Monthly Archives: October 2013

Succubus (Fiction) – An erotic tale for Halloween

An erotic tale for Halloween.

A wooden carving of a succubus set in the roof angle of a half-timbred outside wall
Source: Wikipedia

It was an old, 16th century inn, and the sculpture in the rafters of the nude succubus was a sign that it had also been a brothel. That’s what the little tourist brochure said. Timothy didn’t know how accurate that was, but of course a titillating story like that sold better than “Someone carved a naked woman here and we don’t know why.” If it was true, he wondered if the customers of the brothel remembered that the succubus was known for stealing the seed from her victims, then shifting into an incubus and implanting the seed into a female. Or that both succubus and incubus were known for stealing the breath from their victims. These were only stories invented to make sense of wet dreams, illicit pregnancies, or unexplained deaths, of course. But the myth of the succubus, who forced herself on a sleeping man, had prevailed for centuries, and probably always would.

The best view of the entire sculpture could be had from below, but from the window in Timothy’s room, he could see her left breast close up. Timothy admired its frank eroticism, and that it had survived so long, and then he looked down onto the street.

He saw quite a few people in fancy dress – more adults than children seemed to be celebrating Halloween. There were sexy pirate wenches, sexy vampires, sexy nurses, sexy harem girls – and many men in costumes more comical than attractive. It seemed costume designers hadn’t quite figured out how to sexualize the male body. All of the costumed people were headed to pubs or parties. Timothy had read somewhere that Halloween had become a sort of “Straight Pride” event – a chance for heterosexuals to dress up and behave like sluts.

It wouldn’t be hard for Timothy to join in on the events. He didn’t have much in his suitcase, but he could probably improvise something, if he stopped somewhere to get some makeup. He imagined himself as a zombie, finding a single girl dressed as a sexy necromancer, buying her drinks, bringing her back here. They’d giggle over the succubus carving. He’d run his hands over her body through her satin costume while she ripped off the rest of his torn t-shirt. He’d drop to his knees to go up under her skirt and start eating her out, tasting pussy for the first time.

I don’t have any condoms. I’ll have to remember to get some when I get the cosmetics, he thought.

He didn’t go out. He sat propped up in bed, using his laptop, looking at porn and jerking off. It was easier than thinking about how to approach a real woman.

It was long after he’d put the laptop away, near midnight, when the succubus came through his window. He heard the creak of the window opening, felt the chilled breeze, smelled something that reminded him of the strip club he often frequented, the smell of female. The only light was the crescent moon, which gave him a silhouette of her curves.

Then she was on him.

Timothy had never been with a woman he hadn’t paid for – had never had anything close to this experience. She seemed to have more hands than was possible, touching him everywhere, kissing him everywhere. Her body was ripe and luscious, and when she crouched over him in a manner that was not an offer, but a demand, he didn’t hesitate. This was ambrosia, the god’s nectar, served on Olympus. This was the elixir of immortality. He was already close to the summit, and when she put her mouth on him, he groaned his pleasure into her cunt while she drained his cock dry.

“Did you feel the earth move?” was said the next day, usually with giggles, by the formerly costumed partygoers who had found a companion for the night. A minor earthquake had occurred. A few chimneys had fallen. Some masonry was damaged. The electricity was out parts of the town. The owner of the inn knocked on doors one by one, making sure no one was harmed, assuring them he’d called the power company, and so on. When number 8 didn’t answer, he knocked again, harder, called out. Finally, he got his master key and entered.

Timothy Brazier was in his bed, nude, his eyes open and staring at nothing, his body coated with plaster that had been knocked loose from the ceiling, his mouth wide open and full of the same dust.

Soon the inn was crawling with people. Paramedics, police, the coroner, the insurance adjuster. The owner took a moment when no one was bombarding him with questions to walk around the inn, and make sure the historical carvings hadn’t been damaged by the tremor, and ticked them off mentally, one by one: the gryphon, the lion, the dragon, the unicorn, the incubus. He looked up at the incubus, with its lewd, oversized genitals, and had a sense that something was wrong. No. It was just nerves. It was only the knowledge that a man had suffocated to death in the room next to the incubus. He moved on.

Originally published September 23, 2011

Something for the weekend

WickedWednesday – Wet

This week’s WickedWednesday prompt is “Wet.”

As usual, I asked SilverHubby for his thoughts. This is what he said:

When I see that word, what usually goes through my mind is “Like a hot knife through butter,”

You were hoping for a much more graphic picture. Go on, admit it.  ;)

You were hoping for a much more graphic picture. Go on, admit it. 😉

Did you just blush, my slavegirl? You often do when I remind you of what I am about to tell our readers about.

Twelve-ish years ago, when we were in a trans-Atlantic LDR, you started, after some prompting (well ordering at several points), to tell me about your fantasies. You told me about the earliest ones. The ones you had before you even knew what sex was. The ones where you were tied up and taken prisoner. You remember, don’t you? The ones that still make you HotAsAllHell and wet too.

Even back then, before we knew you were already ill, you had occasional problems with vaginal dryness, and we got through a lot of lube. The first time I tied you, spreadeagled, to our bed was very, very different though, wasn’t it? I didn’t realise it at first, because I was concentrating on getting you completely restrained. When I’d finished I noticed a wet patch on the bed between your legs. At first, I thought one of us had spilled something, but couldn’t think what, as the iced water we always kept on standby was safely on the night stand.

Then I looked at your cunt (a word, dear reader, that we are both determined to recapture and use in a sex-positive way). You were quite literally dripping. I couldn’t resist. Before using the various floggers, canes and other instruments of torture I had waiting for you, I had to fuck you. So I did. My cock, achingly erect from the state of you, slid into you like a hot knife through butter.

That was one of our most memorable sessions, wasn’t it?

This picture was taken on that occasion. Remember? Sadly, the VGA camera we had back then was unable to capture detail of the wet patch.

Is this more what our loyal reader had in mind?

Is this more what our loyal reader had in mind?

 Click below to see who else is being wicked this Wednesday.

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Our Contraception Journey Part 4: Cerazette

Cerazette

Part 4 of a weekly series. We’ve been through nearly every available contraception method in our efforts to find the right solution for us.

Originally published January 27, 2012

A yellow foil card containing a month's supply of Cerazette birth control pills.

Another option

After deciding as a couple to get a vasectomy (part 1) and discovering that complications would prevent this from happening quickly, we had to look again at our birth control options.

It wasn’t easy for my husband (then my boyfriend) to decide to get a vasectomy. When he finally made that decision, it was very disheartening when he learned at his appointment that his vas deferens were too inflamed to allow the procedure to be done that day. He would need a referral to a urologist to find out if a vasectomy will be possible at all for him, and it might need to be under general anaesthesia.

In the meantime, we were still using condoms as our birth control method and were thoroughly unhappy with that. I am peri-menopausal and have issues with vaginal dryness. He is larger than average and finds even large sized condoms uncomfortable. It got to where we were having vaginal intercourse less and less often. Anal sex became our preferred form of intercourse, with oral sex, pegging, mutual masturbation, and various forms of “outercourse” available for variety. Obviously, we wanted to put vaginal intercourse back on the menu!

I wrote in Part 1 that I haven’t been able to use hormonal birth control for years, but this isn’t precisely true. It is the combined birth control pill – the pill that uses both oestrogen and progestogen – that causes me to have migraines. There is another hormonal option, which is to use progestogen only in various forms – injection, IUD, implant, or pill.

The reason I hadn’t considered any of those seriously before was because of the delivery method. The injection lasts about three months – which means if that were to cause me problems, I’d be stuck with those symptoms for that long. I’ve previously had problems with a non-hormonal IUD. And I had heard that the Progestogen only pill (also known as POP or mini-pill) had to be taken at the same time each day – a level of consistency that I would not trust myself to manage.

That left the implant. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of an implant, because I knew there would be at least two appointments to get it – one to advise, and another to do the procedure. And if I wanted it removed because of side effects, then there would likely be two appointments for that as well. But since my husband’s urology referral would take even longer, it seemed worth at least learning more.

We phoned the Family Planning Clinic for an appointment and were able to be seen within a week. If you know much about England’s NHS, then you’ll understand my surprise. I’m used to waiting much longer for anything that isn’t an emergency. We were seen by a nurse practitioner who seemed very knowledgeable. He seemed pleased that we had done our research before we arrived and knew about the various types of contraception available.

But then he suggested something I had not heard of – a progestogen only pill known as Cerazette. (Unfortunately for most of the readers of this article, Cerazette does not seem to be available in the US.) It uses a form of progestogen known as Desogestrel, which works not only by thickening the mucous lining of the cervix to prevent sperm from entering, but also works to prevent ovulation. Because of this dual mechanism of action, Cerazette has a twelve hour window for taking the pill every day. This is much more forgiving than the standard POP, which only has a three hour window.

This sounded ideal for our needs. If it gave me difficulties, I could stop taking it right away, without having to make any appointments. And if it worked, I could stay on it until my husband’s vasectomy was complete. After a little more discussion, my husband and I decided to give it a try. After two weeks of use, I have noticed that it affects my mood, but so far it hasn’t caused migraines.

The combined Pill is usually taken on a rhythm of three weeks on, one week off, with the period occurring during the off-week. The POP is different. It is taken continuously, and the menstrual flow often subsides to light spotting, or ends entirely. Some women may find it a bit disturbing not to have a monthly period, as they feel that it isn’t natural, or worry that if an accidental pregnancy occurs, they won’t learn of it. But most women are delighted not to have to deal with the inconvenience of menstruation. Unfortunately, the spotting can be irregular and unpredictable, which can introduce its own issues.

It isn’t without risks. If a pregnancy were to occur anyway, perhaps due to a missed pill or something else that interfered with its action, then the chances are higher that the pregnancy would be ectopic – a life threatening situation for the mother, and one in which the pregnancy cannot be salvaged. More concerning to me is that desogestrel has been linked to an increased risk of blood clots compared to other versions of progestogen. If I intended for this to be our final contraception choice, then I would need to discuss this further with my GP, as I have other risk factors for blood clots. However, this is meant to get us through the next few months while we await my husband’s urology referral. We still hope that he will be able to get a vasectomy.

If it turns out he can’t, then we’ll have a new decision to make: whether I should stay on Cerazette, switch to an implant, or re-consider surgery. But we both hope it won’t come to that, and that my next article on this topic will be about male sterilization again.


Of course if you’ve been following us up until now, you’ll know it wasn’t nearly so simple. Tune in next week for more of adventures in contraception!

Our Contraception Journey Part 1: Why is Contraception so Hard?
Our Contraception Journey Part 2: Sterilisation
Our Contraception Journey Part 3: Vasectomy Complications

 

 

SinfulSunday- More Cock in Sinful Sunday: Options

Readers may be aware of several things if they read this blog regularly:

  1. We’ve been campaigning for MoreCockInSinfulSunday – and with some success.
  2. SilverHubby (SH) recently came out about how he feels his body is not attractive because of surgeries and stuff but that he’s not going to hide it any more.
  3. We have a crappy camera for now.
  4. SH is not circumsised, and we both love the options this gives us …

… because it means we can play like this:

Old pic, with much pubic hair.

Old pic, with much pubic hair.

Or like this:

Taken a few minutes after the first one.

Taken a few minutes after the first one.

We will often play both ways in the same session. I can feel the difference when he’s inside me. For him, he gets very intense sensation with his foreskin retracted – sometimes too much. With it forward, he gets the bonus of it being moved backwards and forwards when he thrusts which, he tells me, feels great.  🙂

We like options, do you?

Click below to see who else is being sinful this Sunday.

Sinful Sunday

What if I offered you the right?

It’s been eleven years? Twelve years? For some reason, I can’t remember how long it’s been since I made the offer, though I know the date: October 24.

We’d been flirting online. I knew I was aroused by BDSM play, but had no idea there was a BDSM community. He was telling me stories about his experiences. I was being sassy. (It was me, of course I was being sassy!) He said he’d like to spank me. Of course that’s exactly why I had been doing it.

“Why don’t you?” I asked. Pushing.

“I don’t have the right.” He replied.

The words came to me in a flash of inspiration. I knew what I wanted. I knew he wouldn’t take it. But I could give it.

“What if I offered you the right?”

Later, he told me that my words had triggered an immediate orgasm, sitting there at his computer, when nothing more than flirting had been going on. Later, I recognized that that moment, the moment when I made that offer, was a turning point. It was the moment I had claimed my own sexuality. It was the moment I laid a claim on the man I wanted.

There is no anniversary more meaningful to us than the day I said those words. And I’ve never regretted them.

The female blogger, Silverdrop, shown nude from shoulders to hips. A black metal leash drapes between her breasts from an unseen collar. The leash is gripped by the hand of her male lover, SilverHubby.

Something for the weekend

#WickedWednesday – Secret Pleasures and a Lifeline to the Outside World.

A woman's profile in silhouette showing a finger to the lips in the "shh!" gesture.

 As usual on WIckedWednesday, I asked SilverHubby for his thoughts, and this is what he said:

This blog is one of our secret pleasures.

Seems obvious, doesn’t it? But it isn’t just for the obvious reason. Many of us who write sex blogs feel that this is the one place where we can be open about our sex lives, and that is certainly true for us too. We cannot be open about our kink with the people we interact with in the 3D world, because we value our privacy and, anyway, it would not do to involve others non-consensually in our sex life. Whether that’s what we do simply by having this blog is a debate for another day. So it’s great that we can be open here and we often write about the bad stuff, as well as the good. It’s fair to say that we’re as honest and open as we feel comfortable with here.

I suspect many sex bloggers could have written something similar to the above paragraph. Now for the personal bit.

We have often mentioned that we are both disabled and try and factor this in to our toy tests and reviews. But we haven’t yet told our dear and loyal reader (yes, there is only one *grins*) the true extent of this, and how it affects our ability to interact with the kinky community in 3D.

I walk, slowly and painfully, with a stick. I have chronic osteo-arthritis in pretty much every joint in my body. You wouldn’t think it to look at me now, but I used to be an athlete in the Air Force – cross-country running, sailing, hill walking, badminton etc. Now, I can make it out to the car, followed by a rest.

My beloved Silverdrop has fibromyalgia and is bed-bound. She can, slowly and carefully, often with my assistance, get around our modest home. Farther than that and she is in a wheelchair. Her condition is worsened by sitting upright, and she tires very easily.

So between our two conditions, even though we have a shiny new car, we don’t actually get out of the house much aside from medical appointments (of which there are many). It also makes travelling a huge issue, which needs careful planning. Silverdrop has been unable to work for some years. I work from home to the degree that I can in between caring for my love.

I have not written this for sympathy, but to raise another issue. We would love to meet many of you, attend kinky events, find a wheelchair accessible dungeon within reach etc. Heck, we are monogamish, genderqueer, pansexual (to name a few) and are keen to explore opportunities for friendship/play/more with others but worry our disabilities, need to cancel at short notice sometimes, and difficulty travelling will be insurmountable obstacles.

I guess this post hasn’t been very wicked, has it? But it was written from the heart. This has not been a pity fest. We love our lives, and each other. It’s just hard not to wish that some things were a little different. This blog is our lifeline to the outside world and other kinksters, and we value it, and the input from our readers, immensely.

 Click below to see who else is being wicked this Wednesday.

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Our Contraception Journey Part 3: Vasectomy Complications

Vasectomy Complications

Part 3 of a weekly series. We’ve been through nearly every available contraception method in our efforts to find the right solution for us.

A drawing of a pair of hands examining male genitals to locate the vas deferens.

Not actually SilverHubby’s bits

Originally published November 12, 2012

Sometimes you do everything right and things still go wrong. Last week, we told the story of how we made the decision that vasectomy was right for us. This is what happened when he went for his vasectomy appointment.

Getting Ready

We got up early on the day of the appointment. He was nervous. I was nervous on his behalf. He had a shower and when he came back he said , “I think my balls have gotten wind of what’s up.” He was about as retracted as I’ve ever seen him, cock and balls both. I tried to relax him with a little kiss and suck and I said goodbye, figuring it could be up to a week before he’d be up for that again.

The leaflet that the doctor’s office sent out after the appointment was made emphasized wearing tight fitting underwear, as this is meant to support the testicles after the operation and hold the dressing in place. On top of these, he wore his loosest jeans, not wanting them to rub against his crotch. He finished getting dressed and soon enough, the taxi was here to pick him up. He’d been told not to try and drive himself home.

The Appointment

The office was very nice. The nurse was pleasant as she tried to calm his nerves. The appointment before his was a no-show, so he was shown right in. The doctor explained the procedure to ensure that he understood that vasectomy was permanent sterilization. It was not easily reversible, and the NHS (National Health Service) does not cover reversal attempts. (The snip itself is covered.) The doctor then went over the procedure itself and explained it was the “no scalpel procedure,” with one cut and minimal healing required. She said it would be 15-20 ejaculations to get rid of all the sperm that was left in the system. He liked the sound of that, as we could easily manage that within a week after he was healed.

There was something that had not been mentioned in the leaflet. The doctor asked if he had shaved down there. When he said yes, the doctor said good. Does this mean she would have shaved him if he hadn’t done it already? Or maybe just run a clipper along the one spot needed, leaving him with a bald patch? No telling.

So far so good, right?

To proceed, the doctor needed to clearly identify the vas deferens before she started. She had my boyfriend strip off his lower half and get on the table, with a towel draped over himself for privacy. He then had to lay back on the table with his legs slightly apart while the doctor began her examination.

With gloves on, she began examining his testicles by touch. She started with the left side and commented that the vas deferens on that side was swollen. This is usually caused by infection, and indeed, my boyfriend had a prostate infection 18 months ago. When she moved on to try to find the right tube, the examination began to cause pain. At this point, the doctor stopped the examination. She explained that she would have to refer him back to his GP for onward referral to a urology clinic at the hospital. It is likely that he can only receive a vasectomy with the traditional two incisions under general anaesthesia.

What Happens Next?

My boyfriend phoned me to give me the bad news, then got in the return taxi feeling thoroughly deflated and low. He had been nervous about the vasectomy, but very much looking forward to it being done. With waiting times what they are on the NHS, we don’t know how long it will take to get a urology appointment.

We went back to the page on the NHS website listing the Fifteen Methods of Contraception to see how we still felt about the other methods. I’m still pretty set against standard hormonal birth control pills, but what about using something that’s progesterone only? Would that cause migraines? We should find out. Then we started to wonder, what if the swelling in his vas deferens means he’s already infertile? Maybe he should have his fertility tested? Whatever we do, the next step is to see our GP again.

It looks like we won’t be throwing out the condoms in the nightstand just yet.


Next week, we discuss further options with the Family Planning clinic.

Our Contraception Journey Part 1: Why is Contraception so Hard?
Our Contraception Journey Part 2: Sterilisation

Sinful Sunday – Shower Time

Our dear and loyal reader may remember that we started a #MoreCockInSinfulSunday campaign a while ago. See here, here, here etc. The campaign will be back next week.

This week, we have a hastily taken shot of me in the shower. The picture itself is not very sinful. What we had been doing that necessitated the shower, was.  😉  BTW, I’m impressed at how well our crappy little camera caught the drops of water.

Silverdrop, female blogger, is shown in the shower.

We had just been very sinful – time to wash away the evidence.

 

Click below to see who else is being sinful this Sunday.

Sinful Sunday