Good Whore: That Time I Put On A Show

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We’d been only once before, to the local sex club down the road. A typical Thursday night had turned into a steamy adventure and before we knew it, we had arrived at a place with enough sexual energy to be palpable, with enough sex toys to turn any man in that place a vermillion shade of red.

Checking into a locker room, I got undressed into my red bra and panties as Patrick stripped down to his boxer briefs, already tight as we listened to moans and the sexual energy building from the next room. We grabbed a drink and took a lap; men walked around in towels, while women were either topless or adorned in skimpy lingerie. Off of a hallway there were individual rooms, each with a rope across for observers, and a door to decide when viewing time was over. Over in the corner, several men stood around an ottoman in the dungeon, taking turns with a single woman as she moaned under the cock of another man. We sat watching for a few minutes, wishing we were the ones being gangbanged, but moved along to figure out our next adventure.

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G.I. Josephine

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When I was younger, I loved Barbies. Hated dolls, loved Barbies. I think as long as they were smaller than me and had implied daddy issues, it was much less intimidating. Much like writing (or The Sims), they provided a fun way to act out a personal fantasy (at this age, having friends), and I think the non-threatening demeanor of Barbie was also helped when I discovered that I could pop her head off with little to no effort. It turned into a standard reaction while acting them out. “Skipper, you stole my shoes!” *head pops off*

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My First Time: Anal Sex

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This is not the tale of how someone fucked my ass. It’s the long story of how I got there, because for some of us, it is a long journey. But spoiler alert: I get my butt fucked.

I sometimes forget that in the sexual scope of things, I’m relatively new to anal play. With the exception of an experiment using the tip of a broomstick once as a teenager, my first real encounter with assplay came from my current relationship, less than 2 years ago, on a night when we went and bought His & Her’s butt plugs. Seriously. His was purple, mine was black (this was so long ago that I still thought black was a “cool & unique” sex toy colour)

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My Second Sex Club: Club M4

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Not a motorway, not a BMW, but a sex club.

M4 (occasionally referred to as Menage a Quatre) is a lifestyle club in Etobicoke (just outside Toronto). Much like Oasis, it is a sex-positive environment that encourages consensual intimacy among open-minded individuals and couples. However, unlike Oasis, this particular atmosphere is geared a little more towards the swinging lifestyle.

The Mr. and I have toyed with the idea of trying out Club M4 for a while – primarily because well… it cheap, we poor. I loved Oasis, but the price was already a bit steep ($80/couple on weekends) before they jacked the price up to $95/couple, so we wanted to explore more affordable options for a casual night out. Once you get an annual membership ($20), admission ranges from $20-$50 per couple, and with drink prices coming in on the lower end of average, it’s definitely the more affordable option. However, with a more accessible price range comes a very different audience from the upscale Oasis Aqualounge.

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My First Sex Club: Oasis Aqualounge

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I’ve had this fantasy for so long that I’m almost ashamed to admit my level of perversion; I was 12 when I found myself frequently visiting an outrageous and steamy scenario. I dreamt of sex in a room with other couples – watching their movements, hearing the moans – I dreamt of feeding off the sexual energy and being overwhelmed with the sheer act. I was probably 20 when I discovered that sex clubs were in fact a real place where normal people would go to have sex, and that my long-lived fantasy wasn’t so far fetched.

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Toxic Lube Ingredients (And On A Related Note, A Quick Review Of Forta Lube)

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It had happened a few times; my boyfriend and I would be going at it, and it was hot. Then after a couple minutes it was… hot. My vagina; it was washed over with a stinging, burning discomfort that I still can’t accurately describe. Like if you ran a hair dryer over an open flesh wound, or your hands were raw from climbing the monkey bars… in my vagina. It concerned me and made me worry that I might lose all enjoyment in sex, but it didn’t happen every time so I tried to push it out of my mind.

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