Fucking Myself on a Solitary Evening

Sundown, night fall, rain on the glass of the window and the road. Four orgasms, frisked out from my cunt, an evening  alone.

The first two are standard, sheer black lace panties yanked off and pitched into the hamper across the room. I find my small clit after stroking the slick of wetness up through the tucks and pleats of my labia. I like the way they remind me of rose petals or warm folds of saturated satin.

When I come it is short, intense bursts, radiating from my clit. It takes the level of arousal I am carrying down to a level I can ignore it for a bit.

I take a break and message him. He makes vague cozy noises at me. He’s not so talkative lately, having a lot on hit plate before a grand move. I stay away from poking and fussing, I have my own shit to get together.

I recognize that the urge to poke and fuss is not supportive. There are some things he hinted he wants to hand over, in that soft way that people don’t really think of power dynamics in their relationship as kinky do.

I think about his cock, and wish, wistful. Until he’s settled I don’t know when next we’ll fuck.

With Brick away, when want something in me it means a toy. I tend to default to the Tantus Silk, “Large”. It’s too big for my poor tight cunt, but I’ve never respected my own limits. The next step down, the Medium, is too small.  Dildo shopping is hard, like a Goldilocks that’ll never be happy because every toy I can find isn’t as perfect as the real thing.

Sex with Brick reminded me that if I don’t fuck myself when he isn’t around, that tightness gets worse.

Getting it in…

I can press it against the opening and play with my clit and gradually with gentle pressure, it’ll yield and slip in. I’m too tight to thrust at first. 1 1/2″ width at the head is apparently my upper limit.

Some girls take monster dicks or whole hands and I read and watch in fascination. Hell I had my hand in multiple people. Somewhere extant is a picture of me fisting my female friend and looking totally nonchalant.

Mine grips. Mine is small. My whole equipment is the same scale, wee little clit so cozied up in the hood it never gets touched directly. Regular labia, nothing exceptionally prominent.

I never got the point of kegel balls. You put them in and there they stay, right? Even the heaviest? How do porn stars do it? Hopping onto a cock like it is nothing.

The Silk is lodged in my cunt, until I tease my clit more. Then I can feel the pull inside as it shifts. I sit up and the wide base rests on the bed, a few inches out of me. My fingers find the hood around my clit and I almost come and then the sensation of my fingers and the toy gang up together.

And then even the least pull on the toy and I am coming from that. I cry out, unconcerned if my open window carries the noises to the street below, pushing it in and out.

Coming.

It feels different, deeper, inside. It’s not a full body orgasm like I have sometimes but it’s pleasure in a place that I don’t usually feel that kind of expansive and warm flutter and burst.

There’s no proper metaphor. For me it’s like a squirt of ink suffusing in water, first the release and then the bloom. Or the sensation of watching a flower open in timelapse, if it briefly turned your brain off. Like brain zap, but good feeling. Sometimes there are lights, I think phosphenes from the flutters of the muscles of my eyes.

When a guy comes for me there’s that build, contract and spurt. Women, more subtle.

The lust subsides by the fourth a bit. I want more, want to be fucked as I fuck myself.

But I like learning that I can get more out of penetration, because I can make a man get me off.

It’s a novelty- a possibility that my partner can offer more than hot fantasies to get me in the mood to finish myself, but also something incredibly scary.

It’s probably my thirties making my cunt decide that everything was going to work better. I never understood barely legal and virgin fantasies. Everything we know about sex observes that it’s about three decades of having a vagina before they start cooperating with all the features.

I sort of see why Freud tried to classify vaginal orgasms as more “mature” if they are the purview of older women. But there is a curious kind of vulnerability…

When you are used to not being disappointed by inadequacy, the realization that your partners could be better is a kind of lightbulb. I don’t think when I was 25 any amount of fucking was going to let a man make me come from his efforts alone but now, I know in the post afterglow, gingerly dislodging the thick bulbous head of the simplified look fake cock from inside myself, I am thinking about the next time I get fucked.


There is an affiliate link in this post. I didn’t write about my sex toy to sell you one, but I did buy it from this supplier and I am not going to be sneaky-sneaky about it.

 

Corporations Hate Kinky Sex

Credit card providers don't want you to have kinky sex.At the time of writing, Patreon and Twitter are both going through a phase of removing adult content. Patreon changed their ToU, while Twitter has been merrily shadowbanning accounts it deems sensitive, trimming them from the general popular discourse.

Twitter managed to hit historical expert @Whoresofyore during her book promo, while Ferns of Domme Chronicles and a number of other prominent sex bloggers have discovered they have been secretly muzzled. That’s what makes Twitter’s handling of things particularly frustrating- nobody knows how your posts and content pass the threshold of unacceptable. And nobody notifies you. You just need to figure out if you have been silo’d.

This was in the heels of, and overlapping with the Patreon change. Those who make porn remain ever vigilant that the guidelines of a corporation will crush them. It’s old, tired and familiar by now, part of an ongoing trend.

I had been thinking of making the switch to Patreon support, so I could put more effort into content and less into other sources of revenue, both linkbuilding for SEO (which I am iffy about) and the unreliability of getting scraps of freelance story requests. I don’t think that is as likely to be a viable option and that frustrates me. And that’s the challenge here, with trying to make adult oriented, and to be explicit, sexual art. Everyone wants the fucking stuff, but nobody wants to pay for it and admit they want it or give it space in the mainstream.

And when we do try to make stuff easier to pay for, we get yanked around by the credit card providers and financial brokers that underpin the transactions that make this possible. Because they are private corporations, unlike writing to my MP, it is considered to be a privilege to me that a few companies have a monopoly on most of the use of money that I do I and everyone else has no recourse.

The truth is, credit card providers don’t want you to have kinky or unregulated sex, and sites like Patreon are hostage to that. Meanwhile Twitter’s logic seems to be tied with the same efforts to try to scrub out trollish harassing nazis- only they remain more interested in punishing outspoken women than the people who bother them.  And at it’s core it’s a problem with our heavy dependency on for profit business to maintain platforms of public discourse but also the fuzzy moral madness around sex in society at large.

This is part of an ongoing war, both government side, and through the whims of the monopolistic control of private corporations, to decide what kind of sex you are allowed to have and talk about.


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