Bi Visibility Day

Today, on BiVisibility Day, I thought I’d write a little something about my bisexuality, not because being bi is trendy or cool but because being sexually attracted to women is as natural for me as being attracted to men is.

Its not a phase

There’s no exact moment I can pinpoint when I ‘discovered’ I was bisexual. It was never that was. I think I always knew I was attracted to women but the mechanics of actually having sex with a woman seemed alien and scary to me. At school, in films and in the media I’d been inundated with images of heterosexuality as a teenager. Being ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ was touched upon briefly in the classroom, in an attempt to be more inclusive but bisexuality was never really mentioned. I never knew how ‘to be’ bi.

Even at University when many of my friends were openly bisexual, I still didn’t feel confident enough to explore this side of myself, manly because I was struggling with other aspects of my sexuality in general after experiencing a sexual assault.

My first sexual experience with a women was as part of a threesome with a married couple. I was attracted to both the husband and wife but I’d assumed going into it, that both myself and his wife would play with him and him with us. Prior to meeting we never discussed the wife and I playing together. It also happened to be my first threesome experience, so there were a lot of emotions and expectations flying around.

Upon first meeting the couple, they put me completely at ease. They said, if at any point I felt uncomfortable or didn’t want to go through with it, then I should let them know and we would stop. There was no pressure for me to do anything. This only made me want to spend the night with them even more. I knew they were the right people to have a threesome with and as the night drew on, the right woman to have my first bisexual experience with.

bi

When it finally came to us all going back to the hotel room after dinner, it was all very relaxed and casual. The wife went into the bathroom to get changed into her lingerie and I lay on the bed kissing her husband. When she came out, wearing a black lace bodysuit I knew immediately that I wanted to have sex with her. She has a sumptuous curvy body and I desperately want to touch her.

The two of us started kissing and everything about it felt natural. I’d always been worried that I wouldn’t know what to do when the time came, but I need not have worried. She put me completely at ease and we kissed and touched for a long time, whilst her husband watched us. Then when it came to it, she initiated the oral sex and I reciprocated. It didn’t take me long to work out how she liked it and when she orgasmed, her whole entire body seemed to shake.

From then on, I knew this was something I was going to enjoy and was a natural part of my identity. I stopped thinking about my sexual orientation in terms of my relationship status. The two weren’t linked and it didn’t matter that I’d spent most of my life in relationships with men, I was still be bisexual. And more than that, it didn’t make me any less bisexual for having done so.

I’m writing this to challenge the biphobia I see all around me. The idea that eventually you’ll ‘pick a side’ or that you’re just ‘being greedy’.  I’m not ashamed of my bisexuality. It has made previous partners uncomfortable and I’ve tried to put them at ease as much as possible, but ultimately it is something that need reconcile themselves to and it isn’t my job to make them ok with my sexuality. When it came down to it, I know there was this fear that I would cheat on him with a woman. I’m not sure why he felt I wouldn’t cheat on him with a man, but nonetheless, he seemed far more concerned about that. This was largely down to having never been with a bisexual woman before.

The Erotic Journal Challenge – Body Love

Trigger warning. There are some parts of this post that may be difficult to read.

This challenge was originally posted for week #22. Since the next couple of weeks of The Erotic Journal Challenge are all about catching up on those you’ve missed, I thought week 22 would be a good one to revisit since it follows on nicely from my previous post.

The prompt was:

What parts of your body do you love and what parts do you have trouble accepting? Our bodies tell a story, what tale does yours have to tell?

I decided to answer this prompt by not discussing what I love and hate about my body but rather by telling you a story about what it’s been through.

Ann Summers Bra and Knickers

10 years ago I’d never have had the confidence to post a picture like this. Some days I still see all my faults.

In my teens I had what’s considered by some, especially teenagers, to be the perfect body. I was skinny. Not just slim but rake thin. The reason for this was because I was a tomboy. I trained as a long-distance runner and played for just about every team you could play for at school. I spent my evenings out playing with my sisters and I was almost always active, when I wasn’t reading. I was teased for being skinny and called a stick insect and anorexic. I hated my body and wished I had a curvy, sexy one that all the boys seemed to fancy.

In my late teens I experienced a sexual assault that left me despising my body even more. I couldn’t bare to be touched or even looked at. I stopped doing sports and buried my head in studying and going to University. I put a lot of weight on, to the point where I can’t bring myself to look at pictures of myself from ages 16-18.

I went to University and lost a lot of weight but I still wasn’t happy. My friends were perfect or so it seemed to me; slim, intelligent, accomplished women and yet they seemed obsessed with losing weight and I constantly compared myself to them.

I left University and for a while I was happy with my body and didn’t really give my size or weight much thought. I was too busy thinking about what I was going to do with my life and working my arse off.

Then I went on holiday and picked up a stomach bug which left me ill for months afterwards. This was followed by some of the most crippling depression I’ve ever experienced.

My body showed very little sign of the years I spent in my late 20’s struggling and suffering with severe IBS and panic attacks. The only physical sign was the slow weight loss, when eating anything meant feeling nauseous. It doesn’t tell the tale of how I was almost house bound because I couldn’t get on public transport without having a panic attack.

Where I completely isolated myself from friends and family because I felt guilty about constantly cancelling plans we’d made. How my sex life was non-existent because I was so embarrassed about constantly needing to use the bathroom. When going out for a meal meant days of worrying beforehand to the point where eating out became a complete nightmare.

Outwardly, my body will tell you none of those things nor will it tell you that slowly I managed to make a recovery, helped mainly by going back to University to study for a Masters and having something to take my mind off it. By having a group of friends I could confide in and who didn’t judge or berate me when I cancelled plans.

When I was in some of my darkest moods, I didn’t give two shits that I have cellulite on my thighs, that I have a dimple on my huge arse, that I have more chins than I’d like and more stomach rolls than a baker.

Body acceptance

It took a look for me to pose in my underwear like this. It wasn’t something I took lightly and gave it a lot of thought before I decided to start an Instagram account celebrating the lingerie I loved and posing in them myself.

I still struggle with my body now but it has less to do with my weight and size and more to do with suffering with severe sleep apnoea. This is a condition where I essentially stop breathing when I sleep. It causes me to get up constantly in the night and wake up in the morning covered in sweat because my heart is beating so fast to compensate for the oxygen it’s not getting when I stop breathing. I fall asleep at work, have mood swings and almost constantly feel tired. Once I was diagnosed I was given a CPAP machine which is essentially an oxygen mask that makes sure I continue to breathe throughout the night.

But it’s given me a new-found appreciation for my body. It’s also shown me that I have far more important health matters to worry about than what the scales are saying.

One other thing that has really helped with my body confidence is my Instagram account. It initially started off as a way to promote this blog and show off the lingerie I loved as well as the sex toys I was buying. I never planned on putting myself on it and it took a lot of courage for me to do so. But now it’s something that I really get a lot of joy from and the nice comments, whilst not the reason I do it, do help on days when I feel anything but sexy.

I love my body because it’s imperfect…well except, for my boobs. They’re pretty damn perfect.

Sex in my 30’s

Then & Now

Right now my sex life feels like the best it has ever been. It took reaching my 30’s for me to really start exploring my sexuality and experimenting. Prior to that I’d describe my sex life as unadventurous, with me lacking in confidence and overly self-conscious about my body especially during sex. I was worried about how I ‘looked’ during sex, I focused on the things parts of my body I didn’t like and would often find myself not really present during sex. It was like I was watching myself from afar having sex and picking fault.

However, when I hit my 30’s I started to notice things changing and a large part of that was down to a greater sense of confidence and an acceptance of my body shape and size.

I still have insecurities and I know I always will. I also know that unless I’m prepared to completely overhall my lifestyle and my eating habits, I’m always going to have roughly the body shape I have now and the older I’ve got the more I’ve realised that, if your partner is getting regular sex, they really don’t care about your cellulite and love handles. As soon as I started accepting that I was actually pretty damn sexy the way I was, I found that I was less insecure generally, and that they no longer got in the way of my sex life.

sex in my 30s

Comfortable in my own skin

 

I think another reason it changed because of the types of partners I was choosing. I was drawn, far more, to older men and women who were comfortable with themselves and their bodies and made me feel comfortable in mine. I was also less willing to accept spending time with people who didn’t make me feel good about myself.

Also, with age comes the realization that actually being thin is by far the least of your worries. When I found myself experiencing real ‘problems’ and difficult times, bereavement, family illness, a bout of poor health, I started to realise that I had far more important things to concern myself with.

Orgasms and Intimacy

I’m now in my mid-30’s and there’s very little I’d change drastically about my sex life. So I started thinking about what I love most about my sex life. A friend asked me last night about this and asked what I wanted from my sex life. I said ‘orgasms and intimacy’. I can honestly say, I get both and I couldn’t be more satisfied with my sex life.

This may sound simple and straightforward but actually it took a lot of time, experience, practice, self-acceptance, self-exploration opening myself up to new possibilities, to finally have these.

The last point is particularly important, because it was only when I truly decided to let myself go and try new things and be open to new experiences, that my sex life really changed.

Shower at the ready

One of those new experiences was water sports. I’d never really given it much thought and when I was asked a number of times about whether I’d done it or would consider doing it, I always assumed it wouldn’t hold any appeal.

That was until recently when I decided I’d like to give it a try. This may have been, in large part, down to the person I wanted to experience it with. I knew this was something he was experienced in and enjoyed it. There was something very erotic about knowing it turned him on and I wanted to be a part of that. My partner’s pleasure is incredibly important to me. I feed off their excitement and it increases my own. I enjoy watching my partner’s reactions, seeing them enjoying themselves and hearing them moan.

I was also curious to see if I’d be turned on by it. When it came to attempting it in his bath, I went first. It took a while to feel comfortable enough to just let go and release but when I did there was something liberating about it. There was also the excitement of doing something that’s considered a little taboo. Then it was my partners turn and boy had he saved plenty for me. I could see this was something that meant a lot to him and I was pleased I could do it for him.

Sex in my 30’s has been the best sex so far and who knows, I’m hoping it’ll only continue to get better in my 40’s and 50’s.

 

Sex Toy Review – Jumping on the wand bandwagon

Sex Toy Review

It would seem as if I’m the last person on the sex blogging Earth to go out and buy themselves a wand. My reluctance to purchase one stemmed largely from the fact that I currently own quite a few toys. I have a number of bullets, a rampant rabbit, a g-spot vibrator and a glass dildo. Why, when I own all of these, would I also need a wand? As it turns out, I was very wrong.

The one I opted for was the Classic Mains Powered Magic Wand Vibrator from Lovehoney in black. For me, the white wand looked rather cheap, whereas in black, it had a more expensive sleek look about it. Plus I figured it would be easiest to keep clean.

Lovehoney wand

Lovehoney wand

For those that don’t know anything about the wands, they were first used as massagers until some filthy bugger discovered you could use it elsewhere and now it serves to send many men and women weak at the knees.

My first impressions were of how heavy it was. There’s some real weight to it, I’m guessing to incorporate the powerful motor inside. I also noticed how loud it was on the higher settings so you might want to keep that in mind if you’re not blessed with thick walls. I’d also recommend starting off on the lower settings which sounds like common sense but boy are those higher settings powerful (don’t say I didn’t warn you).

The first time I used it was with a partner. I was tied up, spread eagle. We experimented using the wand in different positions on the vulva and holding in at various angles. I loved how big the head of the wand was. When placed lower down against your vulva it fits perfectly into the curve of your crotch. After some experimentation I found that I preferred this position, rather than having it placed directly onto my clitoris. It was far too intense and it ended up just feeling numb otherwise.

Once I got use to the sensation, we used it with my glass dildo. This helped achieve both a g-spot and clitoral orgasm. We alternated between holding the wand near my clitoris and pressing it against the glass so the glass vibrated inside me. I also found that I preferred moving the head on and off rather than keeping it held permanently there as it seemed to increase stimulation.

If direct stimulation is too much, I’d recommend starting off using it over the top of your underwear. It’s equally as pleasurable but the vibrations aren’t as intense, so great for foreplay.

What I like about the wand is how versatile it is. I discovered after I bought the wand, that it also comes with several attachments including one that resembles Gonzo from the muppets. This as well as using it for it’s original intended purpose means it’s great to use as part of a sensual erotic massage. I’m also looking forward to conjuring up other ways of incorporating it into my bedroom routine including using it on my male partner. 

Final Thoughts

Overall, the wand has been a resounding success. Now that I have it, I’m not sure what I’d do without it. I’m also looking it getting a portable version for those naughty trips away.

This is not a sponsored post and the wand was purchased with my own hard earned cash.

The Erotic Journal Challenge – Sexual Positions

The challenge for week #28 of the Erotic Journal Challenge looks at sexual positions. What is your favourite and least favourite sexual position and why. 

I don’t have a vast repertoire  of sex positions to call on. When I find ones I like, I tend to stick to those. New positions are usually attempted when none of the tried and tested faithful’s seem to be hitting the spot.

Anis nin quote

My favourite sex positions

69 tops my list of favourite sex positions. In this position I’m completely in control, when I’m sitting on my partners face. I enjoy feeling this lips, their tongue, their mouth and even their nose all over my crotch. The weight of my body pressing down on them is utterly erotic. In that position my partner can even slide a finger into my arse for extra stimulation.

Knowing that we’re mutually stimulating one another at the same time is a real turn on for me. The more turned on I get, the more vigour I inject into giving my partner oral.

If it’s heterosexual love making, then positions can be dependant on the size of my male partner’s penis. Some are far more enjoyable and comfortable than others.

In certain positions where the woman is in control and can direct how deep the penis goes in, it feels far more pleasurable if your partner is well endowed, positions like reverse cowgirl or many standing positions. Others such as the butterfly or where the legs are raised can end up feeling painful rather than pleasurable.

My least favourite sex positions

This brings me onto my least favourite sexual positions. This is usually anything that requires any gymnastic skills to get into or out of. Not only don’t I have the athleticism to do it but I don’t fancy a trip to Accident and Emergency either.

However, writing this has inspired me to go and buy a copy of the Kama Sutra. Not only don’t I know that many positions but aside from the likes of 69, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, missionary and the wheelbarrow, but I don’t know the names of them.

Hopefully in a few weeks time I’ll know my  snake from my crab position.

#EroticJournalChallenge
#eroticjournalchallenge

 

The Wonders of a Sensual Massage

A few weeks ago, I was out having a drink with a female friend and as the bottles of wine came and went, we started to talking about how much value we place on penis in vagina penetration in traditional heterosexual ideas of what makes great sex. This we are told, is the root to the big ‘O’ and everything and anything else is just a distraction before the main event.

We then started talking about some of the most erotic experiences we’d ever had. The first thing that came to mind was a sensual massage I’d once received. There had been no penis in vagina penetration and yet I ended up having one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.

It came about through an introduction from a couple I’d once met. They knew I was single and told me about a friend who was also single and a physiotherapist. They gave me his number and we started chatting and got on well. Our talk soon turned to what our fantasies were.

I confessed to him that one of mine was receiving a sensual massage. I knew a few people who’d been to sensual massage classes and raved about them and since then I’d really wanted to try one.

Having a massage is one of my favourite ways to relax and pamper myself. So the idea of a sensual massage was such a turn on. He confessed that he’d always wanted to give a sensual massage as a physio, but never had because he wanted to keep things strictly professional with his clients, which I respected. However, I wasn’t one of his clients and he asked me if I’d like to come along and have a massage with no pressure on it going any further than that, unless I wanted it. This seemed fair and so I agreed.

I arrived at the gym where he had his own physio room and at first it was awkward. The anticipation was clearly there for both of us. Despite having talked about going further than just a standard massage, and began to wonder if either one of us would go through with it.

massage oil

Ann Summer’s Nailah Massage Oil

He left me to get undressed and I hopped up onto the massage table, naked except for a towel covering my lower back. In all the massages I’d had before I’d at least worn a bikini or underwear so the feeling of laying completely naked on his massage down was a turn-on in itself.

He came back into the room and with my head tucked inside the hole in the table, I lay there listening to him moving around and oiling his hands with what smelt like coconut oil. The physio checked if I still wanted to go ahead and when I nodded he laid his hands on the top of my shoulders and slowly began to work his hands all over my back.

His expert hands travelled all over my body and slowly after he’d massaged my back and shoulders, he began to work his way down to my legs, inching the towel up higher so that it just covered the curve of my arse. He carried on innocently, working his hands up and down my legs but then I could start to feel his hands become more insistent and he gently partly my legs so he could massage up the inside of my thighs. This he continued to do for some time and the longer he did it, the more I could feel my body reacting.

Then he pulled the towel off completely and started gliding his hands from my back down the sides to where my boobs were resting on the table, down further to my arse which he began massaging, circling and kneading.

When he stopped to add more coconut oil to my arse, I moved my legs further apart and he took this as encouragement to carry on down past my arse to my pussy. There he spent a long time circling the outside. Using different strokes and a mixture of soft and harder motions he massaged the vulva and in particular the labia. I’ve never experienced anything like it, fingers that was just massaging the area but not inside me.

I could feel that the insides of my thighs were wet and the anticipation became too much and he slipped two fingers inside me. Generally, I don’t enjoy being fingered for too long. Those that I’ve experienced in the past have just left me feeling sore as they jab away at the area. Whereas this was completely different. It was slow and sensual and he moved his fingers not just inside me, but also to the bud of my clitoris and down the sides so that when I orgasmed, my whole body felt like it was shaking and held me for a while until I stopped.

So, yes whilst this did involve some form of penetration, I suspect if I had it again, I’d be able to orgasm without it, simply by having the areas around my vulva massaged, as well as the rest of my body. This proved to me that penis in vagina sex is such a limited and outdated way of thinking about how to have sex and orgasm in heterosexual relations. It’s certainly something I would recommend with a partner to get you in the mood or even when you’re not the mood or on your period but you still want that intimacy of touch.

I even went out and bought myself some massage oil so I could practice myself. I found a lovely one in Ann Summers called Nailah. The one I picked up was Orange Blossom and Cardamom and it’s heavenly. I couldn’t find the exact same one on the website but I did spot that the same brand have massage candles which are in the sale, so I’ll be getting those too. Click the link if you’re interested (not a sponsored post  just love the smell) Nailah Massage Candle 

 

Exploring the sex party scene

In my last blog post I wrote about how I was beginning to experience ‘sex party fatigue’. The experiences hadn’t been what I’d hoped they would be. I couldn’t decide if it was because of the parties themselves or my mismatched expectations. The more I went, the more I realised that it also had a lot to do with the person I went with. I hadn’t really thought about that when I first started going. I’d only really considered what I’d want from them. So I began to wonder if the sex party scene really was for me after all.

I’d reached a point where I’d sworn off them, that was until I started talking to a friend who’d been on the sex party scene for a while. They suggested that rather than leaving completely, try a different organiser. He told me about a club he was a member of that did parties in London and recommended I give them a try. However, it was a good few months before I actually agreed to go.

eye wide

The infamous sex party scene from ‘Eyes Wide Shut’

There were a number of reasons that I changed my mind and decided to try this sex club. First of, he told me there was a dancefloor with a DJ and bring your own booze. I felt reassured that if I didn’t want to have sex, I could still drink, dance and socialise. He also told me the club had a dungeon. This felt like a space where I could explore my kinks where again the focus was less on sex.

So, a few weeks ago I gave in and went along with this friend. I entered the club through a discreet, unassuming door into a reception area where I registered and they explained a little about what happens. The reception then leads into the main room of the club. On both sides of the room there are seating areas where you can sit and socialise. At the far end there’s a DJ with a strippers pole in the centre of the dancefloor. To the right are the fridges and bar area where you can bring your own alcohol, make drinks and store your booze. There’s also a locker and changing area to get into your fancy lingerie.

The club sits across three floors and I decided to explore the top floor first. From memory this mainly consisted of ‘the orgy room’, an entire room sectioned off with curtains and large beds to play. On the night I was there, there didn’t seem to be much play taking place and quite a few people sitting and watching. I’m sure this would have been a fun room to join in with, if there were less spectators.

I then headed downstairs which to the basement where far more people seemed to be congregating. Whilst exploring I found a small room off a kitchen area that was kitted out like a study with an oak table and chair. I loved the idea of all the role plays that have gone on in that room.

Next there was an open area at the bottom of the staircase with beds and seating. At the end of  a corridor there were a number of private rooms, with raised beds and lockable doors. I really liked this idea because whilst for some people, they enjoy being watched or watching, for others that’s not their thing and this offers a bit of privacy or if nothing else, a gentle introduction to ease you in.

Further along the corridor there were rooms with a glory hole, which I discovered when a hand popped out at me and made me jump. There was also a dark room which I assume was for sensory deprivation play.

Then came my favourite room, the dungeon which included a jail/cell with bars and a sex swing. The room was kitted out with all kinds of kinky apparatus including what looked like gymnastics equipment and a St Andrew’s Cross. This seemed to be the main source of play in the room. My friend and I watched as a beautiful young woman was being tied to the cross and played with by her partner and the Master of the Boudoir. Quite a large crowd gathered and it was very sexy to watch.

By this point I was starting to feel unwell, I presume from a burger I ate at dinner because as soon as we left the dungeon I started throwing up. Not the most sexy thing to see at a sex club. So that was my signal to call it a night and head back to my hotel, to stick my head in a toilet.

Looking back I feel that despite it seemingly being another disaster at a sex club with me getting ill and throwing up, I would actually go back again. The Saturday seemed very quite and there didn’t seem to be a lot of play going on that night. My friend did say it was unusually quiet so perhaps it was just a one off, although if I go again I’d be tempted to try a Friday night.

What I also liked about this sex club was that the onus wasn’t entirely on having sex. For someone like me who is still finding their feet in this scene, it was something of a relief. It means the option is there if you want to, but your whole night doesn’t revolve around it.

I’m glad I went along and whilst it didn’t turn out the way I was expecting (I won’t eat burgers before attending a sex club again), it hasn’t scared me off either. So whilst I don’t have any plans to attend a sex club again in the coming weeks and months, now that I have a years membership, the door is still open if I do change my mind and want to explore again.

Have you been to a sex club or party recently? If so feel free to share your experiences below.

Sex party fatigue

About 2 months ago I went to my third sex party. I won’t say where or which party, but they’re pretty famous for organising exclusive sex parties in the UK and elsewhere, with a strong emphasis them being women-led.

The very first sex party I went to, I went with a gentleman who was a veteran of the scene and had been to a number of these parties. I thought he’d be the perfect person to show me the ropes. As it turns out, this wasn’t the case and his lack of curiosity and excitement dampened my first party. I spent most of the night by myself or talking to couples and enjoying the large jacuzzi. Needless to say, it wasn’t what I was expecting. 

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The obligatory mask

However, I decided to give it another go and booked my second party, this time outside of London and with a man I knew well but had never been to a party before. The second was a slight improvement on the first. I felt far less nervous and was able to enjoy myself and have sex in front of other people in a play room for the first time. We never got involved with anyone else there, we simply played together and socialised, hardly the out and out orgy I was expecting.

I took a break from the parties for a while after that, left the scene and when I was ready, returned with a new attitude. I realised what I enjoyed most was socialising with equally naughty people, more than having sex at a party.

I was still curious to see if I’d be third time lucky and booked the same party as before, again with a guy who’d never been to a party before. What I quickly started to find was that, by attending these parties you’re not just carrying the weight of your own expectations on your shoulders, but also that of your date. They want to get the most out of the experience and it became clear that he was interested in us both joining other couples.

I took a far more relaxed view that if it happened, it happened and if not, the two of us playing together would be equally as fun. But he took the view that this was something we could do any time and that since we were at a party, we should join in with others.

We briefly played with another woman, but I began to realise, as a crowd started to gather, that I didn’t enjoy being watched. This may sound like a ridiculous thing to say when you’ve signed up to a sex party, but up until this point I didn’t quite realise how uncomfortable it made me feel to have a couple sitting opposite me on a sofa, watching me the whole time or a group of people 10-15 standing over me as I’m being tied up for rope bondage. I found I couldn’t really relax and get into it because I was conscious of their gaze. I felt like I had to perform, when all I wanted to do was get lost in the moment and enjoy myself.

After this party. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t go to any more sex parties. Clearly, I much preferred my sex in private and after 3 parties I’d succumb to sex party fatigue because the truth was, I just wasn’t enjoying it.

Then a friend of mine asked me if I’d like to try a party in London she attends regularly. They’re a well-known sex party organiser, famous for their dungeons. I kept saying no until finally I gave in. What sold it for me was that they had not only the infamous dungeon but also a dance floor and bring your own booze.

Knowing this, I felt the pressure and expectations of having to go to a sex party and have sex, lift. I know many of you might be thinking, well why not just go to a regular nightclub then? I’ve thought that myself and the difference is the attitude and the atmosphere. There’s nothing like being around like-minded people who all share similar interests and desires. The conversations I’ve had at sex parties range from anything from what they do for a living to the kinkiest kinds of sex imaginable and I love that.

So, next Saturday I’ll be hoping my sex party fatigue comes to an end and I find myself enjoying this new party. But I’ll be sure to tell you all about it either way!

 

Shibari adventures – My Initiation

‘Shibari.’ I first heard this word just under a year ago at a party. I started chatting to a beautiful Italian woman who, when I asked what she did, told me she was a ‘shibari expert ‘.

Immediately intrigued, I couldn’t stop asking questions. What was it? How long had she been doing it? Did it hurt? Did she do the tying or did she prefer to be tied? I knew absolutely nothing about shibari and so when she offered to show me more, I was too scared to say yes. Japanese rope bondage seemed so far out of my comfort zone and with a complete stranger too. But I went straight home and started reading up about it (and began to regret turning her offer down).

Shibari in Japanese means “to tie” and also known as Kinbaku, or “tight binding”. This ancient art form became popular around 1600 in Japan but was used from around 1400 as a method of imprisonment.

rope marks

Rope marks (picture is author’s own)

Back then I was just starting out on my BDSM/kink journey and I wasn’t quite ready for it until I was approached recently by a man who was keen to introduce me to it. He had many years experience practicing Shibari and I made sure to check out his credentials. He’d been to and continued to go to classes including those at a place called Anatomie in London. I was keen that my first time with rope bondage was with someone who knew that they were doing.

I wanted to experience what it felt like to be tied up and he was keen for someone to practice on so, I became his rope bunny. We have met twice now and both times I’ve greatly enjoyed it, mainly because it was less sexual and more sensual.

During our first encounter he brought with him a large cloth bag with his rope collection and 2 pairs of scissors. Out came a heaving coloured pile of ropes in reds, pinks, purples and browns all of different lengths and thickness. Different ropes were used for different parts of the body, he explained.

coloured ropes

Rope bondage

He started off by showing me his dominance by forcing my hands behind my back and pushing me down on my knees. He gathered his rope together as I kneeled in front of him and when he was ready he pulled me up, spun me around and flipped me face down, bend over the edge of the bed. A series of firm spanks with his hand followed.

I then found myself blindfolded and for the rest of the experience I just allowed myself to be moved and positioned by him. Not being able to see what he was doing heightened my senses and made me really focus on the feel of the rope against me skin, the pressure as it grew tighter, the slight burn when it was pulled. Then came the ache of my muscles as they were moved into position or tied in ways they’d never been before and held there. The more I relaxed into it and didn’t struggle the better it became.

The feeling of of being helpless was both exhilarating and scary and something I’m keen to learn more and more about. The next step for me, I feel is to start taking classes and learn it in a safe and secure environment because ultimately I’d love to see myself rigged up.