Month: January 2018

ORAL ORDERS

Sex and Friends.

A while back those two words would not be conjunctive for me.

Compatibility. Companionship. Communication.

These have been things I need in any partnership or friendship. Any sexual partner of mine would be a goal digging friend. For months I didn’t need the disconnection of casual sex.

This differs from “friends with benefits”. How? Instead of having casual sex with a friend. Friendship and sex are different investments into the polyamorous relationships by my partners. The thin line of difference is the defined commitment of a romantic relationship that isn’t just sexual. I don’t know if I’d want to change this in months to come. However, I don’t feel comfortable having casual sex with my friends. I try as much as possible not to. Most times, in a budding friendship friends come to a stage where they decide to or not to pursue developing feelings of care and admiration along romantic or sexual lines. If the friendship is foundation of a partnership, fine.

Friends and sex talk. Most females have members of the Girl Squad or male friends they give juicy recaps of sexapades. Some lesson I have learnt so far: Don’t kiss and tell. No slut or body shaming of my male sexual partners. If I have an issue with a partner I tell them before I confide in a friend or our mutual friend. Often times, some friends may and can betray your confidence maliciously or unintentionally. Or your friend might think it’s inappropriate talk but not have the heart to dissuade excited you. If and when seeking advice I open up to mature sexually active females or males who haven’t betrayed my confidence. These days there are social media platforms for relationship advice where one can anonymously seek advice from thousands of people. The danger with that is too many people with different values will give their opinions and advice from their point of views.

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ORAL ORDERS

“value added sex,

and

more exploration of my queer, kinky sexual interests.”

These are my sexuality goals for 2k18. I had written my sexual health goals for the new year in December. It had taken me a while to decide what I wanted to achieve this year with my sexuality. Now that I do know, it will guide my sexapades.

Stolen Bad Luck

Stolen bad luck makes me feel empty.

It makes me feel sad. Why would someone steal away all my bad luck for the beginning year? It’s upsetting that something so tragic happened at my favourite ice-cream parlor.

Sad.

There is this void I feel when I remember I have no phone to connect with the world and my safe spaces online.

Stolen bad luck took my beautiful pictures, quirky videos, curated contacts, starred WhatsApp chats and fantastic ebooks.

On the bright side, I have been able to see how much having a mobile device influenced my habits and time.

I still gingerly take each day as it comes. I’m not brazen because I have no bad luck left in 2018.

I’m sad but hopeful for what the future holds.

PS: Until I get a new phone I won’t publish stories, reviews or send out newsletters as frequently. 

ORAL ORDERS

Nudity and Pornography isn’t apt.

Nudes. Sextapes. Fellatio. Sex-uationships.

Much better!

Nudes and Sextapes.

Someone else calling me Queen of Traps made my soft cheeks jiggle with laughter. Traps and Nudes, what’s the difference?  A few pieces of clothing. Traps are sultry lingerie pictures that entice the imagination. I don’t like the name ‘trap’. I feel the slang removes the beauty from erotic pictures. Nudes, on the other hand are erotic pictures that show glorious naked curves, folds, etc through a picture. Traps and Nudes take confidence, time, patience and skill to take. It took me a while to know the best angle to capture my butt when wearing a thong. Playing around in your underwear and with a camera will teach you a lot of things. Body positivity and confidence are two important states of mind for taking nudes or making a sextape. It takes time especially when a person has negative body image to get body positive. But that’s another diary entry. I say, I am stunningly beautiful as I am, every morning after dawn prayers.

Here are my rules about nudes and sextapes. A. I don’t send or make them when I don’t feel comfortable, body positive or just don’t want to. B. I don’t include my face in shots. C. Not to send nudes to someone I don’t trust or have access to their gadgets. I prefer lingerie shot actually. D. Not send nudes after random requests. You know those, you guys have nice chats and a few calls (audio and video). Then next thing, ‘Send me nudes’. It’s a NO! “If we get to the we-can-have-sex level you might see the real honey pot”, I always say.

Nudes are not a currency to buy intimacy or stability in a relationship.

The above can be an issue in long distance relationships or sexting. I had a strict No Filming Sextapes policy. I still do. But I mean, it was fun filming a few. Nothing beats thinking you are recording then discovering you only captured minutes of the bedsheets, ceiling and moans. I did film a few ones and deleted them from the videos folder and 30days delete storage. There were two I found difficult deleting. I mean they captured beauty, pleasure, intimacy and sexy sex! But they had to go. My point is if I’m not comfortable with it, NOPE. If I can’t have access to destroying it, NO. No one below the age of 18 should be making sextapes or nude videos. The Nigerian law recognises it’s as a punishable crime, child pornography. In situations where you are being blackmailed about your nudes or sextapes seriously talk to a lawyer. Blackmailing is a punishable offence regardless of its subject matter. Be courageous and smart.

If the sextape is something you won’t mind your colleagues or family members seeing, make it. If not, destroy it after making it. Either way, own your thing.

 

Fellatio aka Blowjobs.

This isn’t a guide on how to give a blowjob. It’s a wonderful recollection at most. I have tried many things. Next to kink, oral sex is my favourite. I feel penetrative sex is overrated. *Inner voice* it wasn’t overrated when he hoisted you up on the kitchen countertop. With your fumbling fingers, ravenous kisses, muffled moans and his heated fluid thrusts almost poured away my delicious turkey stew. Oral sex is just *lustful sigh, awesome. When someone is able to lick my honey pot like a champ.. Nibble my clit the toe curling way.. Hmmm. That’s all. .

Sometimes I just want to get pleasure from watching someone else receive pleasure. That evening was one of those times. After his arrival we caught up by talking and laughing. Receiving a gift made me smile. While he had his bath I relaxed with a cup of water. Soft and smooth skin is mostly from hydration. More talking ensued till I kissed him. Our lips kept meeting while my hand snaked to feel his bulge. I wanted more. Our fingers went to his shorts and I withdrew my fingers. Carefully I unzipped my bum-shorts, wiggled my wide hips out and pulled my Bralet off. I left on my waist beads draped over my voluptuous butt cheeks and a crisp, pristine white thong. Under the slowly blinking red and blue lights of my headband his chocolately, brown penis jutted out. Are you comfortable? I asked with a passion laced voice.  After he said he was comfortable and okay with a blow job.

Consent is key.

I got comfortable in a crouch in between his legs. I started with a kiss to the head of the penis. My tongue licked the right side from its base upwards. Little teasing helped know how response or anxious the penis is. Then I gently held the base of his penis and slowly took his penis into my warm mouth. While my mouth went up and down its length my tongue swirled around the head. Occasionally I gagged intentionally on the penis. Helps with esteem I heard. As an expert at giving oral pleasure I know the angles of my throat to put the long penis into without gagging. Now and again I’d look up through dainty eyelashes and see the red light from my massive Minnie Mouse bow illuminate his orgasmic facial expressions. Then blink the room dark. Then blue. With each blink I’d change my tongue swirl direction, tempo and worship. Now not to over work or numb my jaw I’d give feather light kisses from the top of his penis to his belly button. My lips retraced their moist stamps back to licking and  swirling some minutes later. I let his hand leave my breast to my afro and guide my tempo for a while. Other times I just love up his scrotum sacs, wet licks, gentle sucking and light massaging. I note each shudder, moan and sigh that make me feel delighted and aroused. My left hand left the base of his penis to rub slow circles round his nipple while my warm mouth goes further down his erect lengths. I’d change hands so I can touch his other nipple like a watercolor artist. When the chocolately goodness between my lips spilled hot white multivitamins, proteins, DNA I swallowed it gracefully. Increasing my tempo till he was spent and finally flaccid. The blue blink showed the smile on my face as I knelt before him. With my slightly semen flavoured lips I kissed him goodnight.

 

Sex-utationships

“If you are sliding into someone’s direct message (‘dm’) for a fuck. You must say. Of you are sliding in to be a side chick you must say. If you are sliding into the dm to ask people to apply to be a side person, let them know!” HOLAAfrica: Are you being real about your sex-utationships?

We are two years away from Millennia 2020 and some peeps ‘just want to be your friend’. Then give inappropriate comments about your slay pictures or send unsolicited dick pics. I’m rolling my eyes and pressing BLOCK. Do not get me started on the double standard. How guys want sexually free women but use that to slut shame sexually free women. Or how some women are tired of shitty relationship offers but won’t ask for what they want. But slut shame women living their dream sex lives.

Define your sex-utationhip. Will you guys go out on a date before sex? Do you want the other person to check up on you on days you aren’t together? Can you guys have other partners? What type of sexual protection will constantly be used? Have you guys discussed unwanted pregnancy? Do you know their HIV/AIDS status? Are you a side person? Define it all with the soon-to-be partner. Change terms as the sex-utationhip progresses.

Forget labels and don’t sell dreams. I have seen the phenomenon too much in the Lagos dating scene. On one hand are the peeps who want to see where it leads but also want to be in your pants. No. Define it. Some know what they want. Oftentimes it might not suit my needs, wants or criteria. Then there are those who give you the package just because the want sex. Packages of dreams. Dreams of marriage, #relationshipgoals relationships, you-are-the-only-one, baby I love you, etc. I see through this half the time because I know what I want. I remember a guy who claimed he wanted a serious thing before he relocated abroad. Am I dumb or am I dumb? He was selling the package of ‘serious thing’. Dreams!

Stay woke

As a polyamorous young woman in Nigeria defining sex-utationhips to potential partners can confuse some. Some not all. But I don’t let that deter me. I state the purpose of the sex-utationship, the benefits we are to gain, our roles and boundaries. There is someone for everyone, as the saying goes.

BALTIMORE ORIOLES’ ROBERTS 1

I haven’t washed your oversize baseball shirt. I couldn’t bring myself to. It smells just like you. You know, your scent of dope greatness, ease and godly insight.
If I could capture your scent into a tiny grey tinted glass perfume oil bottle. I will.
I will drop your scent on my left shoulder. Just where my cheek rests on in bliss after your gentle, deepest thrusts make me cry out on ecstasy.
But I have no perfumed oils of you.
So I’ll wear your shirt after I wash off my workout sweat. As my hands will rub mocha lather over my glowing melanin. I’d remember how your slender fingers wash my shoulders while your soft brown lips kiss my nape. “Yuck”. “STOP”. I’d say then. “Just wash my back!”, I’d order in between neck twists, giggles and bubbles.

I guess I can say I washed your shirt if it’s draped over my damp skin. It’s clean if it’s fabric brushes off tiny water beads from my areola. If it’s movements; brushing and light grazing against my hazelnut sized nipples brings memories flashing. Memories of me unbuttoning its white plastic buttons and sliding its off white contrast away from your dark chocolate slender chest. Memories of how your tongue swirls erotic wonder around my areola like the passion fruit in R.S.V.P’s sweet Pornstar Martini. Of memories of laughter, Afrobeats playing, sweet names calling, career advancement planning. These memories coloured by weed smoke films, vibrant Ankara throw pillows and faint snack munching.

You say you’d be back for your shirt and me. Till then my nose will be buried it, my naked curves rolling in it.
Until my Obsessive Conpulsive Disorder drags me away from nostalgia and dilutes your scent with Zip detergent water.