We’ve been saying it way more than we know.

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My dear friend and blogging colleague, Elle Beau has dashed off a charming piece about her take on various words, particularly, as they relate to women. She enjoys some (“pussy”), finds some silly (“titties”/”panties”). Some are not to her taste, such as cunt.

As an erotica writer myself, I’m fine with cunt mainly as the connotation is so deeply primal and earth-mothery, compared to the more refined and princessy pussy. Cunt can be beautifully and powerfully emphatic in a story. …

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Once upon a time, my inner critic and I were an item. I was a perfectionist and when my IC whispered, “It must be perfect!” writing anything on freelance assignment that came with a deadline attached was pure torture. My IC insisted that every word had to be the right word on the first go round.

Before anything else I had to get the lead sentence polished. Every paragraph had to zing and flow seamlessly into the next. And they did become word perfect, with flow and zing — but only after I would stare down the sheet of white…

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It’s less about having privilege than putting it to work.

A few weeks ago I was having a farewell lunch with a friend and co-worker in his mid-twenties. He was about to leave the southeast to continue his education at a prestigious law school in the northeast. While there, he intends to intern for a judge.

He was excited and I was excited for him. Not just because he’s on a solid career track but because he loves all people and has set his sights on a future in public service. He may well become a judge himself down the line.

We were sitting at an outdoor cafe and as…

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I don’t usually think of large household appliances as overtly sexual. They’re way too utilitarian on the whole. But somehow I can’t stop thinking about my washing machine. Though it’s a pretty basic model, it’s about as erotic as they come.


I mean look at the wash cycle. When I set it on normal and pull the switch it starts gushing water into the washtub. Like when my partner Gloria tweaks my nipples, making them go from their natural pink to dark cherry, and my pussy starts turning on the waterworks, flooding my panties.


When it’s filled to the proper level, the agitator starts churning the clothes around. That was just like when Glo took our eight-inch dildo and filled my honey cave with it. Then she started first thrusting it in and out, hard and fast, the way I like…

Wives typically outlive their husbands — but watch out for the collateral damage.

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While flipping through Flipboard recently, one headline, from The Guardian’s “The Observer — Health & well-being” column of May 25 by Sian Cain, broke through the clatter of crush-your-core-with-these-ten-moves articles.

“Women are happier without children or a spouse, says happiness expert”

The headline summed up the remarks of Paul Dolan, professor of behavioral science at the London School of Economics, in a talk at the Hay Festival, a cultural event held annually in Wales. He was speaking about the “traditional markers of success” as examined in his data-driven book, Happy Ever After: Escaping the Myth of the Perfect Life. Yes, women increasingly have been deferring marriage and child-bearing in favor of…

photo: SexArt

My fuckbuddy proves the fastest way to my O is around…and around. His dick is driving me stir crazy.

Door’s unlocked, cum in, Big Daddycat sexts me playfully. My heart races and my pussy pulses, anticipating where in his house that six-foot-one vista of rugged man-terrain will be when I open it.

Standing near the door where he can grab me, lay me onto the sofa and bring that handsome head between my spreading thighs? Sprawled on the king bed so I can rub my pliant breasts across his brawny torso? Manspread on the sofa, where I will instantly drop to my knees and engulf his cock and balls with my hungering mouth? …

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The saddening — and surprising — aspects of age-gap relationships.

Today I received a thought provoking response from a charming forty-five- year-old woman, named Cynthia Cerna. She had found me via my story, “I’m seventy (70), have a fit body and love sex. Silly me.” And she wanted to say that she had an upcoming date with a man, also seventy, that she had matched with on OkC. If he looked anything like his photos, she speculated, he would be fit. Which begged the bigger question: but was he fit to fuck?

What sex might be like with this septuagenarian had certainly piqued Cynthia’s curiosity. As had my story.


Why the fuck do some younger women find this odd?

Photo by Stephanie Greene on Unsplash

I turned seventy last year and it felt fantastic. Yes, the big birthday dinner my good buddies threw for me at a terrific restaurant was wonderful, as were the gifts and cards. (The cards are still displayed on my counter and the gold 7–0 balloons are pinned on the wall.) But the best part was starting this great big decade going full throttle as an erotica writer, Yoga teacher, fitness instructor and sexually alive woman. …

photo: SexArt

I walk in, the unlocked door awaiting my entrance, and there he reclines. A muscular, male Odalisque splayed naked across the chintz covered sofa. A most masculine, mustached man upon that refined, cushioned ground would seem like a contradiction in terms. But it’s the perfect, unabashed contrast to his potency, urging my desire. An erect knight in a flowered field. Lust riding romance. My breath catches, my pussy clenches as always whenever I find him so deliciously flaunting his virile charms.

I shed my sundress in seconds and, naked, join him, feeling his body receive the sweet slap of my…

Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

I want your wildness rampaging inside me. Riding me fast then slow then fast again, pounding in furious pleasure against my butt with your powerful gut and thighs — those strongman thighs that make my clit quake and my breasts fly as they set fire to my desire.

Plundering my inner vault with your long thick shaft in masterful strokes, my legs spread wide to receive the entirety of you. Past the momentary tightness and rush of pain, you push on into the quivering Temple of Heaven that’s burning to be engulfed in flame by your torch.

Your balls galloping…

Vienna De Vega

Scorpio moon woman. Resident of the 8th zodiac house of sex, lust and intimacy. Venture with me down the erotic highway of my mind.

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