Dogging Etiquette

February 9, 2020

In the act of dogging, there are participants who are actively dogging, and others, the watchers, who are observing what is going on.

As dogging has become more popular, a certain set of rules, a dogging etiquette, has developed, which continues to evolve.

The following are some of the widely recognised dogging signals you should be aware of:

Flashing headlights or brake lights – are there any other doggers nearby?

Interior light on – we want to be watched.

Window half down – oral sex is on offer.

Window fully down – touching and fondling is allowed.

Door open – full sex is on offer.

like a ravenous wolf

January 4, 2020

She said to me, this pretty girl in the beach bar:

“Por algum motivo não consigo ficar longe de você.”

I replied with a shrug, as if this were an everyday occurrence for me:

“Fine. Está bem!”

Later, after we’d finished our drinks, I took her to my tiny room which was smaller than Harry Potter’s staircupboard and eat her out like a ravenous wolf. It was the first act in a play of good sex and long conversation that lasted all through the night. In the morning, before she left, she said:

“Sexo oral resolve muita coisa.”

Her laughter followed her down the stairs like the sound of fairy bells. It was a sound that enchanted me – made me glad to be alive. And the taste of her, still on my tongue, was the taste of pure wickedness!

P

desire passes through me

December 14, 2019

It is not normal that a girl teaches her boy, but I am only showing him what I want, what plays on the insides of my eyelids as I fall asleep. He comes to know the flicker of my expression as a desire passes through me, and I hold nothing back from him. When he tells me that he wants my mouth, the length of my throat, I teach myself not to gag and take all of him into me, moaning around the saltiness. When he asks me my worst secret, I tell him about the teacher who hid me in the closet until the others were gone and made me hold him there, and how afterwards I went home and scrubbed my hands with a steel wool pad until they bled, even though after I share this I have nightmares for a month. And when he asks me to marry him, days shy of my eighteenth birthday, I say yes, yes, please, and then on that park bench I sit on his lap and fan my skirt around us so that a passerby would not realize what was happening beneath it.

– I feel like I know so many parts of you, he says to me, trying not to pant. And now, I will know all of them.

Carmen Maria Machado
The Husband Stitch

stiffening cocks

September 15, 2019

Man or woman it doesn’t matter. His mouth welcomes those stiffening cocks and vulvas in their summer wetness. Mature mums with absent brats seeking ecstasy in this banquet of flesh; their hubbies with hearts bruised by dead loves moan softly at the first touch of sucking lips.

sexual fantasy

September 16, 2018

Giovanni Gasparro

A few months back I met with a man who told me about his sexual fantasy involving oral sex with honey-soaked Rice Krispy treats. There’s something about the texture, he explained, that would enhance the experience. A woman I met in New Orleans shared her fantasy – she imagined herself licking chocolate off of a man’s leg “stump” after amputation. I wish I could try it…I can’t stop thinking about it. Another client shared his ultimate sexual turn-on involving urine-soaked cinnamon buns during sadomasochistic sex with his wife. Needless to say, his wife was not entirely on-board with this idea. She said she’d try it…if it weren’t for the smell. – God, I love my job.

Dr. Suzana E. Flores
Sexual Fantasy

I’m sure you’re all familiar with the myth that women prefer cuddling to sex. I think the biggest reason for that myth is that our cultural concept of sex is so skewed. We consider intercourse the ultimate and often the only sex act. Oral sex, fingering, humping, playing with toys, and a whole variety of other things that get women off (because they involve clitorises instead of just vaginas) do not count as sex to most men.

Alicia
Paper Cuts and Plastic: Women and “Sex”

start to spank him

February 25, 2018

sunday fun 10

Tell your man to go to the bedroom and undress to his briefs. Inform him that you’ll be up in a few minutes to give him a spanking. Let him wait ten or fifteen minutes, so he can think about the spanking he has coming.

Get a paddle back hairbrush or a spoon and go to the bedroom. This way he’ll see the implement he will be punished with in your hand when you walk into the room.

Sit on the bed and tell him to stand in front of you. Calmly tell him why he is going to be spanked and remind him that he deserves the spanking he is about to receive. Pull his briefs down to mid thigh and bend him over your left thigh, with his upper body resting on the bed. Put your right leg over his and have him put his right arm behind his back so he can’t try to cover his bottom. Hold his hand against his back. Now that he is helpless start to spank him with the hair brush or spoon, alternating cheeks. Spank him until his bottom is good and red. If he squirms too much during his spanking, spank his upper thighs and tell him to stay still.

When the spanking is over you may decide to lie back on the bed while your husband makes you come through oral sex. It can be good fun.

 

DW

Spanking Games

Sarah Bernhardt in pensive mood

I exist here in the wrong time and place. This is more than a feeling with me: it is an absolute certainty, I belong elsewhere – “fin de siècle”  Paris, for example!

Yes, a time of ‘semiotic arousal’, and in a place considered the heart of civilisation.

Why not?

The year 1900. The newly gilded Eiffel Tower thrusting into the soft grey underbelly of the evening sky. Lights glowing along the Boulevard de Strasbourg, circles of yellow eating into the gloom. The Théâtre-Français is my destination. Here, the long-awaited premiere of Edmond Rostand’s play L’ Aiglon, staring that most popular of actresses, Sarah Bernhardt, is about to take place.

Ah, Bernhardt, her ripe fifty-five-year-old figure laced into a black satin corset before dressing in the tight uniform of the Duc de Reichstadt. How I would love to charm and seduce her. Together we could sip the best champagne from frosted crystal flutes following her stunning performance. I could unlace that confining corset, and free tiny pale breasts.

During rehearsals of the play, dear Sarah insisted in one scene on having a horse on stage. What Sarah wanted, Sarah got. A horse was duly sent for – but proved too ‘frisky’ for the great actress. A second horse was supplied, but this one, unfortunately, suffered from terrible flatulence, and the many farts erupting from its rear-end were unacceptable to all. A third horse was to be summoned, but Bernhardt had changed her mind. There would be no horse in the scene.

Where was I? Oh, yes, fondling those small but beautiful breasts, lightly kissing the rosette nipples.

Sarah was born Henriette Rosine Bernard and her legendary affairs were the talk of the town. Napoleon III and Edward, Prince of Wales had both taken their delight in Sarah’s naked flesh (not, of course, at the same time!); they were just two of a coterie of lovers attracted to the bright flame that was Sarah Bernhardt. Her body was pale and skinny like a boy’s – which may be why she played so many male parts on stage?

“It’s not that I prefer male roles, it’s that I prefer male minds,” she once commented.

Paris Exposition Universelle in 1900

The Great Exposition Universelle – Paris 1900

Leaving Sarah semi-naked in her dressing room, I exit the theatre and make my way to the Place de la Concord – here I find the brilliantly lighted, multicoloured dome that houses fifty-six ticket offices for the exposition universelle: this is the entrance, Porte Binet, to the exhibition site.

There is, on my righthand, a fifteen foot high plaster statue symbolizing Paris, with great tits and flowing robes designed by Paquin. La Parisienne, sculpted by Paul Moreau–Vauthier, modeled on non-other than Sarah Bernhardt and described by many as ‘The triumph of Prostitution’; it is typical of the use of sculpted allegory throughout the exhibition grounds. No matter where you turn, you are confronted by plump plaster breasts, curvaceous bellies or muscular male athletes, semi-nude, with huge rippling biceps.

Dear Sarah, walking here amongst all this exposed allegorical flesh, would undoubtedly feel a certain dampness in her baggy silken drawers – as, in all probability, do many visiting females. Speaking for the male of the species, I find Loie Fuller’s spectacular dancing in her own art nouveau theater, quite arousing: those whiplash curves match the flowing movements of her body and flying, illuminated veils. It all leads one, inevitably, to remain in the perpendicular throughout her performance.

The most obviously picturesque sections of the exhibition lay along the banks of the Seine. Old Paris on the Right Bank with its gables and spires and its costumed actors; on the Left Bank, overshadowing it, rests the Rue des Nations – great pavilions erected by the many foreign powers (but not the US whose modest building is wedged between Australia and Turkey, elsewhere). Richness metamorphosed into vulgarity. The plaster picturesqueness of the colonial section below the Trocadero, where Javanese nymphets vie with devil dancers from Ceylon, Chinese violins, Spanish castanets, African drums and high pitched wails of Algerian singers, mingle –

And the pretty Moroccan boys with their dark, restless eyes who offer to take your penis in their mouth for a couple of francs. Buggery is slightly more expensive, of course.

Paris moving pavements designed for the Exposition

Moving Pavements designed for the Exposition

Art and sex go hand-in-hand. For the gentleman impossibly aroused by the sights and sounds of the exposition universelle and with no desire for young boys, then beyond the exhibition grounds are the maisons closes, or “shuttered houses”; for example number 12, rue Chabanais, a prestigious bordello where you can bathe with prostitutes in a huge copper bathtub of champagne – for a price! There are other brothels offering more specialised services: dominatrix role play, for example. You can be birched by the dominatrix for five francs a stroke, ‘manual relief’ may be offered afterwards for a further five francs.

Typical Parisian brothel on a quiet day

Paris 1900 is an island of fantasy and pleasure. It is a time of sadomasochistic impulses, Oedipal desires, homosexuality, incest, violence and the irrationality that hides beneath the fragile veneer of civilisation.

Ah, but I cannot remain in this wonderful Paris – I must return to my damp, cold moor at the edge of the world; to this place, home, and my reckless liaisons. To this world where one powerful, egotistical child informs another powerful, egotistical child: ‘My button is bigger than your button!’

Who says satire is dead?

Depressing démarche!