I did my fair share of irresponsible things when I was a teenager, but unprotected sex wasn’t one them.
I tried most drugs I could get my hands on. I turned down anything that seemed too risky or addictive, but I took just about anything that promised to be psychedelic.
I’ve shoplifted bras and makeup when I felt outraged at how heavily marked up women’s products were.
One time, I took up my friend’s challenge and drag raced him down a stretch of highway at night. I only hit the brakes when I heard a police siren behind me.
But I never once considered letting a guy inside me unless he sheathed his cock first. …
I woke up before the sun had a chance to brighten the room. I looked at the clock and saw that it was twenty minutes earlier than I would normally be awake.
I yawned, stretched myself out of bed, walked to the living room — and saw way more than I expected to.
Every morning, I found my husband reading a book on the couch, ready to hop up and make us breakfast.
This time, he was sitting at his computer instead. The first thing I noticed was the porn playing on the screen. I have no memory of what he was watching, because my eyes immediately moved down to see that his hand was gripped around his hard cock. …
Strokers are cool as hell and I don’t understand why they’re not more popular.
There’s so much to love about them. They’re soft and squishy. Some of them look surprisingly realistic. From the moment I saw one, I knew they’d be really fun to use.
I love sticking my fingers inside them and feeling all the different stimulating textures. If I had a dick, I’m sure I would fill my nightstand drawer with different strokers I could fuck.
So, it genuinely surprised me when my husband said he wasn’t interested in trying them.
I knew he had never owned one, but I figured it had more to do with being frugal than being completely uninterested. …
The worst kind of sex is the kind that makes you wonder why you even bothered.
That’s how I felt when I had fallen into a sexual rut with my husband.
It’s not that the sex was bad, exactly. It’s just that it wasn’t exciting anymore. Everything had become so predictable that I could time every move down to the second.
All that predictability meant I struggled to get aroused. I wouldn’t get my lady boner up again until we started spicing things up and adding lots of variety to our sex life.
I wanted the playfulness of not really knowing what we were going to do next. I wanted the spontaneity of getting caught up in the moment and deciding how to fuck right then and there. …
Porn changed when I started streaming it. But it happened gradually enough that I didn’t even notice.
I was jilling off to it for free, but that was nothing new. I was a porn pirate from day one.
My introduction to porn was through my parents’ satellite dish. My dad signed up for the basic service but got someone to hack into the receiver and give us access to all the premium channels.
That included porn channels, so my parents locked me and my brother out of them. …
I’ve found pussy pumps extremely fascinating, but I couldn’t build up the nerve to try one.
My interest didn’t start out of anything sexual or arousing. It was really more of a morbid curiosity.
I had just given birth for the fourth time. Each time before this one, I had refused to actually take a look at my post-partum pussy.
In fact, I was advised against it. Other moms mentioned it being a total horror show.
So, I never had the nerve to look. I didn’t need another reason to feel self-conscious about my vulva.
But this was definitely my last time doing this. If I wanted to know what it looked like, it was now or never. …
Over the course of the last year, I discovered so much about myself and my sexuality that I can barely remember what sex was like before.
One thing’s for sure, my sex life wasn’t nearly as good as it is now.
This year, I’ve decided not to make any concrete resolutions. Instead, I just set three big goals I want to aim for.
I want to let go of my perfectionism — or at least work on it.
I want to clean, tidy, and organize a bit more.
And I want to have better sex.
I don’t know what that last one is going to look like, but that’s part of the fun. If you’re curious, playful, and experimental, it can take you anywhere. …
Sex is incredible, but the buildup to it is what I live for.
Don’t get me wrong, I want the resolution. I want the sexual satisfaction that comes from a powerful, mind-obliterating orgasm.
Slow, teasing stimulation should ideally lead to something other than frustration. I have memories of spending an evening riding my vibrator trying desperately to get a final, powerful orgasm to cap things off after a long foreplay session — that struggle wasn’t fun.
But loving the payoff doesn’t mean I want to skip over everything that leads to it.
If I could press a button and experience an orgasm (that’s more or less how it works with my favorite wand toy), I’d probably hit it so often I would wear it down to its circuits. But I would definitely miss the anticipation — the feeling that makes me want to fuck in the first place. …
Becoming a podcaster wasn’t my idea.
It was something my husband proposed. He loves podcasts and always has several shows queued up.
He’s always wanted to be on one and routinely comes up with ideas for shows he would create and host.
Back in the middle of 2019, though, he came up with an idea for a show about sex that would be dirty, intimate, and highly personal. It would also heavily involve me.
“You should start a podcast,” he told me when we were lying in bed. “We have all these long, fun conversations. …
My life is stuck in a loop.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve experienced regular bursts of good feelings.
During those weeks, I’ll be brimming with creative energy and itching to take on an ambitious project. I’ll resolve to make major changes in my life and better myself.
I’ll get really into it, planning everything out, mapping a course of action, taking steps to building all the new habits I’ll need to get everything done.
And then, almost as soon as I hit my stride, everything falls apart.
I get hit by an abrupt wave of depression. I feel gripped with anxiety. My optimism drains away, my excitement slows down or dies away completely, and I lose the motivation to get things done. …