Sexuality Happens

You’ll note that this review is very different than my average one.  I usually review sex toys, or books, or lubes. However, the other day, I was in Fascinations, and was talking to one of the associates, and she told me that this shot worked really well for her. Given that my poor sex drive has pretty much been out the window since my cancer scare back in January, I’ve gotten to the point where I’m willing to try pretty much anything, as long as I know it’s not medically harmful. Ergo, I bought this shot, the Rock On for HerFemale Sexual Enhancement shot/drink.

Now, I will tell you that I don’t seem to do well with supplements. Caffeine (whether in coffee, chocolate, tea, or otherwise) has never affected me. I could drink a Crowbar (4 shots of espresso, coffee and chocolate syrup) in college, and fall asleep shortly there after.  When I was working for the evil corporate gym on overnight shifts, I tried a 5-hour Energy shot one night, and promptly fell asleep at the desk. So I didn’t have much hope for it.

It tastes gross. Like, face making, gag noise making gross. However, I drank the whole thing, and then Q and I went and had sex. Did it work? I don’t really think so. I mean, we already were planning on having sex, it didn’t at all make me feel more sexual (basically, I’m all good with fucking Q, and find that really hot, but am not so hot with being sexual myself), and I certainly wasn’t buzzing with horniness.  Would I use it again? No.

That said, I have now spoken to several women of various orientations and ages that swear by this. Is it snake oil? Maybe. I’m not sure how well L-Argenine works when used internally/ingested, however, we do know it works in creating extra sensation topically. It’s possible that my body just doesn’t react well to supplements. Who knows.

Next on my list; clitoral arousal gel. Again, these aren’t normally things I’d like to try, but I’m getting desperate, just like many women out there, looking to reclaim and take control of their sexuality. I’m happy to share my experiences around this, in hopes that it’ll help others.

Want to try the shot for yourself? Click here to get a bottle. If you *do* try it, please let me know via comment or email what you thought – I really would love to know!

-Essin’ Em

Looking at my history, pre F and pre Q, I’ve realized that for the most part, I don’t have one night stands very often; I have two-night stands. And you know what? I find that I like the two night stands much better than one nighters.

Why?

When you have a one night stand, you only get that night to figure out what your new (and very short term) partner would like, what they enjoy, how the two of you are sexually compatible. When you have a two night stand (two nights of sex fairly close together, although they don’t have to be back to back), you get to have a bit of a learning curve. The first night, you treat like a one night stand; you’ve just met, or perhaps you’ve known each other forever, but it’s your first time having sex. You get to learn a little bit about what this partner likes, what you like them to do to you, what each of your communication styles are, etc. Then, you return for a second night. This time, you know the basics. You know some of these things they like, and don’t like. You know what you can improve on from the last night you spent together. You get to communicate what YOU’D like more of, less off, harder, softer, in a different way.

Then it’s over, like a one night stand. Maybe you’re on vacation, or maybe it’s a two-night doozy with a long time friend that just wouldn’t work as a relationship, or maybe you’re not interested in a long term relationship. Whatever it is, you’ve gotten the thrill and excitement from the concept of having a one night stand, but it’s also likely that you have much better sexual interaction than if you’d just done it for one night.

I had a two night stand with the hot one I met at Dinah Shore…the one who helped me discover both my queerness and femme-ness. 48 hours of what was up until that point the best sex of my life.  We explored by body, I learned how to orgasm with a partner, I learned how much I liked queer sex (and that it was more than just oral and a finger rubbing a clit). By the second night, this person knew my body so well, and I was coming dozens and dozens of times, like I’d never come before. Their learning curve? Ridiculously short.

When I hooked up with C in Philly, the first night was a lot of communication, a lot of talking, and exploring each others’ bodies. While there was sex, it was almost secondary to the connections we were creating. Then, the second night, I fucked her for hours, my last night in Philly, plus lots of hot make out time. Second night, yet again, better than the first.

With K, we played twice before I left Philly; once at the Submit party in New York, and then one day where he had me wear nipple clamps to the art museum, and tried out canes and paddles on me in New Hope. It was fun and light hearted, and far less scary than the first time we played.

When M was in Denver the summer I moved back, we hooked up twice…once, it was everything but sexual activity. Making out and grinding and desire. The next night, hot sex and lots of orgasms, all night long. Two night stand? Definitely a winner.

Then there was L. While we went on a few dates, we only made out/had grope-age twice, and the second time, far more comfortable and easy and enjoyable than the first time.

So I am a fan, a proponent, a supporter of the two night stand, the double hook up, the back to back boogie. I’ve found that it worked incredibly well for me, and like my rules of my manifesto, the two night stand has definitely led to better sex.

-Essin’ Em

Some people like birth control. Some people hate it. Tons and tons of people are on it for a variety of reasons.

People are always shocked when I tell them I’ve been on the Nuva Ring for years…and am STILL on it. I’ve been on birth control of various sorts (different pills, the patch, the ring) for seven years now. I went off of it for 2.5 months this fall as a test…and guess who is planning to go right back on it?

I love that people assume that birth control is only used by women who are having sex with cisgender men.  I haven’t been sexually active with a cisgender man AT ALL in two years (well, there was a kiss on New Year’s Eve last year), and haven’t had any type of sex that MIGHT possibly make babies in almost four years.  Yet I’ve been on hormonal birth control for the better part of a decade.

Why? Because I get horrible, life consuming (and calling out of school/work) cramps pretty much any time I bleed.  And the whole bleeding thing? Well, I’ve been off hormones from the Nuva Ring for about 75 days.  I’ve been bleeding for at least 30 of them. My body doesn’t get it, never has. I first started on the pill because I had three weeks of bleeding in six weeks when I was 17.  Yeah.  I hadn’t been off the hormones since then, and clearly, it didn’t learn anything.

I wish there was a better answer than using CBC (continuous birth control) where I go from ring to ring, only taking a break to bleed twice a year, or when my body decides to tell the hormones “fuck you” and I bleed anyways.  I wish I could get an IUD or an implant or something…but those are to prevent babies, not to stop your period, and that’s all I use BC for.

I hated the pill – I could never remember to take it at the same time, and if I was off by more than an hour or two, I’d start bleeding (I know, right?).  I tried the patch, but a quarter of a corner would peel up, and bam – I’d start bleeding.  I love the ring.  I can accidentally leave it in an extra day, and it’s not blood bath and beyond right away. I never feel it.  I just change it once a month. I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t get a headache from it, and it helps my skin out (as I figured out when I got off of it and suddenly had acne like I was a 15 year old again).

So I raise my glass to you, my $40 a month Nuva Ring. Thank goddess I found you so that I can function, and not be participating in Shark Week for a few weeks of every month.  I wish you were cheaper, I wish I didn’t need you, I wish people didn’t make assumptions about me because I use you…but regardless, I am glad that you exist.

That is all.

-Essin’ Em

I broke down and got a Formspring.  Basically, you use it to ask me questions.  Now, I think it’s kind of silly, because you’re always welcome to ask me questions in my comments, or shoot me an email at essinem at gmail dot com. Or tweet at me. Or facebook me. Etc. I don’t really need something else.  However, I now have one.  So please ask me lots of questions.  I’ll post some of my favorite questions/answers on here as well. Here are two to get you started!

-Essin’ Em

Could you give up sex if you had to?

I think it depends in what context, and for how long.

However, if, for example, Q decided that she had no interested in having sex ever again, would I give it up? No. I would stay with her as my primary, because I love her more than I can express, and that love is definitely more than the fact that she fucks like a saber tooth tiger. However, we’d have to renegotiate our current non-monogamous agreement (that I can fuck Johnny Depp, Jiz Lee and/or anyone for porn, and can play kink wise with others) to expand and included tertiary sexual partners. I can’t fathom giving up sex for the rest of my life.

If a magic genie offered to grant you three, and only three wishes, what would they be? And one of your wishes can’t be to have more wishes ;) by mauikink

Hmmmm.

Wish 3: I would like to have perfect health for me and my loved ones. Yes, I could pay for medical treatments with wish 1. However, I can’t fix everything. I’d rather no one have cavities, and I would like to always be able walk up stairs, and get out of bed, and not live my life around my pain.

Q went to sleep before I did. I stayed on the couch, typing on the computer, watching mindless shows on the TV.  Finally, I started dozing off, and I headed to bed.

She lay there, arms splayed, cuddled up cozily in her sweatshirt. So peaceful, restful even.

God did I want her.

Gently, I crawled into bed. Oh so carefully, I draped my arm over her, my fingers gently grazing her nipples through her sweatshirt. No movement.  A bit more intently, I ran my fingers over her breast, concentrating carefully on her nipple. A small sigh escaped her lips. Success.

Moving slowly, I slid my hand under her sweatshirt, fingers finally contacting directly with her nipples, hardening beneath my touch. Moans emitted from her throat as I begin to pinch her nipples, playing with them more roughly as she started to come into consciousness. 

“I’m sooooooo sorry to wake you up.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry at all…you were just…thee. And you looked so hot, so enticing, I just had to start playing with you.”

As I kept playing with her nipples, pinching and pulling them. That shut her up, as she was back to moaning and breathing heavily. 

I slipped my hand into her sweat pants, slipping my fingers between her lips, searching and hunting for her clit. A gasp from her told me I was getting close. Running my other hand over the body, nails scrapping against her skin, I whispered in her ear how hot she made me, how much she turned me on, how much I wanted to fuck her.

Pumping lube into my hand, I slid my fingers into her cunt to elicit a gasp. First two, then three as she bucked up into me. 

Flipping around, I placed my knees on either side of her head, pushing her pants down to her knees. She moved as if to take of her sweatshirt, but I swatted at her hands. There was just something to fucking hot about pushing up her shirt and pulling down her pants in order to get access to her. Then I lowered my tongue to her clit, and she pressed up into my mouth as I licked and sucked all over her, my fingers still working inside of her, fucking her almost relentlessly. 

When I felt like she was getting closer and closer to the edge, I slipped a fourth finger into her, and slid back around to get better access. With one hand rocking her clit, and the other pistoning in and out of her, she was making all sorts of delightful and delicious noises as I fucked her closer and closer to oblivion. 

As she got closer and closer, I was so kind, and let her place her sexy black Onye vibe on her clit. She was almost there, and then opened her eyes, looking at me.

“Am I allowed to come?”

“Yes, you can. I want you to come so fucking hard for me.”

And she did…oh she did.  Her entire body spasmed, her cunt grabbing and squeezing my hand, working in and out of her, breathing so deeply, moaning so loudly.  She came over and over, almost for two minutes straight. 

We cuddled, my arms wrapped around her, our legs intertwined. After a few minutes, I started rubbing up against her…

To be continued…

-Essin’ Em

I have surgery October 13th.  Between my anxiety for the surgery, feeling like crap, etc, we didn’t have any sex for several days.  Then, I had a long recovery.  And THEN, while I was able to fuck Q, I wasn’t able to be fucked, because when Q fucks me, there is NO WAY I can be quiet, and my throat still really hurt.

But then, last week, we were less stressed, and I was feeling better. And we had sex. AMAZING, hot, soak the sheets with sweat, and not be able to form cognitive sentences afterwards sex.

And it was good.

-Essin’ Em

I tend to wear a LOT of black. And I own even more black than I wear. Granted, I own a fair amount of red too, and some sassy leopard and zebra prints, but black is the dominating color (no pun intended) in my house.

However, I happen to have an amazing pair of leopard print underwear (one of many, actually), and one day, while getting dressed, I realized the they would look pretty stellar with the brown sexy bra I happened to be wearing that day. I am willing to bet that Q believed me regarding my thoughts of the sassiness and sexiness of the outfit, as she had just had her brains fucked out by, well, yours truly.  While she was in orgasm recovery, she snapped a couple of awesome pictures for me, cause she’s a sweet partner like that.

While I will never give up my black and red, perhaps I should work on adding a little more brown into my wardrobe. What do YOU think?

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday!

-Essin’ Em

This is Q’s chest.

One might wonder why there is a giant NO written onto her skin, on said chest.

One might ponder a while, wondering as to why it was there, and one might think it is there because she had done something wrong, and that I was telling her no. Conversely, one might stare at this picture, and conclude that I had told her not to do something, and was re-cnforcing it by carving a reminder into her chest with my nails.

And either one would be wrong.

I have so much fun playing with Q’s breasts, and more specifically with her nipples.  However, she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for me, wearing only her sports bras (by the by — I want to get her a binder instead. Does anyone have good suggestions?). And it was distracting, because I could just grab a breast in each hand…or slide my fingers over her nipples and elicit such delicious and amazing moaning. And dinner began to take forever, and she was getting concerned that the quinoa was going to burn.

So, I tried to tell myself no. I did, I promise. But they were RIGHT there, and what is a femme suppose to do with a hot butch wearing nothing on top but a few flimsy sports bras? Yeah. I know. Seriously.

Ergo, I created my own solution. I carved NO into her chest with my lovely nails, so that every time I had half a mind to do naughty things to her, to make her shiver and moan and make noises that made me wet, I’d see the NO and remember to stop so that we could eat dinner.

Of course, having carved NO into her chest was just as hot an experience if not more, so we made very quick work of dinner, and proceeded to my bedroom, where we fucked like bunnies. On crack.

The end.

-Essin’ Em

The week or two ago, Sequoia wrote an interesting post about nudity and sexuality.  It got me thinking.

What is wrong with nudity? I mean, seriously. There are few things I love more in this world (Q, our cats, sex, reading a good book, etc) than hanging around naked. Whether it’s reading in bed nude, my body against the sheets, or standing out in the warm sun with not a stich of clothes, and cuddling naked with Q on the couch, I absolutely LOVE being naked.

And yet, even though we’re born naked, it feels good to be naked, even though it’s just as healthy to be naked, society has a huge beef with it. 

Because obviously nudity = sex/pervert.  It’s apparently impossible to be naked without clearly wanting to have sex with anyone and everyone in your path.  Nude beaches are few and far between, as are nudist colonies, and people are shocked about those that attend these areas. Moreover, homophobia comes into play, because for some reason, people think that anyone who is gay and naked is now a pedophile.

Sequoia talked about how she sub-conciously likes to touch herself when she’s naked. I’m the same way…although I don’t even need to be completely naked to be doing that without thinking about. It’s not usually in a sexual sense — I have an itch, or am enjoying the breeze, or it just feels nice to have touch all over my body with nothing in the way.

Why is this so bad?  I hated my body, HATED it, until I started the tradition of my car being a topless car for everyone in it after 2am.  Let me tell you, this increased my body image SO much, seeing other people naked, getting to be naked, etc. Ditto goes for thee nude pictures we took and auctioned off  the three years I was in the Vagina Monologues in undergrad.

Nudity save my life. My horrible self-image of my body contributed to  some of my epic depression. It still does at times…I mean, I watch porn I’ve made, and question this roll, or that scar at times. Or I have days where I don’t fit into my favorite outfit the way I want. Granted, I love my body for the most part now, but I still, just like anyone else, have days I question my body and my body image.

But I KNOW how much worse it would be if I hadn’t learned to love being nude. Between theatre, and pictures, and porn, and kink, and living on my own where I can wander around my apartment (and Q’s place) completely naked, sleep naked, bake naked (and cook in an apron — hot oil is hot).

So why are we so against nudity. Other than the possibility of sunburns, or hot oil burns, why have we developed a hatred of nudity, and why have so many nudist developed this high level of homophobia.  We’re born without clothes, without significant sexual attractions (although fetuses and infants DO masturbate, P-fucking-S). When do we learn to be ashamed of our bodies, and to be horrified by different orientations, making assumtions about them? Why?

-Essin’ Em

I showed up in front of her apartment, wearing a pinstripe skirt-suit, and white blouse.  She let me in.

“We’ve got to hurry.  We need to leave in ten minutes. Have you eaten yet?” I asked her.

“No.”

“Well, you’d better eat something before we go.”

Pointing to the bedroom, she replied “well, then you’d better go lie down.”

“No, I’m serious!”

“So am I. Lie down.”

I took off my coat, hiked my skirt up, and pulled my underwear to my ankles while she put a towel on the bed.  Seconds later, her tongue was on my clit, and I was bucking my hips into her face.

Pumping some lube into her hand, she slid her fingers inside me as I moaned.  Over the next few minutes, I went from zero to 60, although I think I “only” came about 15 times, squirting all over her.

Thirty seconds later, I had my underwear pulled up, and was sliding my jacket back on as I stumbled out of her bedroom. Other than being in a post orgasmic bliss and dripping for the rest of the night, it was as though nothing had happened.

And THAT is what our quickies look like.

-Essin’ Em