Sexual limits – what are yours?

I want to make one thing clear before I go any further, what I’m about to write isn’t meant to kink shame anyone. I want to write about something that’s considered, even within the kink community, to be on the more extreme end.

I was asked what my sexual limitations were and I’ve always known what they are and how to express them to my partners. Sure, they may have changed slightly over time, the more sexually experienced I’ve become and the more I’ve pushed my boundaries. Things I perhaps wouldn’t have dreamt of doing a year ago seem less scary now or are something I happily enjoy.

But there are still aspects of BDSM that I can’t see myself ever being comfortable with. For example, I’ve never been interested in needle or knife play. However, there is one area of BDSM that stands out for me and something I could never see myself doing and that’s what’s known as CNC.

CNC stands for Consensual Non Consent. Typical CNC scenarios include simulated rape, use of knives, drugging, being chased or pursued, used by multiple men, being tied down and blindfolded, abduction as well as being forced to do things against their will.

Even writing these things down makes me uncomfortable. They’re dark fantasies I know many people have. So rather than shying away from discussing them, I’m keen to know more and hear from those that do engage in CNC.

In terms of where I stand, I have a number of concerns that stop me from wanting to engage in CNC. One such are the legal implications, particularly concerning the men who engage in it. I’ve always wondered how you protect yourselves from accusations of rape?

On the woman’s part, where do you draw the line? How do you know when it’s gone too far for you? A woman is asking to have their control taken away. They want to know what it feels like to be raped whilst still being able to safeword out. It seems to me like a dangerously fine line.


I found that the further I delved into exploring this notion of limitations, the more I began to realise that having limitations are important and necessary. They’re there to protect us and keep us safe. I’ve always found it slightly worrying and even reckless hearing people say, they have ‘no limit’s’. I always wonder how much this is true.


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.


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