All this talk about Pokemon Go! got me thinking a bit. Now, I’m not much of a tech geek. In fact, outside of the computer I use for work and my cell phone, I am usually the one asking “how do you do this … how can I make it do that…”
If you haven’t been hiding under a rock these past couple weeks, you’ll know the Pokemon game is all the rage – and not just with kids. Adults of all ages are jumping into this trend – and judge however you wish, it’s the hottest idea this summer. And what a huge change from my youthful summers when we had pet rocks …
The idea of augmented reality is pretty cool. From what I understand, it’s not new. Ikea launched an app for interior decorating, allowing you to see how certain pieces of furniture would fit into a room. Cool, but not quite like the current situation where hundreds of people are congregating in public parks trying to “capture” imaginary monsters on their phones.
But what if you took this idea and turned into some to get more adults playing? Something like Pornemon Go! You could swap out the Japanese monsters for popular porn stars, and the Poke balls for something … well, use your imagination. And instead of shooting them with these Poke balls, you could shoot them with … well, use your imagination.
My teenage son introduced me to a new term recently – “pork roasting”. Now, I like to think that I’m fairly up-to-date on sexual language, particularly the descriptive slang, but this was a new one to me. Of course, I pretty much had the idea in mind of what he meant, but in good mom mode, I played dumb and had him explain it to me.
In a threesome including one woman and two men, the act of having the girl perform fellatio on one man, and being penetrated doggy style by the other man. Seems like a relatively common threesome-type sexual position.
In my world, this is more often referred to as an Eiffel Tower (oh, those French!). And I don’t mind admitting (for the umpteenth time), it’s one of my biggest personal fantasies.
The catch with the “pork roast” though, as I discovered later, was that this term is actually less about sexual conquest and experimentation and more about a description of the woman involved. It’s really kind of derogatory. But it gave me a little insight into the sexual mindset of teenagers today. They’re far more sexually open that I ever was (cue the “why, when I was a kid” soundtrack), and far more willing to share among their peer group without the prerequisite commitment to a relationship … or their parents’ idea of sexual exclusivity.
Of course, that’s an assumption based on my own exposure to the culture my own children exist within. I have no doubt somewhere out there, statistics exist to prove me wrong.
What was truly intriguing about the conversation was that, although I have no fondness for the young female in the alleged “pork roast” my son was telling me about – I couldn’t help think back to my days in high school. How many girls had a reputation based on rumour as opposed to fact…
Well, it’s been a long time since I played TMI Tuesday, but this was a fun set of questions. And while sex shouldn’t be all that bad, truth be told, sometimes things just don’t work out as planned … and the results are less than satisfying.
Have you ever had bad sex? Why do you think it was bad?
Before proceeding to the next question, which explains a bit more in detail about the “bad sex” moment I recall best … I can say that MOST of the sex I had with my first boyfriend with whom I had sex, was bad sex. He didn’t get the concept … maybe it was because he was young and inexperienced, or maybe it was just because he was getting bad advice from a bunch of male friends who probably lost their virginity to the barn goat. But it wasn’t good sex. Obviously the relationship didn’t last very long.
Have you ever given bad sex? Why did that happen?
Well, let’s see … I’ve been sexually active since I was 15. I’m now 42. Yep, pretty sure there has been some bad sex in there beyond the answer above. But knowing you’ll want some examples, I’ll offer up this little gem that my husband likes to remind me of – way back when we were dating, we went to his office Christmas party. I had a wee bit too much to drink, and he wanted a little piece of action before bed. I had dressed up all nice and sexy for him, including ditching my panties about halfway through the night, and flirted and teased him like mad … so he was pretty anxious to get laid. Back at his place, things started off pretty good, but I was so drunk I passed out halfway through. He rolled me over and decided this night would be a good night to get some anal. Apparently I was a relatively enthusiastic participant. But I openly admit, it serves me right …
What instantly puts you in a bad mood?
Guilt. Anyone who tried to guilt me into action immediately pisses me off. This includes performing certain sex acts, such as oral or (as above) anal when I’m just not in the mood.
Have you been hurt during a sex? What was the activity? How were you hurt or injured?
Nothing that has left scarring, if that’s what you mean. But, I am a bit of a willing partner when it comes to sexual adventure. One of my dildos – which is truly not meant for a reluctant participant in anal sex to use as a substitute dick while trying to explore the sensation of a threesome – left my backdoor very, very sore and tender for a few days; although it felt amazing at the time. Also, my first introduction to Ben Wa balls left me with a bruised vagina. I haven’t tried them since.
During sex, what instantly turns you off?
The sound of children at the bedroom door …
Bad sex – is there really such a thing?
Yes, sadly there is. Sometimes the chemistry just isn’t bubbling and the flames of passion are more like puffs of road dust. When it’s that, you need to call it off and resort to a reliable ol’ friend from the nightstand to get you off.
Bonus: Biting during sex…
- do you like it?
- do you do it?
Neither. I’ve never been a biter, nor am I really into it. Biting leaves marks … I’m too old to explain hickeys and bite marks to inquisitive teenagers in the house.
My friend, Miles, recently shared a fun Internet article with me about female masturbation confessions. It was an amusing piece with women giving examples of when they got caught, strange items and a couple downright creepy moments (such as the girl who got caught by her dad…who simply stood by and cheered her on).
I had a strong sense my friend was, in his own way, probing to see if I have any more of my own “confessions” to make.
I think we all have a sexual curiosity; and there are those moments when we feel adventurously horny. But what would make it a “confession”? I mean, seriously, I’ve written at length about self-pleasure; made movies for you to watch me pleasure myself; and, constantly share research data with you about who else is masturbating and how often.
I’m not sure there’s much left to confess in terms of my own masturbation adventures. There have been a couple unusual objects, public viewings and those old days when I actually had time to share on webcam. My husband has caught me masturbating, my children have interrupted me while I was masturbating … I’ve held conversations on the phone with people while masturbating (and they didn’t know what I was up to). I’ve never been afraid to talk about – or experience – moments of self-pleasure.
However, I didn’t always feel this way. There was a time in my youth when I carried a hint of shame around over the act. Some of that was my Catholic upbringing, and some of it was my level of self-esteem. Masturbation is a hugely private matter, and when you let others in on your secret, you expose your own vulnerability.
Masturbation is also something women just aren’t supposed to do. Society has twisted views on how women are supposed to behave, and the sexual acts they are socially allowed to participate in.
Maybe the one confession I can revisit with you – since I have disclosed about all there is to disclose – is how my morning commute can be more intriguing than just another traffic jam. I still find my mind wandering back to these kind of moments when I am lost in … you know.
One of my former jobs allowed me to dress in a more flirtatious and teasing manner. Every now and then, I would take advantage of lovely warm summer weather and my libido to wear something just a little sexier than usual.
The highway is always busy – with frequent stops, sits and starts. When you have those moments to reflect on the naughty side of life, your mind can take you into some very interesting places. It was also during this period in my life where my relationship with my Office Guy was really beginning to heat up; fueling a lot of my fantasies … and adding reason for wearing certain outfits to work.
The particular morning I’m thinking about I remember feeling much braver than most. I was horny, and life at home – busy as it always is – was leaving me a little unsatisfied. I was wearing a particular dress I always feel very sexy in, and my imagination was drifting to a place directly connected to my temporarily neglected pussy. About halfway through my drive, I got into one of those rolling flirting games. A transport truck had been consistently staying beside me. I figured the driver could see a hint of the exposed flesh of my thighs – the hem of my dress was up high enough to give him a teasing glimpse. At first, it was an innocent coincidence. The guy honked, gave a little wave and smiled at me … I smiled back. A few kilometers up the road, we found ourselves stopped side by side. I glanced, he smiled and I’m pretty sure was enjoying the view.
This flirting carried on until we reached a point where everyone had come to a stand-still. The truck came up beside me, again, and just stayed in place…I could only assume so he could look into the front seat of my truck and continue to enjoy the view of my legs. As the game had been going on, I had also been sexting with my husband (I use voice-to-text, so don’t judge me) and he had sent me some pretty steamy messages. Teasing with both men had my libido on the rise and my panties wet.
Feeling brave and not having much else to do while waiting for the traffic to move, I pulled up the hem of my dress so it revealed my panties. Without looking over at the guy next to me, I slipped my fingers under the leg band and began to gently massage my very warm pussy.
I kept playing, pretty much losing myself in the moment until traffic cleared. I pulled ahead and left my poor road voyeur with nothing but the memory of seeing my fingers buried between my thighs, working myself into a sexual lather.
Later in the day, I found a private moment to provide some sexual relief … and waited a very long time before ever telling my husband about how while he was sending me naughty texts I was masturbating for a trucker next to me on the highway.
I don’t think it’s any secret that my blog has suffered a healthy dose of neglect lately. It’s not that I’ve given up on it – but more that I’m at a loss.
When I first started blogging several years ago, I was at a different point in my life. I was feeling very sexually charged and ready for a world of adventure. I was discovering so many new things about myself and my sexuality – not to mention enjoying this incredible sense of freedom to explore.
But then something crazy happened … life; real life away from the Internet, away from the sexual adventure my husband and I were pursuing, away from the freedom and opportunity to experiment openly … away from the fascination of fantasy.
It wasn’t an intentional left turn. It just happened.
These days I find myself struggling with a sense of who I am as a sexual being. Sometimes I feel “too old” to be doing this or that – and other times, the guilt I repressed for so many years bubbles to the surface a little bit and I think “I need to be more mature and respectable.” Most times, I just can’t find the time to slip back into that part of my personality.
Way back when I started my blog, the idea was for me to invite you into my adventure. You, my dear readers, were my outlet for things that I obsessed over that I couldn’t share in real life. Oh, the experiences have been very real – but you know what I mean when I say I can’t show up for work on Monday and tell my coworkers that I spent Saturday night with some guy who wasn’t my husband nestled between my thighs, munching on my pussy. We’d like to fantasize that the world accepts that – but we all know it doesn’t work that way.
Over time, my blog also became a way for me to share my inner thoughts, offer a little sexual or relationship advice and dispense the occasional bit of what I call “secret girl knowledge.” That part of it has been very important to me. I always wanted this to be more of a conversation than just something for you to read.
But now, so much of my imagination has become about balancing the household budget when the reality of expenses hit, paying the bills and taxes; and how we’re going to financially guide our oldest child through his university experience. Monstrous realities that strip you of that sexual desire even at the best of times.
And, of course, that leaves me wondering about whether or not you would find those truths all that engaging; especially when you’ve come to know the Andee part of me – the sexual woman who enjoys the flirtations and teasing.
I guess, in a way, I’m fishing here … wondering what you, as a reader, think. What is it that draws/drew you to my blog – and what should/could I do to restore some regularity to it?
My curiosity hasn’t stopped; I think it’s only shifted to a new direction. Now I need to see where that takes me.