Normal? What’s that again?


This is an excerpty thingy from something I’m writing at the moment.  After her sister Anita dies unexpectedly, Carla gains custody of her young nephew, Riley.  All of this happens at the same time Andy – her soulmate – enters her life.

Life as she knows it disappears and she tries to get used to the new normal… until an innocent conversation with her best friend, and Andy’s sister leads her to a realisation that will turn her life upside down again.


Work dragged and by the time she finished at 1pm, Carla felt as if she’d been there for 18 hours instead of five; then again, that had been her life lately. Being a parent to Riley was a lot more draining that she cared to admit. It felt as if she was always on the go and didn’t get a chance to sit down and relax properly.

She needed to catch up on sleep and start taking better care of herself. She hadn’t been near the gym since Riley came into her care, and had had no desire to eat healthy. Fried food held more appeal to her than it ever had and she hated having to set a good example for Riley, when all she wanted was a big ass cheeseburger, or fries with mayonnaise for dinner.

Andy told her she was getting sexier by the day, but Carla felt frumpy. Bloated and frumpy. It was definitely time to do something about it, she owed it to Andy and Riley, but more than that she owed it to herself.

She picked up Cassie and Riley and they went straight to the mall, where Ava was waiting for them on a bench outside the big department store.

“Oh my god your belly is getting so cute!” Carla grinned at her best friend and gave her belly a rub.
“I can’t wait until I look pregnant, not just fat,” Ava rolled her eyes.
“Oh trust me, you look pregnant, not fat,” Carla reassured her.
“I’ll swap with you,” Cassie joked and Ava nodded in agreement.
“Yes! Perfect, I want a belly just like yours.”
“What about the baby girl that won’t let you sleep more than an hour at night because she thinks your bladder is a play thing.”
“Oh I have a feeling I’m not too far away from that stage myself,” Ava replied and the two pregnant women laughed.
“Gotta be worth it at the end, right?” Cassie said, absentmindedly rubbing her belly.
“I’m sure it will be,” Ava replied.

Cassie looked unsure about it and Carla’s heart went out to her. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be, being pregnant at such a young age. Regardless of the support Cassie had, it still had to be an extremely daunting prospect for her, to be bringing up a baby – on her own – when she should have been enjoying some of the most carefree days of her life.

Continue reading

After work delight

957db02a29d1d5587f530709b90bbabfPatience. It had never been Giovanna’s strong suit, especially not when it came to having her craving for sex satisfied. That day was no different, particularly after Dylan’s lunch time text.

While on her lunch break – a whole six hours earlier – Dylan had sent her a text ‘better get your ass home quickly tonight… may have potentially watched one of our little home movies… very horny now, dying to feel you all hot and swollen while I slam into that delicious pussy of yours‘. Needless to say, reading his text had caused a giant throb deep inside her vagina, a throb that had grown in intensity throughout the rest of her work day.

It hadn’t help at all when, on her afternoon tea break, she’d received another message from Dylan – a picture message this time – of his enticingly hard cock. The image had caused her to whimper and a tight feeling to develop in her clitoris. She had quickly replied to his message telling him he was evil and that she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

As as a final little tease she had gone into the bathroom and, in the privacy of one of the stalls, managed to snap a photo, showing Dylan the effect his words – and dick pic – had had on her cunt.

It had been extremely hard to not touch herself more than necessary in the bathroom. The way she was feeling, she probably would have only had to rub her clit for a minute before reaching climax. A silent orgasm was so unrewarding though; she knew it would be much better if, when she finally came, it was because of what Dylan was doing to her body, not what she was doing to her own. Continue reading

Sunrise Surprise


Have I mentioned I’m a fan of alliteration?

I’m also a big fan of Hannah and Josh, [temporarily] reunited after a horrible year apart.  They say distance either pushes you apart or makes your bond even stronger; in the case of Hannah and Josh the latter is true.

I would do more of a blurby thing but I’m hungry so shall just leave you with this little piece of the Hannah and Josh story…



When Hannah awoke again she didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was still early. There was a little bit of light coming through the curtains, but nowhere near enough to make her consider waking up properly.

“Hey sleepy head,” Josh whispered and lightly kissed her neck.
“It’s early,” Hannah mumbled.
“I know, the sun is only just starting to rise,” Josh replied and went back to kissing her neck.
“We’ve got all weekend Josh,” Hannah said sleepily, even if a certain part of her body was fast waking up; she wasn’t surprised that behind her she could feel a certain part of his body was wide awake.

Josh moved from behind her and rolled her onto her back then began kissing her. The kisses were slow and deep, and without even realising it she spread her legs for him, moaning quietly when he moved on top of her and settled between her legs. At the feeling of his cock against her hole, Hannah tilted her hips up slightly, silently informing him she wanted him inside her. Following her lead, Josh pressed inside and when she was filled to the hilt he stilled and smiled down at her.

“I love you,” Hannah whispered.
“I love you,” Josh replied. Continue reading

Rape fantasy: yes, I have one

I have been wanting to do a post about rape fantasy for a long time now, but whenever I start the post I find myself staring back at a blank screen, unable to find the words to convey what I want to say… and perhaps subconsciously, a little embarrassed.  A year or two ago I read Garden of Desires, written by Emily Dubberley (highly recommend it!) and finally realised that I am not the only woman in the world who finds herself fantasising about rape.

HavingSexual-fantasy been in a sexually abusive relationship in the past – which included rape – the whole idea of a rape fantasy is extremely confusing to me.  To begin with I was highly ashamed about my fantasy, why the hell would I want to relive that feeling of having no control and of being taken against my will?  More to the point, why would my brain drift to that little place when I was having sex or masturbating, and why did it arouse me so much?

After a lot of research and admittedly a lot of soul searching I came to the realisation that for me (and it seems for most women) rape fantasy isn’t so much about the desire to be raped (I do NOT want to be raped, I want to make that clear!) but more about having control over the situation.  I know, the idea of rape = control for the victim sounds crazy, but it makes sense when you think about it.  The rape fantasy is happening in your head – ultimately it is you in control of the situation – unlike a real rape when the victim is most certainly not in control.

When my brain does ‘go there’ it is never a prolonged fantasy taking up hours of my time, in fact, it probably only lasts for a minute or so.  My fantasy-attacker isn’t always the same person either, but it is always a man who is well known and is in the public eye, never a stranger.  I think my brain goes to the people it does because I know they are widely respected and admired and a lot of them speak out against domestic violence and the like.  Essentially the men who rape me in my fantasies are men who are the complete opposite to the man who did rape me.

Rape fantasy, as I experience it, is purely a mental thing which stays in my head.  I can’t say what triggers it, but suddenly I am in the situation where I am being forced against my will to have sex with < insert man’s name here >.  He is being rough, the sex is hard and fast and hurts – but in that hurts-s0-good type of way – not in the type of way I physically experienced in my ‘real life’ rapes.  Sometimes he’s calling me a slut, sometimes he is telling me I deserve it, or that he knows I want it.  Sometimes he tells me I’m stupid or worthless, but in those instances that is how I’m feeling about myself in general, and I know it is really *me* subconsciously telling myself that I am those things.  The fantasy always stops just before I orgasm, then I am back in reality and 100% alert and aware that it is my wife causing the myriad of pleasurable feelings inside me; it is always her that takes me over the edge, never the fantasy.  It is my loving, safe, secure reality that I eventually enter back into when the post-orgasmic fog has cleared and my brain begins working again.

It is hard to explain, and I don’t know that I’m really portraying what I feel accurately enough!

I have no desire to act out the fantasy in role play, but in saying that I have nothing against those who do!!!  Rape fantasy – when role played – is ALL about consent, and it really pisses me off when people are judgemental bastards about those who partake in rape fantasy role play!  Equally, I understand that not everyone is going to understand where rape fantasy (as a whole) comes from… it’s like any sexual turn on or fantasy, different strokes for different folks, etc, etc, etc.

THIS is part of why I think #AdultSexEdMonth is so important.  It is all about educating people about all aspects of sex.  More than that, it is about opening up dialogue about aspects of sex that are treated as taboo or that simply aren’t acknowledged as being worthy of open, honest, frank discussion.  It’s about normalising and embracing sex and sexuality, it’s about acknowledging sex is a broad topic that should be seen as something that (so long as consent is involved) is natural, normal, healthy and, well… awesome.

from 'most prominent words or phrases women used to describe their sexual fantasies'

‘most prominent words or phrases women used to describe their sexual fantasies’

Don’t forget about the brain!


When it comes to sex the focus is generally on the organs and assorted parts associated with it; the penis, the vagina, the clitoris, the anus, the g-spot et al.  I happen to think there is one very important erogenous zone that is ignored and perhaps a little taken for granted – the brain.

First of all I say it is taken for granted because the brain really is the reason we can have a sexual response at all due to the fact it’s the control centre of the body.  The penis and vagina (and associated parts) get all the glory while the brain is just sitting there, unappreciated and taken for granted.  But the brain itself is more than just a control centre – it is a huge erogenous zone, a zone full of often untapped, pleasurable, orgasmic potential.

Being in a long distance relationship for 12 months is possibly why I am so aware of the erogenous potential of the brain.  For those 12 months most of the sex we had was via the phone so a big part of what we had to do was talk dirty.  We had to verbally make one another horny and help the other to orgasm through use of our voices. We’d tell each other what we would be doing if we were together right that moment, we would make up stories, we would do whatever felt right in the moment, just as we would if we were having ‘real’ sex.  Fingers or vibrators were always part of this equation… until this one night.

For whatever reason my wife didn’t touch herself when I was making up a naughty story and before long she was moaning like she would if physical stimulation was involved.  I kept talking, she kept moaning, the story got dirtier, the moaning got louder and soon enough  my story and wife met a climax at the same time.  We laughed, astonished that she had had an orgasm without any physical stimulation involved.  I presumed it was a one off, a rare once-in-a-lifetime kind of feat.   I loved that I was wrong!

When we were finally living together I told her a story one night and again the hands-free-pleasure related moaning began.  I watched and spoke, she moaned and soon came.

After that I decided my wife either had magical powers or that perhaps she had a pair of invisible arms.  Neither would have surprised me.

Then it happened to me!

Only three days ago we were driving back from the beach.  The kids were in the back with our friend who is visiting, they were chatting amongst theselves and so were we.  My wife teasingly mentioned a photograph of a man I think is particulary divine that we’d seen on Instagram a couple of days earlier, the idea of a threesome was suggested and next thing I knew the walls of my vagina were tensing up like they do when we are fooling around in bed.  This image she  conjured up kept building and as it built so did that feeling of pre-orgasm inside me.  Usually when I get this tight feeling because I’m turned on, it disappears after a few seconds, but this time it did the opposite.

It got to the point I was gripping my wife’s thigh tightly, trying my hardest not to let out the moan that was so perilously close to escaping.  Every now and then she’d quietly add to the story, nothing dirty, just suggestive little words of encouragement that to anyone listening would have sounded innocent.  She knew what she was doing though and eventually I found myself digging my fingers into her thigh as an orgasm exploded, from seemingly nowhere.  I had to be silent and it was bloody hard… driving at the same time was also that would probably be considered ill-advised, but I really had no control over the way my body – or more accurately my brain – had reacted.

Moral of the story (besides me boasting about the awesomely unexpected orgasm I had!), test your brain!  Test the brain of your lover-type-person!  Use dirty talk, use naughty stories, think outside the box and come up with ways to test out the erogenous potential of your brain, or brains you have at your disposal (okay, that sounds kind of morbid… but you know what I mean!)


Sex – so much more than penis-in-vagina


‘When a mummy and daddy love each other very much, they cuddle closely and daddy puts his penis in mummy’s vagina…’

From those very first ‘birds and bees’ talks we are told that sex is essentially a man putting his penis in a woman’s vagina… and that is it.  We don’t question whether there is more to it or not and we certainly aren’t told that while, yes, sexual intercourse is the act of a man putting his penis in a woman’s vagina, there is actually far, far more to it; a beautifully broad spectrum if you will.

It wasn’t until my late 20’s that I realised the definition of sex isn’t quite as black and white (or penis in vagina) as I thought it was.  It’s not that I was brought up being told ‘sex is a penis in a vagina and nothing else’, it was just something I didn’t question.  Somewhere along the line society, as a whole, developed an inherent belief about what constitutes sex.  It’s something we giggle about as kids, it’s something we’re curious about as teens, something we may or may not enjoy as adults… yeap, good old penis-in-vagina, ‘he puts his what in my where?’ heterosexual penetrative sexual intercourse.

To that idea, I now say a big fat bitch please!

If there is one thing being a woman married to a woman has taught me, it is that there is soooooooooo much more to sex than a hard penis in a (hopefully! essentially!!!) wet vagina.

Firstly – and most obviously – if the two components of sex are a penis and a vagina there is no way my wife and I could have sex – and boy-oh-boy, we have some bloody spectacular sex!  It would also mean there is no way two men could have sex, meaning the only people in the world who could actually have sex would be those of the heterosexual persuasion – oh, and of course those greeeedy bisexuals*… or at least half the time.
(*I know it’s hard to convey a sarcastic tone in one’s writing so if you think I am being serious when I refer to bisexuals as greedy, I am most certainly not… I am simply being sarcastic as hell!)

I had the wool pulled over my eyes as well as, right up until I met the fantabulous woman who was to become my wife, sex was the act of a Untitled-7man putting his penis in my vagina; ‘everything else’ was classed as foreplay, was classed as a build up to the so-called ‘main event’, was merely something to do other than having sex… perhaps because he was tired, or I was tired, or one of us wasn’t in the mood, or you know, perhaps I was a bit sore from having weekend long daughter-with-her-dad sexathon.  I never once really stopped to think about what was below the surface when it came to sex, there was P-in-V and there was ‘everything else’; I enjoyed all of the above, but if there was no P-in-V action – regardless of whatever else happened – I would think of it as having not had sex.

Then I met my wife and it was like a whole new world opened up to me.

The first time we made each other orgasm that is precisely how I thought of it, ‘we made each other orgasm‘ – we didn’t ‘have sex‘.  Thinking about it that way, I was struck by the thought that perhaps I’d never have sex again, I’d simply have a life full of (amazingly overhwelming) foreplay-esque activities.  During our first week together I struggled with how to refer to what we physically did to bring one another to orgasm.  “She fingered me and I came”, “I went down on her and she came”, “I rubbed against her thigh and I came”, “I played with her nipples until she came”.  It was like a beautifully delicious mindblowing cause and effect cycle.

But that wasn’t how I thought about sex as I had known it until that point (ie when I had had sex with someone with a penis).  What was the difference?  If anything, what we did to each other made me feel better than anything I’d ever done with a man.

It was confusing and began feeling like the whole ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ predicament.  What we did to each other felt better than sex, yet… it wasn’t sex, because there wasn’t a penis involved.  Right?

Then it dawned on me one day.  Sex is whatever the hell you want it to be!!!

It might be the typically thought of penis/vagina thrusting/grinding combination ending in an orgasm, but it could also be:
– fingering, either vaginal or anal
– anal penetration, either with a penis, sex toy, finger/s or even (not for beginners!) a fist
– stimulation of genitals using the mouth – the tongue, the lips, the teeth (again, not for beginners!)
– hand job (on man generally, but you can stimulate the clit in a similar way using your fingers!)
– biting, in any way and on any body part that causes an influx of horny feelings (this may be my weakness…)
– nipple stimulation, male or female, rubbing, tweaking, pulling, twisting, flicking, licking, tugging with teeth
– spanking
– use of restraints, ropes, hand cuffs, strong tape, scarves which are conveniently placed at the head and foot of your bed (not that I know  this from personal experience…)

templeIt doesn’t stop at the obvious physical stuff though – or not for me anyway.  Because there is no penis in our sex equation, I don’t tend to think of anything we do as foreplay per’se (can’t resist a good rhyme), rather, I see everything we do – that leads to us losing control in even the slightest way – as sex.  I enjoy a passionate, hunger-fuelled kissing session almost as much as I enjoy my wife working her special brand of magic with her fingers; I love rubbing her bottom gently until she’s whimpering and writhing around begging for more, as much as I love spanking her and making her scream so loud the neighbours would probably consider calling the police.

Sex has gone from being something physical for me, to being something that is physical and emotional, as well as being – in a weird way – somewhat spiritual.  Sex is now more about expressing my love in a variety of physical ways, of enjoying the contact with my wife.  I guess it’s about the connection; the special connection between us and only us, as lovers and wives, as two individuals who are totally crazy about each other.

I guess what this whole spiel is about, is the fact that sex is what you make it.  It should be defined by the individual, couple, trio, quartet (and on) in question.  As a sexual abuse survivor I think it is also extremely important to add that however sex is defined between two or more people, it should be a mutual decision, a decision made with both/all sides of the equation in mind and not serving the interests of one person over the other.

When the characters changed the path of the story…

Seeing as I posted about Chris and Emily, and their decision to not go through with a planned termination, I thought it made sense to post the actual scene… so here you go… the scene in which characters completely changed the path of my story.

(you can read the post here)



Emily awoke from what had been a very deep sleep and immediately couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Rolling over she expected to melt into the warm wall of Chris’s chest, instead she was met by the feeling of cold sheets.

Where the hell was Chris?

Worried that something was wrong she got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, surprised to see a line of light under the closed hallway door. She walked down the hallway and opened the door to find Chris sitting on the couch, a blanket around him, something in his hands.

“You okay?” Emily whispered as she walked toward him. The light in the room was dim but when he looked up at her she could see his eyes were red.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Chris replied quietly, taking the blanket off his lap and changing positions so she could sit between his legs and rest back against his chest.

“You didn’t,” she reassured him, adding, “I woke up and you weren’t there, had me a bit worried, that’s all.”

“I couldn’t sleep, thought my tossing and turning would wake you up and I wanted you to have a good sleep,” he told her. It was only when he wrapped his arms around her she realised it was the strip of ultrasound photos he was holding in his hand. Her heart sunk.

“You thinking about the baby?” Emily could feel herself blushing furiously as she asked.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t.” Chris sounded ashamed and let the strip of photos drop from his hand. Emily picked them up and looked at them.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because I’m a guy and I’m not meant to think about babies,” he sighed.

“Well whoever made up that rule is stupid,” Emily tried to lighten the mood, not quite sure where their conversation was going. Part of her hoped it’d end there, part of her hoped it’d continue.

“I just- seeing the baby today- it, I don’t know, it was more emotional than I thought it would be,” he tried to explain. “I knew it would be weird to see the baby, but I didn’t think the images would stay in my head all day.”

“I am glad I slept the day away because I know if I’d been awake I’d have been the same,” Emily told him, glad to know he felt the same way she did.

“I didn’t think it’d be so tough,” Chris sighed and Emily moved from between his legs, repositioning herself so she was able to snuggle up to him. She was glad she had invested in a huge corner couch, there was enough room for them to lie comfortably, side by side… it was also a great sex couch, but that was beside the point.

For a few minutes they lay in each other’s arms with the blanket over them, but sensing Chris needed to talk, she resumed the conversation. “I dreamed about the baby a lot last night.”

“I haven’t so much been dreaming about it as day-dreaming about it.” Chris’s voice was quiet and he sounded surprisingly vulnerable.

“Want to talk about it?” Emily didn’t want to push him.

“I got into bed and all I could imagine was us going to sleep in our bed and being woken up an hour later by a crying baby,” Chris admitted, continuing, “and I imagined sitting with you while you fed him, then changing his nappy while you went to get a drink of water, us kissing him before putting him back in his bassinet and getting back in bed ourselves.” He didn’t stop there though. “Then I was thinking about the three of us taking a walk through the botanic gardens, baby sound asleep in the pram with a cozy blanket over him, us sneaking a peak at him every couple of minutes just because we could.”

She was floored. She had no idea Chris had been thinking that way, no idea at all. What shocked her more was that the image he painted in her mind made her smile and, at the same time, made her heart ache. They could never have that, well, not with the baby in her belly anyway.

“Last night I dreamed the three of us were at the beach,” Emily told him, adding, “our little guy looked so much like you, he had your eyes and your smile, his hair colour was the same and he even had the same faint smattering of freckles as you do.”

“Sounds nice,” Chris said sadly and Emily nodded.

“It was nice,” she replied and it wasn’t until she felt tears rolling down her cheek that she realised she was crying.

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, the last thing I wanted was to upset you,” he sighed.

“No, it’s okay,” Emily told him, “I think it’s important we talk about it.”

“I still feel bad though, I know you’ve made your decision, and now I feel like I’m emotionally blackmailing you to change your mind, or something” Chris sounded miserable.

“Do- do you want me to change my mind?” Emily asked, caught off guard.

“It is your decision baby, and I told you I’ll support you whatever you decide.” Chris’s did a good job of avoiding directly answering her question.

“Chris, I need to know, I need to know what you think, what you want.” Emily felt panicked.

“Let’s just go back to bed,” Chris suggested.

“Chris, no. I need to know what you really want… do you know how guilty I’ll feel if I go through with the abortion and you tell me six months later you wanted the baby? Do you know how shitty I’ll feel if you suffer emotionally because you actually wanted our child? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something I did made you sad, or made you depressed, and what happens if you resent me because of it? What if you decide you can’t be with me because I am a constant reminder of what could have been? What if we go on to have other kids and you can’t stop thinking about the fact they could have had an older brother? What if we-”

“Fine, I want the baby,” Chris exclaimed. “I try not to, I try to remind myself of the financial cost, of the emotional cost, of the way our lives would change, of the added responsibility, of the dirty nappies, the crying, the teething, the fact we couldn’t just drop everything and go away for a weekend, the fact your parents are going to hate me without even giving me a chance, the fact we couldn’t travel together, that your plan for life after uni will completely change.” He took a breath before continuing, “I don’t want to, but all I can imagine is you, me and our little guy, all the milestones, all the laughs, watching the little dude growing up, being a family, having our own place, baby clothes strewn here, there and everywhere, what our cars would look like with a babyseat in the back, taking the little guy to work with me when he’s bigger, letting him draw on us so he can pretend he’s being a tattooist.” His voice was breaking now. “I feel guilty as hell about it Emily, because I don’t want you to do something just because I’m romanticising it, but then I think about going to the clinic with you and how heartbreaking it’ll be to know the baby is gone. I have never felt so fucked up in my life, so petrified and excited and happy and sad and worr-”

This time it was she who cut him off. “I don’t want to have an abortion, Chris.”

Before any other words could come out, before she could tell him she’d convinced herself she wanted an abortion because it was what everyone else would tell her was best, before she could tell him what she really wanted was to be a family, she started crying. Chris held her tightly and she felt all the stress that had built up over the past few days melting away as the tears flowed.

“Can I please take you back to bed now?” Chris whispered and Emily gave him a teary smile.

“Please, I need bed, I need sleep, I need you,” Emily replied and Chris stood up from the couch.

“Come on then.” Before she could stand up, Chris swooped her up from the couch and she moved her arms around his neck, feeling slightly drunk as he carried her through the lounge and down the hall toward her bedroom.

She giggled as he lay her down on the bed and didn’t stop until she had sat up and taken off the t-shirt she’d put on earlier before going to find him. He undressed and got back in bed beside her, she instantly found her way into his arms, sighing happily when he gently kissed her neck. Emily was far too exhausted to even think about having sex, but it was certainly nice to feel Chris’s lips against her skin and to have his warm body pressing against hers.

“I love you,” Chris whispered, for the very first time.

Emily didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

They shared a sweet kiss, but both knew it was time for sleep. What a weird early-morning it had been for them. Emily had woken to find Chris wasn’t in bed, and now here they were, snuggled up, both having said ‘I love you‘ to each other, for the first time. More than that though, they had made the decision to continue with the pregnancy, to take a huge leap and become a family.

So Chris wouldn’t see her crying for the fiftieth time in the last five days Emily rolled over in his arms so her back was to his chest. His arm snaked around her waist as was usual when they were spooning, but this time his arm wasn’t draped haphazardly over her waist; his hand was protectively spanned over her lower belly, the simple gesture saying more than any words could.