People tell me things they would not tell anyone else, not their mom, not even their therapist or childhood best friend. I get bro status instantly when most girls would not. Guys hear that I like girls too (I like all humans) and assume that I want to hear about all the dirties of their sex life instantly. I’m not mad, always looking for artistic inspiration.

This is what brings us to the topic of erotic asphyxiation. A guy was telling me how he was fucking a girl half his age and she liked to be choked.

Another guy told me about the first girl that ever asked him to choke her and how it felt powerful. One time they were in the act and he was choking her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body went limp. He then slapped her awake. She said “Thank you for bringing me back,” then he continued fucking her.

What the fuck? This disturbed me. Who would want that? Choke out a young girl, thats not making love, thats some carnal strange right there. She asked for it, he said. She wanted it. She was looking for a little pain, a little pause in time and oxygen deprivation.

I bruise easily so I never really wanted to try it. But one time I was hooking up with someone and they were definitely dominant, and knew what they were doing. Their expert hands knew the exact pressure point to hit to cut off oxygen without hurting me. It felt like a whip. I needed to tap out, it was too intense, and not in a sexual way.

Erotic asphyxiation or breath play is when you intentionally restrict the flow of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal. The term autoerotic asphyxiation is used when the act is done by a person to themselves.

Gasper is used to describe a person participating in this fetish. Author George Shuman describes the effect as such, “When the brain is deprived of oxygen, it induces a lucid, semi-hallucinogenic state called hypoxia. Combined with orgasm, the rush is said to be no less powerful than cocaine, and highly addictive.”

When death occurs during auto-erotic asphyxiation often the families will “clean up” the scene and make it not seem sexual, but like suicide. If a partner is involved it can be classified as murder even if there was consent. Thats crazy!

Back to my conversation with the dirt ball. He also added “of course the girls are always younger” as if it would be gross to sleep with a woman his age or older. The other guy stated that he liked older women. I wonder if it was because he wanted to sleep with me.

Daddy complex- so many older men fetishize young girls, like the only creatures capable of sex are young fertile girls. It is absolutely disgusting how children are sexualized by the media for consumption by the scummy old men who rule the world. Goes the other way too when younger people are looking for sexual “guidance” perhaps to make up for a lack of actual parents in their life. A whole generation is being raised by the internet and are incapable of healthy relationships because of this.

Mommy complex- while most men seek out younger women they also take advantage of older women to do things like their cooking and laundry. For the most part they want to be treated like babies and also fuck babies.

Some people also put themselves into the mom role. I definitely do this. This is still problem, but a little less creepy. I will never have children pop out of my body but I will have an influence on younger people. I will help others grow with my wisdom and resources.

I love to feed people, I love having people in my home and cooking them a vegan feast. I will go without to fill someone else’s belly. I care about others in that ever loving maternal way.

For me, I feel funny if someone is much younger than me. When on dating sites/apps I usually swipe away from even 21-22 year olds because I know they are in a much different place than my 30 year old ass.

Do I fuck them to feel young? Is it like Elizabeth Báthory bathing in their blood? Ageism is rampant in porn and the sex industry. Age is a fetish too: nubile lolita vs dried up spinster, youth vs experience, it’s all what you are looking for.

Burlesque is so appealing because there no age restrictions. All bodies are beautiful and inspiring vessels. Everyone is fucking sexy! Old and fuckable are not oxymorons!

I love that people like to tell me the gory details, knowing that not many other people would be as impressed by their filth. I love being the one who knows the thing you can’t tell anyone else. I don’t get grossed out. I do disgusting shit everyday. We all do.

How do you react when you know dirt about someone your friend is thinking of dating though… like they start describing a random tinder hookup that they are falling in love with… same physical description, kinda average, kinda whatever… same job… wait he started what?… awww fuck that’s the guy that ____ to my friend when she was _____ and you think that maybe he _____ to you but you want to justify what happened.

Like staying with a phone company that sucks just to get an angry but loyal customer discount. You asked me if I ever stole anything from anyone.

We ate brunch, vegan tofu hash with a pita, strong coffee with almond milk, you had a bloody mary, we both hate olives. You very loudly told me about all of your sexplotations and adventures spanning the course of continents.

A man sat in earshot pretending to read. I forgot his name but we definitely knew each other. I did not make eye contact.

Hopefully our explicit conversation inspires him to make art. Us talking dirty on the patio of a cafe on a fall morning makes Buffalo that much more sexy. That kind of girl lives there, artists having conversations about art, sex, traveling, ridding ourselves of negative energy, and bonding over coffee and early morning alcohol that’s ok because it’s in tomato juice like a meal.

Talking about choking, fucking outside, and so much more. Things were said that would make anyone gasp. I know he had to read those pages over. We acknowledged each other as he left, he said he didn’t want to interrupt our conversation. You are welcome sir.

It was like being at a playground with no bullies, an island where the mean kids were eaten by the piranhas in the mote. Human centipedes and oversized drag queens ran wild, smiling half naked fat people covered in glitter howling at the moon, everyone was queer, penises had goggly eyes, dildos were flying free, dog shit was on the menu, size 13 heels digging into the dirt as we followed a trail of Tiki torches, whip it remains, discarded wigs, and plastic pink flamingos towards true freedom, the safest safe space, a revolution, true freaks united to exist in a place of pure bliss. Welcome to Camp John Waters.

I drove to Kent, Connecticut from Buffalo NY, stopping to steal a kiss at 4:20 and send my roomie/bestie/ride or die/ down AF off to the NY Burlesque Festival for the weekend (because YES, Camp JW is even more important than THAT).

I remember months ago a few of my friends shared a link about the camp and I knew right away that I needed to be here. Born to wander solitary, I love going places alone, you never know what you will get into or who you will connect with.

I had my costumes ready months ago, we did a show at The Buffalo Infringement Festival called Don’t Go Chasing John Waterfalls. It was a tribute to John Waters.

All of my costumes were shoved into black trash bags and thrown into my HHR. This weekend was going to be the biggest audition of my life! When I read the description I imagined Divine on a zipline, Edith Massey on water-skis, or Mink stole with a flaming bow and arrow. I couldn’t wait to do boondoggle with weirdos and tell sexual horror stories around the campfire.

My first look was strong. I considered breaking it out for the costume contest but am glad I chose how I did. I wore the perfect Aunt Ida black jumpsuit. A thriftstore find, I remember putting it on excitedly after finding it on the pajama rack without panties on.

Labia to the crotch of the most perfect vinyl 90’s fetish wear, that was DEFINITELY worn. I inadvertently had sex with that person’s old crusty juices. The dust of ancient crabs couldn’t keep this perfect item of clothing off of me.

That is the kind of commitment I have to a life of true filth. Filth is my life, filth is my politics, filth is freedom and revolution.

I strutted toward dinner, this was a party that everyone arrived late to. The tent felt like a wedding, I sat alone, and then was joined by beautiful people, who would quickly all become my trashmates.

I watched John Waters eat. That felt strangely stalkery, so I then just shoved bread dipped in red lipstick and glitter in my mouth and looked everywhere else. People lined up to talk to him while he was eating. AMATEURS, I thought.

He told us some camp stories, motivated us all to be a little more political, inspired some circle jerks, and made me happy that I came. Where will I be at 71? John Waters has done it, and still fucking does it!

Bad taste is my fetish. That dream lit tent was overflowing with creative juices (and other juices too I am sure). Everyone was sensational, it was a totally empowering celebration.

The meet and greet was incredible, but strangely anti-climatic since I knew my real chance to shine was the costume contest. John asked me if my name was spelled with a C or a K, I told him C but that I would literally change my name if he spelled it the other way. Then he asked me if my mom was a stripper or a hippy. I said both, naturally. My polyester floral dress looked perfect next to his blue toned blazer.

Quickly drunk off of my new friends’ wristbands and whatever the drug fairy was handing out. The music was awkward at times, but the Camp Getaway staff made up for it!

Bluto was our jolly host, he partied harder than all of us. His wonky Edna Turnblad tits were on point. Color wars involved team building exercised like bouncing on a horse, tossing water balloons, and breaking balloons with a pelvic thrust. Team red baby, I bounced us to victory that round. Lunch with Pissy was brilliant, I fucking loved her blue sequins, crowd humping, and flawless mashups.

Except for this DJ. He didn’t get it. This was his reaction while I ate shit on stage. His fucking face is all the justification I need. Shocking, disturbing, out of control, yet still artful and smart.

Beautiful women with boners, vagina dentata, ALL OF THE LEOPARD, sky high drag queens with rubber tits and wigs that touch the ceiling, dykes with frizzed mullets, hand painted shirts, pencil thin mustaches, and pubic hair galore! I even saw a real live tea bagging!

I hear there was a blow job contest too! Does anyone know who won it? Was it in our dreams? Can we also talk about how spot on The Corny Collins Show in the boathouse was? It was perfectly decorated. The staff looked straight out of the 60’s. Integration for all!

They told us to just say our name and who our character was. I could not do that. This is my stage and I have layers on. I was right after the trash can. I ferociously grabbed the mic, put my gun in the air, and screamed KILL EVERYONE EAT SHIT I AM DIVINE!

Then I ripped off my perfect red sequin fishtail dress to reveal white fringe, and lifted the stuffed dog I was carrying, squeezed it, and as the “shit” plopped onto my face I knew that I had achieved my goal. As I bent over to reveal my giant skid mark I could hear him laugh and the crowd roared. I stormed off stage. History was made.

When he announced the winners I was ready. Third place was the best Hatchet Face, he was so good! The makeup, the movements, orgasmic! Then Number 2… THE STRIPPER THAT ATE SHIT! He commended me on giving a whole act.

The 1st place winner was the most spot on Aunt Ida in white, with the bloody hook hand and perfect hair. She looked like Edie back from beyond the grave. He ended with FUCK YOU MISS AMERICA!

Fuck yes! It was such an incredible moment a lifetime in the making. However, it had to end quicker than I wanted. I had to take a horrible shit the entire time I was on stage.

My biggest fear is that my chocolate stain would be an actual dihaerra stain dripping out of my tighty whities. I pooped myself in a Dollar General once while wearing a dress. Luckily it was a long dress and I got out of there before anyone saw.

This was not going to be one of those days. I rushed by my idol to go explode in the shitter. It could not have been more appropriate. In the end, it was all for a lousy t-shirt. That was what I officially won.

I want to call out all of the incredible people I met and experienced, but the list is too long.  A man painted a landscape with his cock and also fucked a stuffed chicken during the costume contest! Thank you, sir.

There were so many wonderful costumes, everyone was truly a star! So many quick changes, every meal was a new look. I was honored to be there.

I also won an audience with the Pope of Trash himself. I am a memory in his mind, hopefully a highlight from his inaugural camp. I knew very well that I really didn’t look like Divine, but I am a method actor like he was. I am an only child weirdo turned glamour queen.

My life changed when I first saw Hairspray and Pink Flamingos. I finally knew what I wanted to be when I “grew up” or whatever you want to call it . My color scheme was set.

I was obsessed with drag queens and all things subversive as a child. It was a definite sign of things to come. I was never afraid to be myself. Just like this night, I had only just begun.

We lingered outside for a long time after the party ended. My new friends sang and I did an impromptu burlesque number down to bare nips. The lights went out, then the real party began deep in the woods (just kidding it was like the first cabin)… it was MORTVILLE!

Our Queen made us all put our clothes on backwards and drink illegal liquor. There soon was a giant Plush Papa Smurf and Moose, that really spiced things up. The goggly eyes from my nipples ended up on the tip of a cigarette smoking dick. At one point there was a sphincter twirling the hypnotist wheel.

Debachery levels were high and so were we. There was so much sequins and lack of fucks. I could live in that time and place.

The Glam Gam gang from Montreal gets my vote for the Filthiest Campers! Especially my bizarro sibling, Michael J. McCarthy. Until this weekend, these wonderful creatures were just something I had seen on the internet.

I wrote a piece about their Odorama show at Cafe Cleo last year and fate brought us together. I can’t wait to perform with them in the future, look out for my triumphant return to Montreal!

I hated to go to sleep, but I had a burlesque class to teach in the morning. Wait, WHAT? How did that happen? I was in the right place at the right time. They had advertised burlesque and the instructor bailed. I jumped at the chance to teach TRASHLESQE right after a late breakfast to a bunch of hungover John Waters fans, my people.

I started off with some Divine into Iggy Pop I Wanna Be Your Dog. During the number I took a jar of chunky peanut butter out of my underoos. That was obviously homage to when Iggy Pop smeared peanut butter all over himself and his fans at a live concert. I saw Iggy for the first time this summer at Burger Boogaloo.

When I was done with my performance I asked if anyone wanted to clean off my cock. Nobody jumped at the chance. I was disappointed to say the least. Nobody lived up to my standard of filth that morning. I then proceeded to take two pieces of bread, wipe of the dick, and made me a sammich.

I then told the class to all remove their shirts and gave them a golden shower (glitter of course). LOVE YOUR BODY… touch yourself like you want to fuck yourself, own your sexuality, flaunt your flaws because they are perfection.

I asked people what they wanted their burlesque name to be, danced with them, and taught a few peeps how to spin tassels (it’s all in the knees). Burlesque is for everyone, just like the whole weekend in general. It doesn’t matter if you are big or small, young or old, male/female/trans/non binary, you have the freedom to express yourself and people will feed off of your positive energy.

Treating life as a stage will transform you to new states of being! You are powerful. Confidence kills all fear. THERE ARE NO BULLIES HERE!

Oh, Camp John Waters, how I loved you so. I was a lifeguard for awhile, floating on the giant inflatable flamingo  with my mullet, magnum condoms in my sweatband, just keeping people safe.

Sadly I am still too big for the zip line (250lb weight limit). Bloody Mary Bingo and Cards Against Humanity for the win.

Next year how about Divine and wine paint party? Make merkins and pasties? Adult balloon animals? Porn collages? Drag makeup workshops?

Yoga should be called Learn how to suck your own cock, Zumba should be called MILF Bod 101, booze should be served 24 hours, the bonfire should be a giant lobster effigy, and the end, there needs to be a Dirty Dancing-style talent show so all of the spectacular weirdos can strut their stuff and show the world that we are unstoppable.

I don’t have the heart to unpack. My car is still full of costumes and there is still crusty peanut butter on my pretty pink strap-on.

It is impossible to come down from such an incredible high. I met my idol AND impressed him. What next?

All I know is that I will be there next year! I am already signed up to perform and teach another Trashlesque class. Dreams to come true!

See you next year campers, I love you all. Stay trashy.

Why do people get turned on by the chase? It is easier to feel tingles for someone who is out of reach. Why are the tingles so fucking important?

When someone is sitting there legs spread, waiting for me in worship, I always hold back. Thinking it’s too easy, it’s too good to be true, too sweet an offer to just blindly accept. Like a free cruise or money from a Nigerian Prince, there must be a catch. This incredible, smart, beautiful human can’t possibly be ga-ga over me, can they? I always feel like the big green monster clumsily making my way through life.

The greatest loves of my life thus far have been unrequited, crushing on the ones who don’t want anything to do with me. Loving those who are out of reach because I am addicted to the hurt. I don’t know my own worth.

Spending years being easy because it is easier to be easy. Love who you can get, fuck the one you are with. Maybe something will grow? I guarantee it won’t be love. Love is more often pretend than achieved, not to be taken lightly or deceived.

I want to worship the one who worships me back. I want to travel the world with someone who is proud to hold my hand. I want to be vegan together. I want to grow. Make art. Make love in beautiful places, touch me under a waterfall, hold me under the stars, kiss me in my car, let me know that I am not alone by simply being with me.

I have spoken of radical requited love before, but only now am I truly believing in it. Or am I? I don’t know what I believe. In any aspect of my life really. I spend my days in a cloud of general confusion. But I do know one thing: “My love, my love, my love she keeps me warm.” I have always loved that Mary Lambert song. I have to look in the mirror and tell me that I deserve it. The warmth of arms protecting me, holding something they cherish.

I know I am incredible. I do shit, I am someone, I fucking sparkle. I always knew that someone would come along and compliment me. Not just a color out of the tube, this person must me a mix of all the good, a new shade, completely original, wrapping their soul around mine in a sweet song, a delicate embrace, perfect understanding, and wavelength compatible.

I never want to be a wife. The fantasy still does not cross my mind. That word means property. I am a partner, in crime and happiness, bliss and misfortune.

I have been single for so long that I don’t know what it’s like to be dependent on another. I don’t need to lean on you.

I have been contemplating polyamory for years, since I picked up the book The Ethical Slut in a radical bookshop in Indiana years ago. I never thought it was viable because I couldn’t imagine finding even one person to love me, let alone many. But I see it. I see the beauty in never ending your options, never shutting yourself off forever. There is no be all end all. Love is fluid and ferocious. It is an organism, alive and pulsing, spewing.

Saying I love you is another thing altogether. I wonder if I have ever actually said it and felt it at the same time. I know that I have said it and I know that I also have felt it, but really there is a grey zone. I remember saying it in those early relationships, boys who wanted to wife me, I loved how they loved me. But I don’t think I loved them, not really, I was not capable of it at that point.

I have met someone. She is so kind, a daughter of the earth and stars, she makes my heart smile, she cares about animals, she cooks, she hikes, she is a musician. I can’t find a single flaw in her. It is a feeling like no other, to hold someone who looks at you with wonder, looks at you like the sun rises and sets in your eyes. My flaws fade away when she sweetly kisses them. My beautiful sunflower queen stands now on serene mountain path that she built.

I want something to go wrong. I make things go wrong when I feel like I am not worthy. It is strange how easy this is. Strange how simple it is to just be together. I always feel like something has to give. Instead I need to just let it be, enjoy the bliss like a woman’s hand on a canvas, spreading and pushing paint, blowing it with her sweet lips, spit.

She sent me flowers, big bright yellow sunflowers bursting out of a now forgotten moldy vase. Now dried and shriveled memories on my dashboard. I want to buy her a drum and plant a field of sunflowers for us to dance in. I want to twirl my dress for her.

Let’s eat vegan donuts and listen to Ani Difranco. Let’s dive into each other. Let’s drive across the country. Let’s paint on the same canvas, strapped between two trees in the forest, on a path that you built for me to wander down.

There is room for me to finally be happy. Room to explore. I harbor others negativity, I hold their pain in my heart until it is as unrecognizable as my own. I choose happiness. I want to spread legs and love, spread kindness and open doors of bliss and positivity, open arms to all humanity. Nobody is immune to loneliness. Everyone deserves this loveliness.

How does one exactly “do” lesbian sex? Fingering, fisting, eating out, scissoring? I was told it’s awesome to grind your clit on a girl’s tits. Dildos: double ended strap-on rabbit shake butt plug, give your clitoris a hug. Which is the top tonight? Switch bitch. I just want to touch and rub, rub, rub.

I have never fucked a woman with a strap on cock. I have always fucked women tenderly, not wanting to hurt them, but I know I like to be fucked differently. I need to fuck how I want to be fucked. Dive into masculine femininity, hot oozing butch, luscious layers of genderfuck brilliance.

Love is like an orgasm. Elusive. Freeing. Scary. Easy to fake, but not really. Not as common as you think. I still don’t think I have had one – an orgasm or true love. Or if I have it hasn’t been as earth shattering and mind blowing as the description on the back of the box indicates. Uncommon like the butterflies of blissful ignorance.

Back to the tingles, it always stems back to them. I can remember the moments that people have made me tingle. It lights up your whole body, makes you feel scared and alive. That means you are nervous, right? So the tingles aren’t good? Do I ever make tingles erupt in her body?

Pins and needles in my lady parts, butterflies engulf my insides, flutter softly, swarm sweetly though my whole entire body, out my fingertips when I touch you. Yearning, CRAVING, full desire, want, need, must be with, dreaming in waking life. You are behind my eyes and I can see the future. I will run through our field of sunflowers, stroking the petals and eating the seeds to make sure it isn’t a dream. Guess, I’m not as scared as I thought.

Sometimes things happen, life happens, a kiss on the cheek turns to lust, turns to action, then a break of trust. How can you navigate heartache and bliss within yourself and every other person that your current person has ever slept with?

I am guilty of a disregard or lack in judgement, not caring about eventual consequences while in the moment. I didn’t make anyone want me. They acted first. They wanted me and I am solely to blame? I don’t think so. It takes two to tango sister.

Sure, I could have said something and put the nail in the coffin sooner, but thats not what I wanted. I knew it was going to be the eventual outcome, so I got deeper and deeper into deceit. Keeping out the details.

I lost a friend because I slept with her ex. Plain and simple. I never planned it and certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It happened, I knew that as soon as it came to a head I would lose a friend over it. I just did my best while I was in her life and I hope everything else works out. I know she feels betrayed and thinks I’m a piece of moldy trash.

In reality I thank him for coming clean. I am glad to not be living with a secret, full disclosure is important to any relationship. Losing friends is a good time for emotional spring cleaning. I cannot and will not talk to either of them ever again. There is no coming back from this.

All of the anger and hate is focused on me because she is still in love with him. She can forgive him because she wants to claim him forever. That’s fine, he loves her too, they can be a beautiful entity forever. I never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. It was just a fleeting moment.

It is not right to put it all on my shoulders, that says that he is just an object, thoughtless, incapable of fucking up. We cannot let people off the hook for the decisions they have made. He left her before he kissed me. Of course I am not innocent, I could have said no, but I didn’t. I am not entirely to blame either.

I am a deviant slut and he is an angel. I am to blame for everything. This is everything that feminism fights against. Relationships are not property! I do not claim to manage any of my partner’s sexuality. That is rape culture. I did not force anyone to want me. I did not put a magical spell on them or throw myself at them.

Blaming “the other woman” is toxic, competitive, and oppressive. We are pitted against each other to compete for a small crew of “good men”. Women get chastised and blamed even by other women. Shame the slut and cast her away like a used condom.

How can you hold claim over someone when you had someone else? You can’t “keep” every person that you have ever been with. I know the “bro” code is a thing, but I don’t truly understand because people are not objects. You do not own the person you are dating, especially after a break up. Relationships are a daily choice, a mutual trust, not an obligation. Things change.

Every action has a reaction. I have never pursued a person who was in a relationship, but someone who is single and willing and barking up my tree doesn’t come along every day. I have been single for a very long time, never really looking, just waiting to see what comes next in the adventure.

I have come to the conclusion that this city is too small (I mean this city as any city). This world is too small and everybody is somebody’s ex. I can’t change the past. I will live in the smite zone and must deal with the fact that someone I used to love feels that I am a succubus-swine-dirty-cunt-homewrecking-whore.

I love boobs. All sizes, shapes, colors, big nipples, little dime nipples, hairy boobs, round boobs, perky or saggy, squished in a bra, on my face, or naked in the sun, I love boobs.

It is strange to me how a part of the body is so obsessed over as these bags of fun are. They are mother’s milk, sacred life giving pillows, warmth, comfort, safety, and love.

I share my boobs for a living, I promote their loveliness and love the unique breasts I am privileged enough to see on a regular basis. I touch my boobs in my shirt often. I haven’t worn a bra in over a year, and the only one who has ever called me out on my nips showing is my own mother.

Boobs are so hypersexualized and that often times a woman’s “worth” is placed on what her breasts look like. I want to compile every kind of human’s thoughts on their own boobs/chest and how society fetishizes them in general.

It is important to think about how others view their own bodies and strive for things that some of us take for granted- trans woman, women with implants, a non binary human who binds their breasts, and a transman who had top surgery. It must be an incredible feeling to have your body finally match the gender of your soul.

My grandmother had one breast, she was a cancer survivor. She told me the story of how she went in for a routine check up and then that day was under the knife, she was so confused and scared. My grandfather didn’t know how significant this was. It was in the 1980s.

No woman should ever have to feel so scared. I have seen burlesque dancers with one breast proudly swinging their tassel. It means they survived, they are proud of their body no matter what people say.

Dahlia Dubois- Stripper, Artist, Badass…

On being a stripper with natural breasts:

“I feel like it really depends on what area you’re working in and what type of club you’re at. Like if you were working at the Hustler club it would be almost expected that you would have some form of breast augmentation. But as far as my experience here, it’s really a 50-50 crapshoot. I’ve only ever had one customer tell me my breasts were too small and that was as I was giving him a lap dance so clearly I must’ve not been that bad hahahaha Although I feel like I do want to get augmentation done but not to an excessively large level. Because I do feel like that would increase my profits.”

 

 

Colleen Dunphy- Writer, Burlesque Dancer , Model…

“I had my breast reduction 11 years ago and I know without a doubt that if I hadn’t done it I’d never be doing the things I do today. I would have never become a half marathon runner, I’d never have done nude modeling and I definitely wouldn’t perform burlesque.

My breasts made me very uncomfortable with my body, and especially the attention I got. I still get some of that now because I am still a DDD, but it’s not like it was before.

Getting the reduction took a huge weight off my shoulders, literately and figuratively. I had some body dysphoria right after my surgery, because it was such a big change so quickly. I lost 4lbs from each side. But eventually I was able to become comfortable in my skin.

I have some mental sensitivity with the scarring when I am first with a new partner, because I had someone have a really negative reaction right after my surgery, but that was the only one. I am actually working on getting the worst ones tattooed over now.

I still have some nerve damage, where it doesn’t feel the same as it does in areas above or below. But I actually have more nipple sensation now than I did before surgery.

I’ve been told I won’t be able to breast feed, and that was something I willingly gave up. Even through everything I’ve never had any regrets about my decision and I know without a doubt I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

I welcome anyone that wants to talk about it, or is interested in having one. I wish I’d had more people to talk to before I had mine. But it was before the major rise of social media and I just didn’t know where to go for that.”

Janna Willoughby-Lohr – Mother, Poet, Rapper.. 

“My view of the world as a woman as it pertains to my body has changed dramatically throughout my life…from a pre-teen girl when I didn’t even have enough boobs to hold my training bra down, just begging the great beyond to gift me with some curves…to a supple 20-something with cleavage for days who could (and did) rock any low-cut top I could find and often found myself admiring my own boobs in the mirror…to a 30-something nursing mother with 34G breasts that are no longer the same as they were, trying desperately to find a bra that actually fits and longing for the days where I could get away with low cut tops.

I used to want to be wanted for my body, before I knew better. Now that I’m a mom, I see how many ways the world blames women for being too sexual…or not being sexual enough…all at the same time.

I am proud to be a woman, and I’m proud of my boobs that have been able to feed my child for almost two years and even though I sacrificed my amazing cleavage to do so, I still love my body. As Baz Luhrmann says, ‘Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it. It is the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.”

The Salon de L’Amour et de la Séduction aka The Everything to Do with Sex Show is Montreal’s annual sex show. The show is dedicated to being “the innovative force behind spreading openness and appreciation for all the different facets of romance, sexuality, and self-improvement.” The event is part trade show, is part performance show, and part lecture series.

The message is of the show is one of sex positivity. If you’re a self-professed prude and/or thinks that the free expression of consensual sexuality is evil, wrong, or shameful, stay away.

This show is not for you.

If you’re out to have some fun, get some sex toys or lingerie at discounted prices, and maybe see a show, the Salon is a must see. It features top burlesque acts and strippers and a kink corner where people are invited to explore and learn about alternate forms of sexuality.

The show is 18+, no exceptions, not even for babies, though given the loud noises and constant flurry of activity, the rule is understandable. The dress code is “Dress to Impress” and people are welcome to wear latex, leather, or lace. Though in Canada you are allowed to go topless, organizers ask that attendees keep their crotches covered.

In a curtained off corner of the space, there are seminars by sexperts such as Dr. Laurie Betito, a clinical psychologist specializing in sex therapy who has a radio show on CJAD about sex and relationships. She is also works with the Sexual Health Network of Quebec.

The Sexual Health Network of Quebec was one of the many sex positive nonprofit groups present at the show. The Network is an organization that believes that choices about sex are best made freely through education and provide free sex ed to youth in Montreal schools.

At the booth, they gave away condoms and sold T-shirts, bullet vibrators and flavored massage candles in support of their cause. When I spoke to one of their volunteers she told me that the election of Cheeto-Head in the US had not only increased donations to American nonprofits like Planned Parenthood, but also to groups like the Sexual Health Network, a public acknowledgment of their contribution to society’s sexual health.

Another non-profit at the show was the Alternate Lifestyles Community Center, an organization devoted to education, information, and support for alternative and marginalized sexual communities. As one of their volunteers put it, the organization acknowledges that we’re all fucked up and that it’s time to accept and work with it.

Photo by Chris Zacchia (Salon de l’amour 2011)

As the group was among many representing the kink community at the show, I asked the volunteer – Stephanie – what they thought of Fifty Shades of Grey. “It’s abuse,” she said.

On the one hand, she told me the books brought many people into the kink community who would not have explored that side of their sexuality. On the other hand the book gave these newbies an inaccurate notion of what kink is all about.

In the kink demonstrations held at the show, you saw the dominant constantly checking with the submissive, making sure she’s alright and is consenting to what’s being done to her. As Stephanie pointed out, in Fifty Shades of Grey the protagonist says No and uses her safe word but the dominant keeps going.

This is a violation of the rules of BDSM play which actually give the submissive control over what is happening. It is the dominant’s responsibility to take care of the sub and make sure they are ok with what is happening during a play session, also called a scene.

I asked the Stephanie whether BDSM contracts are necessary for play. The notion of having to have a contract for sex play sounds like a buzzkill and she agreed, partly due to the implications of calling it a contract. In their workshops on BDSM, the Center calls agreements about acceptable play negotiations, for calling it a contract suggests that violations would be enforceable in a court of law, which they usually aren’t.

Though many go to the Salon for information and to see a show, many go for the shopping. The Salon showcases vendors of sex toys, lingerie, and adult films, with business owners providing insights into their industries and the challenges they face.

Annick Samson and Jessica Filion are the proprietors of Vices & Caprices, a sex shop in Blainville that also sells online. Though their shop is new, they are already facing persecution from the City, which is claiming that their space in an 18+ tanning salon has not been zoned for their type of business.

There was also concern about exposing their products to children when neither their business nor the tanning salon permits underage customers. As it turns out, the complaint was not filed by parents or clergy, but by their competitor who is trying to force them out of business.

Another vendor at the show was Vid Vicious, an adult film director whose business card features the motto: “Keep Calm and Watch Porn!”

Vicious’ impressive resume includes films and Season 2 of Porn Star Academy, a French language reality TV show where competitors compete to become an adult film star.

I asked Vid about the status of the porn industry in Quebec and he said that it’s dying because Quebec consumers prefer American films over locally made ones. Vid also expressed frustrations about the illegal sharing of his films, saying that within a week of his movies coming out someone will have uploaded a copy onto a free site. When I asked how strictly copyright rules are enforced here, he spoke of the difficulties tracing the original uploader and how quickly people share the illegal uploads.

Montreal’s annual Salon is a weekend of fun, bringing warmth to an otherwise chilly city in the winter. It’s a place where nearly all are welcome, great for the shopping, shows, and lessons about sex that may prove handy someday. Check it out next year!

* Featured image by Jo Gorsky

So it finally happens, I meet someone who is brilliant and beautiful, funny, sweet, and holy shit INTERESTED IN ME. We talk all night, maybe even share an innocent kiss, and exchange numbers. I am excited for the first time in months.

Then BOOM, I do a teenie bit of Facebook stalking through our one mutual friend just to find out that they have a girlfriend. Dude, we live in a place and time where it seems that everyone is polyamorous. There is no need to lie to me or be unfaithful to your partner.

You have to be honest, and if you are poly but your partner is not, that throws a big curve ball into the situation. Perhaps rethink your monogamous relationship before bringing someone else into your shit. I have never cheated on someone I was dating.

My friend has gone through the same situation time and time again. After just ending a relationship where her mate came out as having a pregnant girlfriend at home, you would think her luck would get better. The next person she sleeps with is a good friend, who happens to be in an unhappy relationship that he won’t end. She then meets a handsome man at work, he flirts hard, they exchange info because he expressed interest in her show later that night.

Pretty quickly in he says that he has a girlfriend, he is “disappointed that he has a girlfriend,” waaaait, what? HE is disappointed? Then dump her and live your life! Don’t ever be with someone you are disappointed to be with, it’s not fair to her or you. My friend backed off on the conversation only to be textually bombarded by this same guy drunk a few days later begging her to come fuck him.

NO! Not allowed to do that. How dirty and second rate do you think she feels now? Gross bro, just stop.

I have another friend who knowingly had an affair with a married man. Now she feels like that’s the only people she attracts. It is definitely not her goal, she wants love like anyone else. Like they smell the mistress vibe on her or something. There is something about that, wanting to be with someone with no strings, knowing that they will never want more from you but the secret triste that is keeping them hard.

Often the mistress will get the best parts of their lover, they get the fantasy, the sex without the problems. They will also never get the support or companionship of a real relationship, but if that’s what you are looking for, it might be an ideal situation for you.

I remember hooking up with a guy I met on the internet a few years ago. We went on a few dates, he was so great, a poet, a musician, and a fun human. I called him “Big Jon” so you know the sex was amazing.

He must have written 100 poems about how beautiful I was in the short time we were together, I was smitten. He admitted to driving the wrong way on one way streets to get to my house sooner, he carried my bags and held the door for me. A total gentleman, until one night the truth came out.

After a session he said “I don’t want to smell like woman.” What? We just had sex, what to you expect to smell like? Flowers?

I asked him why and he said he didn’t want his wife to know about us. It must have been the whiskey and weed that made him so honest that night. It was the last time I ever saw him, I am NOBODY’S secret side bitch.

I actually did run into him in a dollar store maybe two months later. He had his son in the cart and a small, beautiful, tattooed woman with him putting stuff in the cart that I assume was his wife. They looked like a happy, functioning family.

I saw the panic in his eyes but just kept on walking without even acknowledging his existence. I am no home wrecker.

It’s a shock that people actually lie on online dating profiles, right? You know the guy who says he is 6’1 and single is probably 5’8 and married. There is no need to lie on these things, people are looking for all kinds of hook ups.

There are  websites dedicated to cheaters. Cheat with other cheaters! That’s a killer concept.

About a month ago I was at my favorite local watering hole when I saw man I had never seen before. He was beautiful, we danced, we chatted. He was a children’s book author!

I was in heaven, he touched my butt and kissed me and I thought, wow, finally an artist! Then all of a sudden he just said he couldn’t do this, no explanation.

I remembered the name of one of his books and googled him when I got home. He is married. Of course him and his wife write books together about their kids. Makes sense.

I do not accept being hidden in the shadows. You love me fully and out loud or you can’t have me at all. I am open to being with a polyamorous partner but have not successfully done so. I want to think that I can be open and communicate my needs, but it is not simple.

I know myself, I am passionate, I am all or nothing. I really want to be in love. I want to take care of someone, I want a human to love me, I want to be their serenity, I want to travel the world with someone who is proud to be with me.

Being single, I do have an active sexual lifestyle. I know I can get laid every day of the week if I really wanted to, but I don’t because I have respect for myself. I know that some people just want to get off and run.

Being single and beautiful makes me a target for assholes who put their wedding rings in their pocket on a Saturday night.

Married folks might be bored and I am certainly exciting. These people are looking for validation, they are looking for excitement, something that can often times be lost in long term relationships.

My availability is NOT an invitation. Just because I am single and looking does not mean I am looking for you, asshole. There is no burly football player boyfriend looming over me saying hands off buck, just lil ol me and my shining smile alone in the world.

I have learned to just hold out for what I want and never accept less. I will not compromise my morals for my libido. I will never knowingly take part in breaking up a relationship or marginalizing my own needs.

Maybe I should stop looking for love at bars? Or just come to terms with the fact that it seems most people over 30 are taken. Sadly, there is no way to safeguard yourself from these advances. Assholes happen, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!

We all deserve nothing but the best even though we must swim through a stream of shit to get there.

Its funny to me that when I am trying to get laid it never happens. I want things to be perfect, I want candlelit romance with fine wine and the sweetest leaf.

If I clean my room, dye my hair, take a shower, gussy myself up, and go out crusin’ lone wolf style it is 100% certainty that I will come home alone, drunk, and disappointed. The nights that I am absolutely irresistible are the nights that my crotch smells like yesterday’s left out cat food, I am wearing a frumpy sweater, no makeup, no inhibitions, possibly bleeding, definitely not looking any kinda way.

Saturday I went out on a whim and never expected to even talk to someone, let alone take them back to my car like the true dirt grub I am. This boy was cute as a button. It was the same night as The World’s Largest Disco, so it wasn’t weird that he was wearing polyester bell bottoms. He looked so young and eager to please. Must have been 21, but dangerously close to it.

He told me that I was his favorite Stripteaser, that he loved how I took chances and was politically charged in my work. Ok, tell me more. He said that he had been coming to the show every week for a few months but was too scared to talk to me. ME?

At this point he had my full attention. We had an incredible conversation about art and the state of politics and the world in general. I was in awe of how much he was in awe of me. It was bizarre for this beautiful boy to be such a fan girl.

The bar closed and he was shocked when I asked him what he was doing after. His friends called him both a “savage” and a “pimp” as they watched us walk away. We were just going to my car to light one up and then started making out.

I forgot for a second that I didn’t brush my teeth that day and had just peed in an ally. It was excellent. He made me feel like a teenager. We kissed, he touched me, I touched him. He kept accidentally bumping into the horn, it was cute.

The cherry on top of this story is when he was fingering me and Nickelback came on the radio, I couldn’t help but laugh. Almost 30 years old and I am being finger banged in my car to Nickleback.

What is this life I live? I wasn’t going to have sex with him in my car, so I eventually bid him farewell. With a hickey on my neck and my heart racing I saw him disappear into the night. Of course I said “See you next Tuesday.”

I feel like an idiot for letting him go without even getting his last name or phone number. I was swept up in the moment. I wonder if I will ever see him again?

I need to be more of an “act now” kind of girl, stop second guessing everything. I let him walk off because my room was a disaster and I was embarrassed. I let him walk off because I didn’t shower that day or feel worthy of his sweetness and affection. He wanted to stay, but I pushed him away.

He did not show up at The Stripteasers show. Well that’s that. For my show I even dressed as Chad (the lead singer of Nickelback). I had done Nickelback about a year ago as a joke and still had the costume. My roommate joked “Bro, you know what this means? You have a NICKELBACK routine!”

It was incredible, I gave every person who tipped me a dollar a nickel back. The bar phone rang an hour later and it was a man calling saying that his girlfriend forgot her nickel and wanted it back.

“It was special because the performer gave it to her” I ran to my car to dig for a nickel that would be special enough to be cherished forever. When I gave it to her later she did not recognize me out of drag.

buffalonickels
I am often paralyzed by my own self doubt, I think that someone so beautiful would never ever be interested in me. I see my flaws like roadblocks with flares shooting off of them. I often feel like the only person in the world who is alone.

I know thats just crazy, but the feeling is real. I feel old and inadequate. Like by now I should be successful. I mean, it is all how you measure success, I guess.

I don’t make much money but I am happy, I love my job, it is stress free and wonderful. I love burlesque, I love the time I spend traveling, I love so much about my life, it would just be nice to share it with someone.

sexychadThe times I have fallen for people it has been hard, always one sided, just me not seeing the obvious, just me getting my head smashed, never their fault, always mine for assuming I will get what I want. I am an only child spoiled girl who also has white privilege and middle class money, so I am comfortable, I am safe.

I was born into middle-class America. I have all the makings of a cookie cutter success, I did well in school and got a college degree. I am beautiful, symmetrical, I have great teeth because my parents got me braces. I am an artist. I am a fucking catch. Single, sleeping alone with my crust skin and my lovely cats, surrounded by piles of costumes.

I get laid when I least expect it, so love will be the same. Love is inconvenient and imperfect, it has no rhyme or reason. You cannot control love. People fall in and out of our lives at random.

I never understood the people who had it all planned out: in 5 years I will be married with a child and a house with a white picket fence, there’s a mini van in the driveway and a golden retriever in the yard. These people will settle for the first available mate, the first person who is willing to also be tied to that plan.

I am insane, I could never plan my life like that, I don’t even know what I want, let alone how to find it. I will never settle, I will never be unhappy or partially happy. I will know it when I see it. I will know who I love when I meet them.

Was it the guy in my car that I sent off into the night? Was it that beautiful girl in Montreal with the pink hair and glasses? Was it the one that got away? It is most likely someone I have never met, but maybe seen in passing, maybe they know me, I am just oblivious.

So I was at work and a young male customer was using the communal computer, totally normal right? I was minding my own business doing work, answering emails ect, and then I noticed a faint but familiar fapping sound that could not be much other than a man beating his meat. I’m vegetarian and not interested, Bro.

I instantly looked up and the sound stopped, he looked forward at the screen, no hands in site. This repeated for a little while, I couldn’t believe it. It was nearing the end of my night, I must just be tired. He couldn’t possibly be jerking off right in front of me right? Naw, no man would be that incredibly rude.

I was able to go into the office and peek through the blinds a little to see what he had up on the screen and there was nothing, only the desktop. I mean come on man, I know I am sexy, you probably have never seen a woman so beautiful and powerful as the one standing before you, BUT that is no excuse to thrash your tiny little manhood in my presence. Your fapping is NOT a pick-up line!

Just because I enjoy pickles doesn’t mean I want yours.

Would I have been less upset if he were watching porn on silent? Probably not, I would have just had the cookies as proof of his guilt. I would have been just as furious.

I wonder if this bizarre shit happens to every woman or just me? Am I more in tune, do I notice things that others don’t? Is knowing that misogyny exists like believing in ghosts? If you know they are real you will experience them.

Ghosts are real and so are shitty men. I’m not saying that all ghosts are evil or that all men are bad, its like saying that all white people are racist or all blondes are less than genius.

It is true that because some men are jerks and some white people are racist that men need to make extra effort in sensitivity and white people need to know their privilege and break the cycle of hate and misunderstanding. I am a natural blonde genius, clearly.

Stereotypes, while not a blanket, do sometimes have a basis in truth. We all just need to learn to be kind and pay attention to break the shitty stereotypes that exist and not feed into them.

Back to the wanker: I was in no way being suggestive. I was being “customer service” cordial. I love my job, it is truly magical, but just like any other service job where you deal with live breathing warm blooded human beings you will find assholes that think the rules don’t apply to them.

For the most part his crotchal region was covered by a sweatshirt on his lap, but then I saw for a tiny flicker of a moment something pink and glistening out of the corner of my eye. Like a dog’s red rocket. Again it was gone as soon as it was out.

I had no solid (or even flaccid) proof that I wasn’t insane and seeing things. If it was out for all to see I would have put on a protective rubber glove and yanked him out into the cold by it like a mom with her naughty son’s ear.

The last straw was the next morning when I went to the basement to change the laundry and he was sitting in the dark alone with a blanket covering his crotch. Again I heard familiar fapping, as if he was just waiting for someone to catch him. Gross dude, now I definitely have to wash that blanket.

There are pages of people talking about public masturbation on the internet, doing it in school, or church, ect. So many people enjoy things better when they think they might get caught. Yea sometimes I poop with the door open, but not at somebody else’s house.

Sometimes when you are horny you just gotta jerk off, it’s natural, it’s totally cool! Do not feel guilty for masturbating or watching porn. Masturbation can be a positive way to release energy, not a social stigma or deviance.

We all do it. Just do it in a private place and not at the expense of an innocent bystander. It is spacial rape and blatant disrespect, you are taking over a public place with your private matter. Do not assume that anyone else wants to see what you are doing, even if being caught is part of your kink, think before you put that on someone.

Consent is Awesome! See :)
I get off with a little help from my friends! (with their consent)

Great places to jerk off:
In your own bed!
In a rented bed!
In the bathroom! (hey some places even have glory holes)
In the shower (easiest clean up)
In the car! (when its parked somewhere remote)
In an abandoned building!
Locked in the utility closet at work.
Under a tree in the middle of the woods (like deep woods, not a park or playground, creeper)
In a shady adult movie theatre designed for that stuff with a person who is knowingly paid to mop jizz.
NOT IN FRONT OF UNWILLING PEOPLE!

If the only way you can get off if by having people watch then go to a sex club! Download some hook up apps or search Craigslist personals. Fetlife is also an incredible resource for alternative sexual preferences. Surf the internet for two minutes and you will find others who are into the same fetish lifestyle you are.

Consent is so fucking cool! Involving someone who did not give you consent in your sexual game is the same as rape, remember that next time.

So you like to grab women by the pussy eh? Well isn’t that just lovely. Why don’t you try asking nicely? Only if the beautiful owner of said pussy gives you consent you can caress it, love it, worship it, get down on your knees and pray to it with your tongue, put your whole being into make it purrrr. If you give a pussy ample notice and respect it will not fight you but it will welcome your tenderness.

mypussyTouch it, slowly, then quickly, then rub, tug, lick, motorboat, butterfly kiss and repeat until a gentle gushing stream showers you from between her spread eagle vulnerability. Never ever just GRAB someone, let alone grab them forcefully in their most sensitive zone.

We live in a culture where rape seems to be glorified and not extinguished. Rapists suffer no consequence and sex offenders have a voice. Pussy grabbers are not in the shadows, but on the big screen, running for president, flapping their ignorance to the masses.

My pussy will bite your fingers right off! Vagina dentata is a toothed vagina. There are folkloric legends that talk about a woman’s sweet zone that is full of sharp, finger/appendage eating teeth. Sexual intercourse with said vagina will result in severe injury, or castration for the man involved.

The tale shows up in many cultures and is meant to deter rape culture. Huh, maybe we should teach this in sex ed? Do we need to tell boys that all vaginas have retractable teeth that come out when violated? Will that finally stop rape?

Fear of castration will cause a man to think about his choices. That pussy will gnaw your fat fingers and stupid little one eyed chode right off if you don’t look out sonny. You will never see the teeth if you do not provoke them. I have to go to a dentist and a gynecologist to keep my pussy healthy.

In order to make a woman ready and safe for intercourse the hero must literally pull teeth. She must be nonthreatening, safe for insertion, safe for to receive the man.

Freud says that young men experience an unconscious fear of castration upon seeing female genitalia. Some of the most vicious stories of toothed vaginas come from India, in which the ferocious sexual appetites of lovely young women must be tamed through the violent breaking of the teeth hidden inside of their lady parts.

ovarian-dermoid-cystOne explanation is a rare medical condition affecting the vagina. More than likely a vaginal dermoid cyst, which can be very toothlike and sharp.

The movie Teeth was an incredible tale of a girl with vagina dentata. She bit off an attempted rapists genitals with her vagina and it was a beautiful sentiment.

Women should not have to have killer pussies to ward off criminals. We should not have to wear chastity belts to take away temptation. We do not exist for your pleasure. We do not exist to be disrespected and violated at any time.

Strong women with power over their bodies is not emasculating, it is empowering for all bodies, all humans are in charge of their bodies.

tentaclefingersFor real though. I just want to say one thing, if you are going to stick your fingers inside of someone please, PLEASE, cut yo damn nails! There is nothing more uncomfortable and non-sexy about getting fingered by someone with janky long nails.

I have been severely damaged by people with no common sense and funky sharp nails. Ouch! The memory makes my lips cringe.

If I had vagina dentata my vag would still not want to bite your nails for you, trim them, clean them, file them, ask yourself, are these fingers good enough to worship and pleasure a goddess with?

You notice, proper lesbians never have long nails, always groomed, short, filed, awee yea. It’s always the stupid cocky men who don’t think to trim their fingertips before going for the pink loveliness.

Another thing that really pisses me off is when they just try to stick the whole hand up there right away. Like WHOA BUDDY! Simmer down there, cowboy. Again, nice and easy, one thing at a time.

There is nothing sexy or pleasurable about being dry fisted. Things can tear. What are you thinking? I’m not looking to do some strange reverse birth right now. How would you like it if I shoved my hand up your butt like that?

Lessons learned today: Consent is everything, keep your hands to yourself or your fingers will be bit off, respect all humans, and for the love of goddess CUT YOUR NAILS before recklessly shoving them in.

“My bitch found a porn that I made with some other bitch back in the day. It was crazy, we were doing some award winning cartwheel 69 shit. She watched the whole damn thing and it ruined our relationship,” very loudly says one douche bro to another passing by in a dark parking lot where my friend and I were covertly smoking weed.

“Maybe you should have tried some cartwheel 69 shit with her!” I said to him, startling them a little. What even is cartwheel69? A great AIM screen name, I think.

Urban dictionary states that standing cartwheel 69 is “A sexual move often performed by gymnasts or dancers. It involves both partners in the Standing 69 position usually with the lighter partner backwards. The standing partner proceeds with cartwheels until he or she hits a wall. This often results with both partners simultaneously tightening their jaws on the recieving partners genitals, which ultimately leads to severed genitals and/or severe cuts.”  Say what?

What kind of misogynist asshole announces this story to his bro and the world like that? When he called her “his bitch” he pissed me off immediately. No woman should ever be described in such a demeaning way, and then the rest of the tale blew my mind. With his charming and respectful view of women I am sure the nails were already in the coffin of that relationship.

I do think that finding someone’s old homemade porn is not something that you should hold against someone. I am not defending this asshole by any means. He created this movie before the new girl was in the picture and while yes, he sucks for so many reasons, this is a grey area. She should not have been snooping through his computer, but genius boy obviously left it somewhere on his desktop labeled something reallllly discreet, waiting to be unearthed by an unsuspecting new lady.

I would have been turned on to see my beau going at it with a past lover. I would have picked on him hard. It seems like a case of jealousy, he wasn’t satisfying this poor girl and then she sees a video of him satisfying some other woman and she freaks out and leaves him.

This is why I have never made any scenes with former lovers. I have had multiple ask but never felt confident in knowing that the relationship would last forever and he would be the only person to ever see it. People don’t delete that kind of stuff.

Image via FreeFoto.com Creative Commons
Image via FreeFoto.com Creative Commons

This was obviously a rare shining moment in this guy’s sexual career. If I am making a porn I am getting paid for it. You know damn well that the guy will save it as a trophy forever and jerk off to it.

There is a whole genre of porn called revenge porn, men post old sex videos of themselves with ex girlfriends. These unsuspecting girls are then slut shamed on the internet, they signed no waiver, they receive no payment, some of these girls may never even see this video. Then boom, that hot cartwheel69 shit they did once after a college frat party is all over the internet.

It is truly fucked up that anyone would betray someone’s privacy like that. Create all sex tapes like they are going on the internet for mass consumption.

If you are not ashamed or feel like becoming a pornstar be my guest. Everything is different when it is with CONSENTING adults. Nothing else is remotely acceptable.

Finding someone else’s porn is interesting. It is a deep, dark fantasy revealed.

I was recently at an estate sale and in the attic came across an entire box of amazing vintage leather fetish gay porn and a leather/chain harness. I of course wanted the whole lot. When I brought it down everyone seemed so shocked that this box of gold even existed.

Being an estate sale it was the house of a man who had recently passed away, he was married and seemingly straight. His family had no idea about his kink and sexuality. I saw the look of disgust and terror in his son’s eyes as the lady from the sale gave me a price.

Did I out this man postmortem? He kept a secret his whole life and I just yanked it out of the attic.

It is so sad that he lived in a time where he didn’t feel safe showing his true self. He subscribed to marriage and the appropriate social standards. I wish I could make a time machine and pull this man out of his marriage and drop him off at the Folsom fair, let him wear his leather cock holster with chains and an O ring on the chest, walk around with others just like him. There is no deviance here, sexual freedom is beautiful.

I remember the first time I ever found porn as a child. It was a Hustler and there was penetration. It changed my life. Then there was my best friend’s dad’s shitty VHS 80’s bush porn. It was our first taste of the sex that would start being thrown at us via advertising and culture in high doses. You can’t get innocence back. Once you see it you cannot unsee it.

Porn is private, what people do and enjoy is their business. Never ever be ashamed of your porn collection (unless it is with non-consenting adult or a defenseless child, then you are a fucking monster who deserves to be shot).

Celebrate your fetish, love what and who you love proudly. If you make a porn with someone under the terms that it is just a sexy record for the two of you never dare show it to another person.

It is a violation, it is betrayal, just don’t do it! Keep your award winning cartwheel69 action to yourself, the satisfaction of knowing it exists should be enough. Bragging means you are overcompensating and there is nothing impressive or sexy about that.

* Featured Image by IsabelleTheDreamer via Flickr Creative Commons

I often feel like the creepy guy in the corner jerking off.

How did I get here? (This is not my beautiful wife, this is not my beautiful house…) Do they notice I am here? I feel different, and that sometimes socially isolates me. I oogle at the other burlesque dancers. Beauties, pure delight, smooth skin, perfect shapes and proportion. The best asses in town topped with the sweetest personalities around. They are all anybody’s definition of physical perfection. I’d eat from their shoes.

wayne and garth

I constantly feel the need to yell “I AM NOT WORTHY!” like Wayne and Garth at the feet of rockstars. In awe of my surroundings.  My life is truly blessed.

 

dominatrix burlesque

Look deeper, listen to them talk and laugh, spill about their own insecurities and bullshit. These people that I idolize, hold with such a high standard, are at the end of the day just normal people who poop and bleed, putting their tassels on one at a time like everyone else.

We are all humans: “beautiful” and “ugly” are relative, we all see a different monster when we look in the mirror. Everyone is so preoccupied with their own flaws that they cease to even notice yours. That is why caring about what others think of you is really stupid, we need to take care of ourselves and not give in.

sexy freaks

Wish I was faster and less depressed by others’ happiness. I am a lump covered in strange skin lesions, I am fat, I am smelly, I have hairy armpits, and an inch of roots on my bleached out hair. I am nothing like these visions of glory, I am a slob, a festering pile of yuck.

I AM BEAUTIFUL! 

trollKnow that because we are not perfect we inspire others who are not perfect to love themselves too. It is a responsibility to show the world that no matter what you look like you have the right to be accepted and celebrated.

You too can lead a glorious existence! I remember once saying “I am a troll” out loud, and I was literally dressing up like a goon. Dumb. Why do I even care about what society likes? Life is a freakshow attraction. People like me regardless of how well I play by the rules, the art outside the lines is impactful.

Fun fact, did you know there is a thing called soaking? It is when you insert the penis into the vagina and just let it chill. It hangs out until it cums, no thrusting necessary.

That sounds pointless. Literally just getting your dick wet doesn’t sound remotely enjoyable. Its like what happens when a gay man and a lesbian try to make a baby, are we there yet? I told you we should have used a turkey baster.

I always thought it would be funny to have like 10 butch lesbians with turkey basters full of jizz squirting them all on one guy, lesbukkake anyone? Let’s turn those tables. Break down hetero-normativity in every single way. I am a squirter, so it definitely feels powerful to get to jizz on someone, I get it.

I am going to be thirty this year, dirty thirty, that means my egg timer is almost up and I should be looking for a good god fearing white man of similar or hopefully higher socioeconomic status to make mutant republican babies with and move to the suburbs where my dreams can rot in a three bedroom ranch.

I want to spend my dirty thirty with thirty of my most down ass friends covered in shit. Literal feces. It will be the dirtiest party of them all. I am already borderline incontinent, last night I drunkenly peed on my feet while trying to relieve myself in an ally.

I held a frozen burrito under my arm, being denied bathroom access at the store I took it upon myself to wash their sidewalk with a flood of golden glory. Never going to top drunkenly peeing on church steps and not getting laid because I totally didn’t wipe though. That takes the cake. Chocolate cake brown like the shit stains in my Zubaz.

animal house

I am a creep, watching women undress in front of me, feeling like I shouldn’t be allowed there. That’s how I feel when people show me affection, I can’t believe this vision of loveliness wants ME?! You sure you got the right guy?

I watch from a distance while other people get off. I have sat in my car and watched people fuck with an open window. I once sat on a roof overlooking an office building and watched a guy jerk off at 2am. Photos of his family were hung on the walls. I still wonder what kind of kinky shit he was watching. I’m sure it was the gayest scat fisting gang bang porn imaginable.

alphaeus-philemon-cole-peeping-tom

Peeping Toms and shower windows make a great pair. I was recently sitting on my friend’s porch, drinking beers, smoking some jazz cigarettes, shooting the shit, sun setting, ya know stoop life at its finest. And all of a sudden I look up and notice a frosted window on the second floor of the house next to us with a light on.

Suddenly one shadow appears, then a second. It is easy to decipher that this is a shower, they each wash off, and easier to notice that the couple started to have sex. You could see the outline of her breasts and ass, I could not see his boner shadow though, bummer. Sexy silhouette sex right in front of my peeping eyes, we were all wide eyed.

The slap heard around the world made me think they knew we were watching, if we can hear them they can also hear us. It was a short fuck, it seemed fake, like in Austin Powers when he was making shadow scenes look dirty. I kept feeling like I was going to get Punk’d.

I like this channel.

That moment when you know it isn’t going to last forever but you don’t want it to end. It’s sad, but it’s life. Not everything is meant to be, not for forever or even right now, not everyone is in on the fairy tale.

It is easy to wish for impossible things.

Even if it’s wonderfully magical, if it hurts someone else it’s wrong. Love is supposed to uplift the world around you, not to cause you happiness at the expense of another.

You need to take care of others and make sure your actions will not negatively effect another person, especially one you love and respect. There is an action and reaction to everything, we are all part of the same delicate system of lust and heartbreak, love and that looming goodbye.

Some love is fleeting, ending only moments after it began, other times it takes weeks, months, or maybe even years to die. Even people who are married or in long term relationships might not REALLY be happy, sometimes people literally or figuratively stay together for the kids.

The “kids”may be actual children, pets, a house, social status, religious beliefs, money, comfort, pure laziness, or even really good sex.

Romeo and Juilet remind me of some of my recent affairs, destined to never really be together. There is no possible way this can work, not even true love can defy death (or in my case the bro code).

I have met people and knew instantly that I would love them, I can also read people well and know when I don’t have a snowballs chance in hell. Crushes are meant to be crushed.

There have also been some sleepers, people I dismissed as a romantic interest instantly friend zoning them, just to later find that there was some weird secret spark between us. It wasn’t always love at first sight, sometimes it is love upon insight.

Not every person looks like they could be your “type,” but what exactly is a type anyways? It’s bullshit. People are more than what they look like or seem to be. Sure I have seen an attractive person and felt instant connections,but that doesn’t mean they are love at first sight material. It’s complicated.

Extended eye contact, intense conversation, not nervous until you realize this could be it. Then it all goes downhill from there.

I always want what I can’t have. Is that why other girl’s boyfriends are more appealing to girls? That internal competition, survival of the fittest. The fight for survival.

I am an only child, so I can be a little bit self centered sometimes. I can’t have everything. Some people don’t find me sexy and that’s OK, it’s their prerogative. I don’t want to jump into bed with ever schmuck who wants me either.

It needs to go both ways. They need to love me and must reciprocate for it to work. It’s hard to hear that someone doesn’t find you attractive, but that’s how the cookie crumbles.

I can’t help but to attack my physical looks whenever I get denied. Well if I wasn’t so fat maybe he would love me, ect. I know that’s crap and not to take it personally but it is hard.

ethical slutLet’s just be friends, implies that we were more (are more) and now it’s over, at least in the traditional sense. Benefits? We can fuck but no emotions are allowed. This is difficult for me to grasp. All sex is based on emotional connection for me.

I recently tried the detached booty call thing and felt really empty afterwards. The lack of kissing and cuddling disturbed me. Polyamory is confusing, so is hookup culture.

I wanted more, I yearned for a deeper connection that I knew we just didn’t have.

Like a one night stand should, I left right after. It felt damn good, I just wanted to cuddle more and maybe round two, but felt awkwardly passive.

Then on the other hand I found someone that I did have a connection with, but due to circumstances, we could not be together. The sort of “naughtiness” and secretive beginnings made everything feel nice, but unfortunately for me and my conscience I knew it had to stop.

stripteasers are the funniestWahh wahhhh. On another planet things might have been different. For now I will just sit here with my horniness. I keep telling myself I can’t be sad when you move on, but also that I know I can get what I want elsewhere.

I have a track record of falling for my friends too. I get so nervous about being rejected that I allow myself to be instantly friend zoned.

I am fucking amazing, especially at being a friend. It’s easy for me to make life long connections. My lack of confidence is astounding, I can never make the first move or seal the deal with a person I am interested in. I can’t use magic to make someone love me either, if it is not consensual I don’t want it.

What is that shit? Either we can have no strings attached sex with those we don’t love or no sex with those we do love. I want a middle ground, I need both, I want the connection and the sextin.

I can wait. Happiness is worth it. I will go through a hundred someones before I find the ultimate one, if that’s a real thing, even then it might just be for now. Lust or bust.

Having sex so hard it breaks furniture is an awesome life goal to have, extreme bump and grind. I was once sleeping with a guy in a fancy hotel and we did our puzzle so hard the headboard came off the wall. It was incredible.

I have broken my fair share of bed frames with rambunctious coitus. This time it was the box spring, right in the middle, his thrusting or my riding? Which one of us should sleep in the hole? Neither one of us cares at that point.

broken bed

The best part of owning your own home or even just living by yourself (or partner) is having sex in every single room of the house. Up against the dining room table, leaning over the bathroom sink, on the couch, on the recliner, against the kitchen counter, on the washing machine during spin cycle, in the hallway, and then the forever classic bedroom sexcapades.

I once had a California king sized bed in my living room. It was the cuddle puddle. We had our TV in the fireplace, it was lovely. There were plush unicorns, artistic stuffed tentacles, and all the pillows imaginable. The perfect place to have sex except for the fact it was in the middle of the most trafficked area of the house. I know that at least one of my roommates had sex in the bed.

I have an affinity for vintage couches. There is one in particular that probably needs to just get burned. Trying to have sex on it would be painful, protruding springs and no padding making it virtually impossible to climax. The intense squeaks and moans of old furniture is the worst. Nothing discreet about it.

couch

Who doesn’t like the idea of being watched? Voyuerism is participation, baby. The only time it ever happened was in the same hotel room where we ripped down the headboard. My friend and my dude’s friend were in the next bed over. It was lovely to watch them while doing it myself. We weren’t touching but we were definitely connected.

There is a thrill when you think you are going to get caught. When someone might walk in the room and see you getting it on. I am a burlesque dancer, I give the illusion of sex and sultriness.Brings me back to high school and getting caught by my boyfriend’s mom, awkward sauce.

I once had a roommate who lived in the living room with cubicle walls as her walls. There was no privacy, it drove her crazy. I am the kind of person that will poop with the door open. I have been referred to as a “mud woman” by my other roommate.

I am always naked. I love it. I am proud of my body and understand its imperfections. I love to show it proud as much as I can. nakedbikeride

The World Naked Bike Ride is going to be happening again in Buffalo this coming Saturday. I am excited to participate again. It was truly magical. Although it will be bittersweet because my trike is out of commission. The back axel snapped. It was ok though because I didn’t get hurt, and like three beautiful lesbians ran out of a tattoo shop to make sure I was ok.

My dad helped me order a new trike, its collapsible and awesome, but now that looks like an eBay scam. Boo. Thankfully my friend is letting me borrow her old trike for Saturday. I know it’s mostly mental but I am legit scared to ride a regular two wheel bicycle.

The Naked Bike Ride’s motto is Nude Not Lewd! Less Gas More Ass!  It is about cycling being good for the environment, lessening the stamp we put on the environment with transportation and the burning of fossil fuels. The naked bike ride is also about bringing awareness of cyclists in general and sharing the road safely.

You can see me now when I’m naked, tits to the wind, but you don’t see me when I am fully clothed with reflective safety gear on. Cars are oblivious to bikes, it’s dangerous even in the bike lane.

Last year I was slow riding and ended up falling to the back of the pack, the police escort was the only thing behind me. I felt like a nude fugitive.

Being naked outside during the day is sensational. There were more naked guys than girls, a lot of meat and potatoes in the wind. Very few naked ladies. I get it. I feel like a troll doll most of the time. I am a day rise vampire. Bathing in sun rays only to turn to dust. As I sit here the construction workers outside have already starting drilling so what does it matter anyways.

burlesqueI should be making pasties, which I will be giving to girls at the ride to encourage nudity. It’s amazing what a little nipple disc can do for someones confidence, add tassels and they are unstoppable for life.

The moral of this blog is that life is too short not to have sex in every room of the house. It’s  kind of hot if people watch, and riding your bike naked in the sun with a thousand other people is the best feeling in the world.

Be empowered, enjoy life to the fullest, never be afraid. If they are gonna watch, give um a show!

P.S. I am looking for questions for future Ask Cat Blogs! Ask Away…

Its interesting to me that I haven’t been writing about sex lately. My sexual writers block is caused by me actually having a sex life of late.

It is easy to write about anonymous faces or generalized sexual partners, but when you are getting it on the regular there is less to talk about because you are practicing it. I’m less concerned with chasing tail once its in my bed warm and waiting.

I came home to someone sleeping in the broken spot in my bed, I took off all of my clothes and climbed in. Right where I belonged in that moment. Sticky sweaty skin, soft flesh melting into more tender loveliness. I can go into detail about the sun coming through the window and the exact sounds and smells, the wonderful warmth.

Some things cannot be defined by words alone. A smile upon waking, my legs fit inside yours. Its nice to know that I wasn’t the only one wondering, what if? I run my finger down the nape of your neck and see you shiver with antici……pation.

I am more of an expert at longing for some touch, rather than actually having someone. I don’t believe in ever really “having” anyone, people aren’t propery. It is easy to preach about self confidence and feeling good about life regardless of your relationship status, but living it is a different story.

I always say that true love should be effortless, pure joy, constant stream of brilliant moments and moments where you must lift each other to brilliance. I was once told that I would never find love if I didn’t lose weight, but then I learned to love myself. There is more to love when you love each inch.

Do opposites really attract? I feel as though you must have some things in common to spark that initial fire, but you can’t be the same person. I always look for someone as out there and artistically over achieving as I am. There cannot be light without dark, you cannot know true bliss without knowing the bitter taste of defeat and sadness. The placement of the darkest shadow and most brilliant highlights is the main element of successful art.

I was in California and I couldn’t imagine having weather that pleasant all year round. Eternal summer. I need that six months of winter to hibernate and make art. If I were able to frolic about and play in the sunshine all year I would never get shit done.

I am so easily distracted by the summertime feel fine way of life. I want to lay in the sun in a field of flowers and stretch out as far as I can with the life affirming warmth beating down on me. It’s like love, to appreciate the good times you need to survive the rest of times. You need to have a job to appreciate days off.

travel
I had never traveled that far from home, I roamed away from Buffalo. I felt a little like Hunter S Thompson heading to Las Vegas to pick up a flight to San Diego. Instead I should rent the biggest reddest oldest convertible there is and drive it across the desert. No looking back, no surrender.

Humans are meant to wander, to move around, experience things. If we stay in place we become stupid and stagnant, fenced in by our own insecurities and fears. It’s a horrible life to not want more, to not wonder what else is out there, to see how other people live, to notice the differences and relish in the familiar moments.

Las Vegas is a place I never wanted to meet, slot machines at every turn, I thoroughly dislike gambling. There is something so creepy about the subliminal hum of casinos. The elderly and addicted sitting like drones pushing buttons and pulling levers. Its downright freaky to me. If I’m going to waste my money its going to be on something that makes me happy. Physical things should never be the cause of happiness. Money will never be the cause of happiness.
Marilyn-Monroe-and-Turret-pg183-copy

I visited Coronado Island in San Diego. It was where Some Like It Hot was filmed. Gold flecked beaches shimmered brilliantly. I stood in the same place that Marilyn Monroe stood.

It was magical, but it also made me think that she was just a woman, doing her thing in the height of her life and popularity. She had no idea that her image would make such an impact on the world. Her beauty radiates throughout generations who were not even alive yet. Icon status.

People often compare me to her, I think merely because of the blondness and buxom nature of our curves. The curse of curves, the curves that possibly got her murdered by the Kennedys. Someone told me today that I smile like Marilyn, big and cheesy, a lot hiding in that smile. some like it hot
I was dumped once for being unnaturally happy, never arguing or fighting the entire relationship. He couldn’t stand it. I thought of myself as more of a ray of sunshine to his clouds.

It is easier to be openly flirty once you have already been inside someone. Asking for more is different than asking for the first time. Uncertainty is terrifying. It is also what life is all about, taking chances. The idea of being shot down by a love interest is as scary as the idea of being shot down in the streets by a robber.

Successful relationships come down to who did the dishes and took the garbage out, superficial bullshit that is actually a big symbol of respect. Little things count.

Life is more than just beautiful moments and physical attraction. You must work hard and struggle before success is handed to you. Take the good with the bad and fall in love with the journey.

Marilyn Monroe is a timeless beauty, she will never age in our minds because she was taken before her time, dead before she got too old to wrinkle. Love your wrinkles and curves, live in the moment, travel as much as possible, compliment others, and love hard. You never know when your sun will set. Life is only right now, bask in its glory.

To kick off ASK CAT, a new monthly advice column on FTB, Cat McCarthy dared her Facebook friends to ask her anything about Sex, Dating, Politics, Art, Feminism, Activism, LGBTQ issues, Drugs, Culture, etc. We published the first three responses and now the rest.

Now, it’s your turn. ASK CAT anything: Cat@ForgetTheBox.net

Dear Cat, What should I do if I wake up in between two dudes with cake smeared all over my chest, I’m wearing a 1980s blond wig, I’m thirsty, my feet are bound together, my nose is running and one of them looks like the messiah….while some famous director is filming me in his bloody underwear. Should I wait for an invite to the threesome?

– Melissa Campbell

Hi Melscamp! As you know from personal experience I am not the person to ask about joining into a threesome. While I have had several successful and life changing threeways in my life they don’t always end well for me. It will not work if you feel self conscious, if you feel like they are more interested in each other and not you, or if the girl doesn’t like you but the guy does and you would both rather just be with him. Threesomes must be mutual, all on the same playing field.

she lives richard simmons cat sinclairDid you smear the cake before you fell asleep? Is it tasty? Were you drunk or on drugs? Is this consensual? Are the guys hot? Is that REAL blood? Why is Dirty Jesus called that? Do you want this? Are you in the non-consent yurt? Is there a lambskin condom?

I know you are into some kinky shit, so in my opinion, YES, get into that threesome. Don’t be like me and wait for the invite, nobody is ever going to invite you, if you are already into it that far with them they want you there! Any self made flaws are not noticed in groupsex.

I once hooked with two friends, they answered the door wearing matching boxer briefs. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was a goddess to them. Make sure you are being treated with respect and have a safe word. You are a goddess and I blame you for everything

Dear Cat, Which side of a double sided dildo is preferable?

– Velvet

cat noseHi Al! Well my dad always says “if you go to the right, you can’t go wrong,” so the answer is you must spin the dildo
around counterclockwise in the center of a lesbian boob circle and whichever way it lands pick the side to your right, add lube, and enjoy with a special friend on the left end.

Or I would also say inspect the dildo and pick the side with less cat hair stuck to it. Silicone dildos are big time attractors of cat hair (which is prevalent in most lesbian relationships, the most common owners of double ended dildos).

Got a question for Cat? Ask it: Cat@ForgetTheBox.net