Exposing My Self to Airport Security - I stared right at her until she looked away and called for assistance for a pat-down search. I gaped, chin dropped: holy shit, they’re gonna give me a pat down cuz I’m packing a silicon cock...

Prefect’s Prerogative - When I neglect this duty, or don’t perform it to his satisfaction, he makes me light a fire in his room, and stand in front of it in just my school shirt and white socks...

Attention Women: There is Something Wrong With Your Vagina - Yes, that’s what your vagina needs: a breath mint. Because, just like vagina shouldn’t smell like vagina, it also shouldn’t taste like vagina...

Zipless - “I have some Scotch in my room—maybe you’d join me? You know, in the interest of not drinking alone…” She smiled. Perhaps she could yet salvage the day’s ending...

Make Content Warning optional. Remove flagged blogs from Blogger's Listings (Next Blog, etc), instead of forcing a splash page on 'objectionable' blogs (ex: nude art blogs). The warning page causes more problems than it solves and limits expression.

“When I present the idea that its not the aggressive anal/choking/cum splattering that makes porn unethical or unfeminist, but the conditions under which the performers are doing said acts, people say...‘Its impossible to know what the working conditions are.’ It isn’t impossible....Just as people research textile factory conditions and then put pressure on corporations—the same could happen with porn.”

As soon as you commit erotic keystroke to computer screen, you’re signing a contract that makes you think and feel something, usually buried deep inside your fecund mind. Most people find themselves unwilling to carry that burden of revelation, to share it with the world, and to expose themselves in the multiple ways they have to in order to write about sex for very long.

Not only does writing about sex change the way you think about sex, but it changes the sex you have. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been fucking my lover and simultaneously narrating in my head our sex. It’s a weird fucking sensation, this double consciousness of doing and narrating, and it gets in the way of really enjoying the fucking. All of a sudden, the fucking is “about” something. It has to fit into a narrative structure. It’s limited, predetermined, finished before it’s over, and my pleasure with it. It’s a fucking loss. A loss that keeps on losing.

There are hosts of reasons not to write a sex blog—reasons I’ve outlined here, and ones I’ve hinted at. You can—and probably will—be read by someone you don’t want to read your writing. You will experience the big fat Freudian fear/wish dynamic about readership, both hoping that people will read and being anxious when they do. You will feel compromised, you will feel unsettled, you won’t easily be able to identify why. You will feel like the girl in the middle of the fantasy gang-bang, both titillated and shamed, at least if you’re anything like me. And then you'll feel as if some Japanese tour bus is driving through your bedroom and snapping pictures. It's a tad disorienting to feel as if the digital world is gaping at your cervix through the speculum of your blog. Not everyone can, or should be, an Annie Sprinkles.

It’s fucking hard to write honestly about fucking. However, I will tell you this: it’s worth it. At the end of the day, or in the middle of it, when I think about what would mark my presence on this wet blue earth if a safe dropped from the sky and squashed me flat as Wile E. Coyote, a few things come to mind: my friends and my lover, my dog, the students I’ve helped become better writers, and this blog. I’m proud of what I’ve written, and I’m proud of it all in no small part because I’ve written it at great personal price...

Erotonomicon is a center for all things erotic or attractive that appeal to our senses. You'll find a variety of things here, there are no limits to what we post as long as they fall in line with our tastes. What's our taste? The darkly erotic, slightly trashy, and the painfully sensual. Things that attract some while repelling others.

“Would you like to fuck Jess’s ass?” I ask him. “Yes please!” is his answer. “Would it be okay with you if I prepared her for you?” I ask him. “Perfect” he replies.

Jess bends over, exposing her round juicy ass to me, her soft pink pussy beautifully framed by her thighs. I slap her ass playfully, warming it, she fidgets. My lips press against her soft warm skin, I kiss and nibble her cheeks, pressing my tongue between my lips. I spread her cheeks and lick her anus while slipping my finger into her wet pussy. I find her clit and tease it while I tongue her ass, pressing my tongue deeper, changing the shape, pressing gently with my teeth. I finger her pussy till my fingers are dripping with her juices I pull them out and lick them, tasting her nectar. Then I finger her ass with a wet finger till she is begging for his cock.

The castle is open on Saturdays only. Before you make the journey, an on-line registration is required. Only couples may apply.

You should also dress for the occasion. The little black number for the lady, and something off the racks of Armani or Zegna for the gentleman would be quite appropriate.

Your first visit will set you back 115 Euros. Then you will be handed a membership card, and subsequent visits will be 95 Euros. In both cases per couple, and that will be all for the night, as all food, drinks and other sundries are covered.

The vaulted cellars of the castle now host an elaborate wellness center with sauna, whirlpool and showers capacious enough to clean an army. The first floor is home of a bar, a library, and a restaurant.

The second floor is where the action is. Several suites, a dark suite, a French Suite, and a “Nude Suite.” Assorted other rooms offer ample opportunities for horizontal action.

The protocol of getting into the action is not unlike most other couples only clubs in Germany: You go to the room, you lie down, and soon there will be another couple next to you and the fun may begin. Contact is made by touching the member of the other sex, and unless your hand is moved away, more intensive touching will follow.

For some odd reason, communication between couples in a German club will in most cases be limited to wild fornication. Other more traditional forms of socializing are rare. After the act(s) couples retreat back to the bar, and usually no words are exchanged with other couples. Strange, but usually true.

Girl: Tell me, Tommy.
Girl: Do you think I'm pretty?
Tommy: Oh yes..
Girl: A Goddess, even?
Girl giggles.
Girl: You wish to serve me?
Tommy: Yes.. yes. It's all I want at the moment.
Girl licks her lips and nods, leaning lazily against the wall.
Girl wiggles her ass invitingly, looking over her shoulder at you.
Girl: Kiss my Divine ass then, Tommy
Girl: Kiss me, and worship my bottom.

Both feeling quite full from dinner, we opted to share a piece of rich chocolate mousse cake. He took this opportunity to move closer to me. He placed his hand on my thigh and touched base with my eyes to make sure it was cool with me. I smirked. Only, he didn't stop there. After putting the table cloth over my lap, he slowly started to slide his hand in between my legs. Taking another bite of the chocolate cake, I looked around to make sure no one could see us. There weren't too many people left in our area ...and they were on the other side of the room. Still, a waiter could come over at any time. I was a little nervous, but that passed the closer he got to my panties. He moved a little closer to me softly ran his fingers over my mound on the outside of my panties. Our eyes locked and his eyebrow raised the moment he found my wet spot. Oh yes, I was wet. He pressed a little harder. His fingers crawled up to the top of my panties and down the other side to find my bare skin. I couldn't believe what he was doing! I loved it! Such balls! Mmmm...and the night had just begun.

He slid his two fingers between my lips and began to rub my g-spot (I must say, I was shocked he found it so easily AND while I was sitting down!!) with a come-here motion. Damn straight I was going to cum there! Wow! He just left his fingers in there, asserting pressure in a rhythmic motion again and again .....and again.

I took another bite of chocolate cake. And I thought Willy Wonka and the chocolate masturbation night was fun! (See previous entry) Mark slowly pulled his fingers and slid them up to my clit. With his wet fingers, he circled my clit slowly ....I tried to keep a normal face and took the last bite of chocolate cake. He put his finger right over my clit and began to rub and rub .....he was making me so hot. I felt an orgasm beginning to creep up. Suddenly he pulled his hand away, keeping it under the table. Just as I looked at him, our waiter came over to the table and smiled.

"Did you enjoy that?", he asked.

I blushed, after a slight pause, I realized he was referring to the chocolate cake. I cleared my throat. "Very much, thank you." He smiled and took the plate away.

As a well-trained product of the consumer culture, I have a much easier time pointing out what I find attractive on women than on men. I'm an ass-woman, myself--I want to look at J.Lo from the back for long periods of time. One of the hottest things I saw recently in real-life was at the end of the summer: a woman in my fairly conservative office had worn a pair of linen pants, relatively loose, but they clung to her ass and it appeared she was probably wearing a thong. You couldn't see it, but you could see that there was nothing holding in the faint jiggle caused by her walk.

Perhaps it was hot because I think she's smart and attractive, but mostly I think it was seeing that utterly delicious ass jiggling in a place as unexpected as work.

I've never understood the giggly-girl "his butt is sooooo cute" response. A guy with a cute butt? Whatever. Give me someone tall and a little dark who smells good, and I don't care what his ass looks like.

Until I started spanking asses, that is. Now I feel like I have become a student of the male ass. And I'm here to tell you--the perfect ass is hard to define.

Alex took hold of my hand and asked, “Where shall we go so we can be alone together”? I knew just the place. Hand in hand I led Alex to the far corner of the playground, towards the bike sheds. The bike sheds conveniently faced away from the school and were surrounded on two sides by a large laurel hedge. Entry was via the side against the hedge.

I pulled Alex inside and guided him to the far end, pressing him up against the last bike rail. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” he said in a slightly breathless voice. “We don’t have time to waste” I replied. He was looking down my shirt, watching my young breasts heave inside my white lace bra. “Do you like them”?, I cheekily asked. “You have great boobs, most of the guys in the class think so” he smiled back at me. I slipped undone the top 2 buttons of my blouse and reached for Alex’s hand. He was warm and perspiring slightly. I pushed it inside my blouse and into the cup of my bra, he trembled a little as I did this (was I his first?).

With a soft moan he gave me a gentle squeeze and then began to massage me with a circular motion. My nipples were beginning to stiffen with the attention and my breathing was now shallow and fast. I pushed myself towards Alex and forced my tongue deep in to his mouth. We kissed passionately, hard and impatient. I broke away from him and began to unzip him.

The grey flannel of his trousers outlined his growing erection perfectly. Just to the side of the zipper was a very small damp patch, Alex was obviously aroused. I reached inside his flies and found my prize inside his black boxers. He was just begining to firm up and I wanted to hurry things along a little. I reached up under my skirt, hooked a finger under each side of my panties and stepped out of them. Having nowhere else to put them and no time to consider it, I placed them in my skirt side pocket.