One of the advantages of being the only player on my swinging squad is that I don’t have to take one for the team. There’s no one pressuring me to settle for something less-than-desirable so that he can enjoy a tasty morsel.

Just got back from a crummy meet and greet experience. Mr. Doubleplay and I ignored some red flags and just neglected to do our homework for this meet up. As a result, in many ways, I feel that we wasted an evening.

The couple that we met was sweet and good looking and discreet. We did right on those issues. But we skipped some steps.

Okay, if you have made it this far, then I am going to go on the idea that you have either had some kind of experience, or that you have a bit more than a passing interest, and that you are familiar with key words; dom, domme, domiant, sub, submissive, master, mistress boi, tg, sissy boy, the list goes on…so I’ll spare us all… If, for some bizarre reason you felt this would just be fun to read, and you have no idea what these things mean, I want you to click the little back arrow, you are going to be lost, and my mind is so fucked, I will not be able to find you.

After Shira horrifies us all by talking about a potential boy-toy’s penile subincision, we manage to pull it together and discuss the changing landscape that is online swinger sites and sex clubs along with our special guest Emily from Kasidie.com. We talk a bit about the history of the website, and Emily’s role there, but use it as a springboard to discuss the larger themes of how the word is spreading about non-monogamy, and how welcoming and accepting out communities can be.

It’s hard to describe exactly what a G Spot orgasm feels like. I’ve experienced them a million times and each one feels completely different than the last. They vary from light, quick orgasms to deep, hard intense orgasms that make me gush over and over again and my legs and body tremble all over. They can come from fingers, toys, a cock, and my personal favorite a girl with a strap-on. There are times when I don’t squirt at all and there’s times where I’m gushing like a fire hydrant and can’t stop my body from ejaculating everywhere.

Emma, why are you writing porn?” It whispers paternally. “You should be publishing erudite reflections on philosophy or culture.” Maybe I ought to be pouring my energy into more laudable writing projects. Then again, maybe not. The truth is that I can’t help myself from keeping this online journal, my attempt at critical-reflective, sex journalism.