Archive | Thoughts RSS for this section

Consent, Kink and Community

♦ I mentioned recently that I’d been to the Bristol Alternative and Burlesque Fair and had a few qualms with the compering of the event. Now (especially as the compère himself left a comment and seems like a really nice guy), I don’t want to badmouth what must be a very hard job that I likely couldn’t do, but I want to set out what it was I had a problem with and why.

Because (although I didn’t like his style anyway) it isn’t about personal taste, though it may be about personal ethics. It’s about something which I feel has big implications for the kink community and the people, whether part of that community or not, who were there. And because, though not everyone may agree with me, hopefully raising these qualms might get people to examine these issues.

The compère had what seemed like a pretty tough job to get the crowd going (I myself am practically allergic to audience participation), but I wasn’t that impressed. I mentioned “cheap “saucy” humour, being patronising, and displaying a seeming ignorance of informed consent” in my earlier post and it seems I even cleverly put them in order of importance too!

Though I didn’t like the humour and tone, that’s just my taste. Just because I don’t really like the “Phwoar! I love a bit of cock!” sort of attitude to sex, doesn’t mean much (though I do wonder to what extent the “saucy postcard” mentality might hold back wider acceptance of sexuality, but that’s a topic for another time) and no-one need pander to me more than anyone else. I also personally don’t think than audience really needs to be told to applaud when a woman takes her clothes off. Isn’t that second nature? But again, it’s likely a rhetorical trick that just didn’t land well with me.

No, it’s the consent stuff that really bothers me.

The early parts involved saying hello to people you didn’t know next to you and paying them a forced compliment (already too un-British for me). The problems, though, started with getting everyone to stand up (I was hovering near the seating area at the time) and turn to face to their right. Then the compère instructed the audience to give the person in front of them a small spank. Now, from my poor vantage point (and the fact I was quite busy cringing), I couldn’t tell you how many people did this, but that’s not the point. Did anyone know what they were getting into when they stood up?

Look, I’m not trying to sound the prude here. Nothing wrong with spanking, nothing wrong with public spanking. I like both myself (and got a twinge just writing the latter). But none of these people consented (or rather communicated consent: for all I know they were fine with it, but consent has to be communicated somehow) to even being touched, let alone being spanked. As I said to Crush at the time, my response to the person behind me would have been “You fucking touch me…”.

Later (by this time my friends and I were at a table), we were told that each table should get someone up onto it on hands and knees. No-one at our table, even the hardened kinksters, were having any of it and it’s at least good to see that, general cajoling to everyone aside, when only about three tables produced participants, no issue was made of it. We were then told that the aim was to spank the volunteers as a table and whichever table produced the most moaning (oh, so hard to fake) would get a prize.  Again, none of the volunteers OR the people supposed to spank them knew this when they were called to be involved. Sure, I suspect no fuss would have been made of anyone backing out, but that’s not really how healthy consent works.

Now, this might not seem like a lot to get angry about, but consent is paramount in all things, especially in the realm of kink. And consent isn’t just volunteering. No. To be true consent, consent must be informed. To be good kink, kink must be negotiated. It doesn’t have to be long and involved and stuffy, but people (whether being done to or doing to or both) should know what they’re getting into, boundaries should be made clear and consent should be given enthusiastically with clear ways to withdraw that consent (such as safe words).

A hypothetical person in that line of unknowing spankees had no way in the circumstances to be informed, give enthusiastic consent to what could be a complete stranger, or indeed withdraw that consent in the time between the instruction and the incoming spank. Am I the only one that thinks this dodgy?

Not only this, but this was a mixed fetish and non-fetish event. They carefully made sure to split the fetish stalls off from the alternative/burlesque ones, so some concern for the muggles must have been in the planning somewhere. But there was no mention of any fetish play, no matter how light and innocent, in the programme of events as far as I saw. Surely it’s people’s right to decide what they see and don’t see?

What sort of message are we giving off to non-kinksters, who thanks to bad press and bad books might have a warped idea of BDSM anyway, of public play among complete strangers with no communication and no consent? These spaces are a perhaps rare opportunity for our kinky community to speak for itself to people who might otherwise not get to hear us (and to teach good kink practice), shouldn’t we be a little more careful about how we use that voice?

I’d certainly love to know your thoughts on this, kinky or not. ♦

Eroticon 2014 – Sunday, Part 2

Eroticon 2014 Schedule

♦ Soon, Sunday morning at Eroticon 2014 became Sunday afternoon. Deciding that my voice is not made for erotica, I headed to what looked a very interesting session, one by Josephine Myles and Anna Martin called Queer as Fuck: writing convincing gay erotica whatever your gender and sexuality.

I got a bit of a disappointment when the session started, learning that it was to focus almost wholly on male/male erotica as opposed to a selection from the LGBT+ spectrum. The speakers did say that they’d try to include some information on it, but that their expertise was in M/M writing. For a girl like me who’s coming each time closer to believing it’s personally easier and hotter to write about two women than anything else, that was a bit of a blow.

Still, although I neither read nor write a lot of M/M fiction, I resolved to learn more about it. After all, just because I haven’t yet, doesn’t mean I can’t. We learnt about how writers of different genders are perceived and some of the stereotypes and marginalisation (mostly of effeminate male characters) in gay fiction itself. Plus, there were some tips on masculine language that were interesting, even if me with my “we’re not so different, you and I” approach couldn’t fully endorse them.

Further, to add to my mope, we were told that gay male erotic novels are by far the biggest chunk of the LGBT+ market and that trans* and lesfic have the smallest share. At the end of the session I went up and asked Anna what she thought of why F/F erotica is so small considering same sex experiences are so high in the lists of top women’s fantasies. My own theory is that, given the amount of non-LGBT-specific calls for submission I’ve seen that want mostly hetero stories but will happily take a few lesbian stories, perhaps the market for girl on girl is getting subsumed and fulfilled by the generic erotica market.

Either way, it’s a subject very close to my own heart and I’m desperate to find out more and write a proper post about it, so do leave a comment if you’ve anything to say about it.

At some point in the day, I was gifted a very thoughtful copy of the sexy boardgame Tie and Tease (a BDSM version of the game Tease that was doing the blogger rounds a little while back) by DomSigns and Molly because they knew I loved three things: dice, games and kink. Thank you, both! I’m sure it’ll be something to write about once Crush and I have given it a few goes…

The final education session of the day saw me heading to Molly’s Powerful Post Writing: Writing & Editing for better blog content for a few always useful content tips, countless of which I’m probably breaking throughout these write-ups! But, as Molly herself told us, “Do what you do, not what I say.”

There was a lovely balance of considering the reader and considering SEO. You should know your most popular topics and write more about them, but you shouldn’t narrow down too much just to boost your stats. Stats, at the end of the day, are only so much and they don’t always want what readers want.

We were given tips on hooking the reader in and making them want more which actually mirrored a lot of advice I’ve heard before about fiction writing, so it was interesting to see the common threads.  Perhaps the best advice we could have been given, though, was give something of yourself and be honest, warts an’ all. That’s one of the reasons I started this blog and, although I try each post to stick to it, I’m sure there’s more I can do. I’m looking forward to trying.

The day drew to a close with High Tea and Erotica Readings, of which there was a generally awesome selection along with a few I didn’t personally care for. It ranged from deadly serious to supremely silly with everything in between. Plus, there was cake. Of course, each word drew us closer to the close of the day and the breaking of the spell. I said my goodbyes to those remaining (a fair few had had to leave for trains and the like during the readings) and made my way back to reality and Cardiff. And, happily, Crush.

While the sessions, being structured, are clear in my mind, I can’t remember well enough all the little moments I wish I could share with you: meeting personal heroes and new awesome people, gossip, hearing kind words, sharing thoughts, revelling in the commonality of sex writers, inside jokes, stolen chats and even just feeling comfortably silent and at home in a room of your peers.

I am beyond sad that there won’t be a UK Eroticon next year. I’ve come to need it. But I feel absolutely sure that if there’s a community that can pull together and arrange something, even just a social meet-up, it’s this one. If there are any efforts in that vein, I’d love to lend a hand. And if any Eroticon or sex writer folks are ever near my neck of the woods, just get in touch. I’m shy, but I’ve learnt one major thing over the years at Eroticon: meeting other sex writers is amazing and together we can do amazing things. ♦

Valentine’s Day Sex Toy Selections

♦ It’s February and in the world of doin’ it and talkin’ about it, that can mean only one thing. Yes, Valentine’s Day, which sex-based businesses make the mistake of referring to as “VD” but once in their business lives. No, really, I’ve seen it done.

Valentine’s, of course, means a big ole marketing push. “How we can we get people to buy more things to put in their orifices?” “How do you make a hashtag romantic?” “Do lovebirds and analbeads mesh in any way?”

The way most e-retailers promote to us is by having a dedicated Valentine’s Day toy selection, but I’ve noticed a trend among sex toy shops online. That’s right, don’t fret! If you’re confused about how to market Valentine’s Day toys to your customers and which ones to recommend for that special day, it turns out  it’s deceptively simple!

After looking at how the professionals do it, I’ve made this handy-dandy flowchart:

How to recommend a sex toy for Valentine's Day

Micro-Fiction #1 – The Resistance

♦ Whilst I don’t have all the time in the world, sadly, to write normal fiction at the moment, I think I can still find time here and there to write a little micro-fiction themed around sex, love and all the other things this blog is for. I’m hoping to capture something strong in just a few words, ideally a dozen or fewer.

I’d love to know what impression this gives you. What’s the story here? 

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“But I love you.”

Trust in Me by AbstractNeko

Intent – a poem about mindsets

Intent is everything
The simple balance between anger and arousal
A slap
The one in the heat of rage, the other the heat of passion
Intent, the decider between reassuring and raunchy
When it comes to a squeeze of the thigh
A moan
Pleasure? Pain? Intent decides
A finger passes over pussy lips
The action has occurred a hundred times
It’s the intent that makes the shiver
Mind over matter, my dear
And matter it does
I flicked the switch
I changed my intent
And, intending now to receive pleasure, pleasure came to me
The light brush became a solvent trail on fire
Nerves sang
Mind raced
From the mundane to the glorious
All with intent

I wrote this short erotic poem in one of the few gaps in my currently very hectic life! It’s about how the mental and the physical interact and how making up your mind one way or another is often the only thing between something meh and something amazing. It’s based on a real experience from recently. With handcuffs. And a blindfold. And it was wonderful. 

I hope you enjoy the poem! Let me know what you think? How important is the mental mindset over how good the physical act feels?

Blacksilk, Porn User?

Or, what’s the use of using “user”?

♦ Those of you who keep up with sex positive news may have seen the ruckus caused recently when BBC’s Newsnight changed the title of one of their commenters from “Dr Jude Roberts” to “Jude Roberts – Porn User”. There’s since been an article by Dr Roberts herself about it, in which she explains that she doesn’t feel the slight was intended or malicious, nor does she even feel it as a slight. It’s just A Thing That Happened.

But the “porn user” incident, along with the recent debate around porn filters, made me really think about the phrase used itself. Porn user.

Porn user?

"Porn User"  - Dictionary definitions of "User"

I find it such an unnatural turn of phrase. Surely we don’t “use” porn? We watch porn. Just like, even if you wank to it, we read erotica, not “use” it (but honestly no-one is talking about erotica here, it’s pretty clear that’s not what they mean when they say “porn”). No-one would say “use”, surely?

Indeed, when I asked people, the response was that they’d describe it as they “watch porn” not are a “porn user”. I think most people would, in fact. So I find it weird, and unsettling, that the media and the government seem to have a picked a different phrase entirely.

It’s clear that Jude Roberts feels the same way:

I’m happy to be labeled a ‘porn user’. I am a user of porn. Although the connotations of the word ‘user’ are somewhat unnecessary. I use porn in the same way I use other forms of culture – for stimulation and entertainment. These, after all, are what culture is for. And make no mistake, porn is a form of culture, just like any other. Just like TV, films, books, computer games, theatre and the visual arts, porn reflects and reflects on the ideas, concerns and attitudes of the culture in which it’s produced.

So why do we treat it so differently?

Why indeed?

Some suggested that it’s because porn comes in many forms: moving images, still images (both photographic and drawn), the written word… But so do, for example, cartoons and no-one would ever say “cartoon user”, even though cartoon can mean film or book or animated or still.

Some suggested that “porn user” is similar to calling someone an “Internet user” or computer user as above, but that just can’t be the case. Surely, if it’s similar to anything, it should be like a “TV viewer”. You certainly do “use” (or browse, of course) the Internet, but “using” the Internet is a far different experience to watching porn (even when you get to your porn via the Internet, like many of us).

And while we often certainly “use” porn to get off, I’m still certain the correct verb for just looking at some porn is “watch”. Just think of it as a point-and-click adventure game. When you mouse over the pixellated porno on the screen, would the pop-up text say “Use Porn”? Really? Come on, no.

I mean, technically, sure, “use” is a pretty general word that can apply as a sort of supergroup to lots of better, more specific words like “read” or “eat”. Technically, you “use” books, you “use” food, you “use” signs. But no-one says that. It’s unnatural to describe watching a (porn) film as using a (porn) film just as it is to describe eating food as using food.

So, why do the media and government, despite what seems to be all common sense, want us to be porn “users”? Is it to make it sound a bit like a drug habit? I think it miiiight be!

Because I remain convinced that this word has been chosen purposefully. Because the goverment, and certain sections of the meeja, has an agenda. Because I think “user” really has some connotations that are being intended here, as per the dictionary quote above. Drug use, for one. Perhaps “user” as in emotional use. Drugs, abuse, someone who does something dirty, something wrong, something exploitative. I’m convinced that employing the word “use” in this way serves to try to render watching porn as grubby, grimy and akin to substance “abuse”.

In fact I’d say the anti-porn types, like the government, are certainly using (in the exploiting sense) the connotations of the word quite well. So, I agree with Dr Jude when she says the connotations of “user” are “unnecessary”, but I just can’t go as far as her in saying I’m happy to be labelled a “porn user”, an addict, an exploiter. And thus Blacksilk, Porn Viewer, I shall remain. ♦

Hit List

♦ Just under a year ago I wrote a post making jokes about some of my odd search terms that have found this blog. Years before, I did the same thing. Now, I’m not saying you won’t get my latest and greatest interesting search term hits in this post, but I thought I’d do something a little different first.

Variety is the spice of a textured life, after all.

I thought it might be interesting, especially for fellow sex bloggers, to see what have been my most popular search terms over the last few months. What gets my blog found? What do people search for when they stumble across me?

So here’s my top ten hit list with duplicate results removed (e.g. with “sqweel 2” and “sqweel 2 reviews”, I’ve ignored the latter):

  1. sqweel 2
  2. fireman love doll
  3. fun factory bootie
  4. being blacksilk
  5. lelo mona 2 review
  6. stronic eins
  7. je joue uma
  8. tantus throb
  9. tickle my tush
  10. tantus max

So, as you can see, people are mainly finding my blog, or looking for my blog, for my sex toy reviews. The Sqweel 2, the Fun Factory Bootie and Stronic Eins, the LELO Mona 2, the Je Joue Uma and the Tantus Throb and Max are all toys I’ve reviewed. What I find interesting is that all of those toys are what I’d call quality, high-end toys. I didn’t like the Stronic Eins, for example, but it’s certainly a luxury toy.

I’ve also got a book review popping up, the unintentionally hilarious Tickle My Tush, a lot of people looking for Sam the Fireman Love Doll and then, as you might expect, people finding me directly by name. It’s all rather interesting.

And it’s something I encourage you all to do too. Go to your blog stats and take a look at what your blog is getting found for. Those are some of the main reasons people are looking for your site. That’s what people want that you provide. That’s what gets you strangers-turned-new-readers. It’s an important lesson in knowing how your blog sits in the wider web.

There you have it!

…OK, fine. Fine. You can have ten of the weird and wonderful search terms on my hit list too:

  1. shejaculate – Noooo! Don’t give any weight to those awful terms!
  2. very dirty,filthy,damn sexy photos of sexual intercouses – There is a disconnect in register somewhere here…
  3. dildo isolated – Lost, alone…
  4. why dont ann summers do the lelo ella – Because AS sucks. If you’ve levelled up enough in sex toys to want the LELO Ella, you should have levelled up enough to use any of the better sex toy shops.
  5. shelf full of dildos – From the director of a Fistful of Dollars…
  6. sexy naked couples playing dice – Hell, yes. How about me and Crush?
  7. trevithick day 2013 male voice choir up camborne hill – Oh, dear. I doubt this was what you were after.
  8. what is feeling girls after fuking sex photo – What IS girls feeling after fucking?
  9. victoria coren naked – Look, if you didn’t find any pictures of her here at all, there won’t be any of her naked.
  10. chemical burn sex toy – Ouch. Yes, unfortunately that’s a thing. But luckily YOU can stop it!

What are some of your most popular, most weird or most memorable search terms on your hit list? 

Dildology: Love Dildos? Donate!

♦ Regular readers of this blog or followers of my Twitter no doubt know I’m what some people could call a Sex Toy Snob. Sure, I get picky about limited colour choices and the gendering of fuck objects and the weakness of certain shitty vibrators, but there’s one area where I just don’t think the label Sex Toy Snob applies, because it’s just what everyone should be worried about.

The safety of your sex toys.

See, many of them just aren’t safe. You’ll have heard me talk before about my own bad experiences with dodgy jelly toys, how they went icky and gave me chemical burns, and you may have even read my 10 Reasons To Avoid Jelly Sex Toys. It’s easy then, isn’t it? Just avoid jelly! Sadly, that’s not the case. Horrible chemicals like phthalates aren’t just limited to jelly, they’re found in all sorts of porous sex toy materials, not to mention the fact that porous materials are impossible to truly clean. Well, surely just avoid those, then?

But it isn’t that easy. Unfortunately, sex toys aren’t regulated and there is no way you can know what on Earth a material with a fancy name like Crystalessence or Sil-a-gel is (unless you do some snooping) or even that a toy that says it’s phthalates-free or made of silicone is either of those things.

Until now.

Dildology Logo

Dildology.org is a not-for-profit organisation and awesomeness-machine run by Crista Anne, Dangerous Lilly and Val Orenda with the purpose of raising the money to scientifically test sex toys in a proper laboratory to discover once and for all what’s really in them and if they’re actually safe for us. Their mission statement reads:

The sex toy industry is on the rise, yet it remains largely unregulated. Dildology.org intends to provide material verification services and maintain a public database of the results, adding transparency and oversight to the industry while educating the public about the science behind pleasure products. We stand on our own, unaffiliated and uninfluenced, and we are dedicated to protecting the health and well-being of the dildo-loving population at large through education (and maybe a little entertainment).

As an unbiased, unaffiliated, non-profit organisation, Dildology.org can’t take on any advertising in order to raise money, so they are asking for your kind donations. The majority of donations will go towards product testing and the rest will be used for fundraising incentives, equipment for experiments and the development of educational resources. And testing itself is hardly cheap at around $200-450 (£130-300) per toy tested.

When Lilly started the Dildology.org fundraising blog carnival, I knew I had to help out, hence this post. I’m already sold on how awesome Dildology.org is and, more crucially, how important and necessary it is for the safety of all sex toy users. I’m going to go donate, and get my friends to too, right after I post this, so I don’t need convincing. But maybe you do, so here’s some…

FOR REVIEWERS: The original sex toy tested by the Dildologists, the Jimmyjane Hello Touch, actually failed the common reviewer method of testing whether a toy is silicone or not: the flame test. But the lab results prove that the Hello Touch is indeed silicone. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on a world in which even us reviewers, the people who are supposed to know about sex toys, can’t actually test for sure if something is silicone or not. The flame test has failed us, we need something new. We need the Dildologists.

FOR CONSUMERS: We use sex toys for a reason: to improve our sex lives and to have a lot of, hopefully orgasmic, pleasure. We can’t improve our sexual happiness with dodgy materials, dangerous chemicals and absolutely no say over what goes into our own bodies. You really can’t tell me you don’t care what goes in there. At the very least we need to become informed consumers armed with the right to choose. And right now we just can’t have that. We need the Dildologists.

Dildologist T-shirtFOR EVERYONE: Dildology.org are looking to raise $1,500 throughout this blog carnival, and they’re willing to offer juicy incentives to donors. US and Canadian donations of $15+ will receive a 15% off code for SheVibe, UK and European donations of $15+ (£10+) will receive a code for 10% off Lovehoney brand products and Australian donations of $15+ will receive a code for 10% off storewide at MissX. Plus, at $50 (plus $15 for international shipping), you get this awesome t-shirt.

Tantus Curve DildoodleFROM ME: If you donate $30 (£20) or more to Dildology.org, you can get a free sex toy drawing called a Dildoodle (see right for an example) signed and hand-drawn by me for you of the sex toy of your choice (subject to me freaking out that I can’t draw that).

Send me an email after you donate and, once I confirm your donation, I’ll get chatting with you about what toy you want me to draw and send to you. It’s not much, I know, but I want to add a personal thank you.

So, please donate what you can, check out the rest of the great posts in the Dildology.org Blog Carnival Fundraiser and spread the word to everyone you can about this amazing cause. For safety, for science, for sex toys. ♦

Donate for Dildology

“Objectification” by Blacksilk

So, if you’ve read my latest blog post, the first one ever written by my beautiful partner Crush (and if you haven’t, do, this will make slightly more sense), you’ll have realised that I found myself entering a singularly unusual sexy situation just the other evening. I came home and up the stairs to Crush’s room, opening the door to a strange, but undoubtedly erotic, sight. Sprawled on the bed was Crush, strapped by his ankles and wrists to the under-the-bed restraints, wearing his sexy green shirt open to reveal his chest. He was wearing his jeans, but they were pushed down to his knees. He was bare from his knees right up to his neck.

But I didn’t get to see everything. Oh, no. His head was covered by what turned out to be a cider box, it’s side covered in white paper on which was drawn a head with a question mark for a face. Covering his cock was a homemade cardboard “Censored” bar that obscured what I assumed was his erection. A new vase of flowers stood on the chest of drawers and four red ones had been plucked from it and draped across his legs artfully. The computer screen showed a fantastic, and sarcastic, mini-essay about gender and objectification. Crush’s words explain this whole set-up best.

Nonetheless, a picture does speak a thousand words…

Objectified Crush

I was… well, flabbergasted. I’m not often lost for words of any kind. This left me speechless in surprise, shock… I was assailed by both the fact that Crush had planned something elaborate and thoughtful for me but also by the absolute absurdity and weirdness of the situation. I flailed helplessly for a moment before Crush drew my attention to my camera sat on his desk. I knew I had to take advantage of the situation. I stripped off my clothes and spent a few minutes restraining myself from touching him, taking photos of his beautiful body and his strange… art installation? I knew that once we really got started, none of this would go back the way it was.

Putting the camera down, I removed the flowers from Crush’s legs and put all but one of them back in the vase. I sat down next to him on the bed, naked, and began to run the petals of the flower head over his exposed skin. I trailed the flower over his chest, his arms, his thighs, then excruciatingly slowly up the length of his cock from base to tip. He sighed and I took to varying the sensations over his body: the edge of the petals, the face of the flower, the tip of the stalk. Each of them trailed over his flesh and teased his nerve endings. He couldn’t see except for a crack at the base of his head-box, which helped magnify the strange sensations.

I was peppering my exploration of his body with frequent spluttering cries of “You are actually mad, you know that?”, “I love you!” and “What on Earth possessed you?”. He explained a bit more of his thinking behind it all and mentioned in passing that the particular feminist he’d been reading had said something along the lines of that it was possible for women to objectify men but that it meant that they were basically really men and vice versa. My gender-bending kink pricked its ears up at this point.

“So, that means I’m a guy….” I said.

I know that genderfuck doesn’t really do it for Crush and that he still finds the whole idea a bit out of his comfort zone, but I was pleased to hear him reply so positively. Then he said a word that sent an honest-to-God jolt through my pussy and up into my brain.

“Master,” he called me.

I couldn’t even tell you why that did it for me or why that thought still does it for me. It’s something I feel rather than think. I like to analyse my kinks, of course, because it’s interesting; I’m just not very good at it.

Nonetheless, the word “Master” coursed through my body in a way it never has when I’ve said it in submission to a man. It was true arousal, devoid of thought, a direct line to my body. I grinned and he said it again. The rest of the evening, in fact, was spattered with it.

I removed his homemade “Censored” bar and took him in my mouth. I might have been nominally in control, Crush might have been wanting me to take the lead, but I still wanted to give him pleasure. That and the fact that he’d done this all for me, the fact that chemistry was powering my mostly-a-sub body more than intellect or emotion, meant that I was finding it hard to be anything other than pliant and grateful. But I love to suck him. His cock tastes beautiful, feels wonderful in my mouth and smells so good to me. His come, I’ll be honest, I can take or leave. But his cock…

Not too long in, I had a better idea. Sucking Crush’s cock was fun, but I wanted to tease and torture him at the same time. I straddled his chest facing his feet, took my beloved Tango vibrator from the bedside and placed it, buzzing, between my pussy lips. It nestled helpfully between my body and his, pinned by his taut chest and my folds, as I leant forward to suck him again.

It wasn’t the easiest of positions, let me tell you. I was awkwardly placed to keep hold of his cock as I needed my hands to prop my body up on all fours. When I shifted position, the Tango would sometimes move about and once made a beeline up Crush’s chest to rumble by his collarbone. But it was worth it when I moaned hard around his cock and came, shuddering, on top of him, my pussy mere inches from his obscured face.

I wanted him inside me and he readily agreed. He suggested I stay facing his feet and give reverse cowgirl a go, something we’ve never tried before. Again, it turned out not to be the easiest task, but to be worth it. I falteringly guided him inside me as I straddled him around the hips and called him my bitch. My slut. He called me his Master.

Objectification Head Box

He could still peek out of the bottom of his box and I wondered briefly what the view, if really any, was like for him. It was a much more awkward position for me and for the ease of thrusting/riding than the usual girl-on-top, but the novelty (and the vibrator I held to my clit) made up for that. Adventure, after all, is exciting. Trying something new together, whether a resounding success or just a new sensation, is a wonderful experience. Whilst it’s not a position we’ll go back to regularly, the discovery was wonderful.

I dismounted and turned to face him, adding some lube to his cock for an effortless re-entry. This time, I’d go for “normal” cowgirl. It was just too hard to let go and come when I was in the other, more awkward, position. When it suited me, I pulled the cardboard box from his head, leaving him blinking up at me in the bright light of the bedroom. I know he loves to see me anew after being deprived. He started to up the frequency of his dirty comments to me and I lapped them up, asking for more, more, more. I bounced on his cock and he thrust up into me, making himself mine with every one of his utterances, giving himself to me with his body. Before long I was asking from one phrase and one phrase only, on repeat, as I climbed towards my summit.

“Please come, Master.”

He begged, he pleaded with those words. I shook, the Tango still at my clit, the sweat coating my skin, my knees weak with exertion. And I came. I came perhaps as hard as I’ve ever come. I talk big sometimes with metaphors and similes and rhetoric, I write my orgasms as storms and bullies and destruction. This was cataclysm. When it finished, I could barely speak, barely move, barely think. My body could support myself no longer and I let myself tumble sideways from Crush’s body. I fumbled, dumb, a zombie, at his nearest wrist strap, releasing him from his bonds and told him to fuck me again. I demanded that he take me as I recovered on my back.

And he did. His cock slid inside my honestly quite battered pussy, my pleasure-weakened body. This fuck was for him. His time to come. I told him as much and he certainly didn’t hold back. His Master spoke firmly to her little slut, goading him, urging him on until he too came hard, gasping, panting.

He collapsed onto me and we athletes rested our tired, hot, sticky bodies in each others’ arms. And I’ll tell you something: as they say “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like.”

And Crush’s exhibition was certainly a resounding, earth-shattering, love-tempering success. ♦

“Objectification” by Crush

This post marks the first (but hopefully not last) instance of Crush, my gorgeous boyfriend, writing on my blog! Hooray! He explains the set-up that lead to a noteworthy encounter between us recently. And now, over to him…

♦ So where to start this story, I guess I should start with Monday, where Blacksilk and I were talking. She’d just finished her glass-to-arse session and we’d done all that mundane life stuff, so were getting an early night. Blacksilk, not for the first time, raised the topic of my penis and how the online world was sorely lacking in its finery, having already got the rest of me. Sorry to disappoint all my fans out there, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer. :P

But the conversation had given me an idea, Blacksilk is occasionally keen to take photos, but due to my insistence on cock-less shots they require framing or editing or, I dunno, I’m not a camera-wielder, some magic along those lines. Clearly what is needed is a censor bar, like the one Blacksilk has on her Twitter pic and presumably elsewhere where nipples are frowned upon (weird mental image there1 ). But not just any censor bar, a shadow censor bar, um, I mean, a real-life one.

I’d initially planned to do this for Tuesday, but then remembered that I was supposed to be cooking food for the rest of our house, and that may be hard to do appropriately without clothes on (Alt has declared on many an occasion that he is most definitely not attracted to me, and the rest of our housemates would be similarly unkeen). Plus, a day’s a bit short notice.

Okay, so, I hadn’t really got a plan formed at this point, so Tuesday involved thinking up an idea, by the end of which I’d narrowed it down to: find a box, sellotape some card or use a bin liner somehow… A quick check with Red confirmed my belief that two of these three plans, combined with hair, would be painful, so a box it was. I initially planned to use a kitchen roll tube somehow, but then Wednesday morning I realised a much better plan, using a cling film (that’s plastic wrap for our overseas friends) box. I also thought, hey, while I’m obscuring the photo, why not get a box on my head or some such.

Of course, once you’re putting a box on someone’s head, it’s only a tiny jump to objectification, because that’s a thing. From my devastatingly large sample size I get the feeling that this and many other forms of objectification are, shall we say, a little more called out when it’s women as the victim than men, so I thought I could make some sort of statement about it, because political statements and sex are a good combination. Bah, whatever.

So Wednesday I went and got some black card, cut up some stuff, did a bit of gluing and came up with:

Censored

Truly I am a master of basic craft skills.

I had initially thought of putting something like “objectify this man” on the box, but then decided to go with the classic question mark in a silhouette style thing. Obviously this meant that there was nowhere to put the description of the idea, so I thought “Hey, maybe I could make it like an art piece”. I did some research, well, not really, just a bit of reading on the Internet, but that’s close enough, and came up with the following (warning: the following may contain the view that extreme feminists are mental cases):

Objectified Man?

To complete the plan I also got some really expensive flowers. They were like £3. And they say chivalry is dead. Blacksilk called me after she got out of work (as is the norm, because we’re soppy romantics or something) and I subtly worked out what time she was getting home, by asking her for it (thanks, Equilibrium).

So, how to sort out a good art exhibit, well, firstly, a few clothes, not really covering much, more as a decorative piece, jeans around ankles, shirt fully undone, censored bar in place. Place some flowers for emphasis… Oh, and cuffs of course, ankles are easy, but then I had to fiddle a bit to cuff one wrist and then slip into the cuff of the other wrist, but fortunately I had a bit of time spare. I also had a hole in the side of the box, so I could see what time it was and check my screen-saver didn’t do something stupid.

So Blacksilk got home and came upstairs to say hi, upon entering the room she, well, I guess that’s a story best told by her in another blog post. ;) ♦

A round of applause for Crush, everyone! I hope you’re all excited to see him writing for a sex blog for the first time, do please be gentle with him. And tell him/us what you think! Wasn’t he fantastic? Don’t forget to read the follow-up!

  1. *I’m kinda imagining that bit in Gangnam Style, but with a frown rather than a weird shout and boobs instead of bum. []