa Eliot @mischa_eliot
81 Ophelia’s @fearlessophelia
82 Eros Blog @ErosBlogBacchus
83 Rain De Grey @raindegrey
84 F Dot Leonora @fdotleonora
85 Miss Jezebella @Miss_Jezebella
86 Asrai Devin @asrai
87 Nookyeverafter @nookysemper
88 Life of Elliot… @elliotthenry36
89 Ina Morata @inamoratawriter
90 Lascivious Lucy @LasciviousLucy
91 Helen’s Toybox @helenstoybox
92 Ayzad @Ayzad
93 Books1799 @Books1799
94 Pillow Talk @posychurchgate
95 RisqueViews @RisqueViews
96 Livvy Libertine @Livvy_Libertine
97 My Sex Life with Lola
98 Krystle In Bed @krystleinbed
99 Bondagegod.com @bondagegod1

 

100. YOU! The last spot is for the all the other awesome sex bloggers out there. It is just not possible to include everyone, I relied on the nominations to gather the list and I am sure there are people missing, but this place is for you because every single one of you counts and contributes towards this community.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

Fire Match Flame Kindle Sulfur Lighter Mat

I always thought the smell of smoke was disgusting until I met her.  She was a smoker and bartender besides; it was etched into her skin like hieroglyphs, telling stories of several heavy nights of heartbreak and disappointment wherein she acted as therapist.  I’d watch the smoke circle above her head some nights in swirls, afraid to break the spell by bisecting them with my non-smokers hand.  Everyone smoked then.  Except me.

I taught swim lessons down at the local Y.  It didn’t matter how many times I showered after getting out of that warm pool; I’d forever smell like the chlorine dumped there night after night.  I guess we both smelled of some kind of death.  It drove her nuts.  She’d wrinkle her nose when she nudged it into the back of my neck at night, asking me whether or not I ever used shampoo.  I’d turn over, pin her down, and stare at her. “Don’t you ever use mouthwash?”  I’d ask before pressing my lips to hers, desperate for the intermingled taste of ash and scotch.

I didn’t want her to change clothes when she came home.  Smoke smelled like her smelled like sex.  As soon as she walked in the door – even if I didn’t hear her come in – I could smell her.  I needed to be in her.  I’d yank her tank top over her head and down her scrawny arms, put it to my nose, and inhale before flinging it aside.  I loved to bend her over on the bed, yank down her jeans with one hand, and put the other hand on the small of her back.  I’d move it up her back until my thick fingers were nestled in her hair, at which point I’d grab a fistful and pull her head up so she could hear me loud and clear: “You’re mine,” I’d say.

“Then take me,” she’d always say.  Sometimes, when I’d slide my cock into her mouth, she would tell me that it smelled like a kid pissed in the pool.  She was funny – I loved that about her.  I’d laugh and tell her that in that case, I guess she was licking piss.  The way she ran her tongue up and down my shaft while sucking me made me crazy; I could never stay in her mouth long enough to come.

Instead, I’d grab her legs, wrap them around my waist, and tell her to hold on tight as I rolled over onto my back.  As she was sliding down onto my dick, I always wanted her to come closer… to press my nose against her inundated skin and breathe her in.

A lot of our friends say they can’t stand the scent of smoke anymore.  That as former smokers, it makes them gag.  Not me.  One whiff makes me hard as a rock.  People don’t smoke much these days – but every once in a while I’ll step outside the bar at night and it will hit me: The drift of a Camel, those nights when you were mine long ago, and the divine scent of your cunt and addiction.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Nearly

“We go fuck in a graveyard” he said, tossing the words out as casually as the playing cards.  “If you lose.”  He tightened the dollar between his fingers and breathed in another line.  “I mean.  There has to be some bet here, right?  I’m almost naked.  You’re going to win anyway.  So how about you make this bet, right?  I win, we fuck in a graveyard.”

She took a sip of wine.  “You win meaning what?” she asked.

“If you end up being completely naked, we hop the fence into one of the cemeteries over here – I mean, there are enough of them, right?”

“On all sides,” she said, a smile lifting one corner of her mouth, her head tilted to the left.  “Hand me the dollar.”  She pinched it between her small fingers and moved it gracefully across a glossy book cover that served as a cutting board.  She paused, looked at the board, and went for another line.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.  “One by one!”

“Fuck it,” she said.  “Let’s do it.”

“Wh-what?”  he stammered, confused.

“Let’s go. We’re young and stupid.”  She stood up, put her shirt and pants back on, and went into her room to grab a condom and a blanket.  “Well?” she asked impatiently, putting on her shoes.

He jolted up, hurriedly got dressed, and followed her down the stairs.  Dawn was nigh, and as they walked briskly toward the wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery to the west, the first suggestion of light appeared in the sky.

He helped her over the fence first – awkwardly, all fumbling limbs, before clambering over himself.  His excitement built as they walked side by side through rows and rows of raised tombs – and then he stopped dead.  “Wait,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and urgent.

Angels, Cemetery, Cross, Sculpture

“What?” she asked, looking back.  He stretched his hand out toward her as if to hold her in place telekinetically.  He floated toward her, sunk his grip into her arm, and pointed a long finger straight ahead.

It took some time and squinting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but she finally saw it.  Two people in front of a grave, chanting.  The body of a chicken lay prostrate in front of them, making its final jerks.  Both wore black against the night; they were so entranced by the ritual that they must not have heard the pair talking.

She took a few steps backward; he followed suit, and without remembering how they’d gotten there, they were back over the wall and at her apartment.  “So, you wanna – you know, go inside and do it?” he said when they arrived.

What had just happened?  She thought.  She hadn’t wanted to fuck him in the first place – only to say she’d fucked someone in a graveyard.  “Nah,” she said, her face lit up by the yolk of the sun.  “I need to sleep it off, and so do you.  See you at our next meeting.”  She turned abruptly and bounded up the stairs, leaving him at the bottom to wander off into the sunrise.

Realignment

Fracture Bone, Xray, Skeleton, Diagnosis

There’s an infectious axiom that floats around daytime television, self-help books, and yes – blogs: No one else can love you until you love yourself.

Bullshit.

During my darkest hours, I was loved.  For every day I was most full of self-loathing and despair, there was a person in my life who loved me… and probably couldn’t see the corrosive feelings gnawing away at my insides.  Just like I couldn’t see their love.  Like there was an invisible wall between us.

Those people propelled me to start a ten-year journey of healing from a place of self-injury to a deep self-love… and I did it in a way that would make life coaches cringe hard.

Stage One: Build a fortress.

In my late twenties, I met some rebellious and raucous women who inspired me to say, “Fuck this.”  I stopped looking for love and relished just having a good time; I casually dated and never let anyone get close to me for years.  Using this defense mechanism of putting up walls allowed me to do two important things – learn who I was and what I wanted for me outside of relationships, and embrace casual sex.  I’m very thankful for both.

Stage Two: Stop dating men.

I’d had so many excruciating experiences wherein I a) developed Real Feelings for a boy, b) told him, c) had sex with him to get him to like me back, and d) felt crushed when surprise! He didn’t.  This is probably one of the reasons why I just stopped being that attracted to men.  Dating women allowed me to express my feelings in a safe space (for the most part).  They didn’t lie to or mislead me in order to get sex; in fact, if anything, I had to work on my communication skills in order to tell them exactly what I wanted up front and be really honest when I wasn’t looking for a monogamous relationship – before the sex.  Not only did I have relationships (and phenomenal sex) with strong, adventurous, no-nonsense, compassionate, intelligent, and hilarious women – I was surrounded by them in my community.  Dating women taught me that I have inherent value that is not directly tied to my cunt.

Step Three: Allow yourself to fall in love recklessly with someone you know will break your heart.

I started dating men again because I fell in love with a coworker who I knew was going to leave in a matter of months. When I realized a month in how intensely and romantically I loved this man compared to his palpably platonic love for me, I acknowledged it and dove in headfirst.  I allowed myself to feel all of my feelings – the euphoric and the excruciating – and when I made it through the other side, I’d learned not only to survive, but to open my heart completely because I knew I could survive and recover from heartache.

[Step 3.5: Travel to a tropical locale.  Feel the breeze, listen to the waves, self-evaluate, and drink rum.  Have a lot of sweaty sex with someone who makes you laugh hard.]

Step Four: Recognize the value of other people’s love.

I never have to guess how The Engineer feels about me, and he never has to guess how I feel about him; we tell each other every single day earnestly and without prompting.  His emotional intelligence and general smooshiness have made me reflect on my expression of love to friends and family and theirs to me – and I try mindfully not to take a single drop of that love for granted.  When I was in my early twenties and was surrounded by people who loved me, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.  Or, rather, the tree – the tree being whomever I happened to be infatuated with at the moment.

Lots of people have loved me when I didn’t love myself – when, in fact, I felt empty, worthless, and unlovable.  And their love, whether or not I felt it, allowed my fractures to be re-broken and eventually mend – if not perfectly, enough to make me feel whole in and of myself.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Reaching

If I’m going to reach for the stars, the star I’m reaching for may as well be the sun! (Yes, I DO know the sun is behind me in this photo, so I’m reaching the wrong way.  That’s mostly how I operate.)

Sinful Sunday

Mending

The first words ever uttered to me in session were, “Get undressed, bitch.”

I am a fantasy, I thought.  This isn’t real.  I’m not me.  He can’t get to me.  “Yes, master,” I replied calmly.  He saw what he wanted to see: a pretty little girl doing his bidding.  His kink was to be powerful.  To be obeyed with no hesitation.

I existed as a mirage for years, a lucid fantasy concocted in the deep psyches of men.  Half-real and half-dream, floating in and out of the consciousness of my clients.  I’m probably still tucked away in some corner of their minds as a blurred image, a whisper, a tug.  Well – not me, I mean.  Her.

When I tell people I worked in a dungeon, half of them reply, “Oh – you mean that whips and chains stuff?”  I don’t.  I personally never used a whip; they take a remarkable amount of practice and skill to use without incurring unintentional injury.  I have used chains in session, though mostly to hook handles to the ceiling so I could pick myself up and swing my heeled boots deep into someone’s testicles.

People are really surprised when I tell them that most of my sessions in the dungeon were more like therapy.  If a serious masochist came in and wanted to be tortured, we weren’t a good fit – my heart was never in hurting people, and there are a million instruments and toys I just never learned how to use.  I didn’t wear a lot of black leather or bark orders at anyone; there are a LOT of women who do this exquisitely, and I am not one of them.

Likewise, while I thoroughly enjoy pain, I can only handle so much.  And I have no desire to be verbally humiliated – even if I’m being paid for it.  There were clients who came to see me who pushed my limits in ways I explicitly told them I didn’t want them to, and I never saw them again.  She never saw them again.

The clients who came to see her again and again were ships lost at sea who were looking for a safe harbor.  They were mostly people stuck in marriages with spouses who either didn’t approve of their kinks or worse, didn’t care anymore.  Even though the services I provided were ostensibly kinky in nature, they never felt like a media portrayal or performance of what mainstream culture thinks of when it thinks of kink.

I wore slinky dresses, kimonos, or lingerie, made a lot of eye contact, asked questions, spoke in a soothing voice, listened.  I never feigned interest in a client who was sincere.  What I did felt more like somatic therapy – a gentle caress, a loving beating, an acceptance and normalization of wants and needs.  This is what I excel at: empathy.

Don’t get me wrong – there were beatings and bondage and worship (oh my!), role play and anal play (I also excel at finding a prostate), but the vast majority of my sessions were with people who were looking to connect with another human on an intimate level who wasn’t going to shame them.  Many of them just wanted to be seen and heard and cared for earnestly.

Sex workers are therapists and care takers.  We meet clients where they’re at and walk alongside them… or inside of them.  It’s hard work.  Emotional labor is labor, and I was shaken badly by a couple of sessions.  But mostly, my clients brought joy and relief through surrender into my life.  They also taught me everything I know and made me a better kinkster.  I learned on the job from my clients, and that’s why I can now teach The Engineer how to use a cane properly.  Their impact (see what I did there?) on my life reaches far beyond our sessions, and I hope my impact on them does as well.

 

P.S.  For every hour session I did, I worked another hour of prep and clean up.  Tip your sex workers, people.  Sex work is work.  Especially those of you who write out entire dialogues and insist on going back and forth via several emails going over every single detail of the session before going into it – that takes time and effort.