Sexuality Happens

It’s my half birthday!  I’m offically 23.5! Hurray!

I know people think it’s silly to celebrate half birthdays.  But see, my birthday usually falls right during the middle of Channukah.  So when I was younger, my family decided to start celebrating my half birthday (and my sister’s, whose birthday is in January) in the summer, so that we wouldn’t feel as left out during the holiday season (when it sucks being the ten year old who hears the “this is your birthday slash channukah present” year after year), and would get to celebrate a little in the summer too.

Also, I have so many negative things having happened on/around my real birthday (ending up on crutches, being in the hospital, having my back pack stolen with my meds, glasses, and final paper, a car accident, losing Athena the day after my party last year, etc).  Sometimes, my mother has even forgotten my “real” birthday, because it’s in the middle of finals and the holiday season and all of that.

So it’s stuck. I like to celebrate my half birthday with friends and sometimes my family.  So happy half birthday to me!  I raise my glass and tip it towards all of you.

-Essin’ Em

(If you’re in a healthy place financially, and are feeling generous, my wishlists are posted in the right column. I never *expect* presents, but they’re always incredibly appreciated!)

Many of you have asked me what Q looks like.  She’s a pretty private person, even within her/our/my groups of friends, so I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be ok with me posting pictures of her on here, so I didn’t even ask.

But the other night, she was being incredibly sweet and was cooking me dinner (garlic bread and qunioa with eggplant, tofu, onions and garlic, if you care.  It was DELICIOUS). I was prancing around in my leopard print apron…cause. Well. I was naked, and didn’t want to get burned by hot oil or something like that. I was having a lot of fun distracting and teasing her while she was cooking.

And she let me take this picture.  I asked if I could put it up, and shockingly to me, the answer was yes.

So gentle readers, let me introduce to you Q (or at least her from the back):

Yes, that is a feminist sign tattoo on her neck, in the colors of the rainbow.  She has four tattoos, and an eyebrow piercing.  She’s really incredibly hot. And smart. And into social justice. And a little sarcastic, and a little silly.

So there you go. I’ve given in to your demands. I’m weak. I want you to understand how ridiculously hot she is, and in case my stories weren’t helping, this is fairly obvious, right?

That’s all. If you want more pictures, you’ll have to post a comment.  Maybe if there is a great demand, she’ll let me post more.

-Essin’ Em

As many of you know, I’m very open to answering your questions, both public and private.  A little while ago, I posted a reminder about this, and now am posting some answers to questions that I was asked. Here’s part 3 of the answers. Please feel free to comment asking more questions at any time, or shoot me an email at EssinEm at gmail dot com.

-Essin’ Em

Randi asked me:

I may be asking a stupid question but I honestly don’t get the difference between queer and gay. In my eyes you’re either straight, gay, or bi. Isn’t labeling within each category simply semantics?

Randi, it’s not a stupid question, and I’m glad you asked.  There are many reasons people differenciate.  To some, gay is a male specific term, and so they don’t identify as male, or gay.  To others, there are more than two options, and that makes bi an unacceptable identity to them. For some, they feel like they’re outcasts in the “gay” (or even “lesbian”) community for a variety of reasons (not capitulating to norms, not being “gay enough” etc), and so they’ve turned to queer as a more open and flexible identity.  Some people identify as androgynous or genderqueer, etc, and there for how can they identify as gay, aka homosexual or “straight” aka heterosexual, when they don’t fall into the stereotypical binary of man or woman.

Other people (myself included) don’t like having to base their attraction on their identities.  I mean, bi doesn’t work for me, because I don’t really feel attracted to cisgender men on any sort of regular basis (although if Spike from Buffy came calling, that’s a whole different cup of tea).  Ergo, most people would categorize me as a lesbian. But what about the genderqueers, the transmen, the andros, etc that I’m attracted to? They’re certainly not woman identified, so that puts me out of the gay/lesbian group.

What about trans men who only have sex with men?

Trans women who only fuck women?

People who don’t know who they want to fuck?

People who want to fuck people of all genders?

Then add gender presentation/identity in there (butch, femme, boi, grrls, etc), and holy crap.

In my personal view, gay/straight/bi are boxing labels.  Queer, in my experience, has been an open ended, more open minded label. So no, I don’t see them as the same thing.

But you don’t have to take my word for it! Here are some of the responses from my NoFauxxx.com contest on what queer means to YOU.

Hope that explained it a bit!

For a really long time, I was incredibly frustrated that I couldn’t ejaculate. I tried EVERY thing I could possibly think of; I read the “right” books, I watched the “right” movies, I even heard Beverly Whipple (one of the co-authors of “The G-Spot”) speak. I could not for the life of me ejaculate…squirt…gush…whatever you’d like to call it.

Finally, I broke down. Everyone I knew said that the Njoy Pure Wand was the cause for their/their partner’s first ejaculatory episode. Ergo, while on my quest for ejaculation, I bought myself (this was when I still had a full time, paying job) a Pure Wand. I used it on myself, by myself.  Nothing.  I had J use it on me, with fingers, with a hitachi, before coming, after coming, during coming. Nada.  I used it on J, and poof, J ejaculated.  A year later, I used it on F. Poof; F ejaculated.  The magic of the Pure Wand was there; I was just somehow impermeable to it.

Finally, F and I were having good sex, on a fairly regular basis. At the time I thought it was mind blowing, and it was. I now have new forms of mind blowing sex….but nevertheless, the sex F and I had was very satisfying, and enjoyable.  Eventually, I realized that it didn’t matter whether or not I was able to ejaculate; I could still have very strong and incredibly fulfilling orgasms.  Couple my lack of ejaculation with my minimal lubrication, and I was a very un-messy fuck, which was how I put a positive spin on it.  Much of the material I’d read had said that not every woman could come, so I chalked it up to that. I drank lots of fluid, was incredibly comfortable with my body, and could definitely have orgasms, so I didn’t think any of those reasons were the culprit.  I resigned myself, not bitterly though, to just not being able to ejaculate.

But then, there was my experience of having ridiculously hot sex in San Francisco.  And I ejaculated, for the first time EVER!  It went something like this.

S: So, do you squirt?

Me: No. Well, I never have.

S: Really? That’s surprising.

*much fucking*

S: I thought you said you didn’t squirt?

Me: Huh? What? 

*Reaches down to find a fairly large puddle at the base of my cunt*

Me: Oh. Well. Yes. Ok. There’s a first time for everything I suppose.

I realized that maybe it was a little like fisting; I wanted it so bad for quite a while, and possibly that was one of the reasons it never happened. Once I gave up, I was able to be fisted finally.  This might have been similar; I no longer care about whether or not I could ejaculate, and suddenly, I could.  Also, S was a very enjoyable and knowledgeable sex partner, so that might have tipped the scales as well.

Fast forward.  I was starting to sleep with Q on a fairly regular basis, and had an episode of ex-sex with F.  No more ejaculating. I chalked it up to a one time thing, and moved on with my life.

Till one day, Q topped me for the very first time. God, was it hot. And when I finally was allowed to come, I came and came…and gushed. A lot. Um. Ok.

And since my ejaculations re-started up with Q, I can’t stop. It’s beyond a trickle now…you could say it’s usually a fountain.  Sometimes once, occasionally twice or thrice, depending on the sex. But basically, we need the Fascinator Throe or a hell of a lot of towels whenever I’m getting fucked. 

It’s interesting. It’s just with her. I can’t make myself squirt/gush (apparently, I’m much more of a gusher), no matter what combo of toys/hands I use.  I shot porn with the lovely Sabrina Morgan at Sex 2.0, and it didn’t happen then, even with the amazing Njoy Eleven. Yeah, I know.

But it happens with Q. Every time she sticks her fingers inside me to fuck me, suddenly, the forecast called for rain.  Luckily, she thinks it’s really hot, even when we forget to put towels down and stain her sheets, or when I splash all over her. Sometimes, I can’t even feel it – I just hear the sloshing, see the look on her face, or roll in to the giant wet spot after.

The other day, we were having a quickie before I headed to Florida. I came and came and came and gushed so much that I could just feel it rush out of me, and I went to grab the Hitachi for my clit, but when I turned it on, all that happened was masses and masses of come and ejaculate, and just general liquid from in and around my cunt sprayed up, splashing and soaking both me and Q. Imagine a car spinning its tires in a rainstorm. It took us a few minutes to stop laughing…she kept her hand inside as I used a towel to mop up the excess liquid, and tried again, more successfully. She fucked me twice more before I left, and both times, woooooosh. Or as she said “waaaah waaaah waaaah.”  She makes light of it, in her amazing and silly way, and told me I had “drenched her in my ejaculatory love.” I give her many hearts for that.

So I got what I waned. I ejaculate…a lot…and often. I’m changing my sheets all the bloody time, and now have to have designated come towels all around my room. Honestly, I can’t always feel it, and even when I do, it doesn’t really improve my orgasms, although it does make it wetter, which is nice since I don’t lube much naturally. Otherwise, I personally could take it or leave it.  Q likes it though, and I think she’s proud to help facilitate my ejaculation, so I’m glad it’s worked out for both of us like this.

At that, dear readers, is my story of ejaculation, or who I came to squeeze water out of a stone. With some outside help as well.

*takes a bow*

-Essin’ Em

This is the Cheetah version of the Sex Sling. It also comes in a more under the radar black neoprene.

It’s pretty obvious why I wanted the version that had animal print, I mean, come on.

I wasn’t sure how well the Sex Sling would sit into my life.  I mean, yes, Q and I have strap on sex, but not often enough to really make good use of this.  But I did wonder if we’d be able to use it to hold her legs open wider and more easily while I slid my hand into her.

We hopped into bed, and I grabbed the Sex Sling to take with me.  I open the package, and she looked at it very suspiciously.  ”Um, what exactly do you plan on doing with that?” she asked.

“Just bear with me.  You know how I have these “brilliant” ideas that sometimes turn out to be amazing, and sometimes turn into mega sex fail?  Yeah.  Just be quiet and let me put this on you.”  I hooked one soft cuff around her ankle, lengthened the straps, wrapped it around the back of her neck, and then fastened the other ankle strap.

I’m not going to lie. It involved a lot of laughing and silliness.  She started rolling one way, and watch her ankles kind of flail around in the air as I tightened the straps was a bit amusing.  Also, she looked like of like she was wearing parachuting equipment, what with the nylon webbing straps pressing against the front of her shoulders, and framing her breasts.  I said as much, and she suggested that in addition to the animal print option, they should also have a camouflage option for people who like military play/green/etc, or for butches who want to look like they’re ready to jump out of an airplane.  I shushed her (I mean, come on! Who doesn’t love a little animal print accent?) and started kissing down her body. 

Fail. She kept rolling back and forth, and told me that it wasn’t that comfortable.  Also, trying to eat someone out when they’re rolling? Not that easy.  

When she’s fucking me and is strapped on, I sometimes like having my legs up in the air…but I rather she be holding them there, or for me to have them wrapped around my neck, instead of in a contraption like this.

On a total random note, because I try to make sure that I test sex toys in every possilbe way, even those they aren’t meant for, this sex sling works BRILLIANTLY for stretching. I’ll put it on myself, and I can use it to stretch out most of my neck and back muscles, as well as my hamstrings. I highly recommend it for that!

Head on over to VibeReview for your own Sex Sling (or Stretch Sling as I prefer to refer to mine now), or a plethora of other sex toys!

-Essin’ Em

Hi. My name is Essin’ Em. I’m a Femme. And sometimes, I like to pack.

I’ve written a little bit about this before when I first got my packer (Mr. Right, by Vixen).

Often times, people assume that only trans identified and butch identified people pack. Not true. I’d say I’ve personally met/spoken with a fair number of femmes who like packing on occasion or daily, and people outside those gender identities as well. Packing is fun.

It’s hot. It draws my attention even more so (if that’s possible) to my cunt, especially my clit.  It provides a sense of power.  I want to go up to people, pressing up against them. I want to touch myself…all the time.

And I really like doing it under dresses and skirts…just enough so people second guess it, and enough that I know, and it’s a nice suprise if I wind up getting some.  Anyways, I love packing, I love polka dots, and thought I’d share.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday!

-Essin’ Em

As many of you know, I’m very open to answering your questions, both public and private.  A little while ago, I posted a reminder about this, and now am posting some answers to questions that I was asked.  Here’s part 2 of the answers. Please feel free to comment asking more questions at any time, or shoot me an email at EssinEm at gmail dot com.

-Essin’ Em

Frowzyboy asked:

You post pretty frequently, and always about something funny or touching or emotional – it’s always deeply human. How do you not lose your sense of what merits a post, what would be a meaningful thing to talk about? I feel like after a while with my blog I’ve lost that joie de posting and don’t do it unless something really shocking happens, which leaves loooong periods between updates.

I try to do my absolute best to post every, single day.  A) Because I really love my readers, and want them to have content and B) based on some excellent advice the lovely Always Aroused Girl posted a year or two ago.

It’s hard.  Somethings are easier than others.  Every Thursday is HNT (Half Nekkid Thursday), so I know I’m going to post a picture and a little schtick.  One day a week (usually Friday or Saturday), I post a review of a toy/book/movie/storage container, etc. I personally choose to post only one review per week, as I have decided to keep this as a sexuality blog and not a review blog (although I have no qualms with review blogs, and enjoy reading them).  Also, one day is usually dedicated to a Sugasm or Pleasurists post.

So that leaves three or four days a week of completely original content. Well, I mean my HNT and reviews are original, but content that doesn’t have a specific theme/goal.

I write most of my posts in advance. That helps.  When interesting things happen, I start writing about them. When I have thoughts, I write about them.  Sometimes, I’m not ready to write about it yet, so I’ll title a post and save it, to remember to write about it. This means that often, I’m set up with posts anywhere from 5-14 days in advance, that’s why I’m able to post every day, since I don’t have to think of them at the last minute.

Also, I’m awkward. My life is amusing to most people. I don’t have to try to make up funny things; I laugh at myself on a regular basis.  In addition, I’m very open with my feelings and emotions. I try not to paint myself as a saint. When I say/feel/do/think something upsetting/stupid/unPC/inappropriate, I don’t censor myself. What I write here is me, free and clear. That makes it easier to write.

I also write for me, not for anyone else.  Ergo, I don’t have to stop and think what “merits” a post. A post is something that is of interest to me, whether it’s amusing, or hurtful, or intriguing, or news, or anything like that. If people stop reading me, they stop reading me.  This blog IS me, and people don’t have to like me.

I hope that answered your question acceptably.

-Essin’ Em

That’s write. You read the title correctly. I’m having a Name that Schlong contest.  Shocking, right?

It gets even more shocking, because the schlong you’re going to be competing about isn’t even HUMAN.

What?

Ever heard of the Green Porno series on the Sundance Channel?

The Prize Pack includes the following:

*Vye and Elle messenger bag made from recycled billboards

*A Sundance “The Green” tee shirt made from bamboo fiber

*A Sundance hat made from organic cotton 

*A set of small speakers made from recycled materials

Here is the picture:

So of the five love languages, I have a lot of trouble receiving Words of Affirmation. It’s hard for me to hear praise from people I care about.  

But I’m working on it with Q.  Because you know what, for all that I try to be this feisty Femme, and I’m this of so smooth (can you smell the sarcasm) sex blogger, I’m pretty self concious about my sex skills.

It sounds silly, I know. I’ve been reading books on sex and sexuality since I was 16, I have a Master’s of Human Sexuality, I’m all about communication with my partners for sex, and I’ve been called a goddess in more than one bedroom. However, I’m also not nearly as experienced as most people think I am.

So when I have a partner who, like Q, isn’t the loudest, or the most verbal in bed, I wonder. I get nervous. What if I’m not doing things right? What if she isn’t enjoy the sex as much as I am? What if she doesn’t like it, and isn’t saying things? What if I could do better?

Finally, I said something about it to Q, trying to be all communicative. I explained that I wasn’t at all sure of myself, of how well I was able to please her, etc.  She told me I was being silly, and that she also thought that sex was amazing. It was a really good talk…

Especially because I now realize that since this conversation, which happened over a month ago, she’s gone out of her way to tell me how she felt about things…whether they were ok, or if she REALLY liked them, or kind of liked them, or loved them, or whatever.  Given that she’s a self-admitted not huge communicator, I really appreciate her stepping out of her comfort zone to give me feed back and to reassure me.

So while I have trouble accepting when people tell me I’m pretty, or good at something, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t nice to hear once in a while, and I’m glad that Q is willing to work with me on that.

-Essin’ Em