The Festival Of Really Good Sex!

Holy shitballs Lovers!

What a start to the festival! Not to mention my weekend!

I must say I had planned to save all my thoughts until after the festival and give you a really well thought out, pensive post, but after tonight the words are just exploding out of me! And let’s face it, explosive always trumps pensive, right?

So, you want to hear about it?

Thought so.

Oh Lovers, I was so excited (not to mention nervous) when I first arrived. I knew I’d be one of the only people attending solo, and for a while it appeared I was correct in my assumptions.

But then I noticed a few people trickle in one by one and my fears of not having a partner were cured.

I took a seat on one of the thousands of cushions scattered throughout the room (ok maybe not thousands, but seriously, if there’s a store called Cushion World, these guys had bought them out!)

Cushion chosen, I scoped the very warm room out. (A quick look at the aircon confirmed it was 30 degrees in the room.) Looked like they were following Nelly’s philosophy on life. It’s getting hot in here, so take of all your clothes!

Well, maybe not all of them, not yet anyway. I did shed multiple layers though in an attempt to keep my cantankerous sweat glands happy. (Honestly, a touch over 26 degrees and I’m sliding off chairs due to my drenched ass cheeks!)

Eventually though, everyone was settled and we began. Nothing too exciting really, just the usual housekeeping stuff. You know the type. Be quiet when you leave, smoke out the back and don’t take photo’s of naked people covered in lube sliding around on each other.

Pretty standard right?

Then we were given numbers and a consent sheet regarding our limits and where we didn’t want to be touched.

I pondered for a while. Would I be cool with all this touching?

Just kidding. There was no pondering. The answer was a very definite yes! I only wrote ‘maybe don’t shove a finger in my belly button’ so I’d fill the space.

Plus my belly button is kind of gross, so really I was doing them a favour.

Anyways, I was number 19, and had to sit and wait patiently for my number to be called.

It was like the sexiest Centrelink waiting room ever.

All this waiting gave me a chance to get chatting and I met quite a few pretty cool and interesting people. More on those peeps in further posts.

My number was up!

I was led into a small room and told by one of the volunteers to undress as much as I felt comfortable. I’d told myself I’d whip my shirt off but when I saw all the nakedness surrounding me I shrugged and slipped my bra off as well.

Freezing nipples leading the way (this room was certainly not as warm as the bikram chamber I had just emerged from) I was introduced to one of the male volunteers. I must say, it’s quite a strange feeling, standing in front of a fully clothed man wearing nothing more than your necklace and yoga pants. That’s probably the reason why I greeted him with a wink and a, ‘sup.’

Face palm.

Luckily at that point he blindfolded me and ended any chances of more white girl gangster talk occurring.

Now I was in it. The ‘Sensorium’ had begun!

The guy took my hands and slowly guided me down the hallway. I heard pulsing beats and rhythms as we continued forward and my heart fluttered with excitement. Of course I could have opened my eyes at any time and peeked out from the blindfold, but where’s the fun in that? No no, this was all about the feeling, not the seeing.

And boy did I feel!

The hands holding mine guided me for a few more steps before we came to a stop and they disappeared. For a moment I felt bereft. Those hands were all I had to cling onto in this new and nerve-wracking experience and they’d just abandoned me!

Those hands were quickly replaced by at least two new sets. I breathed in sharply as I felt at least four hands gently caress my arms, my neck, my torso and yep, my fun puppies.

It was so nice! The excitement of not knowing what would happen next, who was touching you and where they might lead you added an intense element to the whole thing. The hands withdrew again and this time were replaced by a… I have no idea actually. It could have been something wildly erotic, or it could have been a wooden spoon. That’s the joy of a blindfold!

I breathed deeply as whatever it was was traced all over my body before coming back to circle my nipples. All the while the pulsing music beat rapidly in the background, staccato drum beats keeping things tribal and intense. I heard a sharp smack and a startled groan as someone nearby received their own wooden spoon in a much more… direct manner. Whatever was happening, they were certainly enjoying it!

But I had no more time to think about them as I was now being guided to another section of the room by yet another set of hands. I stopped, as what felt like beads were guided gently over my skin. However they didn’t stay gentle for long.

Ooh, ah, goddam that stings!

My inner voice was screaming at me to stop this madness, to ask whoever was violently flaying my breasts to ease up and go back to the nice stuff. But no, I wanted to feel it all, the pain and the pleasure. So I stayed silent and took my boob punishment.

Go me.

After I survived the pap flogging, I was guided onward once again, this time not stopping until I could feel someone’s hot breath on my face. (It’s cool, they had nice fresh breath so I was more than happy with our proximity. The only part I felt bad about was perhaps my Hungry Jack’s dinner had made my own breath less than appealing.) Still, there was no time to think about mundane things like that, as a firm voice right next to my ear commanded me, “open wide.”

I did as I was bid, thinking I would receive a finger for my troubles, but instead got a nutella coated strawberry. Score!

“Bite, hard.”

Hey whatever you say lady, who am I to say no to a fresh breathed giver of chocolate fruit?

Before I had time to thank her for the offering a strong set of arms came around me from behind and held me tight. I could feel their whole body pressed up tight against me. Might have been a girl, might have been a guy. Don’t know, don’t care.

Whoever it was could certainly move! I loved the way they crushed me into their embrace as they ground into my back, swaying languorously with the music. Their hands slid all the way up and down my body, making me feel both incredibly erotic and yet surprisingly safe at the same time. It really made me realise the power and sexuality a body can wield.

I was certainly sad when he or she let me go, but as they say, all good things must come to an end!

And that was my first night at the festival of really good sex! Not too shabby eh? Now I really must go to bed as I have to be up at 7.30am to make it to the first class.

How I wish coffee breath was sexy!

Claire xx

Pick up line of the week: I’ve got Skittles in my mouth, wanna taste the rainbow?

 

 

 

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Getting randy in the veggie patch

Good morrow Lovers!

Sorry, just spent the past day watching the six hour BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. I think it may have affected me more than I first thought.

If it has I shall be most put out!

So, Jane Austen marathon’s aside, I guess you’re wondering what else I have been up to, hey Lovers?

Well, to start with I have a date tonight! That’s right, a real date with a real, live man! And what makes it even more exciting is that it’s a second date, which means sex is almost a guarantee! Right?

By the way if you’re new to the blog and you’ve read that sentence thinking, ‘geez, sex on the second date? She gives it up easy,’ then I can guarantee this isn’t the blog for you.

I’d more than happily give it up on the first date!

Anyways now that we’ve weeded out the prudes I’ll let you know more about tonight’s date/conquest.

(Seriously its been over four months, if he doesn’t rip my pants off after the first couple of hours I will be most displeased!)

His nickname is a vegetable, so to keep things anonymous (as usual) we’ll call him…. Beet (because there’s an almost definite chance he’ll get a root!) So I met Beet where I meet most of my men these days, the ever reliable Tinder.

Beet was a wily fellow, tricky to pin down and even harder to catch up with in person! Finally though, after about five weeks of small talk and meaningless chatter, we set a date and met up at a bar.

He wasn’t what I expected, that was for sure. Beet looked like his photo’s, which was nice considering I was quite a fan of his boyish charm, however it was a case of the voice really not matching the face! Imagine if you will Lovers, the face of a 23 year old with the voice and mannerisms of a 33 year old.

It threw me for a loop to start with, that was for sure, particularly because his voice totally reminded me of one of my uncles.

Luckily I love all my uncle’s, as they are the coolest dude’s I know over 50, so it didn’t bother me too much. Beet’s just lucky I don’t have any creepy uncle’s I studiously avoid at Christmas, otherwise it would have been a very short date.

As it was, the date went for about four hours and I had a really good time! Beet was a total gentleman, actually listening to my stories rather than just waiting for me to finish so he could jump in with his much more amazing life experiences (an event which happens all too often on my bad dates.)

What was more, he shouted almost all the drinks! I was blown away by his generosity. Maybe I’m just a simple country girl, but the fact that a guy bought me four wines in one night is my idea of impressive!

We had a few cheeky pashes that night, and I’m happy to report Beet actually knows what he’s doing (which greatly excites me for the upcoming sex) and then he walked me to my tram.

So, great night, nice guy, what could go wrong?

Urgh, this night was over a month ago Lovers!

Now I’m all for delayed gratification but come on dude!

We had scheduled another date about a week after, on a Friday night. I was going to his area so he could ‘show me around’ (aka we would be close to his house so his bed would be included in the round tour) but he cancelled a few days before.

I was disappointed, sure, but he rescheduled for the very next night, so no harm no foul, right?

Wrong!

He texted me again to say he couldn’t do that night either as he had promised a friend he would go to the footy with him.

God damn AFL getting in the way of my sex life!

This time I was legit disappointed, but I decided if we weren’t going to meet up, then I’d give him a cheeky phone call to touch base and have a quick chat. After all, this wasn’t high school, not everything has to be done by text. We’re adults, let’s chat.

No no no Lovers, let’s not.

Beet couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. He stayed on the line long enough to promise another date soon before hurriedly saying goodbye and hanging up on me before I could even reply.

What the fuck?

I decided Beet was a lost cause. Maybe something had happened between our date and now? Maybe he’d met some sexy girl named Lettuce and they were planning on making little cabbage patch babies together?

Whatever had happened, it was pretty clear Beet was not interested in my juicy apples any more.

I deleted his number, downed a bottle of wine, and all was right again in the world.

But a little voice in the back of my head kept repeating what Beet had said to me just before I’d got on the tram home.

“You smell delicious” he’d said.

Ooh, tingles just at the thought of it. It wasn’t just what he said (which was very nice of him because I’d actually worked pretty hard to smell just the right amount of ripe that night) but the promise behind the words.

Maybe I just haven’t had sex in a very long time but, ‘you smell delicious’ to my ears sounded like ‘I’m going to ravage you within an inch of your life.”

Yes please!

So you can imagine my excitement when Beet messaged me the other day, apologising profusely for his lack of planning and not having texted me earlier. Something about being crazy busy at work and all that nonsense.

I didn’t really care. All that mattered was that he was keen to go out again and he didn’t cancel on me again.

I’ve shelved the old ‘feelings’ on this date, as although Beet has made clear his appreciation for my particular aroma, it is yet to be seen if he appreciates anything else.

So, no strings sex for me (with possibly more if he decides he likes the personality behind the perfume) and a fun night with a well – scented lady for him! Everybody wins!

I’ll let you know how it works out.

Now before I go I must fill you in on my life model interview!

Sigh, sadly I am not flouting my flange for art aficionados just yet, but I am on a wait-list! What’s more interesting however, is the other ‘project’ they invited me to take part in. Here’s the down-low: Take 150 pictures of yourself, each one different, no two shots the same and you must be holding the camera (either with hands or toes.) You are not allowed to set a timer or get a friend to help you.

Oh, and did I mention you have to be butt naked?

And not just naked Lovers, but like… spread.

What an image eh? Basically they wanted the ‘models’ to get naked anywhere and everywhere they could (as public as possible basically so the shots would look ‘interesting’) and just click away some selfies.

Then once 150 selfies had been taken, hand the memory card over so the guys can load it up onto the website (yes people, these photos go internet public!) and people can click on your profile to take a cheeky peek at your phish flaps.

I said yes of course.

But as I walked home, the borrowed camera weighing heavily in my pocket, I began to rethink my decision.

The website was dedicated to feminism and freedom, erotica without the sleaze factor and an empowering way for women to take control of their bodies.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realised, it was still just smut that was going to be viewed for the singular purpose of wank assistance.

All of this didn’t really bother me. I’ve been wanting to get into some nudist groups for some time now, so it was an exciting idea to whip around town taking some cheeky pics.

The issue was… It’s the internet. And the internet is forever.

The ladies were very explicit when telling me that after the cooling off period they owned the photos, so it’s not as if I could just get them taken down.

And I have been studying to be a counsellor for over two years now, a course in which the idea of having any sort of public personality is heartily frowned upon. They don’t even like counsellors to have dating profiles!

Counsellor or not, I’m never giving up my Tinder, Plenty of Fish, Bumble or Happn accounts for anyone! (Until of course I find ‘the one’ then I’ll give it all up for amazing sex and wonderful lurve.)

So I couldn’t do it. As much as the sexual deviant in me loved the idea of baring all forever more, the counsellor in me hog tied her to the bed and CBT’d some sense into her. (And by CBT I mean cognitive behavioural therapy not cock and ball torture. It’d just be weird for the counsellor side of me to partake in that type of thing.)

Because when it comes down to it Lovers, it’s just too hard to open up to someone when you’ve seen their vagina.

Until next time Lovers!

Claire xx

Instead of a pick up line this week I’m going to give you some amazing news! As a birthday present to me from me, I bought myself a ticket to the Festival of Really Good Sex! I’m so excited Lovers! There’s workshops on electrosex, sensual tying, foot worship and so much more! I’ll write up a blog detailing everything I see and post it just as soon as I can Lovers!