Just not my day.

I pulled my beauty articles off of associated content because the first one was deemed to be "too broad". Um whatever.

So they are both now on HubPages. I know I know I keep mentioning it but a girl has to earn extra pennies somehow.

Good lord I suck at self promotion. I feel weird and embarassed when I do it. I hate asking friends to look at my silly web projects.

So yeah.

I had a whole other post worked up in my head but rewriting my two articles kind of took it out of me and I don't really have anything functionally interesting to say.

However I do have a few musings.

I've been reading a lot more kink and sexuality blogs on my reader and almost daily I look at them and wonder, where are the fatties at?

Also where are the people of color?

I really can't be the only fat black will-bite-it-if-I-wanna-sexual in the whole fucking world who writes about sex ever.

To tell you the truth, sometimes most of the time the thin good looking white people aspect of a lot of the kinky life I read about is daunting enough to give me pause about participating in any public way.

Now I don't think there's anything wrong with this, but in my head there is a disconnect going on. I keep seeing the same archetypal images and whatnot and frankly it's boring and I am starting to just not care which sucks because there are some sex writers who's writing I really enjoy.

But as a woman of color who has shall we say wide ranging aesthetic tastes, seeing the same thin white (occasionally Asian) people put forth as the sexy of sexy, is just boring.

I don't really know what to do with those feelings. I am not really interested (well maybe) in absolutely breaking new ground. But on the other hand I am of the mind that if you want to see something that you have the ability to do, do it.

I don't know.

Also unfortunately my current life situation doesn't really allow for the kind of sexual adventures I'd like to write about and have gotten into before. Another tough thing for me but I'm working it out. Or trying to rather.

So my commenting wonderful homies (I LOVE you guys) where are the fat sex talking dirty minded people.

Also, is there really room on the Fatosphere for fat sex? Can the Fatosphere deal with non polite, no euphemism sex? I wonder about that as well.

So okay. I'm kind of spent and I'm really tired so that's all.

Homo Out.

PS..come Twitter with me.

Tags: annoyed fat girl, sex

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Dosvedanya Mio Bambino

The title is a reference to my favorite Pink Martini song. I listened to it last night before I got in the shower.

It's only Tuesday good lord.

Ooooh yeah. I was going to talk about sex today.

If you have delicate sensibilities you should probably turn your head.

Over the years I've heard some really insanely absurd things about fat women and sex. Aside from the usual sex related bullshit thrown at women in general.

Let's talk about some logistics okay?

Depending on how fat you and your partner are, you may want to investigate new positions, and pillows.

Depending on your body shape and general health, you might want jam a pillow under the booty if you're on your back being the penetrated. If you are the fat penetrator, try the wonder of reverse cowgirl with your partner on top.

And no, I'm not just talking to my hetero homies.

I have heard non fat people complain about this sort of thing and that bothers me so much. If your partner is thin but has a bad back would you be upset about being careful with your positions?

If so, you're an asshole and should probably stick to masturbation anyway.

Also can we dispel some seriously stupid stereotypes I've heard right now?

All vaginas are different. And generally speaking whether you're fat, thin, inbetween, tall or short is not an indicator as to the State of the Vagina.

What that means is any vagina you encounter could be tight, or not so tight.

Also being fat does not automatically mean you will settle for bad sex or be easy. Anyone can demand to be satisfied and be not easy if they goddamn well want to.

Now if you are the fat lover, some considerations.

If you are with a new partner, make sure at some point you discuss any limitations, issues or problems. Trying to maneuver around these while in flagrante can be difficult and honestly annoying.

If you have a bad back say so, if you aren't comfortable doing X, or if you really really love doing X. Share this with the person who's pants you are about to invade.

That's good advice for everybody. Remember it.

Okay now with all that out of the way.

Other sexy stuff from around the web.
Violet Blue got caught with her panties down over at Trollop with a Laptop which I just love. And I agree that is sexeh.

Now that you've been sufficiently titillated I want to share some musings about sex blogging on the interwebs and sex blogging while fat on the interwebs.

Back in the day when I started out blogging on Diary-X (RIP DX, I still miss you). You could have said reasonably that I was heading for sex blogging. Not just because of the nudie moniker but, because of what I was writing most of the time.

I am sort of at a point where I don't know if I want to bring the more often sex back or not. Or save it.

So to continue the theme I want to talk about my pubes.

I do not remove my pubic hair. I don't shave it, I don't wax it I let the crotch fluff fly free.

I do trim it when it gets hot because I don't wear underwear 98% of the time and I hate my fur getting pulled/causing sweat.

I was looking at my pubes this morning and discovered that most of the white ones have fallen out and that makes me sad. I love my salt and pepper pubes so much. A moment of silence for my white pubies.

I am probably way more obsessed with my pubic hair than is healthy but I can't help it. I will tell you how this all started.

When I was a kid (pre puberty) I remember seeing women in my family naked and they had awesome hair. I asked my Great Grandmother once why I didn't have any hair on mine and she very patiently explained that I would have to wait until puberty to get my "lady hair" as she put it.

I was not pleased about this but I figured it would be worth the wait.

So I waited.

And waited.

Sprouted some big ole titties.

And yet, not a pube to be found and I was so upset about that.

I had boobs and hips but no fucking pubic hair and I did not want.

Finally when it did start to grow I was so happy. I don't and never have had what I could respectably call a bush which is what I really wanted. I wanted 70's porn era bush. It was not to be.

My pubes are not very thick, and I have a fairly large bald spot on my pudenda but I still love them.

The first time someone brought up removing them I was horrified. Absolutely emphatically DO NOT WANT type horrified. Why would I do that? I waited so long to get them.

After high school I experimented a little. The first time I shaved em all off I not only hated how it looked (I like my lady parts to look um, not so naked), I got razor burn literally up the wazoo, shave bumps you name it. I had to wear boxers for weeks.

Later on I tried waxing and I have never wanted to punch a hot blond girl so bad in my life. And she was perky about it.

So now, if I feel like it I'll shave off the extra round the edges on my thighs. I'll trim the beardy part if I feel like it. But I never ever go bare.

If I'm feeling extra lazy I will make Uniballer give me a crotchal area fade with the trimmers.

I've only ever had one lover who was adamant about me removing my pubes. I told him that my rule is if I have to, he had to. He wasn't pleased. He said no so I immediately revoked naked time and sent him on his merry way.

Had enough sex?

I think I have and I'm parched. I need water.

Oh no wait. I'm going to do some TMI Tuesday.

1. If you're in love with your partner, does it make the sex better? I don't need to be in love in order to have some fantastic sex.

2. What is the most expensive sex toy you've ever purchased? Um, 60 bucks I tink.

3. If you knew ahead of time you would not have an orgasm, would you still have sex? It would depend on who I was going to be having sex with.

4. What celebrity would you most like to have sex with if given the chance?
Currently- Anthony Bourdain.

5. Have you ever had sex while an audience watched?
Yes and it was fantastic.

Homo Out.

Also what the fuck why can't I get this bitch to upload?

Tags: annoyed fat girl, sex

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Sexy Sexy

In case you're new here's a news flash about your hostess. I like kinky things.

And among those kinky things I have a interest in rope bondage. I don't do it but I am interested. And that is how I stumbled on Twisted Monk. He posted a video thingy he did with super diva Midori (on whom I've had a MAD crush on for a really long time). If you are not afraid of the bosses walking in I seriously recommend watching that video.

And as a super smooth segue I want to talk about fat and kink and art.

I look at a lot of fetish art. I like hot people in shiny clothes, I like people with tattoos and piercings, I like people trussed up in ropes, I like it. Now the unfortunate thing about this hobby of mine is that, after awhile the images just start all looking the same.

Now the very common aesthetic (and I am way generalizing here) is very similar to mainstream modeling. Tall, thin. Give or take some mohawks, pierced nipples and tattoos. Now there are some exceptions to the rule naturally but, the mainstream image of beauty prevails.

Frankly at least for me it gets old.

And honestly kind of disappointing after awhile. I recall when I first discovered fetish photography and alt porn what I found were people who looked, well different. There were some saggy boobs, saggy balls, cellulite, fat rolls, wrinkles, people of differing ages and physical appearances and that is what gives me the proverbial thrill.

When I started to collect these images I was pretty disappointed that the "higher quality" magazines etc all had such similar looks I got bored.

Lately I've kind of given up.

There are exceptions-

April Flores AKA Fatty D. Who I think is fucking sexy.

But come ON now man.

I have known a lot of kinky people in my life and what gets presented in Fetish media does not represent even half of them. And that bugs me.

If you're going to do something in a counter culture or "alt" scene fucking do it. Maybe I have off expectations but really. Is diversity beyond hair color and five pounds too much?

I used to read a popular fetish gossip site and as with so many other places if someone looked to be over a size 4 there were cries of "FAT FAT OMFG MY EYEEEEZ FAT" and while I expect that I still find it disappointing.

Maybe I grew up around "alt" people who had a slightly better grasp on actually being different rather than posing as different. I don't know. But my interest is waning rapidly.

I'm still a big fan of some photographers. Namely the brain trust behind Blueblood. Forrest Black and Amelia G. I have followed their careers and work for a long time. But at this point I would probably not pay to join any of their sites anymore. Not that I don't enjoy their photography, I do but a lot of the previews etc I see just don't give me that special tingle in the crotch related area of my brain. I do get an aesthetic tingle but the crotchal thrill is gone.

That makes me a little sad.

I have such a craving for visual stimulation it's ridiculous. But what does it for me is well beyond what's popular and around.

I guess what I'm trying so painfully to get at is I want to see the real.

I had a copy of this book that I cannot for the life of me remember the title and the photography just floored me. People of different ages, not smoothed out and photoshopped to look like Barbies with tattoos in latex. Wrinkly asses, wrinkly faces. Fat. Stretchmarks. Cellulite.

And the most beautiful thing, these expressions. I remember the last photo in the book was of this couple, I don't know how old they were at the time and they were celebrating their anniversary with the lady cutting/scarring her male partner. I remember her holding this bloody scalpel, her head thrown back and mouth wide open in what I interpreted as laughter.

She had wrinkles and saggy boobs and I was stunned and awed.

That is what I like.

I want to see the people I know are out there having a good goddamn time. I want to see something human beyond the model.

My usual response when I feel like this is to want to create what I can't find for myself. Fuck everyone else I will do my own thing.

In this case though I have neither the talent nor the means to and it's frustrating as hell.

I also don't expect people to alter their aesthetic choices because I'm bored. not at all. Rather what I'd like to see is someone with some balls and talent to explore this successfully without going into the whole, ZOMFG FATTY FETISH type thing.

If the whole Fat Fetish is your thing I don't care. What I am looking for is not, "oh look fat girls is pretty too maybe" but "damn that is a beautiful photo." Period.

If you can dig someone with eleventy billion body mods shoving a giant glass dildo in their asshole while wearing assless chaps striped socks and giving the finger, is it such a stretch to maybe dig someone with a lumpy butt, some wrinkles, stretch marks and saggy balls? Is it really?

No, you don't have to get all twittery in the pants about it, but would it be SO difficult to express appreciation for another human being while reserving whatever moral judgment you may attribute to their appearance?

Yeah probably it is.

I've not got my head that far up my butt. I know the above is probably asking too much of Joe Q Public. And that too makes me sad.

So some links.

I LOVE this shot.

I also love local shutterbug Malixe. There is such a realness to his photos that I don't see in a lot of other photographers work.

A lot of photographers get so into the smoothed out dream that the idea or hint of the real person gets lost. Which I understand sometimes is the point but meh, it just doesn't do it for me.

Which is why I get a TON more enjoyment out of non slick DIY or small production company porn. Which is why I like reading sex blogs because I like to see/experience the parts of the sex that aren't slick and BAM they are naked.

I like oops's. I like it when two people are so into what they are doing they fall down.

Or someone farts, or gets the giggles. Has butt hair and real boobies.

So if you want to turn me on, get my attention or otherwise cause some reaction in the crotch area of my brain give me real.

I realize this entry is probably all over the place because my neck really fucking hurts and so does my back.

Maybe one of these days I'll actually get around to arty shots of my own dimply stretchmarked self.

So fair warning. Someday you might come along wanting to read about sparkly eyeshadow and BAM there's a titty.

It could happen.

Okay I am not excited and I'm going to take some pills and walk around a little.

Homo Out.

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Tagged and it's story time nao.

I was tagged by the oft half nekkid Manwhore to do a meme. ANd here it is as promised.

1) Write your own six-word memoir about yourself.
2) Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible, so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4) Tag five more blogs with links.
5) And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

I actually just yesterday did one. It is as follows.

"I was born with The Fury"

Now story time.

Once upon a time a girl named Shannon did a shit load of drugs. A Shit. Load. There are two I have never and will never touch. Crack, aside from the name I hate the way it smells. And Heroin. The latter because I would probably like it way too much.

Crack also because of what happened during the following story.

During my while as a drug tasting insane person I was generally very particular about who I would take drugs from and what drugs I would do. I don't do needles, and I really don't like snorting things. I liked to party and generally speaking hallucinagens, a little E on occasion were more my speed. (HA I MADE TEH FUNNEH).

So years ago I was out partying with my two main Party Fags. Both of them hot leather wearing dirty kind of homos, the kind that I did dirty things with on occasion (dirty naked buttsex things), and I loved to go to parties with them. So we go to this party and for some reason I remember exactly what I was wearing.

Short black satin skirt, my insanely huge foamy bottomed platform summer sandals that were my shopping/walking all day shoes and a fishnet shirt over a too small (boobies spilling out everywhere) black sequined bra a girlfriend had given me even though my boobs were way bigger than hers. I looked hot. Even hotter because I was wearing one of my crazy giant ponytail falls.

We arrive at the house party with lots of other leather wearing, dirty homo types, a few token straight boys, a few lesbians and one straight girl who had no idea what to do or where to look. Everything was fine for awhile, I didn't drink much and still don't so I had my drink and did some dancing. Let some cute punk dyke rub her bald head all in my boobies.

And then, someone gave me a few lines of coke.

I think it was like 2 and a half or something not much at all given how much my friends were doing. At first I was ok and then, there was The Fury.

One of the straight men, you know the type. Slightly skeevy, always has coke and parties with twenty somethings when he's probably closer to fifty something becuse he thinks the bitches will love his car. He told me it was a Vette but, I had myself a real good look and it was a kit not a fucking vette.

I think it was my air of clear disinterest and frequent mocking snark that drew him in. Then once the coke too hold I became outright hostile.

You know in after school specials there's always the one woman who becomes total robo bitch? I was Mother of Robo Bitch. My friends saw it coming though, they were familiar with my aggro tendencies and saw what was going to happen. They tried to distract the guy, tried to distract me but it wasn't to be.

Now I remember this part crystal clear as well and I think it's to serve as an object lesson for me. This is what happened. The skeevy guy was standing near me in the kitchen, he gets closer, I step away.

He touches my ass. I say back the fuck up.

He laughs and tells me I'm cute. Tries to touch my boob. I pick up an actual butcher knife from the sink and tell him very calmly, that I am going to stab him in the fucking heart if he doesn't get away from me.

He panics and starts yelling, people come in. HOmo#1 takes the knife away, Homo#2 picks me up and takes me out. We go back to Homo#1's place and they let me beat on them for awhile.

Later on I hear through the grape vine that skeevy guy had actually fucked around with the wrong girl and got curbed coming out of a party.

This ladies and gents is why I don't do serious stimulants. I am already a mean mother fucker. I will already probably have no problem punching you in the face. Add in the devil leaf there and well, whatever civilized filter I have between The Fury and the rest of the world dissolves and someone gets fucked up.

I will admit that later on I did do coke again and something very similar happened. Although I did actually punch a man right in the adam's apple. I was polite about it though, as my friends kept marveling at. No matter how pissed off I am, I am almost always exceedingly and coldly polite about it. I did warn him twice. I asked him nicely once to leave me alone and well, he got punched for being a cock knocker.

Now one more story about The Fury and aggression. This one has to do with sex not drugs.

I was friends with a boy who has a brother. They are just about ten months apart in age but at the time light years apart in personality. My homie was pretty laid back, decent guy to hang out with.

His brother however, he and I hated each other on sight. That happens sometimes. Matter of fact we were calling each other mother fucker and you fucking bitch within a half hour of meeting. Fast forward about three months, and by then we mostly just didn't speak to each other if we happened to be in the same vicinity.

There was nothing either of us could say to each other that did not end in fuck you or rolling eyes. I believe it was kind of chemical maybe I don't know. I don't even remember what he said exactly that raised my hackles like that.

So one day my friend for some reason got called into work or some such, then his roommates took off and I was stuck at the apartment with the Asshole. And just like in porn we were glaring at each other then BAM we were naked.

Prior to that I had never experienced an actual hate fuck. I had had a few grudge fucks, some hot make up sex, some please don't tell me your last name it will ruin it fucks, some soft core soft focus girl on girl love making, some crazy butch dyke trying to kill me fucks, but never ever an all out I fucking hate you and will fuck you up while I fuck you fuck.

By the time my friend got home the couch was over turned, there was a broken lamp and we were both exhausted, bruised and bleeding a little. My poor friend was in shock and was utterly horrified. At first he thought we had gotten into a fist fight. But then he was more horrified when we made it clear there'd been sexin going on.

The thing that amazed me at the time was that it went on every time we were alone together for a good six months. And we still hated each other. And we were both comfortable with that.

I learned several very important things from that. The most important thing I learned was that then as now, I do not have to feel attached to someone I have sex with. I had by them summarily rejected the notion that you have to love or care for someone to have desire for them and maybe fulfill that desire. I was fine.

Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.

I also learned then that The Fury was good for more than stabbing coked out skeevy jackasses that get grabby with girls half their age.

And that's all. I still kind of have a migraine and I have cramps. YAY double stabby.

And I am writing something new and it is in my head in a way that can't be avoided.

I'm not tagging anyone specifically but do it then send me a link to tell me.

Homo Out.

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A tribute to a seducer.

For all of the insane strange sex I've had in my life, I've not been one to be easily seduced by many. I don't typically enjoy the game of seduction. At least not from scratch.

However, I have never shied away from playing the role myself. In fact I have more than once prided myself on my ability to play the game and get myself into the pants of someone.

Except for a boy let's call Blue. So called because htat was his favorite color and he wore something blue (other than his hair) every single day.

Blue and I met randomly in the UW Bookstore while each muttering while perusing some shelf or another. There was no instant tzzzt electrical connection between us. I thought he was attractive but at the time I wasn't really into the penis. But that didn't stop me from accepting his offer of coffee at the coffee shop where we could smoke and talk about books.

Now we all know I am an absolute sucker for the big brains, bonus points if said brains are presented in a charming funny way. He delivered.

We spent a very long afternoon and evening lolling in uncomfortable chairs, drinking coffee and smoking many cigarettes while we debated the merits of going out of your way to buy UK imprints of British authors (I am firmly PRO going out of your way), and he wound ihs way to flattery.

I may occasionally say that flattery will get you everywhere with me but it's seldom true. Yes you might get to touch a boob or see one but as for actually getting me naked or opening the door to naked probably not. However he was clever enough to sprinkle his flattery of my skin and lips, right in the tasty mix of glowering at me for my strong opinions on ugly over decorative typeface in books.

I was pretty well able to keep it in my pants at that point. We made arrangements to hang out after I got off of work a few days later. Instead of the U district we headed for one of my favorite (at the time) dives the Hurricane and drank more coffee and lolled in banquettes smoking and giving each other the eye.

This is where the serious seducing started. He draped himself in my lap in the booth, normally I don't exactly want to cuddle with strangers but I humoured him. He demanded to be stroked and petted, fed French Fries which made me laugh. But what did it ladies and gents was the habit he had of running his fingers up and down the inside of my forearm while we talked.

That doesn't work for everybody so don't get any funny ideas. Some people that would get punched in the neck but he was rewarded with a little more unspoken permission.

We saw each other a few times a week for about a month. He was very quick to notice when whatever sort of petting he was doing made me the slightest bit squirmy in the pants or as he put it, "turned my mouth" which to this day I have no idea what he meant.

That's when it became a game. A very drawn out game. he stroked my arm, I flicked his lower lip. He turned and kissed my neck, I tickled his ribs. I let him make me blush, he stole more kisses. For months that's all that happened and to tell the truth I was pretty happy with it. I'd not had that sort of playful almost but not quite sexual relationship with anyone in a long time and I enjoyed it.

After months of this, and then a period of us not being able to see each other the next time we got together he had a look. Some people no matter how smooth they are have a tension in their facial muscles when they have gotten to the point where lust and a slight bit of anger have fused together into absolute need.

For the first time I felt a rush of power in watching him. The tables weren't quite turned but, I felt the power of watching him be wanting and too much of a gentleman to be demanding. I discovered my love of the tease.

I love being a cock/cunt tease on occasion and I am very good at it.

With him, I played like I didn't notice. Even though we spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon half dressed in his bed, I played. I played until he held my face in his hands and kissed me with actual purpose.

There is a big difference between the playful not quite there yet kisses I like to call Puppy Kisses and someone kissing another person with the clear intention of making them tingly int he pants and then getting down in said pants. A huge difference.

Maybe that's what I'd been waiting for. Just to see if he'd get there or if we'd eventually part ways having never consummated a by then mutual simmering lust. Either way I think I would have been happy, however I was delighted.

To that point my still exploratory sex life I had been missing having any experience with a very determined and skilled male lover. I had experienced the determined groping of post adolescent boys who thought they had skills but nothing like Blue.

From that kiss onward for the first time I let him really seduce me. It was fantastic. We actually slept together on and off for months.

I was reminded of this because of a man I saw on the bus today. He had the same kind of posture and set to his mouth.

And I did say I'd be smutty.

Good times people.

I will admit I do miss being single and my exploratory romps with naked people. I also miss in a way being fairly ambivalent about whether or not I was actually getting laid at all.

That is to say I really miss having the time and privacy to masturbate for however long I felt like it. There is really something to be said for spending a whole day in bed playing with yourself.

On that note, I'm off to make tea and ogle boots.

My fondness for boots is becoming a fetish in the my girly pink bits get tingly when I see the right pair of boots. Tingly and moist.

I'm really thinking more and more I should start myself a boot fetish site. The thought has been in the back of my mind for ages. Why not merge things I enjoy, photography, boots, my own ass and the internet.

And I could possibly write off boot purchases which would make my cervix quiver with glee.

Ok now I'm really done.

Homo Out.

Tags: sexuality, self love, experience, sex

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