Sep 252014
 

Sweet and RoughBook: Sweet & Rough:Sixteen Stories of Queer Smut
Editor: Sinclair Sexsmith
Publisher: Maverick Press
$7.99 digital book; epub, pdf, mobi (available now!)
$24.95 hardcover book (Nov 2014)

Sinclair Sexsmith is one of my favorite erotic writers, whose stories combine all of the things that are important to me: power and gender dynamics, intimacy, consent, kink, multidimensional characters, and believable plots. If anything, Sweet & Rough: Sixteen Stories of Queer Smut takes erotica to a new level for me, because it’s easier for me to identify with than most smut that I read.

As much as I enjoyed reading the book, it was even more of a pleasure to get to ask Mr. Sexsmith a few questions about the book…

All of your stories are written in first person and you are almost always packing. How important is having a cock to your masculinity?

Sinclair Sexsmith“It’s not that having a cock is important to my masculinity so much as it is important to my sexuality and sexual expression. For whatever reason, I’m very cock-centric, and much of my erotic play centers around penetration and reception. You might even say I have a penetration or a cock fetish. Interesting, coming from a dyke, huh? It’s a curious contradiction, to me, and one that has taken me a lot of deconstructing and reconstructing to make sense of.

Of course, masculinity is also important to my sexuality and sexual expression, so it isn’t that the masculinity doesn’t go hand-in-hand. But my cock isn’t so much about my masculine presentation as it is about playing with a lover’s body in ways that incorporate power, penetration, and energy. Since those are some of my most significant fetishes and kinks, and since strap-on cocks are a really excellent tool to play with all three of those, I tend to have an incredibly cock-centric sex life. Probably 9 times out of 10 that I have sex, I’m strapped on.”

I noticed that in pretty much all of these stories you integrate reading non-verbal cues as part of receiving consent. As a writer, how difficult is it to balance fantasy and enthusiastic consent?

“It’s so complicated! I am often in conflict with my role as a sexuality and BDSM educator and my role as someone who crafts dirty fantasy stories with the purpose of turning someone on and exploring erotic realms. Non-verbal cues are incredibly hard to teach about and talk about, because they are so easily misinterpreted. But what I love about writing is that you can show a character’s inner story and inner world really clearly, so you can show the conflict they feel about whether or not they got consent, or the very clear consent they are thinking even if their body language is the only cue.

The issue of consent and whether consent and ethics are clearly depicted in erotica is something I think about a lot, and try to play with consciously in my work. As I’ve been evolving as a writer and creator, I don’t think it’s as black and white as I previously thought it was, and I’m interested in exploring more of the nuance. (I refuse to add anything about “shades of grey.”)”

I can see many aspects of these stories that reflect what I know of you as a sexual person: gender play, power dynamics, sacred intimacy, and kink. What does it mean to you to write queer smut?

“Yes, absolutely—this book is really revealing, the closest thing to a diary that I’ve released. It’s been interesting how much vulnerability has come up, now that it is making the rounds and people are talking about the content! What does it mean to write queer smut … hmmm. I started because I have always been a writer, and because I was obsessing over reading “lesbian erotica” but most of it didn’t have the bite, the edge, that I was seeking. And, I started because I wanted to write as a way to explore my own fantasies and my own inner erotic world, in order to write myself into a better sex life. I gotta say: That worked. Incredibly well. Articulating my own fantasies and erotics made me more bold, more daring, and more able to go after what I wanted. So for me, writing queer smut means staying in touch with my erotic self, cultivating my own erotic desires, and prioritizing them in a variety of ways. When my erotic self dries up, there are so many consequences, and when I am deeply in touch, I am more creative and capable, and better able to act from places of love, strength, abundance, and vulnerability, rather than fear or scarcity. Writing erotica has been such an important way for me to come into my own power, kink, sexuality, desires, and deeper fuller self.”

Sinclair is right, this book is very intimate and revealing. This collection of stories is certainly extremely hot, but what I like best is the raw honesty at the heart of each story. It was easy for me to imagine myself in each character, to use each story as a starting point for my own fantasies. Perhaps the biggest compliment I can give this book is that, after reading, I am imagining where I would let Mr. Sexsmith take me!

Dec 012013
 

It’s the 1st of December and already the holiday season is in full swing! Sinful Sunday is kicking off the debauchery with a friendly competition – interpret a holiday song in a truly wicked way. We chose what is likely the most famous Christmas song of all time, and we think it sums up the essence of a really good bondage scene…


Silent night, holy night
“Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright…”

And let me assure you that before I slept in heavenly peace, there was quaking, love’s pure light, glories, heavenly hosts singing, radiant beams, and redeeming grace.

Happy holidays to all, and may you all find your Sunday to be sinful!

Sinful Sunday

Nov 192013
 

EvoëSometimes I want so much for Harold to take me. I love the safety we’ve created in our relationship around consent and equality, but every once in a while I deeply long for him to take my submission. It consumes me at times. I enjoy Topping him and all of the ways we connect, but it frustrates me to no end to have this particular part of my sexuality go ignored.

Perhaps I can’t expect one person to meet all my needs. It’s just that…we are so good together. He knows me so well. I can’t help having my feelings hurt. It feels like a rejection, or at the very best, that part of me is invisible to him.

We keep talking about my fantasies. It gets harder and harder for me to articulate my emotions and desires. My fear of rejection makes me anticipate it – maybe even create it. I want Harold to Top me so badly it’s like an ache in my throat, a pounding in my chest. The wanting itself feels dangerous. I want him to play with that energy, make the longing sexually charged, give me a container in which to come undone. I am so strong. It takes a strong person to persuade me to let go.

Harold has that kind of strength, but what I want him to do is alien to his nature. I don’t know how to teach him to Top me. I can get him to do Topping type activities: bondage, flogging, needle play, and the like. But what about the energy? How do I show him what I want emotionally?

As a strong empowered woman, I feel some embarrassment around wanting to be dominated. As a survivor of abuse, I feel some shame around wanting to be in a position that sometimes reminds me of being a victim. As an active partner in this relationship, I feel guilty for wanting to change our power balance, even temporarily. It makes everything come out sideways. How can I want something so much and not be able to speak clearly about it? It hurts so much.

When we talk about him being dominant, it turns me on. I have a thrill of excitement and danger similar to being on a roller coaster. I want this sooooo bad. I’ve had this feeling all morning as I think about our date today. This is a delicate balancing act for me. If I don’t keep the energy sexual and positive it turns into something closer to anxiety and squicky discomfort. I’ve been trying to manage the energy myself, but eventually had to check in with Harold.

He doesn’t understand and I don’t have the skill to try to show him. We are so good about everything else. Why does this particular fetish render me senseless? I want him. I want him to take me. I am here trying to keep this possibility open, but I feel crushed. Has he already rejected me? Will he find me in the place where I want to give myself? I’ll know in an hour.

Nov 052013
 

JoelI feel like Joel and I are getting our groove back. We are rediscovering our sexual connection. It’s not like we ever stopped having sex, but many years back it went from a passionate flood to an affectionate stream. We’ve found other ways of staying intimate and expressing our love – lots of hugging and caresses, talking about everything, weekly dates, sharing experiences, and taking care of each other. We know that skin-to-skin contact releases oxytocin (the “love hormone”) even without sex. Last night something happened that made me believe that we can have the passionate flood back.

Joel has some medical problems that have affected his libido and sexual performance. Recently, he’s taken charge of his health with overwhelmingly positive results, including a new sex drive like WHOA! All of a sudden he’s beating off every night with a cock that’s way bigger than it’s been for a decade. Sex feels good again. I’m so happy for him because I know it’s hard to be missing that part of yourself, but I’ve also had a difficult time adjusting.

My own sexuality has undergone a lot of changes since we were first together. It would not feel comfortable for me to try to pick up where we left off. The intensity of Joel’s desire right now tends to feel pressuring rather than flattering. We have been attempting to figure out how we want to be sexually together. I’ve gotten used to our relationship functioning the way it has for the last 10 years, but I want to have every part of Joel.

Last night, during our date, Joel had a brilliant suggestion. He recently read an article in Vice about the Orgasmic Meditation (OM) movement and One Taste. The idea is that two people spend 15 minutes focused on the clitoris. The One Taste website says, “It’s a meditation, equally powerful for both partners – only the object of focus is the clitoris.” They have some rules about what you are supposed to do, but Joel and I did what felt right to us.

It took me some time to relax into 15 minutes of pure clitoral stimulation. I wanted my vibrator so I could just come. I wanted to touch Joel’s cock which responded to his finger on my clit pretty much immediately. I really wanted to get fucked already. When I let go of all of that, I realized that I have never given Joel a guided tour of my clitoris before. He didn’t know that the very tip is super sensitive and likes a light tickle-like touch (maybe even a fingernail). When that got to be too much I showed him the bundle of nerves at the top of the hood that wants firm back-and-forth pressure. For 15 minutes we both connected with my body and that made me feel very open and loving with Joel.

I was right on the edge of orgasm for the whole time, without ever coming. I looked at him kneeling beside me with an expression between a blissful smile and a superior sneer on his face. It was obvious that he was experiencing OM as a Top, which made me laugh. Some things don’t change. I didn’t feel like I needed to bottom, but I appreciated that he was getting those needs met within the context of OM. At first 15 minutes seemed like an eternity, but as I got into meditative space, it was not nearly long enough.

All about the clitorisI was sort of disappointed when the timer went off. Then I realized that we were in a perfect position to play around. Joel’s cock is super sensitive, which is great for experiencing sensations, but I have to be careful not to let him come before I’m ready. We focused on my orgasm first – another teaching moment. Oral sex pushed each of us to the edge before we gave in to desire with some amazing doggy-style fucking. We finished with one more orgasm for me, assisted by some incredible nipple stimulation from Joel.

We are back in the groove! Our sex wasn’t particularly kinky, yet it pushed us in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Amazingly, this simple Orgasmic Meditation technique opened a door for us that I couldn’t even find. This gives us a tool to use if we need help finding our connection. I’m relieved and hopeful, finally seeing that the sexual relationship I’ve wanted is possible. It seems so obvious now that I don’t know why I never guessed: the way into my soul is through the clitoris.

 

Nov 012013
 

Beautiful morningA few days ago Harold (my partner in life, love, and hare-brained scheming) turned 65.  He’s not much for celebrating, but we wanted to do something special. Of course we wanted to make love, but what else? We couldn’t think of just the right thing until the day before. I don’t remember now, how tattoos came up. Initially it was sort of a dare or a jest, then we started talking about tattoos as a form of submission to each other – how cool it would be to channel the energy of pain and excitement into sexual energy.

What if I gave my pain to him while I was being marked by his symbol? What if he actually brought me to orgasm while I was being tattooed? We were intrigued by the possibilities, but neither of us was sure there was a permanent mark we were willing to take on. We had feverish conversations throughout the eve of his birthday. Optimistically I made us an appointment.

The next morning we got together early. I wanted to shower and spend some time connecting, so I started up some Janis Joplin and both of us squeezed into a shower clearly made for one. I adore hot water and slick soapy skin. Things were starting to heat up.

With his cock hard in my hand, I asked Harold what he wanted sexually. Like normal, he temporized, telling me to just go with what I felt was right. I’ve been pushing him more to think about and vocalize the things he desires, so I didn’t let him off the hook.

Going downHe began to talk about me punishing him somehow. I was in an excited sexy place, so it took me a few minutes to realize that the energy had changed between us. It stopped feeling sexy. I immediately centered myself and opened up to Harold. I sat him down on the toilet seat and straddled him, wrapping my arms around him. I could feel some pain from his childhood there – something that I had triggered when we fought  last week. We talked through it until it felt okay for us both. We do this kind of thing a lot and it makes for much better sex.

We walked down to the cabin in the glorious morning sunshine, wearing only shoes and coats. The chill air on my thighs and the thrill of being naked outdoors started to make me wet. There was already a fire going in the cabin. We proceeded to have some of the hottest sex we’ve had in a long time. He went down on me until I came. I strung him up in cuffs and did wicked things to his nipples and balls. I pushed him more than I ever have before and we both reached new heights.

IMG_3613When neither of us could wait another second, I bent over in front of him and let him fuck me from behind, his arms still suspended above his head. This is one of my favorite positions. I bent over the bed, where I had all of my tools spread out. He pounded into me. I rocked forward with each thrust, my breath coming out in harsh gasps, escalating to full throated moans, followed shortly by Harold’s ecstatic bellows.

Evidently my head was bumping my phone in the final throes of Harold’s birthday sex and Siri heard our vocalizations. Her voice surprised us, “I do not understand ‘who, who, who, who.’ I could search the Internet for you.” I laughed hysterically when I figured out what was going on.

From there we drove to to get tattoos, anticipation and anxiety sharing equal space. We knew what we wanted but we weren’t sure where. We talked through the positives and negatives of every possible location. Eventually we went with what felt right for each of us.

Harold and his tattooHarold went first. You have to understand that he’s never wanted a tattoo before. The fact that he celebrated turning 65 by getting his first tattoo is very inspirational to me. I think he enjoyed the process. He got spacey in a charming way, holding my hand. Afterwards, he was proud and blissed out. I love him so much.

This was not my first dance, but I was shocked by how intense the pain was in the tender flesh of my upper stomach. It got better over time, but initially there was no way that I could have sexualized that sensation. I’m just not a masochist. What I did do, over and over, was send the energy to Harold, giving him my pain, taking his mark. He held my hand and touched my face.

After, we were so high on endorphins. I felt amazing. We had so much fun.

We went home to my darling husband, who had prepared an incredible and gorgeous conch and squid ceviche just for Harold. Joel had even managed to find Harold’s favorite alcoholic beverage, Punt è Mes, which is rare in these parts. (Have I mentioned that sometimes it is unbelievably awesome to have two partners who care about each other?) The children had all made birthday cards and gotten him flowers. More glowy happiness!

Heart and delta tattooHarold spent some time talking with his wife and I put the kids to bed. We fell into each other’s arms and the softness of bed. Tired happiness gave way to gentle kisses. deep probing kisses became grinding gyrations. Without any thought we were making love again. Happy birthday Baby and many more…

Oct 082012
 

You belong on your knees

You belong on your knees,
head bowed, hands offered up,
give me your prayers.

Beg me, please, please, please.

I want your submission, sublimation,
I will take from you your sin,
your sorrow, your suffering,
and your sex.

Will you give up everything?
I can hold all of you.

Assume that you are here at my feet
to worship me.
Do you want my full breasts,
nipples hardened with lust,
my cunt wet and welcoming?

Have you come to hurt?
Your pain is mine to have
and heal.

Come to me, little one.
I know how to play your body,
draw out hidden emotions,
make a meal out of sensation,
make you scream, and cry, and plead.

Push past your fear,
and revel in your shame.

Gasp under my kiss,
writhe beneath my hand,
spasm at the touch of my tongue,
but don’t come until I say.

Beg me, please, please, please.

Give me your prayers,
head bowed, hands offered up,
you belong on your knees.

Sep 022012
 

It is mysterious how our jangly energy can eventually come together so strongly. We feel each other acutely. We make love until we flow together, our energies combined. He feels my restless anger. I sense how much my ire invokes his distress, his need to serve and heal. I need magic to deepen our bond before it unravels. He hands me the cane.

I give him my emotion in the form of pain. It is an exchange. He takes my anger and transforms it into something beautiful. I safeguard him, give him a channel for his expression. It is an exchange. I whip the cane hard against his ass, leaving a welt. He lets loose a mighty roar and I rest my hand on his back. He is mine. He can handle this pain because it has a purpose – he is setting me free. It is an exchange. The energy flows from me to him and back again. We have found a place of extreme connection. Each stripe we raise on his ass is alchemy. We are transforming our pain into golden love.

Stripes

Sinful Sunday

Aug 282012
 

My BlyssI love my life. I am so happy to be non-monogamous. My life is so full of love and amazing people. No, it’s not always like this. Sometimes I feel jealous or frustrated. At times it’s difficult to get my needs met because resources like time and money are scarce. But right now I am floating in a nice happy poly ocean of love.

My girlfriend has joined our family enclave. She has her own space, but she’s hanging out in the house a bunch. This is so good for me. I can’t even say – I’m ecstatic to have all of my people gathered together. Evidently this is what I do. I create family. And Blyss is fitting right in to our crazy family life.

She has her own adventures. She goes off and does her own thing for periods of time. I am totally happy to have her follow her pleasure, but when she is gone my heart reaches for her like my hand reaches for chocolate, only to discover that the secret stash is depleted. Then she comes back and things are all rainbows and sparkles again. She has a way of making me feel good about myself.

This last time she returned chock full of New Relationship Energy (NRE). It’s adorable. She found herself a beautiful boi and is twitter-pated. Sadly, he lives 15 hours away – but he may come visit us in a few months. I hear about him a lot. I don’t mind. It’s very sweet. They are at the sharing naughty photos stage of their relationship so I get sexted a bit. In fact, I got naked pics while I was chatting with the other soccer mommies! All the joy flows all over everything.

Blyss is asking my advice about Topping. It’s forcing me to realize that I AM actually a Top. Without a thought, I can dish out suggestions for Domination. It’s even let us have a discussion about what power dynamics might look like between the two of us. I’m looking forward to making it a reality. I’m also enjoying Blyss’s fantasies about her new boi – that we might “double date” when he visits so I can teach her some CBT technique. I think it sounds hot!

My BlyssI think with two husbands, it really helps to have some feminine influence in my life. She’s not afraid to apply a loving 2×4 when I need it. Blyss even helped me sort out an argument with Harold this week. Harold’s wife, Melanie is often helpful in these ways, but we have a different dynamic, more of a partnership. And that is working very well right now too.

Three romantic relationships that are fairly serious, plus a metamour who is a co-parent,plus four children at home is a lot of people’s needs to keep in mind. So far, we’re doing it. I have almost as much sex as I could want. The oxytocin high is getting me through my days. Occasionally I struggle with a hard bit, but mostly I wonder how anyone gets by in a monogamous relationship. I am so lucky in love. I love my life.

Aug 082012
 

Pissed and dangerousI’m feeling tired, angry, and burnt out. I spend a lot of time talking about how wonderful I think sex is because I BELIEVE in the power of sex. My belief is that sex is the source of healing for all things emotional and even some things physical. Sex sets us free of our normal limitations. Sex allows us to connect with each other and the universe. Sex is powerful, so people fear it and abuse it.

I hate that sex abuse is everywhere. I appreciate that people are bringing it out into the open. I loathe secrets. Secrets are the death of healthy sexuality, and often of sanity. Privacy is fine, secrets are not. In sex, more knowledge and more communication means a better experience for everyone. I’m glad that I can read about sex abuse all over the internet and share stories with friends – this is the beginning of finding solace. Sex abuse is one of the most isolating things I can think of, so lay all your stuff out, not just to free yourself, but to free everyone from secrecy.

I could save myself some pain by shutting it all out, but I feel like I owe it to every survivor who wants to talk about what happened to them to listen – to witness their bravery. It takes some guts to come forward because every former victim I’ve ever talked to started out thinking that it was somehow their fault. It breaks my heart. I hate that the experience of sexual abuse at any level is so pervasive. From street heckling to incest, these are all perversions of sexuality.

I’m so tired of aching over my own abuse. I’m bored with wallowing in my own sadness, shame, and anger. It isn’t the whole of who I am; I am not the abuse. I have worked hard and long to let go of these emotions, but I still feel damaged. Maybe the scar tissue never goes away. I just want to find a way of carrying my baggage that’s easier and doesn’t chafe.

How can it not chafe? Why shouldn’t I be fucking angry? Why shouldn’t I be yelling from the rooftops? I’m pissed. I’m livid. I should be beating down the walls. But I have to be angry in the right ways – smart ways. I could hate sex, but I don’t. Sex is not my enemy. Sex is MINE, I own it. I’m not afraid of sex any more. Sex connects me with myself and the people I love. I get a great deal of my needs met through sex.

I could hate men, ignoring the fact that not all abusers are male. Whether subtle or overt, I see a lot of women deciding that despising men will make them feel better. It’s safer to keep men at a distance. I think this is damaging on so many levels. Yes, people can use their strength and power in evil ways. This does not make everyone with strength and power evil. There are traits that I admire in people of all genders that might make them risky to me if I let my fear drive, but the truth is that I like partners with those traits. What I try to communicate to my children and my partners is an admiration for those traits and the expectation that I will be treated with respect. I don’t make a big deal about it, it’s just my truth.

Any of partners might be an easy target for my rage, but I know that would make me an abuser. My loved ones do not deserve my anger about sex abuse. They are trying to help me. Sometimes I just well up with frustration and helplessness and I’m looking for the nearest thing to lash out at. Or I’m honestly trying to work through the emotion and it leaks into our interactions. Then I own my emotions, do damage control if necessary, and find other ways of processing. I want my relationships to stay as clean as possible. I get so much out of the love that I share that I’m not about to dirty those waters.

Where should my anger go? Back to the people who took away my right to choose. That’s difficult because it’s painful to look straight at those memories. It’s easier to think that I’m reading a story or watching a television show – something that happened long ago and has no more power over me. But to be mad as hell, you have to live it. No one can do that all the time.

I’m tired because I’m not just fighting my own demons, I’m also fighting the culture we live in. I believe that some abusers are themselves victim of the system. I’m not defending their actions, I’m just recognizing the patterns. I recently read some accounts written by men who had raped. Some of them were genuine sociopaths who knew that they had done wrong and were gratified that they hadn’t been caught. What struck me though, was the number of men who raped because of poor boundaries, lack of communication, and intoxication. Most of these men raped in high school or college and have spent the rest of their lives feeling like horrible monsters. I know first hand how the women they raped must have felt.

Why are so many young people having sexual experiences that scar them for life? Is it maybe that we are failing as a society to give them the tools they need to have successful, fulfilling relationships and sexual encounters? I don’t want my children to learn about sex while drunk at a party. And I don’t want to worry about them getting raped by some asshole while getting drunk at a party. Why don’t we teach (and model) good sexual behavior? Let’s make sure everyone learns about consent: Yes means yes, the absence of a “no” does not mean yes!

This is where I try to channel my anger. It’s not that I’m lighthearted about sex. I know all about the vast dark underbelly of sexuality, I just don’t choose to live there. I love sex. I want to protect the sanctity of sex – for me, for you, for the next generation. I fight to show all of the glorious aspects of sex so that I can change the way that our culture handles sex. I want people to know that you can get through sex abuse and have healthy sex lives. I know that the darkness is there, I just light my way forward with love and beauty.

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