100% Genuine Artificial Vanilla Extract

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #116? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Debauched nothings
“You promised me you’d give me your cock.”

Sex Trophies
“Inside the drawer are two pair of panties.”

Who gets to talk about sex?
“I was thinking the other day about who gets to talk about sex and sexuality.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Cashback

Editor’s Choice
The houseboy’s rebellion

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
About Chantal, now…
CyberGirl goes beyond amazing
Lady Chatterley’s Ruf
My New York Indiscretion
Off on the right foot
Table Top
Tonia (Part 2)
The Train
Valentine.
Walking Home In Her Panties

Sex Humor
A joke

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Because.
Bragging rights and the name game
Circumcise Me
An Eco-Sexy New Year
I mean this in a caring way
A Time For Sex Ed Innocence
An unexpected sexy anniversary
The Way I Like It

Sex Work
Keeping It In The Family II
What Do You Look Like, Rose?

NSFW Pics & Videos
Aradia Ardor
The Cam Lover is lonely and needs rough sex with a new doll
Crystal Klein super hottie
Kyla Cole
Missy Nicole - I’m Bored

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Adult Entertainment Expo 2008
Dana DeArmond Submits To The Training Of O (Bondage, Forced Orgasms)
Fetish Fair Fleamarket recap
Harmony HotMovies Interview
Jamye Waxman Wants You to Find Your O Face

BDSM & Fetish
Effervescent
Flavours of Pain
Half-Nekkid Toe Licker
The houseboy’s rebellion
LA Story: the night I learned to f-u-c-k
Padme amidala: My history of blowjobs
Recovery
Sexy porn turns into a sexy mental fantasy
Spanked Her Off to Work. - The Husband
Trick or Treat
(The Worst?) Profile of the week

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I think one day I will remember that I can get to the kissing/scratching/biting whatever part earlier in the evening. Looking back on it, I think I have always had this tendency to talk and chat and play card games and laugh till too much of the time has slipped by.

I should probably be glad that Set has an upper limit of 27 tricks if I am ever going to consider playing Vengeance Set with Demonezade.

Rona has an interesting post that discusses the fact that her "primary sexual identity is kinky". It is when I read something like that that I remember why this blog is titled as it is, and why I identify as vanilla. Sure, I can enjoy someone raking me with knives, caning someone, or ordering someone to show up in this dress and opera gloves, with the knowledge her choices are limited to "against the wall or on your knees" the moment she walks in the door, but none of that is essential to my sexual identity. It’s just fun.

I agree with her that it isn’t something you need to reveal on a first date, but of course I "pass", and it "when I come out" isn’t going to haunt me as much. Privilege makes things seem easy, I am aware of that. And, like Rona, I don’t think a shared interest in kink (or poly, or any other single identity) sufficient reason to date someone. But there is a consequence of her sex/kink split.

I can play at the drop of a flogger, but for sex… I’m extraordinarily picky and in non-intuitively obvious ways. (There are, for example, lots of people who I’m madly attracted to and like quite a bit who I would never fuck. Strange but true.) Which sucks for me because DEAR LORD am I horny most of the time. If I had a local partner who I was sleeping with they’d probably have to chain me to my bed and run away to keep me off of them.

…

This is why I can not be allowed to have casual sex. Given permission to jump someone, I will want to do so at every possible opportunity - appropriate or not. And then, underlying every conversation there will be a little argument going on in my head "Can I jump her now?" "Not yet, you’re talking." "Now?" "Shut up, you don’t have to be thinking about sex all the time." "But she’s so pretty and I wanna see her naked." "Would you go take a cold shower already?" "I bet she tastes like cookies." Alternatively, maybe what I need is to date someone who has exactly the same urge to drag me into back alleys for heavy petting just because we’re walking down the street and the wind is blowing past with the scent of cupcakes.

And this is what I talk about concerning my lack of sex drive.  That simply isn’t a problem for me. I can think of one person who if she crossed my line of sight my brain would do nothing but spend time calculating what surfaces in the immediate area I could have sex with her on. I didn’t even really like her very much.  I can think of one other who never failed to give me a thrill of sexual desire every time she brushed against me. In her case, I think that had as much to do as never having her as anything else. (We shared two kisses, one of which I don’t remember and the other which was years later and full of all the unfulfilled potential of what might have been. Bittersweet works better in chocolate than in kisses.)

That kind of constant low-grade buzz of horniness is just something that I don’t have. I get horny, sure, but that kind of intense sexual distraction? Rare, even with the people who I do find sexually desirable.  

Sometimes it is worth remembering that even the shiny ones get insecure.  Calico followed up riffing on maymay’s excellent comment on that first post, reminding us again that "Your sex appeal is not your self worth".

And that is, of course, very true. (really, just go read her post)

 Of course, there are times you just really want to be all twisted steel and sex appeal. Everyone wants to be desirable to those they want to be desired by. And it is insidious sometimes, how our minds will latch onto a certain self image and not budge.

 For instance, not long after this post, I ended up in a long IM conversation with a friend about my sex drive and my insecurities about sex, sexual performance, and my perception of myself as desirable or not. 

I do not think of myself as someone who people just instantly find pretty and hot and desirable. Charming, yes. Fun, yes. Eventually sexy because sex appeal is by no means limited to simple aesthetics, yes. But I tend not (for various reasons) think of myself as "see across the room/dance/fire/what have you and go YUM, must have" hot. It always confuses me some when anything like that happens.

 My friend asked me, "You do know there are people who think you are just pretty and hot, right?"

And yes, I do know that. And no, I do not base my entire self-worth on that. But to show you how insidious these kinds of things can be, even as I acknowledged that as true, and felt somewhat better about it, my brain could not help but notice that she constructed it in passive voice - thus excluding herself. Messed up, I know.

 We are a mass of contradictions, we humans, and we do live in a society that insists being pretty (whatever that might be) is of such importance. As if pretty and desirable were the same thing anyway.

 I have a coffee with my ex to go to, and am feeling introspective. 

 

I tweaked the template because the other one was listing the categories all over the top and looked horrible.

 Not that I like this one much better.

 I may have to teach myself how to do templates in blogsome or switch to something else, because I would like to have most recent comments show and none of the base templates have that option.

I should point out that despite the interesting new insight in how I deal with different types of pain, this was in no way a bad weekend.

It isn’ t even as if that ruined the scene. It was delicious up until then. And these things happen, something doesn’t work and snaps a headspace and then you take a breather and do something else. And after that there was a more restrictive tie, and some more knives which were fine since I had been… reset by then. 

 And the weekend included getting to cane someone (and it is always flattering for a masochist to tell you that you have more of a mean streak than she expected) and having someone give me a blowjob with my knife at her throat. (Which is more logistically difficult than one might expect, but still better than the cake I baked.)

 And, interestingly enough, of all the bites I received, the one that remains most noted by my body, and provokes a small smile of endorphin-fueled grinning whenever it gets bumped by something in my pocket, is the one I have on my thigh. Thus the one that "broke" me lingers the most sweetly.

All in all, I am not TOO torn up I missed the Flea (although there are reasons I am disappointed).

This past weekend I had an interesting insight into how I process pain.  I was having knives run over me by two lovely women. They were playing an interesting game of "find the buttons on Victor’s body" (most of mine seem fairly obvious and close to bones - there a couple that are dramatically more effective than others, though) when one then raked my torso with her nails. Raked might not be the best word, it may have been a bit more of a digging into the flesh and pulling.

It hurt.  A lot. It hurt in a way that made me scream ow, and flinch in the ropes. It made me unhappy.

I like sensation. A lot. It makes me happy, and makes me exclaim noises that seem to amuse those who enjoy making me make noises. This applies on both sides of my switchiness, as I also like making others exclaim those noises as well.

I am not a masochist.

I know masochists, I have played with masochists, and let me tell you, I am no masochist. (Nor am I an algophiliac.)

She apologized, and going back to knives I started to feel overstimulated. At least I thought that at the time, and asked for no more than 10 minutes; but in retrospect it was not so much overstimulation as the way I was processing the knives changed. My tormentors agreed to 10 minutes, intending to take full measure of that time, and then about 30 seconds later, I got bit, hard, in the leg. This was also Unpleasant Hurt.

I reacted badly. 

I kneed the biter in the head.

I was tied, so got no solid contact. But that was it and I wanted out. I normally like being bitten. Or rather, I like having been bitten, especially big meaty bites like that. (I tend to like the after effects of having been bitten more than the being bitten itself - this is similar to how I like being pierced.) But while usually bites are a good thing, and indeed I have a run of pretty bite marks down my back from that evening - this was simply intolerable.

I can only chalk it up to something about the way I process pain. It seems pain is like a menu of flavours, and some go together in my head and some don’t. Knife on top of piercings? - A fine match of strong red with a full-flavoured main course. Biting on top of knifing? - Chocolate milk poured in my soup.  

As I said, I am neither an algophiliac nor a masochist. I don’t process pain as pleasure and hurting me doesn’t want to make me fuck you. (It doesn’t mean I won’t want to fuck you afterwards, but it isn’t a button that makes me "hot".) That wasn’t new for me.

What was new was learning I combine different pains differently. Interestingly, I have heard (and have played with bottoms for whom this is true) that switching a sensation helps some people process better, shifting from one type of pain to another prevents them from being overstimulated.  This was specifically mentione for sting and thud.  Since it has been a long time since I was hit, I really don’t know how that would work on me. Perhaps sting/thud go together well in my case. But knife/bite didn’t. Really didn’t. It is something I am going to have to remember to keep in mind next time I am topping someone.

Of course, I shouldn’t assume everyone is wired the way I am, as I know some who a bite after that would be bliss. Indeed, assuming people are wired the way you are is almost invariably a recipe for disaster. And maybe another day in another way that combo would work. But it certainly seems that this weekend I am not someone who likes different styles of pain layered on top of other pain.

I am off visitng Rona for the weekend. Since we are dorks of epic stature, (albeit hot, sexy dorks), we negotiated a game of Vengeance Scrabble. The winner would administer as many strokes (cane/spank for her/me) to the loser.

I won by 13 points. (Pretty ballpark for our games, usually we are within 10.)

As you can see from her post, Vengeance Scrabble means no warm up. It is caning with a purpose, you see. 

 However, I was terribly nice and let her pick which cane.

I do believe I need to read a lot more Bitchy Jones.