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Questions and answers August 3, 2010

Posted by Leah in Autobiography.

A reader (one of the same ones as before) sends in many questions. I don’t have the patience to answer them all. Here are selected replies.

1. How old were you when you lost your virginity?

Virginity is, in my opinion, an outdated concept. It is not a possession to be hoarded. There’s no value to keeping it. Ideally, we start having sex when we are ready.

My first oral happened when I was 14. My first intercourse happened when I was 15. My first time with a girl happened when I was 17.

The oral sex took place at a friend’s birthday party. We were unsupervised by adults. It started off as a game of truth or dare and degenerated from there. In an upstairs bedroom, I masturbated a boy I had a crush on through his pants. He fished out his cock and asked me to touch it. I had seen porn. The handjob turned into a blowjob. Putting the cock in my mouth was entirely my decision. Despite seeing and reading about it and practicing on bananas, I had no idea what I was doing. I just held the penis over my tongue and bobbed my head slightly. It didn’t take much for him to come. The orgasm took me by surprise. I gagged. But I also managed to swallow most of the semen. We were incredibly shy around each other for months afterwards. When we were both in college, we hooked up again. The second time was much better.

The first intercourse took place on a weekday afternoon. The boy was my age and also hadn’t gone all the way. He and I had his house to ourselves during spring break. We ended up naked on his bed. The sex lasted two or three minutes at the most. He was on top and grunted and humped over me and finally convulsed. There was no blood — a dildo had taken care of my hymen long before. Stupidly, we didn’t use a condom. I was terrified for a long week until my period arrived on schedule.

I dated a girl for a few months in high school. I am not sure my family knew we were having sex, but coming out as bisexual to them was easy. I am lucky.

2. How many partners have you had?

I lost track in the high teens during my freshman year of college. I have been keeping statistics here in London. Extrapolating these numbers, the total must be well over a hundred. What can I say? I am a slut.

5. What is your favourite position?

The one with a cock inside me.

7. How did you get to be good at sex?

Practice. How else? Between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I had a sort of boyfriend, who was two years older. We messed around pretty much every weekday during the summer. We taught each other. He was particular about oral sex. I owe my skills as a fellatrix to him. He was also the first guy I had in my ass. My first non-masturbatory orgasms were with him as well. We hooked up again the following two summers but have since lost touch. I wonder how he is sometimes.

In college, a girlfriend and I visited sex clubs. I then played privately with a number of older dominant men. This was my initiation to kink.

9. When did you discover you were submissive?

Same partner as in #7: I always liked that he overpowered me physically during sex. I suppose this was my first submissive experience, though I didn’t call it that. From the beginning, I enjoyed giving pleasure with my body as much as I enjoyed taking it. Submissiveness is an extension of that. I realized as an undergraduate that I liked having new sexual experiences thrust upon me and that I got off on stuff that might be termed kinky. I liked being the obedient girl who surrenders herself sexually to a man. I liked having the endorphin rush of a hard spanking. I liked not having control during sex. The mental response to being suddenly submerged in subspace, the enhancement of the senses, the heightening of my awareness was overwhelming the first time it happened. I have been chasing these sensations ever since.

It took me most of college to justify myself to me. There is no contradiction between feminism and wanting the D/s interaction within sex. Being promiscuous isn’t immoral. Pleasure isn’t wrong. I am no less independent or intelligent for choosing to play as I do. In deciding who my partners are, I look for people who demonstrate respect for me as person rather than regarding me as a convenient set of holes. I may like to submit sexually, but I am not an inferior class of human. This isn’t a lifestyle for me.

14. What is the kinkiest thing you have ever done?

Kink is in the eye of the beholder. For me, I would say it was an incident that happened about a year ago. A regular lover with whom I have been playing for months and had established rapport and trust had me fellate a gun. I had never before touched a firearm. He bade me go on my knees. He placed a condom over the barrel and held it to me at head height. He had me suck it the way I sucked his cock. I touched my lips to it from below. I let my tongue run over the shaft. I licked his fingers. Eventually, I had the gun in my mouth to the trigger. Later, he fucked me with the gun and masturbated me to orgasm.

16. What is the most memorable sex you have had?

It might be in the current boyfriend’s parents’ back yard last summer. He staked me to the ground spread-eagle. My arms and legs were stretched apart. He smeared the sunblock over my skin, and I stayed that way for hours in the hot afternoon sun wearing only a pair of sunglasses. To cool me down, he used the garden hose. He thrust the nozzle against my cunt. He stuffed my underwear in my mouth, taping it shut so that I couldn’t scream when he whipped me. He stuck various things into my pussy: vibrators, dildos, ice cubes, his cock, of course. Clothespins ringed my breasts. He had me piss myself.

Whenever he had to take a leak, he went on my body. He urinated on my legs. Starting at my feet, he brought the stream up the calves and thighs. He tinkled on each of my arms separately. He irrigated my breasts. The pee puddled over my body, pooling at the sternum and the clavicle and where the navel indents. It evaporated from my skin. I smelled it in the air around me. Holding the pussy lips open, he sent the flow of his urine into my cunt. He pissed over my face. I had it in my eyes and hair. Later, he peeled off the tape around my head, brought the cock to my lips, and had me drink direct from the faucet. It went into my parched throat. I gulped it down. The boyfriend marked me as his territory with urine as animals do. The idea turned me on then, as it was happening. The memory of it lingers. It still turns me on.

The artist August 2, 2010

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Collarme, Cunnilingus, Fisting, Sapphic, Spanking, Switching.

She isn’t my type physically. But she has a smile and a charm, an easy way of speaking, and, oh, there’s that laugh. I haven’t been with a woman since February. I go home with her.


We have been chatting because she liked my ad on Collarme, an alternative to Craigslist that I have been exploring. Like me, she switches with women. Like me, she prefers a submissive role to men. Like me, she is in a long distance relationship. While her partner is away, she amuses herself with the girls that she finds.


Her art covers her walls. I don’t find the canvases appealing. At their best, it’s Modi on a very bad day, though, I suppose, the bulk of Modi’s days weren’t good. The erotic drawings are better. They’re scenes of orgies. A woman masturbates two men at once while she sucks off a third man. Girls are doubled and tripled up. Ariadne mounts the Minotaur. Her cunt is a labyrinth. There is a small self-portrait among her pictures. She is on her knees licking semen from a girl’s cunt. A man has her on a leash. Another man, the one who has come, stands over the two females on the ground. His cock is dripping.


In the bedroom, we strip each other and kiss. My tongue is lazy in tracing her body’s curves. I nurse at her large breasts. My lips dawdle over her belly, floating slowly down. She keeps a soft thatch of hair on top of her pussy. I swipe my fingers through, following with my mouth. Unhurriedly, I descend to her glistening cunt. I kiss the lips below as I have kissed the lips above. My fingers delve into the secret spaces, front and back. She hands me a vibrator. Slender, pink, the writing on it is worn from use. I set it to buzzing against her clitoris while I lick at the passage. Her scents are overpowering. She tastes of musk and spice and sweetness. I make her come four times in half an hour.


She has a two sided dildo that is a foot and a half long and a translucent blue. She puts one end in her cunt and has me sit astride the other. The dildo is bendy. It is a challenge to find an angle that works for both of us. We abandon the sex toy and rub our pussies together directly. Tribadism, it is called. Her legs wrap mine. I press my hard clit at her entrance like it is a tiny cock. We come this way, flooding over pubises and legs.


There are restraints affixed to the corners of the bed. I slip into them. She buckles the leather belts over my wrists and ankles. Out comes a riding crop. She uses it to slap my breasts and thighs. She asks my age and spanks my pussy once for each year I have lived. The pain sears the nerves. I scream as the world burns in agony. She kisses my tears when she finishes and offers herself for my revenge.


I fist her. The lube covers my hand like grease. It is slow going. Fingers thrust together, I make my hand narrow and muscle a way through. The back of the hand, where the knuckles jut out, is a difficult squeeze, but she is wet and my hand is small. We manage. When I am inside to the wrist, I roll the hand in her cunt and swim in viscous fluids. The pads of my fingers poke at the walls of the vagina and add a twist. I reach in as far as I am able and clench my fingers into a fist. The water issues from her pores. I see it cascading over the folds. I lap at her piquant juices.


The mouth is everywhere on me, everywhere esurient, everywhere edacious — lipping the skin, nipping and nibbling, gnawing and knowing. The point of her tongue spins, the contact a tittle, titillation. The flat of the tongue is painting in broad brushstrokes on a canvas of strained, stained flesh. I am singing. The notes are soprano. It is an aria of indecent whispers, obscene imprecations, slanderous, scabrous, scurrilous, and without shame.

More on openness August 1, 2010

Posted by Leah in Autobiography.
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A reader who is considering opening up his relationship with his girlfriend asks about sexual equivalency and whether he is making a one sided bargain.

These remarks are intended to elaborate on my thoughts in an earlier post. I think a casual heterosexual hookup is easier for a woman to find than it is for a man. This goes double or triple when the girl is attractive, as the reader’s partner appears to be. If I wasn’t after kink as well as sex, I wouldn’t use Craigslist or its counterparts.

The way the equivalency issue worked for us is that while I had more sexual partners in total, the boyfriend had more frequent sex with his regular partners. When I left the US, in addition to the boyfriend, I had a dominant regular, a sometimes kinky but much of the time vanilla regular, and one night stands and short lived flings with friends and CL types. I liked the variety. The boyfriend had two, or rarely three, regular lovers on the side. He saw them on a schedule. He and I would mess around sexually most nights in bed, though we didn’t always go full on. When we were naked together, it was difficult for either of us to keep our hands off. His cock is my favorite pacifier. I liked having it in my mouth, if only for a few minutes before sleep. About half of our sex, or slightly more, was with each other and the rest with extras. I met my regulars every couple of weeks, sometimes only once a month. I consider them good friends. We don’t need to be with each other all the time. Though I am very close to one of his lovers — I sort of introduced them, in fact — threesomes with the boyfriend were infrequent occurrences. He had his relationships, and I had mine. The numbers balanced out roughly. We were scrupulous about keeping the sex safe.

Without the other as a fulcrum, we are both sleeping around with frequency now. He is actively looking for new partners to add to the two that he has. When he visits me in a few weeks, I wonder whether we will return effortlessly to our old patterns. It hasn’t been that long, but things are, undeniably, changed.

Because with time and familiarity sex improves, I want regular partners in London as well. Frank fills the vanilla role for the summer, but this is a temporary situation in which I got spectacularly lucky as I picked him up essentially at random based on looks and the book he was reading. The criteria for being a regular are sexual compatibility and friendship. It’s a lot like dating, which is never easy, particularly when there is also a filter for kink. On personality grounds, the only people here who might have proceeded to a second date are an older American businessman passing through and a man with an unfortunate medical condition.

I want to emphasize that what suits me will not work for everyone even if we are after the same thing in the end. The boyfriend and I started out having multiple partners and simply didn’t shut these activities down when we got serious with each other. We are also both highly non-jealous people — but even so an element of this creeps up from time to time. We love each other and I miss him terribly, but neither of us is busily plotting a life together. If we are still dating several years down the line, then we can discuss marriage and kids and where to put the dungeon. Other folks will be at different places and consequently will need to find their own equilibrium.

I encourage people having a conversation about openness to first of all keep the lines of communication open and to discuss fears, misgivings, hopes, aspirations, and desires with honesty and candor. Finding another couple to swap partners with or visiting a sex club together may be a way to begin in which the issue of sexual equivalency is minimized. Sex can be a grand experiment. Love has a way of enduring. Good luck to us all!