Sugasm 138! (camp post pending, I swear)

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #139? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
You’re going to come for me.

“I imagined her, bound. Wrists behind her back, whimpering.”

Champagne Orgasms
“I cry out, begging for him to stop, begging him not to”

Tie one on
“He slipped his hands under my blouse and teased my nipples and breasts with his strong hands.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
The Look

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Cream

Cunt Sucking. Confession #75
Dirty Girl
The education of Ava
Foot fantasy
Fucking the blonde on the beach-2
Good slave
Homework
lolidoll’s Ass Inspired Poetry - HNT
The picture that launched a thousand…….sperm

Questions and Answers
Spin The Bottle - Part Two
The Tutor
The Wrath Of Eve

Sex & Politics
Existential Crisis, or There is a Cum Shot At the End of This Post

BDSM & Fetish

Alas, still not enough
BDSM & Race
Chain
A good deed
Hard OTK bare ass spankings of naughty girls!
Hot Night
I Slapped Her Face With My Cock And Coated Her Tits With Hot Wax
I Was Naked When I Wrote This

A jagged soft puzzle
The Lilith Obsession, Part the Third
Mojada, castigada y humillada…
Panties for Men
Punishment in the Woods
Reclaimed.
A scene in two parts.
Trying To Understand Pain & Sexual Arousal, As Well As Unwanted Emotions From Certain Types Of Play

Watershed: She Takes Command
We finally get to really play again
Would the Real Mistress Please Stand Up?
Yellow, Black, and Red
You can be a PIG!

Sex Work
Back From The Desert. Kumi Kumi Coco Puff

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews

Bondage Model Carly Parker In One Of The Hottest Hogtied Sessions I’ve Seen
Catalina loves Lochai (An Interview With The Award Winning Photographer and Rigger)
The Countess Reviews “Swingtown”
Pure White Pleasure Tower
Review - Into The Attic
Sex News Roundup
Sgt. Major And Claire Adams In A Hot Erotic Choking Scene

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
180 Degrees

Another swinging experience … continued
Autobiography of a Masturbator: Porn O’Graphicus, Part I
A Call From An Old Friend
Chivalry and Me
Co-operation makes it happen
It’s not easy being Sexhobbyist
Package Deal
Pain Isn’t *Always* A Good Thing
Pansexuality: Love is Everything

Sex Advice
Feelin’ Hot Hot Hot: Sex And The Summer
He Keeps Losing his Erection…

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
A Bruised HNT
Brunette sucks off 3 Guys in office back room
Candice Swanepoel Looking Hot in Lingerie
Footsie

Free Sexy Videos
Free Videos: Spread legs humiliating caning for delighful babe in shame and pain.
HNT- Nightie Night
Hot Twins spanking in FREE sex chat video
Impertinent Question: What’s Up with the Male G-Spot?
Last Night…..
Marlena - Dream Girl
Mz Berlin Is Fierce In This Demask Corset And Fishnet Stockings

Filed Under

• Anal Sex Toys
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• Diary of a Kinky Librarian
• Diary-of-a-gay-dad
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• wife worshipper

upcoming weekend getaway.

Shirts, check.
Shorts, check.
Toothpaste, check.
Leather kilt, check.
Cuffs, check.
Strap…. crap. What the hell did I do with my strap? Meh, I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll find someone else with lots of fun toys.

I’m off to Leather Retreat tomorrow.
*sings*
To pervert camp I go. To pervert camp I go. Hi-ho! The dairy-o! To pervert camp I go!
/singing

I wish I could have gone earlier in the week, but so is life. I’m so looking forward to this weekend. Hell, I’m already trying to think of excuses to explain the inevitable marks and bruises when I go to the gym with my coworkers.

*wheeee!*

Hasta Monday!

That’s it, really.

A scene in two parts.

Part 1. Saturday. Submission and air conditioning.

When I was nine or ten, I went to visit my grandmother in Florida. After all, what self respecting New York Jew doesn’t have aging relatives in Florida? It must have been 90 degrees in the shade. We took one of the hotel shuttles to the Miami parrot jungle, and my Grandmother, ever the old world European, insisted that I wear a kercheif around my neck so as not to catch cold in the air conditioning. I hated that stupid scarf, so when I thought no one was looking, I took it off and stuck my face in one of the AC vents in the van. Of course I caught a cold. My grandma never let me live it down till the day she died.

Since then, I’ve shared grandma’s healthy suspicion of air conditioning. So why the hell was I leaning over a desk while stark naked, with an air-conditioner pointed at me in full blast?

Keep your hands on the desk and don’t turn around.

Oh yeah. That’s why. I continued standing there, letting the AC wash over my body. My brain tracked onto the sounds of shuffling and clanging chains behind me. After a minute or two, I kind of wished I had that neck scarf.

Turn around.

Finally. I turned to face the source of the voice, who cuffed my wrists and slid a blindfold over my eyes.

It was Saturday night, after LPN. As I said, there’s been an influx of kink in my life as of late, and this was a new, unexpected chapter. I met him at a meet-up for perverts and sex bloggers some months ago. We seemed to click and scheduled a date a few weeks later. The date went less than well. After leaving a message on his voicemail and hearing nothing back, I kind of figured that was the end of it. Then I ran into him at registration at LPN. Some hours later, I was naked in his bedroom save a blindfold and handcuffs.

I’m going to hurt you tonight.

Who’d have thunk that such a disastrous date would eventually lead to this? By the time his hand came down against my flesh, the air conditioning had all but faded from my consciousness. For the most part, it was a beautiful hurt. I even let him take me into a deeper sub space than I’m accustomed to playing with. I let his commands rip through me as I took each hit.

There was one point, early on in the evening, where the pain switched from sexy painful to fucking-stop-it painful. He slapped my shoulders with an open hand. Hard. It left a large swath of sting on my back in a not so sexy way. After a little while, I decided I’d had enough of that.

But this is just warmup, honey. It’s just my hand. I haven’t even gotten started yet.

I don’t care. I told him. Lay the fuck off my back. Which he did… at least insofar as the stingy badness went. I only mention this because it informs the second half of my story, which brings me to…

Part 2. Sunday. Slight change of pace.

Bob once laughed in my face when I expressed interest in learning how to top.
Why don’t you just accept the fact that you’re a bottom? There’s no shame in it.
I can top. It’s just not something I do very often I think was my response.
Well, could you top me?
No . I answered almost immediately.
Why not? He asked.
Because I’d lose patience with your brattyness
I thought.
Bob likes to brat and taunt from the bottom, which I lose patience with easily. I’ve still taken to referring to myself as a bottom for the sake of ease. Sometimes when I top, I feel like a dog that’s finally caught up with a car it’s been chasing. It’s big, shiny, and I have no idea what to do with it. But sometimes I can fake it well enough.

Most of Sunday is a beautiful lazy blur. I woke up Sunday morning tangled in his arms and bed-sheets. It took me a split second to remember where I was and how I got there. Whatever redness I had from the previous night’s escapades had already faded. (I heal mutantly fast. It’s a blessing and a curse… for some, it’s a challenge.) His scent still lingered on my skin. We spent the morning curled up together, drifting in and out of sleep.

Flash forward. We were both more or less awake, talking about kink and our respective preferences. What’s amusing is that both of us identify primarily as bottoms, but for whatever reason, he felt particularly toppish towards me. The idea of me topping him came up. He was intrigued, but skeptical.

Flash forward again. I was straddling his back, tracing circles on him with my fingernail.
Oh lord. What was that thing you did to me last night that I couldn’t stand? I mused out loud.
I’m not gonna tell you.
Oh yeah. I brought both hands down right between his shoulder blades, just as he had done. He let out a yelp of pain. I slapped his back again. My hands left two reddish pink wings on his back.
Is that nothing?
No.
Another slap.
Does that feel like warm up to you?
No ma-am.
But it’s just my hand. I said in mock innocence.

I’m pretty sure it’s my demeanor, which is by and large cute and fluffy. While it’s not a false representation of myself, it’s a persona that I’ve cultivated both consciously and subconsciously. No one expects any toplike anything out of me, much like no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

Flash again. He was a pile of goo with a warm pink ass, whimpering over my knee. Pay-back’s a bitch.

Needless to say, I completely surprised him. Hell, I completely surprised myself. I really want to explore this dynamic some more. I like the possibility of turning the tables, knowing that I can navigate an unfamiliar role convincingly enough. A dynamic where the power goes to the one who gets there first. Also, the idea of a payback scene is really hot. Next time, I think air conditioning will be involved. I don’t know how, but damnit I’ll think of something.

Does this make me a switch? A bottom who can top when necessary? I’m not sure that it matters. I get weird about labels, especially as far as kink and sexuality is concerned. It kind of annoyed me, in retrospect, that Bob completely dismissed me as a top because that’s not the dynamic I have with him.

I’m trying more and more to understand kink for the amorphous creature that it is. While there are conventions and protocols out the wazoo (in some cases, literally), at the end of the day, you find what works and run with it. It’s 2 AM and I’m fresh out of pontifications.

Valuable lessons…

I hate bus travel. I’d avoid it altogether if Amtrak weren’t so damn expensive. I went to visit Evan among other people in Boston this past weekend and took the Chinatown bus. Nothing like a four hour bus ride to awaken my inner misanthrope. Too many loud stupid people with too many cell phones. Sometimes I think my inner child is a crotchety old man in disguise.

When I got to Boston, however, it was a completely different story. Evan picked me up from the bus station, and immediately I felt like I had come home.Whenever I’m in that neck of the woods, there are five billion people I want to catch up with, so Saturday was mostly a whirlwind of social. Evan and I were supposed to go to a play party that night, but by the time evening rolled around, I was just too tired to make an appearance. Instead we went back to his place and curled up in front of the TV.

At some point, when we were curled up on his bed, I started to hiccup. I haven’t had a bout of hiccups in ages. Water didn’t help. Scaring me never works. Ever the engineer, Evan’s solution to the hiccup problem involved a hitachi, a tens unit, a little lube, some condoms, and me screaming in ecstasy for at least ten minutes straight.

Greatest. hiccup. cure. ever.

I file this one under theories that clearly need to be tested more thoroughly for the sake of science. Too bad I can’t hiccup on cue.

Needless to say, the trip was totally worth those interminable hours on the bus.

Things are looking up. This past trip promises to be the start of a kink influx. With Leather retreat and TES Fest right around the corner, I’m looking forward to catching up on play and reconnecting myself to the matrix, so to speak.

With the exception of Memorial Day (more on that soon to come), I was in a bubble for most of April and May. I needed to focus on other areas of my life. Now that I feel like I’ve found my center, I can indulge my social butterfly tendencies again. Go team me.

I’m baaack!

Sorry about the month long hiatus. It took me a while to get used to working the hours of a normal human bieng. Now that I’m settled in my new job and on a normal sleep schedule, I can get back to writing about filth.

Miss me?

Anyway…

A while ago, the Chameleon and I met up. Ours is an odd dynamic. We’ve only really gotten together twice since our first date. He’s been out of town a lot. On both dates, we met up, ate dinner and wandered about the city. In public, our dynamic is friendly but neutral. Minimal physical contact, light discourse. He almost always speaks in ironic overtones that sometimes grate on me.
Then we find our way back to his place to drink wine and watch TV. Somewhere between commercials, the energy changes, charging what had been a neutral space into something else, and next thing I know, we’re tangled together in a naked, sweaty heap. As soon as my clothes are back on, the neutral energy returns.

He wanted to tie me up.

We were curled up together on his couch, just at the transition point from one vibe to the next. He had mentioned rope was a hot thing for him when we met at pleasure salon, so in an effort to be helpful, I pointed out Dov, who was chatting with someone across the room. When I did so, the Chameleon got strangely touchy about taking a rope class… As if treating rope like a skill stripped it of its mystery.
Anyway, as we started to kiss on his couch, he produced a length of rope. It was that thinish white nylon rope from home depot that clearly had seen better days. The ends were hopelessly frayed.

I may have offered to show him a knot or two. I may not be an expert, but I’ve demo bottomed for a rope class or two and I know some of the basic ties. He begged me to let him just try. Since it turned him on so much, I played along.

He took one end of the rope and tied a loop around my left wrist. and proceeded to wrap the remainder of the rope around my wrists and then my waist. The knot around my wrist started to itch a bit and he started to kiss me. After a few minutes, I got sick of the loops around my body, and let them fall off me. This kind of halted the action for a moment or two. He tried again, his way. This time putting my arms behind my back. I let them stay put a little longer the second time, but eventually, I let the rope slip onto the couch. I never said I was a nice person.

Next we were in his bedroom, still with the rope. After the third time, I was starting to lose patience.

“Here, let me.” I said, letting a little more impatience creep into my voice than I had liked. “Give me your hands.”

I tied his hands together in a simple two column tie, that I think I saw on twisted monk’s site and let things go from there. Fortunately, getting tied up was as much of a turn on for him as tying something up, so the evening wasn’t a total wash. When he walked me out the door, I tried as sweetly as I could to suggest a few sites where he could practice a few knots. “You know, it’s a skill…. and if you do it wrong, you could cut off someone’s circulation.” He smiled and nodded and pay for my cab ride home. I woke up in my own bed the next morning, washed his scent off my skin, and went to work. I haven’t really seen him since. We’ve spoken over the phone a few times. Now granted, he’s been traveling.

*sigh*

Apparanty I’m Sascha, destroyer of egos. I honestly didn’t mean to. Maybe I’ve just been really spoiled. All the people who introduced me to kink are damn good at what they do, so I maybe my expectations are higher than some. But if someone’s going to tie me up, I want them to know what they’re doing. I’m not asking for a shibari expert or anything. Just knowing the basics is enough.

I’m baffled by his relationship to rope. It clearly is something that gets him off, but he’s just so reluctant to learn, as if taking a class desexualizes the object. I would think quite the opposite. If you learn and practice the skills, by the time you get to the bedroom, the possibilities open up, making that object so much hotter. Different point of view, I guess. Who am I to judge.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled smut to bring you this very important announcement…

I’m employed! Like, for real!

With a real job and real health insurance! If there are any two words that make my knees quiver, they’re health insurance.

I win at life!

That is all.

Filth and Feminism

I made the mistake of reading a bunch of radical feminist blogs instead of spending time doing all the useful things I should have been doing today. Remind me not to do that again. Now not only am I behind on my to do list, I’m also really annoyed by stupid people on the internet. I have a knee jerk aversion to extreme points of view. They tend to paint things with too wide a brush, and I’m the type of person who likes to examine nuances and grey areas. My thoughts on feminism spread out in a hundred different directions.

Am I a feminist? I don’t know. I’ve grown increasingly hazy on what that word means. Is it pro women? Anti objectification? It’s one of those words that’s so loaded that it’s strayed far away from a simple definition.

I’m all about movements that give women access to options; the option to work in any field, the choice to redefine the power dynamics in relationships and find a balance that works as opposed a predefined paradigm. I think that people should be judged more on abilities and merit than on their gender in the workplace and society at large. I also recognize that there are still major inequalities between men and women and unconscionable violence towards women around the world, and that needs to be fought and dealt with. This is why we have foundations like RAINN (blatant plug) and V-Day initiatives. Eve Ensler is one of my personal heroes.

As a woman who is kinky and primarily a bottom/submissive, I simply can’t align myself with the Andrea Dworkin school of anti objectification and anti pornography. My sexuality is an anathema according to that school of thought. Besides, to quote Tom Lehrer, dirty books are fun! I’m not going to bother trying to counter the points made by the hardline radical feminists of the blogoshpere. There are plenty of other people banging their heads against that brick wall. Plus it’s 2 AM as I’m typing this and I don’t have that kind of patience at this hour. All I can say is that I find their messages counterproductive. I find that those iterations of feminism remove and demean more choices than anything else, and that doesn’t sit well with me.

Here’s what I want to wrap my brain around. Assuming we reject the notion that all sex, sex work and pornography are degrading towards women, where do the lines get drawn between acceptable sexual expression and genuine exploitation? Clearly, there is a way of objectifying without actually dehumanizing someone. Where is objectification hot and when is it genuinely degrading?

I play in a world where power dynamics are accepted, displayed, and acted out. It’s an arena where the taboo is greeted and celebrated. It’s a world I feel comfortable in, often empowered. I don’t believe that my preference towards bottoming and submission conflicts at all with my general stance of gender equality. I want my partners to objectify me in the moment; to see me as sexual, as beautiful, as primal. I love playing with those power dynamics and feeling so comfortable with someone that I can relinquish control. When the moment passes, however, I have every expectation of being treated as a fellow human being. Objectification is all good and fine, so long as it isn’t 24/7.

I imagine that when you enter the realms of sex on film and sex for money, the formula gets more complex. Since I have no experience with that world, I don’t know how that works. How do those boundaries work? How do you define what’s exploitative and what isn’t?

Donate to RAINN(and please mention the GBBMC:08 and my blog in the “donation in honor of” field!)

Well that’s annoying…

As most of you know, I’m competing in the blogging contest for RAINN. and have been requesting donations from my readers. If my readers donate the most money to RAINN, then I win some really cool stuff.

For those of you who have donated money through my blog via paypal, there’s apparently a glitch that doesn’t let paypal users specify who they are donating for. Credit card donations were no problem, but paypal is teh suck in this instance and makes judging the competition kind of difficult.

So yeah, if you donated via paypal through my blog, email me (saschasotherhalf at gmail dot com) and tell me how much money you gave.

If you didn’t give, please do. It’s a good cause and the prizes are really nifty!

Squee plus meme

I spoke with the Chameleon on the phone last night. It’s the first time we really spoke after our date. He’s been out of town for the last few weeks. We’ve established that
a) we really like each other and find each other attractive
b) he’s at a weird turning point in his life, this whole “scene” is really new to him so he’s still trying to gage what he’s ok with, therefore
c) we’re going to hang out more and see what happens.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with this and I almost don’t care. I think he’s an awesome human being, and while I definitely wouldn’t complain if we did end up as lovers, if I end up with a good friend/partner in crime out of the deal, I’d be perfectly happy. It feels almost weird writing about him in this venue since the details are far from titillating. Hopefully I’ll have some sexier stories soon.

But, for now, may I present a meme! I’m a sheep. Hear me Bahh.

This is Isabella’s Sex Meme. Anyone is welcome to steal it, but you must post this rules blurb at the beginning of the meme.

I was tagged (sort of) by Curvaceous Dee

1: You must include this link to Sex Talk - Sex Advice for Men.

2. You must answer every question! If you don’t have a good answer, you are strongly encouraged to make up something good; we like to be entertained.

3. You must tag three people.

Drumroll, please:

1. Sex in the Morning or Sex at Night?
I actually prefer afternoon sex, which used to get when I was in Grad School and dated someone who worked a block away from me. *sigh* good times. But between the two given options, I’ll have to go with night sex. I’m not really a morning person.

2. Better Sex Music - Sade or Marvin Gaye?
Neither. I gotta agree with Dee on this one

3. Naughty Pics or Naughty Home Videos?
Of myself? Photographs. Definitely.

4. Fabulous Sex With: Dr Doug Ross or Dr Greg House?
House. I’ve had a thing for Hugh Laurie since he did Blackadder

5. Vibrator or Dildo?
Vibrators.

6. Bedroom Sex: Lights Off or Lights On?
Can I be a complete cheezeball and say candle light?
It’s a happy medium between the two. The lighting is good and the situation lends itself well to wax play, which is one of my favorite things ever.

7. Word Preference: Pussy or Cunt?
Cunt. I don’t like pussy. I have a hard time taking it seriously. Cunt sounds more substantial to my ear. But I only like the word when it’s used to refer to genitalia and not a person.

8. Spanking Over the Knee or Spanking Only During Sex?
Yes, please! I’m a spanking fan in general, in case you hadn’t noticed.

9. More Exciting: Sex in an Elevator or Sex in an Aeroplane?
Haven’t done either, but I’d have to go with elevator. Airplane is a little too public for my tastes. I’m only an exhibitionist when I know my audience is willing.

10. Ron Jeremy or Peter North?
Ron Jeremy

11. Word Preference? Cock or dick?
I’m not a big fan of either, really.

12. Linda Lovelace or Jenna Jameson?
Jenna, only because Linda went kind of bonkers after Deep Throat came out. At least Jenna owns who she is.

13. Rope Bondage or Bondage Tape
depends on the circumstances. I loves me a good bondage scene, but I prefer tape when being restrained is tangental to the scene and needs to be done quickly.

14. Give Rim Job or Receive Anal Sex?
Never given a rim job and it doesn’t really appeal to me, so I’m gonna have to go with anal on this one.

15. Get Rich Stripping in a Skanky Bar or Get Rich as a Call Girl for Celebs?
Call Girl

16. Which Threesome - Boy/Girl/Girl or Boy/Boy/Girl?
B/B/G are the only ones I’ve had any real experience with, so I need to do some more experimentation before I can answer this question… For science, you understand.

17. Flavoured Oil or Tingling Oil?
Flavoured.

18. Pearl Necklace or Swallow?
Swallow.

19. Sex While Strangers Watch or Sex With a Stranger?
While strangers watch. Sex with strangers makes me paranoid about diseases and whether or not my partner’s an axe murderer.

20. Tied to the Bed or to a St Andrew’s Cross?
Aww, do I have to choose? I’m a lazy bottom, so the bed is the more comfortable option. But the cross is not without its appeal.

I tag…. Oh I dunno. Wendy, Victor, and Adam

Please make a donation to RAINN. (reference: GBBMC2008 + How My Other Half Lives with your donation.) The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. It’s a nifty cause and you should give them buckets of money. Buckets, I tell you.

Sex Schmex?

It dawned on me recently for someone who writes a sex blog I’ve had very little sex in the last few months. Let me qualify that… Vaginal penetration with a bio-dick. I know this is a very narrow definition. leave it alone for the purposes of this post. It’s not for lack of opportunity… Hell, last weekend I turned down a booty call because I didn’t want to schlep out to Long Island. I stayed home and made jewelry.

For the most part, I haven’t really minded or felt particularly lacking. I’ve definitely played since then… (mostly with Bob. We have an unofficial weekly playdate, which has been lovely, and sort of filled that spot in my brain well enough.

My subconscious, however, does not seem to be happy. I’ve been having crazy dreams these last few weeks. Hyper realistic sex dreams, where I wake up wondering whether or not these dreams actually happened. Very odd. It’s like what I’m not getting in real life my dreams are providing me with.

Freud would have a field day, I’m sure.

Please make a donation to RAINN. (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation.) The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.