Sex Sisters Unite!

Hey Hey Lovers!

Wow so much has happened since we last talked! Still, I promised to tell you all about my latest sex party conquest, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do! Strap yourself in Lovers, this could be a long post!

So, cast your mind back to the end of October. Picture a cool, slightly breezy Friday night, you know the one, windy enough to throw a few stray leaves your way but calm enough for you to safely wear a g-banger under your skirt without the world knowing about it. Now picture me, naked in my living room, applying fake nautical tattoos to various parts of my freshly scrubbed and shaved bodice while sucking down three dollar moscato.

Classy image eh?

Well that was the scene playing out in my living room that fateful October night. My housemate was at work so I decided the best way to prepare for the night was to stay naked most of the time. After all, if I couldn’t strut around naked in my kitchen, what hope did I have in a crowd of 1500 people?

Next time however, I will have to remember to shut the blinds. I’m afraid my new neighbours got a touch more than they bargained for.

Welcome to the neighbourhood people!

So, after applying what can only be described as copious amounts of anchor, skull and cross bone, tall ship and treasure chest tattoo’s, I finally slipped into some clothes and headed out the door, ready and excited for my solo sexual adventure.

Nothing quashes that excitement quite like catching a bus to your incredibly sexy destination.

After my twenty five minute journey I stepped off the bus smelling strongly of urine and the ‘medicinal’ cigarette one of the passengers insisted on smoking.

Oh yeah, sex on legs right there.

I shook myself off and after a quick trip to the Macca’s toilets I was also officially washed off. I redid my lipstick, plumped up my less than ample decolletage and gave myself a wink before heading back out into the world and on my way to the party.

The Saints and Sinners ball is officially Australia’s biggest sex party, and my my my does it deliver! Often held in a popular three story club with different ‘activities’ on each level, there is enough action and excitement to keep even the most randy of Lotharios sated. Last year (my first foray into the world of sex parties) was incredible, and would have to have been one of the best nights of the year, including my birthday and new years! So this time around I was hoping for another show stopping night.

However, this time I knew it would be different. For one thing, I was going solo. Yes, in the mysterious swinging lifestyle I was attending the party as a ‘unicorn’ (a single under 30 female). Last year I had had company. Sure he pissed me off a little and I ended up spending most of the night on my own meeting new people and making friend’s, but it was nice to have someone to come back to, someone to compare stories with and of course, talk to you/have sex with you on command.

As much as I had tried to convince many a man to attend the ball with me, this year everyone just seemed so unadventurous, so cautious about ‘feelings that may arise in such a situation’.


When the hell did anyone think about feelings when a girl was asking you to attend a sex party? What a bunch of pussies.

I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that I was better off going without some nancy-boy who was going to cry as soon as he saw a leather clad grandmother as it secretly turned him on and he was now forever changed, but I knew deep down it wasn’t going to be quite the same.

Still, the sex drought had made me strong, so I pulled on my big girl pants (or rather pulled them off) and headed up the steps of the club and into the lion’s sexy den.

Straight away I was hit with that now all too familiar smell of beer, latex and sex. Ah yes, Claire was home. I smiled at the doorman as he secured my wristband and sent me on through to the dressing room. I winked at the coat room boys as they handed me my plastic bag to put my ‘real world clothes in’ and I laughed as the bartender attempted a joke while he opened my beer. This was good, this was easy, I didn’t need no man!

Until about half an hour later, when I stood leaning against the wall of the dance-floor, wistfully staring at the scantily clad couples doing their finest impressions of that bar scene in dirty dancing.

I had made the rounds, stopping for some time at the grope box and teasing its occupants mercilessly, but now I was left with not much to do but drink my beer and look approachable.

And boom, that’s how I met Jake.

Jake was a monster of a man, towering over many of his male counterparts, his shaved head glistening under the club’s strobe lights. But what was most eye-catching about Jake was his body. The dude was a tank! Muscles sat atop even bigger muscles, rippling and flexing as he moved. Sticking to the theme, Jake was dressed only in Speedo’s with a race number painted on his shoulder. So that bod of his was on full display.

I was admiring his saucy glutes when suddenly he turned around and caught me staring.

Oops, total Peeping Tina.

Luckily for me Jake quite enjoyed my perusal and mosied on over for a chat. We introduced ourselves and Jake informed me that he was incredibly happy tonight, as he had just won some big body building competition the night before.

Ah, that would explain the giant rig.

I have never been a huge fan of massive muscles, preferring my men lean or even wiry (probably why so many of my men have turned out to have serious drugs issues) but Jake was such a nice guy that I decided to just go with it and see what happened. Plus I was super curious to see if the rumours about body builders were true.

Did he really have tiny balls? Only one way to find out!

Jake and I chatted for some time, and Jake revealed his lust for all things BDSM and his ample supply of toys stored at home. However all through this chat he kept assuring me that he wasn’t just some dominant meat head, that he was actually a really sensitive guy and he had ‘super deep feelings’.

Who was this guy?!

I had to admit it was refreshing to be able to talk so freely with someone I had just met, and he bared his soul to me about what he wanted from women but just never received because of his appearance. I felt bad for the guy, but I also knew I could definitely make him feel a whole lot better.

After we talked about the serious stuff, I asked him to do some poses for me, and we had a giggle as he showed me the moves that won him the competition, explaining in great detail how ‘this muscle has to flex so that you can show off this other muscle here, most guys don’t do that, so they don’t win.’

Hmm modest bugger aren’t you?

Then it was time to dance!

Jake led me onto the dance-floor and we began that awkward phase of dancing where neither of you knows what the other is doing so you just kind of bop around in uncoordinated circles.

That’s when I realised, “Claire woman, you’re at a sex party! The rules don’t apply here!” If Jake was some guy I had met in a club then yes, we would dance awkwardly for a while before moving into more grindy dirty dancing, then kissing and then if all went well, home to bed.

But this was no ordinary club.

I grinned devilishly at Jake and without a word dove my hand straight into his tight little Speedo’s.

I’ve never felt a man get so hard so quickly! It was great! After all my recent sexual disasters, finally here was a man who seemed to have full control of his well-sized and active wang.


Jake groaned in delight as I moved my hand in time to the music. Oh yeah, now we were dancing alright.

Before I knew it Jake had backed me up into the stage where all the beanbags were situated. Yes, for those of you who didn’t read last year’s blog, the stage next to the dance floor gets turned into a beanbag sexfest. Couples lay strewn among the bags, giving head, getting head, having sex and just basking in the afterglow of coital awesomeness. I had to giggle as I imagined what band or dj would be playing on that stage next week. If only they knew what had taken place on it just a week before.

Mind the wet spot!

I was keen to snag a beanbag and clap my eyes on these tiny (or not so tiny) balls of Jake’s, but all the bags were… occupied. So I did what you do when you’re waiting in line for a sex beanbag, I sat on the edge of the stage and gave Jake ferocious head.

Ooh the moans of delight that boy made! I grinned as I continued my assault on his yogurt slinger, reveling in the fact that many a couple on the beanbags behind had started cheering us on.

Finally Jake couldn’t take it anymore and he popped his peen out of my mouth before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I squealed like a little girl and laughed uproariously as Jake carried me over to a bean bag.

The only problem was, this bean bag was already occupied. Jake slung me down onto the bag next to a saucy looking wench. I smiled at her before apologising for the invasion of her bean bag island. To my suprise she smiled back and slid her hand slowly up my leg.

Well, well, well, this was getting interesting!

Jake reached over and grabbed a condom from the bowl placed handily nearby and ripped into it with his teeth. I watched with bated breath as he took his pants off. Would the balls be teeny weeny? Would they be massive? Would he only have one? Would he have three? And then they were revealed…

Not too shabby Jakey Boy.

They were lovely, normal size, shaved nuts.

Nawww how cute.

His wang was not what I would describe as cute however. More like an angry, throbbing love machine!

Jake got into position on top of me, poised at the cusp of my honey pot. Remembering my last experience with Boris I redelivered my line, whispering to Jake, “ooh, be gentle with me sir, I’m a virgin.”

Better safe than sorry right? I’d prefer he went easy rather than slamming into me like a freight train!

And I’m so glad I did, because when Jake slid into me all smooth and silky, oh boy did it turn me on! I didn’t realise just how wet I already was! Maybe it was Jake, or maybe it was the soft leg stroking I was still receiving from my bean buddy.

Jake started to speed up and I did my best to meet him thrust for thrust, although the bean bag didn’t provide much support and he was in danger of falling out a few times. Suddenly I felt a bounce as a new couple descended on the bean bag on the other side of us. In a split second the guy descended between her legs and was quickly making her elicit quite the amorous screams. I turned my attention back to Jake and the sounds he was provoking from me. Phoar he was really starting to pound down now!

I squirmed and groaned in delight, ever conscious of the delicate hand on my leg. What I wasn’t aware of, was that that delicate hand was now getting her own bean bag orgasm, as her partner had returned and was eagerly exploring the depths of her panty hamster.  Suddenly the girl on the other side of me grabbed my hand and clasped it tight. Oh my god, she was coming! I squeezed her hand and tried to osmotically absorb part of her orgasm as Jake ploughed away. The experience was so overwhelming! I was getting it from all sides! From Jake’s pounding thrusts, to the stroking hand on my left and the relentless grip on my right, a sort of sexy handshake if you will, I was surrounded by my sex sisters!

One of these sisters tried to include Jake in the sister action by stroking his chest, but Jake was having none of it. He angrily swatted her hand away, growling “nobody touches me but you.”

I didn’t really have time to reply as Jake decided it was the perfect time to flip me onto my stomach and try a bit of doggy style.

Oh dear Lovers, that’s when things went downhill. Jake’s dominant side really came out then and before I knew it he had shoved my face into the bean bag and twisted my arm behind my back.

It’s a very odd experience, having your face mashed into a beanbag. I struggled for air as Jake drove my head into the slightly moist beanbag (can you get STD’s on your face?) All thoughts of my sex sisters disappeared as I attempted to glean some enjoyment from Jake’s savage ministrations.

My attempt failed miserably.

This definitely was not fun anymore. I turned my head to the side and gasped out “Hey! I need to take a piss!”

Maybe if I grossed him out with toilet talk he’d get off me.

“It’s ok!” Jake grunted, “I’m almost done!”

Thank the lord! Within a few more pelvic jarring thrusts, Jake came hard and collapsed onto me.


I left him to collect himself and went to pee as promised. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror I flinched. Turns out I had left most of my makeup on the beanbag. My face was a smeared bloody mess.

Luckily I wasn’t the only one cleaning myself up, as I was in between a sailor cleaning copious amounts of cum off her chest and a mermaid attempting a quickie douche in the sink.

Ah the joy of sex!

I’ll let you know how Jake and I finished the night next week Lovers!

Claire xx

Quote of the day: “Sexy is using a feather; kinky is using the whole chicken.” – Unknown







Sex is Nigh!

Ermahgerd Lovers!

It’s happened! It’s finally happened! The sex gods have smiled upon me and sent a penis my way! And a working penis to boot! I would have told you about this momentous occasion earlier, but I discovered this show called Outlander and I’ve been binge watching for the past couple of days. Picture this, Scottish, red headed, kilt wearing god of a man, falls in love and has copious amounts of sex with a girl who travels back in time.

And the girls name is Claire!!

Need I say more? Epic story lines are just the erotic and slightly moist icing on the cake! I tend to watch it just before bed in the hope that my brain can retain all the deliciousness and furnish me with dirty Scottish dreams all night.

So far my brain has not been cooperating…

But enough about my television fetishes, lets get onto the real life sex!

After all this time, all this waiting and hoping, all the maddeningly frustrating nights alone, the final result was so… anti-climactic.

Yes Lovers, my first time in seven months was lacklustre as fuck.


You’re probably wondering though, who is this mystery man? What did he do that was so terrible? How did he land in Claire’s creaky old bed?

Well that’s just the thing Lovers, he was no stranger. It was Boris!

That’s right, my usually tryst-worthy saucy man fell far far short of his usual performance this time around.

It wasn’t entirely his fault Lovers, I’m not about to pin all the blame on him! But it was pretty shitty timing on his part; I’ll say that for sure.

The problem was, I had no warning, no time to prepare myself for some sexy time. You know how sometimes you just need a few hours to think about the ensuing romp fest so you can get yourself into a complete orgasmic tizzy? Maybe have a saucy pre-sex shower? Or is that just me?

Anyways, it was literally the night after Noodle man, so I was feeling incredibly unsexy. Not only had I just come off the back of one of my worst (attempted) one night stands, but all those vodka and cokes were still making my life miserable almost twelve hours later, no matter how many pieces of pizza I stuffed in my mouth. So when I received a text from Boris at 12.30am, my excitement was tinged with quite a large slice of ‘can I really be bothered?’

But bothered I became, as I realised this could be my last chance for another seven months. I had to be proactive and take the todgers when they were offered! So I replied and Boris stumbled his way to my place.

Yes Lovers, Boris was completely blootered! (Blotto, bombed, bladdered, any way you want to describe incredibly drunk really.)

Oh great, I thought, just what I needed, another drunken fumble that ended in a blowjob for him and no sex for me.

But no, I had to be positive. Boris was usually pretty consistent with his wang so I just had to trust that the penis gods were on my side tonight.

Boris and I chatted for a little while as he dined on some greasy Hungry Jacks and I stole his chips. That’s what I enjoy most about Boris, we can chat, we can have a laugh, and then he can fuck me good and hard. What’s not to like?

But tonight was a bit different. Boris seemed… withdrawn, uninterested and just not really himself. My god, when I mentioned he had popped up on my Facebook page you’d think I’d donned a trench coat and discovered his entire identity including shoe size and address.

Dude, you’ve been inside me, I think it’s ok if we’re Facebook friends.

But apparently not. In fact, Boris had told me his last name was Crisp, but that certainly wasn’t his name on the old book of face. When I asked him about it he just laughed nervously and said something like “Where’s the fun in telling the truth?”


I was legitimately hurt. Did he think so little of me that he couldn’t even tell me his real name? Did he think after the first time we slept together I was going to go all Basic Instinct on him? That I was so desperate I had nothing better to do than stalk his ass?

What a bastard!

So it was after that little discussion that Boris decided to jump into bed with me. Urgh, don’t touch me Sensitive Sally, I might fall in love with you and follow you home.

Safe to say I was not in the sexiest frame of mind, so when Boris snaked his hand down towards my panties, I did absolutely nothing to encourage him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I asked bluntly.

Boris mumbled something unintelligible as he sloppily kissed my neck. I sighed in defeat. Oh well, he may have pissed me off, but his yogurt slinger was pressing into my leg and it seemed a real shame to waste a perfectly good erection.

So I turned to him and started stoking the fires of his flesh flute, although truth be told the fires were already fairly ablaze when I got there.

Boris took this as his cue to amp up the foreplay (which up until now was surprisingly uninspiring) and drove his fingers right into the driveway at speed. I squinched up my face as my teenie weenie vagenie struggled to get used to the two-fingered intruder at the gates, but I didn’t have long to acclimatise, as Boris was already on top of me.

I giggled and said “Be gentle, I’m a virgin.” Obviously it was a joke (obviously not a very good one) but the main reason I said it was to remind him to go easy on me to start with. It had been seven months after all and I’d practically re-hymanated.

Sadly, in the throes of passion, men do not heed subtle hints or listen to lame jokes; they just plough forward and hope to hit the right hole.

And good God did he plough!

Holy shitwaffles!

I bit my lip hard to keep from swearing out loud and clenched my fists so I wouldn’t slap Boris out of reflex.

The dude charged into my snake ranch with that bender of a beaver basher at a rate of knots you would not believe! Thanks to the piss poor foreplay my poor little love muffin had zero time to warm up and I felt the scrape of condom against my dry, dry walls like nails on a black board.

So not what I was hoping for.

I wriggled and squirmed around under Boris until I finally felt my love juices begin to soften up the joint and I could enjoy the thrusting a little. Unfortunately, it was at that point that both of us remembered why we usually had sex on the couch.

My bed was screaming like a banshee!

Any time either of us moved the whole frame squealed in protest. My cat huddled in the corner; terrified of this new and petrifying beast we had awoken. Maybe we would have continued, but both of us were very aware of my housemate and just how close our rooms were.

“Get on the floor.” I breathed from underneath Boris.

He shrugged and we moved to the carpet at the foot of my bed. As soon as he was lying down, I pounced on him. Ah the sweet sweet feeling of being on top!

I eased myself onto him (very carefully) and after a few test canters I broke into a gallop!

Woo hoo! I’m back baby!

I bounced up and down faster and faster, ignoring the carpet burn I was fast obtaining on my knees, focused only on that orgasmic end goal.

Sadly, the old sexual fitness isn’t what she used to be and instead of an orgasm I got a leg cramp.


Boris rolled back on top of me, and this time it was his turn to go hell for leather. I loved how deep he was going and how fast; what I didn’t love was the carpet burn on my ass.

Inevitably though, my sticky purse gave up the ghost and I just couldn’t take any more of Boris’s thrusting without a butt tonne of lube.

But by that time we’d be going at it for quite some time, and even though there were parts that had been enjoyable, something was missing this time. That’s when I realised; Boris hadn’t kissed me. Not once. That was what made our sexy sex sexy! The kissing! No wonder I wasn’t enjoying it as much, no mouth connection!

I decided I was done for the night and offered Boris a blowjob to finish off. (No surprise he accepted.) However, my heart wasn’t in it and after five minutes I gave up, knowing making drunk Boris cum was an almost impossible task.

I threw on some undies and trekked to the toilet for the obligatory ‘pee so you don’t get a urinary tract infection’ pee and my what a shock I got!

Blood! Blood on the toilet paper! Sweet Jesus I really was a virgin!

I trudged back to the bedroom and got into bed, shoving Boris aside none too gently. He was suffering already however, as that boner of his really was going to waste. It wasn’t going down, but it wasn’t going anywhere near me anytime soon.

So there you go Lovers, I did it! I finally did it! I guess I just need a bit more practise to dust off all that rust eh? Well, next week I’ll tell you all about the sex party I went to! Sailors ahoy!

Claire xx

Just thought I’d use this section to send a massive thank you out to all the Lovers who voted for How Many Frogs in the Kinkly sex blogging competition! Thanks to you guys we made it into the top 100 sex bloggers for the second year in a row, maintaining number 83 on the list! I couldn’t have done it without you Lovers, and your continued support, love and comments is what makes me proud to write about my disastrously hilarious (and often depressingly inactive) love life. Love you long time Lovers!!