Thick Cocks and the Art of the Silent Blowjob

I was nervous. Sitting in my car, I flipped through my text messages as a way to calm myself down and, in a way, reassure myself that this was actually happening.

Hey, what are you up to right now?
I was just about to take a nap, why?
Well that's boring
If this is about that library date we were talking about over Thanksgiving, I could be convinced to get out of bed
Holy shit haha I completely forgot about that
  
I laughed to myself a little. Sure. Sure he forgot about our agreement to have his cock sucked in the library the next time he visited, the agreement we made as he encouraged me through instant messages and snapshots of his cock to fuck myself harder with my dildo.

I can be there in 5 minutes. Meet me in the foyer.

I was nervous. And wet.
I got out of the car to one of those sudden Fall rains that happen periodically in the Midwest. The walk to the library soaked my hair thoroughly, and I was irritated until I remembered that one of his turn-ons was wet hair. He did a good job of not moaning when I walked up to him and tucked my head under his chin while we hugged hello.
"Rain." It wasn't a question, but a statement, and I couldn't help but be a smartass in my response.
"Is that what that stuff falling from the sky is called?"
He rolled his eyes as he walked me towards our destination.
The library was quiet, almost empty, as we walked from the foyer to the very back of a section I had never been in. He walked up to a shelf and started perusing an oversized book about women's photography through the ages, and I just stood there confused as he flipped pages. After he finished, he flipped back to the beginning and muttered at me.
"Are you going to put that smart mouth of yours to work or not?" His fingers gripped my still-damp hair and began to push me downwards.
"Uh-uh. Use your words." I was teasing him, since my knees were already bending, getting comfortable on the thin carpet.
"Suck my cock. Now."
I obliged. A quick tug at his track pants and a hand snaked through the front opening of his boxers and he was on my lips. And then it was stretching them open. And stretching, and stretching. God, I had forgotten how thick he was until this moment, when we both heard my jaw pop a little as he did his best to slide my lips all the way to the base of his cock. I couldn't help it, I gurgled.
Both of us froze. In the silence of the library, it sounded like someone had set off firecrackers. that's when I learned it is nigh impossible to give a completely silent blowjob. Your lips make a popping sound when you release suction. If you're getting him properly wet, there are slurping noises. Being face-fucked triggers little, involuntary moans and gurgles in the back of your throat. All those little noises, which seem so insignificant in the white noise of regular life, become amplified in the muffled, complete silence of a library. Of course, the fact that he had pulled my breasts out of the low neckline of my top and was alternately pinching and caressing my nipples wasn't helping me be quiet either.

Suddenly we heard a voice. A LOUD voice. It sounded like someone had crept up on us, and we just froze in the position we were in, with his cock buried deep in my mouth, one hand gripping my hair and the other with a handful of my breast.
Turns out, it was just the intercom announcing that the library closed in 15 minutes, but just the idea of someone seeing us brought him to the edge.
"You ready? Do you want this cum?"
"Mm-hmm"


 

Why I love my Tie-Bright VixSkin Mustang: A photo essay

 It can be ridden hard and put away wet without mutating, morphing, or melting. And by ridden hard, I mean a soap-less wash + sterilize cycle in the dishwasher, and by wet I mean...wet.

 The base is this GORGEOUS pearlescent white with blue highlights I cannot get my camera to pick up for the life of me.

The colors  are awesome from every angle. And I adore the fact that both the Corpus spongiosum and frenulum are visible and anatomically correct.

 

Just...Just look at how regal it is. All hail the king of Panda's dildo collection. Reigning over vaginas, mouths, and anuses alike with it's squishy yet stiff, unfailingly squeezable 6.5 insertable inches.

Plus...it looks goddamn good with a RodeoH harness and lace. 










It bears mentioning that I purchased this myself, with my own money, for my own enjoyment. My VixSkin Mustang is Tie-Bright, but it also comes in Fluor-a-Green (discontinued), Fluor-a-Pink (SheVibe), Black and Pink (Babeland), and three flesh tones that are available at either store if you prefer the realistic penis colors. 
If you want to read a real review (as opposed to my love letter) before you make your purchase, Epiphora has one here

5 Things I Didn't Know About Squirting Until it Happened

1) Being able to squirt doesn't change your orgasm habits. Before I started squirting I was a multiple kind of gal. Like, 3-4 per session depending on the partner and the length of time we're having sex. Apparently there is just a never-ending fountain of this stuff inside my body because it just keeps coming out, man. This results in, I kid you not, two foot across puddles if they all happen when I'm in one place on the bed.

2) It doesn't always have to be a result of a g-spot orgasm. The first time it happened to me, I wasn't even with a partner, I was using my vibrator externally for like the 3rd time that day/afternoon/I was home alone for the weekend and bored don't judge me. "Did I just pee? Squirting is just from g-spot stuff isn't it? I guess I should sniff it, oh god I am such a weirdo. Doesn't smell like pee. Hm." Don't worry, fellow clitoral orgasm-ers. You didn't pee. You actually squirted, as long as it doesn't smell like pee.

3) It is NOT, however, completely odorless. At least for me. There's no really STRONG smell but it's...musky? That sounds so gross, like I'm a skunk or something. But it smells like sex happened (duh). You know that distinct smell in a room when sex has happened? It's like that. If she says "sex happened" one more time, I'm leaving. Talk about repetitive. Geeze.

4) As a woman who has no problem going down on a guy mid-sex, I am familiar with the way my vagina tastes. My "normal" self-lubrication has a distinct taste that I'm not going to describe because that would be weird. However, ejaculate really doesn't taste like anything. At all.

5) It makes...a sound. It's not loud. Quite honestly it's just a whisper. But it's there. The best comparison I have is a squirt gun except it's really, really quiet. A squirt gun? is this girl batshit? I never claimed to be eloquent. I also never claimed to be the sort of person who never talks to herself in a blog post.

Implanon Diaries Pt. 1- Just getting the Damn Thing.

I'm currently in the process of switching my birth control from the pill I've been on for almost 5 years now to Implanon, or the birth control implant. Why? Well, partly because I'm habitually bad with remembering to take my pills at the right time every day, and partly because Implanon has a 99.95% success rate at preventing pregnancy FOR THREE YEARS (statistically, better than sterilization!).

Being on my pill wasn't bad, it was actually great. But I felt like because of my absentmindedness and newly much more frequent sex life that I was putting myself at risk somehow. I know that sounds silly, considering the amount of sex I've had in my life versus my obvious success at avoiding pregnancy. But I still think this is the path for me. So I'm going to write a three-part series about this process to help those of you who might be considering this switch as well.

So you want the Implanon. You've researched. And researched. And decided that the one video you found about the girl who had a five week long period at the start of having the implant was probably someone who would have had trouble with any and all forms of birth control. You go to your gyno, perkily hand her an insurance card, and they say they'll call your insurance company, and then you, about the Implant. You assume it will be a couple of weeks, which is fine.
Attempt 1: You gave the office an expired insurance card. A week passes before you can update the info correctly.
Attempt 2: After "correcting" information and another week, the lady at the desk informs you that your insurance claims you're not on it. Turns out she missed typing a number into the computer. Do not pass Go do not collect Implanon. Try again.
Attempt 3: Successful insurance information (fucking finally), but your insurance only covers the price of the device and not insertion. You do the math, decide you can afford $250 considering it lasts for three years (about $7 a month). They agree to order it for you. You assume this is done with. Wrong.
Attempt 4) APPARENTLY IF YOU FILL OUT A FORM OR SOMETHING SOMEONE WILL PAY FOR THE INSERTION? COME IN TO FILL OUT THIS FORM ON ONE OF THE TWO DAYS A WEEK WE'RE FUCKING OPEN. Christ on a Bicycle, people.

Now replace all the "you's" with I, and you'll understand what my life has been like for the last couple of weeks. I'm about four days from running out of my birth control pill and man I am just so excited about having to use condoms again with my fluid-bonded partner because a combination of fuckery has made this 1000x more difficult than it should be [/sarcasm].

Now that all sounds frustrating (yes) and like I'm not pumped about it anymore (not so!). I just wish i had planned a little bit better and not chosen to make the switch at the very end of a BC pack. I filled out the form this past Monday, and hopefully no longer than two weeks from now I will be able to give you a post about insertion.
Until then.
Plan better than I did.

Soapbox Preaching: Why I Hate the Phrase "Sex with the person you love is the best sex"

There are a lot of versions of this phrase that float around on twitter, and every time I see them retweeted on my feed, I kind of lose my shit. My twitter feed was recently treated to a shortened burst of this rant, but I thought I should elaborate just in case my 140 character posts came across as terse or mystifying (I am frequently mystifying, so I understand.)
But really, I thought they deserved more elaboration than I was able to give them in mini-rant form. So, here we go: Why the phrase "Sex with the person you love is the best sex" (or any iteration thereof) pisses me off.

Sex is an extremely personal thing- whether it's casual, monogamous, polyamorous, or committed in any other way. That's the key here- "personal"- and every person is different. If you, personally, only have sex with people you love, cool, that's your prerogative. But you don't get to decide your sex is BETTER than sex other people are having simply because you're in love with someone.

Another thing- this phrase sets a super dangerous precedent where uninformed or young people mix up their oxytocin rush after sex for "True Love". Oxytocin is a hormone that is released after sex which causes feelings of bonding, affection, and trust which can feel a whole lot like LO-V-E. 
The reason that this is dangerous is, post-orgasm, someone who treats you like absolute shit can start looking like the love of your life. This could be someone using another for sex or money. This could be a mentally or physically abusive person who this person needs to get away from. This could even be a good person who is only invested in the physical part of the relationship who will become freaked out and defensive if the person they're sleeping with suddenly starts proclaiming love. A man. A woman. Anybody. 
People who have never had sex before, be they young or old, could potentially base their entire post-sex mentality on this phrase. This is not a harmless retweet, this inaccurate phrase could actually be harming people's relationship psyche and setting them back on their healthy-relationship learning timeline. People are going to get hurt.

Finally, people are never going to grow sexually in relationships if their entire basis is this phrase. They'll assume that because they are in love, the sex has to be the best they're ever going to have. It will get stagnant, it will get boring, and you're going to look for ways to "spice things up". Basically, stagnant sex=bad sex and this phrase encourages stagnant sex.

So, what really makes sex good/better/best? It happens through communication, honesty, chemistry and knowledge of BOTH sex and your partner. The point I'm arguing is that not a single one of these things is exclusive to love. Does love make these things easier for some people? Tooooootally! that's what's supposed to happen when you're in love! But it doesn't mean that people who aren't in love can't have sex that's every bad metaphor for good sex all rolled up into one. Get out there and learn all you can about sex. Learn how to give yourself an orgasm, ask your partner what they need to orgasm. Don't fake it. Have good sex.

Panda and Tango's Top 10 Tips to Slay Your Next Blowjob

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.