Evoë’s Blog

Feb 242014
Evoë Thorne

Evoë Thorne, Sex Maven

This is my personal blog, with all of my kinks and silliness. Just my whole sex life, open and honest. Other people enjoy other things, and any sex act practiced by consenting adult is a-okay.

I’m here because I love sex. I really LOVE sex. I love to do it and I love to talk about it! I find it fascinating how different and how the same people’s sex lives are. What I adore is the beautiful intensity of connection between people, however they get there.

As a writer, artist, educator, activist, parent, partner, and friend, my goal is to open people up to feeling empowered in (and by) their sexuality. I dream of eliminating the fear that seems to permeate sexual culture.

I want to change the world. One orgasm at a time if I have to. Can I count on yours?

Evoë Thorne

Oct 122016

It’s the kind of autumn day that feels sweet and sad. The sun suddenly breaks through the clouds, setting a million droplets of rain sparkling. Bright leaves crunch under my feet and the scent of wood smoke is in the air. In another few moments the sky will darken and the wind will make the cedar boughs sway. This season reminds me that all things continue to change. I must let go of the old so that I may create anew. While I might still lust for the hot long days of summer, the only way to find them again is by moving forward.leaves

The legal divorce is final. It’s what I wanted, but seeing the official papers made me cry. I remember when our lives together held so much potential. It’s humbling to realize that he’s doing so much better without me. I don’t think he’s sees how well he’s doing yet because this change is painful, but I am proud of him. As we make our way through this healing process, both alone and together, I see that we are finding a way to share our lives and our family that is more authentic.

As the trees shake off their clothes and prepare to dream through the winter, so too am I stripping down to the barest essence of myself and exploring the infinite possibilities. The deeper I go, the more I find my heat, my passion. I feel grounded and alive.

To balance my grief, I am also happier now than I have ever been in my life. It feels wrong to be so happy when other people are not. It’s hard to disentangle, difficult to stop taking care of everyone, but I’m working on boundaries. I working on letting relationships be what they actually are.

I don’t have words for my relationship with Harold. We are primal forces. When he opens his arms to me, it is like falling into warm ocean waves. When we kiss, it’s like the universe opens up and I witness the birth of stars. His touch makes me shiver with excitement like a spring breeze tickling the back of my neck. We talk for hours because the exchange of ideas is like lightning. We cry because the rain isn’t enough to hold the emotions of the world. The fertile energy of our sex creates a new life for us and for our family.

The sex has been so good lately.

I’ve always had such a beautiful connection with Harold. Our sexual repertoire is vast: sweet, kinky, silly, easy, cuddly, hot, lingering, loud, passionate, intense, playful. What amazes me is that we keep expanding into new territory. Harold has been Topping me in a delicious way lately. Like a toe curling, orgasms rolling, psyche bending kind of way.  Increased trust between us means that our walls are down and we are more spontaneous. We are generally people who have sex 2-3 times a week, but lately it’s often more like 2-3 times a day. I am profoundly grateful for this connective time and the healing it brings.

sheepskin-and-leavesI need to be healed. It’s terrifying to be so close to another human. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable to being hurt. Every single time I face my fears, and we talk through another layer of emotions. I shed more of the tropes that once kept me safe, like the trees that line the road. To hold onto them at this point would jeopardize my survival. We need to be healed. We keep leaning in until all that’s left is the truth of our souls.

I may be turning my energy inward now as the autumn leaves tell me it’s time to hoard resources, but I am also blessed by new possibility in my life. I look forward to a long, dark, cozy winter. We will see what blossoms in the spring.

Jun 032016

My love,

In bed without youI woke up smiling this morning. You must have just left the bed because I snuggled into your warm spot, breathing in your scent. I let my mind slowly come into awareness. My thoughts wandered through my plans for the day and conversations we’ve been having. I remembered the way you went down on me yesterday when I said I was feeling turned on. My fingers began caressing my stomach and thighs – not with intent, just think of you and loving myself.

I stretched to wake up my muscles and bring myself more into my body. I am tender in places I didn’t know I could be tender! Each sore spot reminds me of some delicious time we’ve spent together. My ass aches where you gave me the best spanking ever. Every time I walk up the stairs my thighs protest from all the time I was on top and riding you as hard as I could. My upper arms twinge from hitting your balls with a mallet. Even the brush of the sheets on my nipples is enough to make me shudder in pain and longing. My clitoris feels swollen from so much attention from your mouth, and fingers, and the vibrator. I stretched out my body and realized that I am so happy.

This has been a hard patch that we are going through. I know we often go from dawn to dusk without a moment for ourselves. Things in our lives are changing. Transformation is usually stressful. I want to acknowledge that you are the joy in my life, the thing that keeps me going, my partner, and my friend. I appreciate your presence more than I can express, but I think my body is speaking for me.

Missing youWe have made love 5 times in the past week, beyond the kind of diffuse lovemaking we share most of the time. We connect in so many ways. We are finally living authentically. When we walk around actively loving each other, slipping into intercourse feels easy and natural. Even waking up in the middle of the night so turned on that we fuck sweetly and fall asleep again! I love that we trust each other this much. Our relationship keeps getting deeper.

I want to thank you for staying with me through the pain in my vagina. I’ve sometimes felt like I’ve lost my identity without my sexuality, but I’ve never been without you. It’s been frustrating to have a part of my body so closely tied to pleasure feel so uncomfortable. I haven’t always known how to stay connected sexually. We’ve been creative. The pain hasn’t fully gone away, but I feel like we’re learning to live with it. I could not have traveled this path as gracefully without you to hold my hand.

So, my love, think about me today, as I am thinking of you. I look forward to slow steamy kisses, looking into your eyes while we talk about passionate things, objectifying your gorgeous naked body, and cupping myself around you as we settle in to sleep. If you happen to awaken in the dark and you are filled with desire, well, you know where I sleep…


Apr 182016

Fire of transformation


When we got together Joel and I agreed that marriage ruined good relationships. We had each recently escaped bad marriages. I remember a particular road trip, drinking coffee and talking intensely, where we swore never to marry each other.

We’ve always done things our way and damn the consequences. We clove to each other when we were ordered to stay away because we were causing an “international scandal”. We gave birth to two beautiful boys, united in our passion for natural birth and breastfeeding. We shared dreams of possible futures. We agreed on a polyamorous lifestyle because how could you possibly go through life loving only one person? We eventually got married – our way, without regrets.

We are getting divorced now. Did you know that sometimes love, respect, and good communication is not enough to keep a marriage together? For the past few years we have worked to align our paths. Despite our best efforts, we can no longer justify staying together. We choose growth and happiness as individuals over marriage. We never promised each other forever, but after 16 years we’ve built up habits. We don’t even really have hard feelings. Our paths go in different directions.

Let me be clear though: we are not breaking up. Being poly means that we can let our relationships be what they truly are rather than what we think they should be. We are getting legally divorced because it’s important to me as part of being an individual. I don’t want to be a wife. We are currently not living together because we need some time to heal, but I don’t know what the future holds. Our lives are still very much entwined. He is my friend. Our relationship continues to evolve. We are becoming something else because we have the power and the bravery to stay open to each other through the pain.

I think we could both use a little extra love and support from those close to us. We are doing this our way so we don’t need people to give advice, cast blame, or talk shit. We’ve got this, but there isn’t an acceptable protocol for offering social support around the inevitable grief at the passing of a primary bond. Maybe just let us know that you are thinking of us. Have faith that we are looking out for each other and the family we created.

Even knowing I am making the right choices and we are working together to ease the transition, it hurts like fuck. I am tearing up my roots. I am moving forward with my life. I honor our past and the person Joel has become. I love him and I always will.

Oct 312015

The creature pinned my naked form to the bed, its soft clacking noises lulling me into a strange stupor. Although the huge insectile monster was terrifying to behold, it handled me with great care, gently prodding all of my most delicate places. Dimly I noted that I could feel a stinging sensation on the back of my neck, but a heavy warmth spread through my body, filling me with a euphoric longing. I gazed up at the moist chitin of the alien, writhing with pleasure as it passed some sharp appendage down the soft flesh of my cheek and neck. Its odd clacking song shifted to whirrs and hard clicks. Something clamped down hard on each of my nipples and I hovered on the edge of orgasm. Something firm and wet pressed against my inner thigh. I looked down to see a cock unlike any I had ever seen. Something round, gelatinous, and luminescent slid from the end as I watched. Following suggestion, I spread my legs wide, guiding the ovipositor deep inside. The alien eggs pumped into me one at a time, and each time I screamed in ecstasy with a new orgasm.

Fantasies are a strange thing. If people can imagine it, there’s a fetish for it. I had no idea that I would be into ovipositor sex, although maybe my reaction to the movie Aliens should have clued me in. Then I saw this sex toy, produced by Primal Hardware, all over the internet a few months ago. There was something about the videos that was so…compelling. Perhaps it’s just that I’ll try almost anything at least once, and this was something pretty far off my beaten path.

Actually, I often fantasize about sex with non-humans when I’m by myself. It makes gender issues easier. Hell, it just lets me have a sexual experience without all of the confusing human emotion parts. I like to get off thinking about having sex with machines for the most part, yet alien sex is so tantalizingly other. Just lay back, let them implant their eggs, and feel immense pleasure. Or whatever your imagination dreams up! (I also like mad science fantasies.)

We purchased the Krubera model from Primal Hardware in the “supernatural” color for $110. I’m pleased with the quality of the product; it seems to be made out of good silicone. It’s huge – about a foot long and about 2 inches in diameter. It came with instructions and a mold to make six gelatin eggs. Making the eggs was simple and really fun. It doesn’t take very long, but you do have to plan ahead because it takes some time for them to set up. It’s also important to note that the gelatin eggs will be pretty cold when you take them out of the refrigerator!

I was immediately disappointed with my ovipositor because it was incredibly difficult to get the eggs into it. The base is very tight, presumably so the eggs don’t drop back out, but it was impossible to get eggs in. Imagine two people covered in lube to the elbows trying to force a gelatin egg into a too tight opening and I’m sure you can guess how much fun we had. The eggs were starting to break into gelatinous chunks by the time we got the thing loaded up. We figure it holds about three eggs before they just start popping out the other end.

It’s creepy (in a sexy way) to watch the eggs distend the ovipositor, oozing and writhing their way toward the opening. At a certain point, the eggs just pop out the opening, catapulting themselves forward. It’s fantastic.

At first I was thinking that this would be a terrible anal toy because you never, never, put something in the ass without a flared base or some way or retrieving it. But then I thought, it’s just gelatin. It really is just gelatin, not even sugar or anything. It would simply break down by itself. Contemplatively, I tried the weird ovipositor in my dildo harnesses and it strained the capacity, but still fit.

I got super excited about an ovipositor as an anal toy! But you know what? There is no way I am going to get this novelty toy in Harold’s ass without a lot of working up to it. The whole thing is big. We tried. It’s not happening. For one thing, the ovipositor is kind of floppy until an egg is in it. Those eggs are the same size as chicken eggs! And if you get an egg near the opening at the end, the orb launches. I’m sure some of you have experienced similar circumstances, but this was a new problem for me. It is actually somewhat disastrous to pop off when you are trying to insert the tip into someone’s bum.

Luckily, it worked it bit better in my cunt. Floppy was still a bit of an issue, as this is not a dildo to get fucked hard with. I also took exception to how cold everything was, but my imagination supplied me with the chill appendage of the alien queen seeking my hot core to activate her invading spore. A sticky slurp preceded the first egg, its passage causing every muscle in my cunt to contract repeatedly.

Bottom line: Whatever the fantasy, however messy, I liked the outcome. Where would your ovipositor take you?

Grade: B

Oct 282015

bark dryAt first I thought I had a yeast infection, a common enough occurrence for me. I treated with more probiotics and some boric acid capsules. When that didn’t work I begged my provider for Fluconazole. I was getting ready to go away for the weekend and the burning discomfort was getting worse. I decided that maybe I had a urinary tract infection. We debated seeking emergency medical care, but in the end, I just drank about a gallon of straight cranberry juice with some herbal remedy type stuff added to it all weekend and tried to get through it.

When we got home it was so bad I couldn’t sleep. We went to the emergency room at 2:00 a.m. because I needed to do something as soon as possible. I decided that as unlikely as it seemed, I must have a sexually transmitted infection, perhaps chlamydia or gonorrhea. For the first time in my life, I hoped and prayed that I had an STI, so I could take antibiotics and feel better in a couple of days.

They did indeed give me antibiotics, although it takes two days for the test results to come back. I was negative for yeast, UTI, or anything else they could get a rapid response on, but they want to make sure to cover their bases on those STI’s. I was given very strong antibiotics, which my chart clearly stated I was allergic to. Also, these gave me a yeast infection. Two days later my test results came back: all negative.

My awesome nurse practitioner talked to me about menopause and vaginal dryness. She prescribed an estrogen cream and told me to use tiny amounts. It burned like fire on my vulva for hours. I investigated and discovered that the cream contains propylene glycol, something my body hates vigorously. I had the cream reformulated at a compounding pharmacy, without the offending ingredient, but it was still irritating. We did blood work and found out that I’m not yet going through menopause.

I am not always good at describing or localizing a sensation. What I’ve been feeling continuously for the past two months (and intermittently before then) is usually a kind of burning feeling, just below my urethra, kind of partly on my vulva and partly inside. Sometimes there is more of a stabby sensation or needles, occasionally something like an itch or irritation. The awareness of discomfort never really goes away.

I wish it was some other part of my body, even a frequently used finger. A different body part wouldn’t carry all this difficult emotional baggage. A finger that hurt all the time wouldn’t be an uncomfortable and hateful reminder of childhood secrets. This pain is not severe, but I feel sick with it, immobilized, powerless. I am desperate to make it stop. I’ve spent too many years reclaiming my sexuality to lose it all so easily. I feel furious and then helpless all over again.

bits of fluffI went to see my therapist. We spiraled in and out many times, tying together the pieces of me then and now, making it easier for me to bear the current pain without the echoes of childhood trauma. In the moments when I felt like I might go mad she smiled and patted the back of my hand. In a stroke of brilliance, she referred me to a naturopathic doctor who is also a sex therapist.

The naturopath has been a great help. She’s given me hope, which is what I really need. And a name for my affliction, vulvodynia, which I suppose makes me feel less alone. Our first appointment consisted largely of her laying out all of the possible treatment options. She promises that I won’t be in pain forever. So far, we haven’t found the right solution. The only thing that seems to give any relief is ice. I suspect that the answer may lie in treating some GI issues I have and/or some pelvic floor physical therapy.

The doctor mentioned a need for spiritual healing in addition to everything else, a soul retrieval. No, it’s not science, but there is so much more to healing than science. So I’ve just come back from three nights at the hot springs. In the best Victorian way, I’ve been to take the waters and find healing. It hasn’t been what I hoped. In fact, I feel more dismantled than miraculously cured, but I have learned something very important: it’s okay for me to be exactly where I am.

flowIt’s okay to read aloud about King Arthur instead of having kinky sex. It’s okay to cry most of the way home. It’s okay for me to hurt and feel sad and be angry and even to want to quit. The important thing for me to know right now is that I am loved for me, not the role I play. Unlike my childhood experience, I now have amazing resources that can use to fight my problems. I am rich in love. It’s seems strange to say when I feel like I am going crazy, but I am full of gratitude for the people in my life.

Aug 082015

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…


…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”


…the sweetest release…


…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”



See what other people have been doing for this Sinful Sunday!

Sinful Sunday
Jul 282015
Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

In the stillness of early morning, I watch him sleep. It might be the first time in all the years we’ve been together that I am up before him. I contemplate getting up to make coffee, but I know he will wake up as soon as I do. I want him to sleep. He looks so peaceful and I overflow with love drinking in the details of him. He looks both strong and vulnerable. My eyes go where I want to touch him – tracing the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back. His soft lips are slightly parted. I am filled with longing remembering kissing him last night.

Yesterday was fun. We made love all day long, my orgasms getting more intense each time. He never came, although I gave him exquisite sensations. I enjoy instant gratification but there is something to be said for drawing pleasure out for as long as possible. Watching him sleep, bits and pieces of the day before drift through my mind: snuggling in bed, the warm steady weight of his body on mine, relaxing in the hot tub, his teeth teasing my nipple, showering together, long slow lingering kisses, shocking him by licking his asshole, painting each others’ nails, tormenting him with my feet and a lot of lube, watching the sun set in brilliant color along the beach, the just-right scent of his skin, feeding each other deliciously squishy bits of mango, and what have been hours of him going down on me. All capped off by seeing a shooting star just as he told how wonderful he thinks I am.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Now, I can’t help myself. I have to touch him. I kiss and caress my way down his chest and belly. By the time I make it to his cock, he is groaning and mostly hard. Filled with need and desire, I am not in any mood to be slow or gentle. Gripping the base firmly, I take the entire length of him into my mouth. He communicates the intensity of his experience with his hands against my back, pressing and scratching.

I am so immersed in the moment – warm tangle of blankets and limbs, his scent and taste, the texture of his hair and skin, the hard and soft of his cock on my lips and tongue – that it takes me a bit to realize that he is begging for me to share my cunt with him. I oblige, shifting my body to straddle his face.

What had been warm desire becomes fiery passion. I am not sure whether to focus on his impending orgasm or mine. I love the rhythmic pounding of his cock against the roof of my mouth, the tightness of my lips around him, the twist of my tongue at the tip, and the quick plunge down again. But his clever tongue is doing something to my clit that I can’t ignore. I am gasping and moaning so hard I start to forget to suck.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

I climb off of him, face down, ass up, and tell him to fuck me. He pushes my knees further apart and slowly slides into me. His hands curl around my hips, pulling me to him as he thrusts. I feel completely possessed. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin, but I am grateful that we fit together so nicely. He is pounding into me hard and fast. I am rocking back to meet him with all the force I can muster. This is the most turned on I can ever remember feeling. The sensations are fierce, the quest for fulfillment urgent, yet the pleasure feels infinite.

I like this position because it feels amazing, but I rarely come. He slows down again and I ask for the vibrator. Without pulling out, he leans over the side of the bed to grab it for me. When I turn it on and put it against my clit, we both jump. For a minute we both just let ourselves be overwhelmed. Then he starts to slowly pull out and in again. I know the vibrations are translating to his cock as well. It feels so good it’s like pain. I think I can’t stand it, but I make myself keep going…

Jun 272015

I have new breasts.

Evoe in a bikiniI’m coming out of a two month haze of post-surgery recovery to discover a new me. I didn’t hate my breasts before. I liked my body, but I just never felt RIGHT. It’s difficult to articulate the unhappiness I felt living with the vague dis-ease of shame/discomfort/awkwardness while embodied. I didn’t fully recognize the weight of living with those feelings until I changed my body to fit my inner self-image. All of the wrong stories I’ve told myself about my body are simply falling away, leaving…me.

I carry myself differently after breast reduction surgery. I feel lighter, more confident. I am totally distracted by my new shape, running my fingers over my curves and scars, marveling at the wide gap between my compact breasts, loving my smaller areolas. I am absorbed in relearning myself, discovering that one of my nipples is so sensitive I almost orgasm with a light touch and the other hardly feels anything at all. It’s all new.

My self image has totally shifted. I am seeing myself as more athletic. I’m working on getting the rest of my body in line with this vision. Contrary to what I expected, having smaller breasts is making me feel more feminine. I am filled with a new reverence for my body. This experience is liberating. Anything is possible.

It’s been a challenge to get to this place of joy. Reduction surgery has been a bit of an ordeal for me. I wasn’t 100% signed up for it, but I did it anyway. It’s very weird to wake up knowing that a visible part of your body has been removed or reduced. It’s been uncomfortable dealing with pain and physical limitations. I have found this process to be as much emotional and spiritual as physical. The journey has been unexpected, perhaps a sort of coming-of-age, like puberty.

Making love in this place is sweet, all urgency and explorations. I was relieved to still feel desire. At first we were scared to fuck, imagining my breasts like a molded Jell-O desert that’s been shaken too much. Mutual masturbation helped us to find our connection. I received reassurance that my body was still beautiful even with 40 inches of stitches. My longing for intimate touch took us deep. We remembered how to make out, gazing into each others eyes while sharing breath. Finding myself anew means that our love is also transformed.

newer smaller breastsIt’s not all that woo-woo though. Sometimes I am totally shallow. I spend more time in front of the mirror. I change my clothes ten times every morning. I dream about the clothes I will be able to wear now. I bought a bikini off the rack for the first time since high school and I plan to wear it!

I cannot describe my joy at starting to feel right in my body. Yes, this has cost me money and time and pain for an outcome I was unsure of. For a long time I was afraid to take the risk or put the energy into it. But if you’ve ever wished that you could change something about your body because it’s keeping you from being who you see yourself to be, then you will understand when I say that it’s worth it. I am not yet where I want to be, but this ability to reimagine myself is one of the most powerful forces in my life. And I have new breasts!