Tag Archives: rope

The Mechanics of Sex

Jan 16, 2019 | Posted by in Kinky Stuff, Wicked Wednesday | 6

When I read the title of the prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday, I thought maybe it meant “technologically enhanced” sex. Like…I don’t know, with toys maybe, or VR if you’re really adventurous, or maybe fiction about sex with an android (or AS an android…a sex bot maybe? Hmm, liking that idea…) Anyway, seeing as one of my partners is definitely a technophile, I figured I could come up with something that would appeal to him and satisfy the prompt. Turns out I was wrong: the prompt is, “What technical aspect of sex do you find challenging?” Oh, well hell, there’s a lot of ways I could go here. How certain positions that everyone seems to love don’t work for me, such as 69; How the changes in my body, in its flexibility, has caused me challenges; or How certain kinds of sex (like sex in rope) that my partnerRead more …

In Rope Again

Jan 13, 2019 | Posted by in Kinky Stuff | 4

We played in rope last night. Well, I was in rope. He’s got this new hemp, quarter inch, I think? I love the smell of it, the punitive feel of it, where it puts my head. But I dislike the scratchiness. It distracts me from everything else that I am experiencing. And the size of this rope in particular – it makes being tied tight, or suspended, even more challenging. I say even more, because rope, something I love and used to feel absolutely confident in, is now something that I too often feel anxious about. It adds an element to a scene that makes it hard for me to go anywhere else but into a battle with myself, with my body, with my desire to please, to submit, versus simply trying to persevere. To last long enough to make it worth V’s time and effort to tie me. IRead more …

Flying – a Scene

Mar 22, 2018 | Posted by in Kinky Stuff | 0

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt was “Sad”.  Ah, hell, I thought, I’ll give you some sad. There’s the lingering, self-possessed sad of the loss of W. This month – tomorrow, in fact – is the Big Sad™, and there’s just no escaping it. It’s wound down though, to something that is almost…soft…padded…just below the surface; only occasionally startling me by rising up and sinking its fangs into me when I least expect it. It’s a sad I live with now; have accepted as a price of being me; have made peace with, at last. There’s the sad of recognizing – and accepting – changes in myself, as I age, as my body changes, as I face my own mortality, and that of my loved ones. There’s the sad of lost opportunities and missed chances, and of poorly made choices. There’s the sad of a broken heart, of a broken relationship; ofRead more …