Shameless Part Two


Awhile ago, I pointed out that my husband added a PayPal button, in hopes that some of you might consider my writing worth a few dollars here and there. (I’m a writer so of course I am poor.)

I have since then heard other bloggers refer to their PayPal buttons as tip jars, and I love that. I want to think of it as a tip jar, because as a long-time bartender, tipping is a well-established way to show appreciation in my head.

Anyway, it sounds so much better than begging.


I have always joked that I am a “shameless promotions whore.” If a friend of mine is in a new band, you had better believe that I am telling everyone about it (check out Jonah Foree in Goth Brooks.)

In fact, I have an entire page on this blog just devoted to telling you how great my friends are.

However, I have always been a shameless promotions whore for other people. I don’t have much experience doing it for myself.

I finally understand what all my artist friends were always talking about when they said that it feels like begging to ask anyone to support your art. It does. And now that I am writing a series of kinky romance novels instead of working for actual money, I completely understand where they were at when they lamented “friends” asking to get into shows free or asking for a painting as a “gift” instead of paying.


So I am going to be a shameless promotions whore for myself.

It’s probably about time I did so.

Please buy my book. And if that is too much money for you, then please consider transferring a “tip” to me through Paypal.

The more you support art, the better art there will be in the world. And as we all know, art is one of the most important things we can all support in order to make our society better.

Thanks for listening.


Fantasies Can Be Just That


I always remind people that it’s okay to want to act out sexual fantasies, but to remember that they don’t have to act out every fantasy they ever have.

Most women have a gang bang fantasy, for example. This is perfectly normal because we did evolve from moneys, and we still have the instincts to collect a variety of genetic material. (This is because competition is essential if we want the best of everything.) Anyway, this is a fine fantasy to have, but it can be a dangerous one to play out unless you know all the men, and you have STD tests from all of them. If not, you run the risk of getting sick.

Now, some people have different risk tolerances than others. It may be that I think something is a perfectly acceptable risk, but you think it’s reckless. When I rode a motorcycle, a lot of people chastised me for being reckless with my life. But, I thought the risk of death or serious injury was low, and so I chose to ride.


But there are other things besides risk that may stop you. You may be in a monogamous relationship with a partner. Or, you may be in an open relationship with a partner, but they would be upset by your specific fantasy. (Example: A cuckold fantasy you have might not be okay with your partner. Maybe they are okay with you sleeping around, but not while they are there/have to think about it.)

And of course, you may be stopping yourself. Many people who have been raped have rape fantasies (because rape fantasies are really common anyway) but they can’t act on them because it would bring up unpleasant memories. Or, they may be too afraid to ask for those things from a partner who knows they have been through a trauma, because they worry that it will make it look as though they are over the trauma, or like it was never that bad.

I wrote a lot about tolerance when I was doing the Fetish Series. And, I thought about it a lot too. How often do we judge someone for their desires? How often do we make people feel bad for who they are? And I don’t believe for a moment that we can control our fantasies. I really do believe that they are involuntary and come from a part of our mind that is wild.


And, if our fantasies are as impossible to control as our sexual orientation, then maybe we should be more careful about judging them. Why knows where ideas come from? Hasn’t every writer tried to define the origin of the muse and failed? So let’s not condemn each other for fantasies that we have, or be afraid to tell people.

While accepting that it’s okay to share fantasies and accepting that we shouldn’t judge them, let’s also realize that having a fantasy doesn’t mean you have to do it. Sometimes it’s just fun to dream. We as kinksters often get caught up in living all of our fantasies because we live some of the fantasies that society considers taboo. And that is awesome; I’m not saying that it’s not.

Still, let’s always be willing to admit that some things are just fun to dream about, and there are some things that we might never do. And that’s okay. Staying in your comfort zone is okay.

Safe, sane, and consensual!


My Friend the Pedophile


A friend has been pushing me lately to write my story. It’s a running theme in my life, actually. I have often had someone I know push me to write about my life. The excuse I used to use was that I didn’t have time. However, as I have saved up some money to take off work for a year to write a series of fiction books, I am told that I have no excuse for not also writing an autobiography.

This forced me to look harder at why I am always so against the idea of writing about me. As it turns out, it is because my story is fucked up. There are too many things in it that require long and boring justifications. It would be almost no action!

Really; my story would be a book of explanations for my behavior.


I agreed to give an example of this, and so this post will constitute as my example of why an autobiography written by me would be 90% excuses.

Here goes: When I was a teenager, my best friend was a pedophile.

Obviously I can’t just tell you that, and then launch into a description of our many adventures (though we did have a lot of great adventures.)

This is what I mean by “some things requiring a long explanation.”

You may think that no explanation could make it seem okay that I had a pedophile for a friend when I was in High School, but read on and tell me what you think at the end.

Take one step back to get perspective.

First, I want to tell you that my uncle Mike and his boyfriend Dale were wonderful people. They always hosted the white elephant at Christmas, and they made any party fun. Growing up in a family with openly gay members, I was taught that there is nothing at all wrong with men who like men. No one ever made it seem weird or unnatural, and I was told that anyone who thought gay people were bad is someone that I should not get to know. So for starters, I couldn’t fault Mick (my friend the pedophile) for liking men because I knew that wasn’t wrong.

Take one more step back, and let’s get a little more perspective.

Next, I want to tell you about where I was at the time (in my head). I was fourteen and my breasts had just grown in. I went from thinking the world was a nice place to hating it in the span of a single summer.

Once, I had enjoyed going out in public because people asked me how old I was, and what I wanted to be when I grew up, and what my favorite color was. I was treated like a tiny person, and I liked my fellow humans.

After I grew breasts, the world changed. I stopped being a person and became an object. An object, I might add, that men of all ages hit on.

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Men where always leering at me and trying to find excuses to touch me. I got cat-called on the street and the men said such awful and embarrassing things to me. My dad’s friends somehow looked at me in a way that made me feel dirty when we were at pool parties. At my job as a waitress, old men would pinch my butt. If I complained, my boss would say “He’s just a nice old man. Remember you want a good tip, so smile and bear it.” Old women told me that this was just how life was. My female friends were all having the same experiences, and everyone told them it was normal too. And all this created an impression.

I hope women will understand this, although I know many men probably won’t. The transition from “girl” to “woman” seems to happen the moment you physically mature, long before you are legally or emotionally an adult.

The point is; I developed the impression that it was acceptable for old men to harass me (as a teenage girl) and think of me as an object of sexual desire. Everyone told me to get used to it. So, I got the impression that it must be okay, no matter how dirty it made me feel.


With my friend Mick, he liked boys my age. But unlike the old grandfathers who grabbed my ass at work, Mick was young. He was only 27. Plus he was very cool. He was a bartender, and he knew how to make so many wonderful drinks. He didn’t have wrinkles, and he wasn’t losing his hair. Plus, he wasn’t lewd. He was polite. If he liked a boy, he didn’t paw at them and make nasty comments about having sex with them like the old men did to me. Instead he was coy and shy and giggled like I did when I liked a boy. It seemed way less gross to me.

On top of that, you should remember that I was fourteen. My friends were drinking 211 Steel Reserve that they had to shoulder tap to get. But not me. My friend the pedophile brought me bottles of booze and turned them into wonderful things like Mudslides, Margaritas, and Tequila Sunrises. I had the classiest High School parties you can imagine.

But it wasn’t just the parties, and that Mick had a car. It was that he treated me like a person. I was being sexualized by all the men I met. And, I hadn’t learned to brush it off yet the way that older women do. It still hurt deep down somewhere every time I was cat-called or someone touched me in a creepy way, because I wanted to be seen as a person like before. I wanted people to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up or what my favorite color was. I didn’t want them to be fantasizing about fucking me.

And Mick was not fantasizing about fucking me. He did ask me questions and talk to me. He treated me like a person.


Looking back, I know that he was only my friend because I was a very attractive young girl. I know that he liked to be around me because of the endless parade of boys who wanted to be around me. But it is a grown-up mind that can see that. I couldn’t see it at the time. I was arrogant enough to think that Mick liked me as a person and enjoyed my conversation.

When I found out that he had been to jail for pedophilia, I was surprised.

He had been nineteen, and the boy had been thirteen.  I considered the six year age difference, and I thought about the fifty-year-olds always hitting on me at work. I couldn’t see the problem, unless the boy had not consented. But, Mick assured me that he did consent. So of course, teenage me brushed it off.

After all, what is a six year ago difference really? Old men are all over the media and out in life with their young “trophy wives.”


Years later, Mick had taught me how to keep house, entertain company, and keep a conversation going. He taught me to make lots of different kinds of food, and how to bar tend. I was nineteen then (the same age he had been when he went to jail.) By then, I was starting to see the issue. The last five years had been like a lifetime to me. So, while fourteen-year-old me thought that a nineteen-year-old and a thirteen-year-old didn’t sound so bad, I had an uncomfortable feeling the older I got that it was that bad.

By the time I was twenty, I no longer spoke to Mick. I did decide that what he had done to go to jail was wrong, over time.


However, I had a simultaneous decision that everyone in my young life was equally shitty. My boss who told me to let old grandpas grab my ass was horrible. My mom who said I was being too sensitive was a bitch. My friend’s moms, who told us that getting cat-called made them feel sexy should have been ashamed. And the men themselves, who thought it was okay to talk to a fourteen-year-old girl about how they wanted to fuck her, should have been charged with some sort of crime.

I just thought: There is a clear legal precedent. Men who harass or fuck little girls go to jail. But men who harass or fuck girls who have breasts are forgiven. They are not charged, or if they are, they get light sentences. Society thinks it is okay. Society acts like it is okay. Once a girl grows breasts, she is no longer a person. She becomes a thing. And it is hardly a crime to violate a thing.

One moment sticks out in my mind from when I was young. A group of men were harassing me as I was walking home from work. I was probably sixteen at the time. One said “I’m not sure she looks legal.” Another chimed in with “If there’s grass on the field, you can play.” And a third chimed in with “If she’s old enough to bleed, then she’s old enough for me.”


It made it very clear to me that no matter how young a girl is, once she begins to look like a woman she becomes a target for sexual abuse. And yet somehow, little boys are always people. They never become objects.

So in the case of Mick, perhaps the thirteen-year-old boy was too young to consent. But if it had been a girl, I think people would have said that she probably asked for it. I think people would have said it wasn’t wrong of him to want to “get a piece.” I think that the way I was treated as a young girl taught me very clearly that men think of young women as sex objects, and that society is very permissive about this.

In the case of my friend, I think it was his preference for little boys that got him jail time. I think it was the sole contributing factor.



That’s the story. And you see that it requires a lot of explanation, as do most things in my life. If I wrote an autobiography, it would be nothing but a long litany of excuses and rationalizations. So, enough about me.

Let’s forget about how teenage girls have a rude awakening to sexual harassment. Let’s actually talk about older guys who like teenage boys.

Historically, this has been a well-accepted practice in quite a few cultures, and is still common in many countries today.

Even if it had never been acceptable at any point in history anywhere in the world, and even if it had always been considered wrong, the genetic predisposition would still be there, wouldn’t it? I mean, I don’t believe that Mick had any control over who he was attracted to. I imagine he would have preferred to be attracted to women of his own age, so he could fit in and be normal.

So if we can accept that pedophiles are people, and that they are not in control of how they are, then I think we should be able to accept the idea that treatment would be more beneficial than punishment. Countries like Germany have started treatment programs that focus on keeping the person from acting on any desire that relates to underage people. Shouldn’t we do the same?

As with all things, I think it is safer once you bring it out of the shadows. It seemed like this story was a good excuse to make that point, as it is often on my mind. People often talk about men who like teenage boys as if they are animals. You hear people say that they should all be castrated or killed. But, I think Mick was a worthwhile member of society, and I think with people like him, it would be better to explore treatment options. It’s an unpopular view, but there, I said it.


Reaching Out


My husband and I are planning a trip to South Korea in October as a vacation. We are always interested in meeting new and interesting people, so if you are going to be in South Korea in the last two weeks of October, let me know and we’ll plan to meet up.

When we travel, we always try to go to kink places in that area, so if anyone is aware of a fetish club in Korea, let us know. We have been to Club Desire, and to hook up clubs, but a dungeon would be lovely.

Also, we will try to attend at least one munch while we are there.

Obviously we are going for vacation, so we’ll be hiking in Seoraksan and visiting Jeju Loveland and such, but it’s important to us to try and work a little kink into every vacation. So if you have ideas, let us know!

(As always, if you are planning a trip to Guam, let us know!)


Communication is so Important


I have done a lot of posts about poly couples. Obviously it’s a very complicated subject and everyone sets their own relationship rules and boundaries because there isn’t really any standard expectations in a poly relationship.

However, one thing that is always important is communication.

Not long ago, my husband and I had an experience with a vanilla friend of mine who came to visit. She doesn’t often have sex and is nervous around men, so it seemed like it would be good for her to experiment a little in a safe environment. (With my husband because she is straight.)

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However, because she is vanilla, she is uncomfortable talking about sex at all; let alone handling how to talk to me about having sex with my husband.

I really didn’t want to push her boundaries and I didn’t want to force her into a conversation that would be emotionally difficult for her. So, I didn’t. I let her pretend that nothing happened in the morning and I joined her in whatever topic she introduced for conversation.

two beautiful teenage girls talking
After all, respecting other people’s boundaries in one of the most sacred rules of the kink community.

However, it did make me feel icky to not talk/gossip about it afterwards.

I knew that she had only had sex with a few people in her life, and that she wasn’t even cool really talking about dating (she always got uncomfortable and standoffish when I brought it up). I was glad that my husband could help her learn that men are not all scary creatures that you can’t communicate your needs to. I know it was positive for her to be able to have a safe sexual experience that she could use to help her feel more courageous about pursuing romance on her own in the future.


However, I did feel that the lack of direct communication between her and I was upsetting for me. (Of course she is my friend and it was my idea because it has always bothered me that she was afraid of sex/dating.)

I guess I just wanted to say that there is no way to overstate how much healthy communication can help make situations more comfortable and positive for everyone.

In this case, I suppose she’ll keep being my friend as she always has. And maybe in time she will get to a place where she can talk about it. Obviously my husband and I talked about it in detail, as we always do. But no two people ever have the same experience, and each person ascribes their own meaning to things that happen to them. I would have liked to have heard her perspective and been able to share the experience from her side.

Monogamous vanilla people are fine, and I am not saying otherwise. But it does make me appreciate my kinky and poly friends just a tiny bit more. And of course, it makes me appreciate that my husband is able to communicate about things. We would be lost without that.


Fetish Series: Review


It’s been fun doing a series that explores some fetishes in the kink community. I hope you have enjoyed reading! I know that there are about a million more fetishes that we didn’t talk about, and new ones pop up all the time.

However, I just wanted to touch on some of the most talked about fetishes and explore what a fetish is.

If you have suggestions for future posts about a specific fetish, e-mail them to me and I will consider them.

For now, let’s go back to my regular writing about kink life.

Fetish Series posts:


One: Age play.

(A discussion of different kinds of play related to age as a fetish.)


Two: Swinging & Orgies.

(A discussion of swinging, orgies, and other forms of group play.)


Three: Clothes.

(A discussion of various clothing-related fetishes.)


Four: Impact Play.

(A discussion of whips, paddles, and spankings.)


Five: Bondage.

(A discussion of bondage and various ways to go about it.)


Six: Role Play.

(A discussion of types of role play a couple/group might engage in.)


Seven: Bodily Fluids.

(A discussion of body fluids as a fetish, from blood to scat.)


Eight: Pushing Boundaries.

(A discussion of more extreme things that are fetisized by some.)


Nine: Pictures and video.

(A discussion of pictures and video as a fetish, and why you should be cautios of this.)

Make sure to like and comment on the ones you thought were the most interesting!