Archive for January, 2011

Erogenous Zones: Breasts and Back

Friday, January 28th, 2011

So, when Lilly posted about an Erogenous Zones series and invited people to join in, I was all for it. I had intended to join in from the start pretty much, but as a lot of the start of this year ended up being about sorting out this new blog and whatnot, that didn’t happen. Which made me a sad kitty, but hey hum, we’re there now!

This is week four of the series, dealing in breasts and the back, and the torso in general. For me, what really jumped out when I thought about writing about these areas was my back. In particular, my back and pain.

I remember when I was about 17, experiencing my first tastes of kink with my then-girlfriend, my biggest kink at the time (tame as it may seem to some) was scratches. In general, I used to walk around the rock club we hung out in literally covered in them, proud of my marks. If I’d known then what I know now about D/s relationships, subs and Dommes, I think all of that might have made more sense to me. At the time I don’t think it did – other people seemed to find it odd, there’d be stares sometimes, but I didn’t. It seemed natural, right and above everything else, pleasurable.

I remember having my back exposed to her, as she asked if I was ready. Putting all her force into it, she scored the length of my back with her nails. I felt the tracks scorch into my skin and the adrenaline rush through me. More. I needed more. She looked surprised.

Baby, I never knew you were such a masochist

Fuck, yes. In terms of hot, scratchy pain and my back, there is no “too much”. I have been left with scars for months off scratches I’d have liked harder.

Coming round to my front, and my breasts. They’re not actually all that big, in proportion to the rest of me (*sadface*). But what they are is very very perky, and that seems to work for most folk. Historically, I’ve known them to get a fair bit of attention in play, and it really depends on my mood as to how I handle that. Sometimes, I don’t want them handled too roughly (maybe some of those variations are hormonal?) and other times, I can’t get enough. The thing that’s really changed within relatively recent times for me, though, is my nipples. Before they were pierced I could withstand a fair bit of nipple play bordering on nipple torture. These days though? I’m all about licking and sucking. I will writhe and moan and generally go pretty fucking crazy for that.

One extra thing to tag on to this post as it’s really all about the torso. I have a scar on my tummy, from surgery a few years ago. The fact that it’s about a foot long will give away that it wasn’t a minor surgery! For years afterwars, my nerve trees going up my abdomen and all around the scar were pretty screwed, but recently I’ve regained a lot of feeling. Around the scar, most of that skin feels pretty normal to me now, but up towards the side of my right boob is still a touch numb. I’m fortunate in that I’ve never been embarrassed by my scar though – I see it as a testament of all that I’ve survived and as such I’m pretty damn proud of it.

Saying that though, a partners’ reaction to it has always been significant in my confidence during sex. The Chef’s most favourable response to it was “I don’t care” and that so long as we were having fun, it didn’t matter. It’s so close to being positive you could almost think it was, couldn’t you? Almost.

Previously mentioned kinky ex girlfriend practically worshipped it. She knew how kisses on partially numbed skin felt fluttery and ticklish, and loved to lick and kiss the length of the scar. I remember the look in her eyes, she found it mesmerising. A physical note of what I’d overcome to still be alive. And she thought it was beautiful. So I felt it.

NK x

P.S. Don’t forget to check out Lilly’s post!

The World Needs More Buck Angels.

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011


I just watched this video. It’s not actually all that new, being from July 2010, but Buck linked it up in Twitter, so I gave it a look.

For me, his talk really demonstrates why I feel as though if more people in the world were doing what Buck is, the world would be a better place. Having himself gone through 28 whole years effectively waiting for his life to start, hoping and wishing that he could be who he truly was, his whole aim now is to make sure that doesn’t happen to other people.

As he says in the video, life is short, and for some people the most debilitating thing they have to deal with is actually society’s judgements on them. For whatever reason, it can be hard to be who you really are, and be open about who that person is. Whether it’s down to your gender identity, your sexuality, or a whole host of other issues, society’s judgement on you affects how you live in a much more profound way than a lot of people realise.

While I’ve always identified as being female, I don’t always agree with societal norms as to what that should mean. Likewise, growing up, I knew I didn’t just fancy boys. In my teen years, this became a conscious bisexuality, but in later teens and into more recent times, I’ve really began to understand that for me, attraction has no basis in gender. I like guys. I like girls. I like people who don’t fit into binary gender, and those who reject the concept outright. For me, attraction is based on how attractive I find the person. Simple, really.

Overall I guess I just wanted to take a moment to really shout out that Buck Angel is a hero of mine, and in my opinion, one of the most amazing people on the planet. (And, admittedly, fucking gorgeous!)

NK x

P.S. – One request. Spare the time in your life to watch the video. It’s worth it.

Backstories: First Time…

Friday, January 21st, 2011
Creative Commons // Flickr

When you’re a teenager, your virginity, and its state of intact-ness (or not) is a pretty huge deal. Everyone’s talking about sex. People are saying they have done it (when they haven’t) and that they haven’t (when they have). Whatever you choose to tell people is, ultimately your own business, but there’s no denying the pressure that’s there.

When I look back at my mid-teen years, I don’t think I cared too much what others thought of me. At least, I can name a lot of other girls in my school who seemed to care more. Perhaps what that really came down to was that my core group of friends (the outcast metal kids, mostly) was a lot smaller – so while I cared what they thought, the school body as a whole could pretty much get stuffed.

By the time I was 16 and in FE college, though, it started to feel like I was really left behind. All my close friends had done it, and most of them were doing “it” on an ongoing basis! But not me. When I turned 17 (yes, we were naughty!), we went out for my birthday. We started in a few fairly trendy bars, then at the end of the night I’d promised we could finish off in a rock club. I was dreading it, because I really wasn’t into rock music at all.

As it turned out, rock and metal is kinda awesome.

To cut a long story short, I found myself a regular on the rock scene locally, and one weekend met a guy who was more than a little interested in me. I’ve always been a tall girl, but he towered over me. There was something in that which really appealed to me. He also turned out to be a really good kisser*.

The following monday (student night), we met again in the same club. By the end of the night we were back at my (then) best friend’s house. We stayed in the spare room, which didn’t have a bed, but a sofa. Floorspace was limited too, so that was out of the question. As my “companion” had seemingly been enjoying some… naughty salt… he barely knew what the hell was going on around him. Finding myself half naked (my skirt stayed on. Not for the hotness of a pulled up skirt or anything. I just had no self confidence) under him, being fingered. I’d grown wet (it reall has never taken that much to get me wet) and vividly remember him pulling out his fingers, covered in my juices and saying “eugh”. Seemingly bored of this fantastic foreplay, he made movements towards penetrating me. I found a small voice squeak out “condom?!” and after he shrugged, saying he didn’t have any, I grabbed my bag and tossed one at him. After he put it on, we fucked – as best he could when coked up to the eyes (which, in case you’re wondering, isn’t very fucking well) – before giving up. All in all, he’d spent more time trying to “get it in” than we’d spent actually fucking.

He asked for a blow job. I told him to fuck off, and went to sleep on the floor, as apparently he needed the sofa and the blanket to sleep.


I find it sort of impressive that I ended up loving sex so much after that first so-called shag. Admittedly, I could have done more, but truth be told, I was scared. While I think I’d have had a much more pleasurable experience had I lost my virginity to someone else, I never did regret “throwing it away” on a one night stand. The concept of virginity wasn’t a big deal to me, in all honesty. The thing that stuck with me though, was feeling alone afterwards. Feeling more like a wank toy than a person.

He didn’t (to my knowledge) know that I was a virgin. I’d taken the liberty, years in advance of the event, of masturbating, and slowly moving through sizes of vibrators that meant when the time came, I didn’t have to “admit” to my virginal status.

In hindsight, I actually think that may be the saddest thing about the whole episode.

I don’t entirely know why I’m sharing this, but I feel I need to. Young people; you do not need to be in love when you first fuck. But make sure it’s with someone who wants to make sure you have a great time, and who makes you feel like an amazing person. Don’t settle for anything less.

NK x

*ps – this also led to my theorising that it may be possible that for the bulk of the population, you either get to be a good kisser or a good lay.

BDSM and Me – Part 6: Morality and Desire.

Thursday, January 20th, 2011

This is part 6 of a 15 part series I’ve been answering. There’s been a bit of a hiatus due to the move, but I intend to answer the rest in a relatively timely manner! Click here to see the full list.

Creative Commons // Flickr

In BDSM do you have needs and desires that you feel are wrong or immoral?

What possible seperates me from many of those who may have answered this question previously is that by comparison to how much I know/think etc of the fetish scene, of BDSM and kinks in general, I have fairly little experience. That’s not exactly through choice.

For me, though, as is a lot of peoples’ experience with sexual and kink related issues, it’s still a journey of discovery. Even lately I’m still finding things that I might not have once expressed an interest in, that now seem to hold appeal. It’s taken me a long time to be comfortable with my sexuality afterall, so it makes a lot of sense that the kink side would be the same up to a point.

When I was younger – and I think I’ve mentioned this before – I would masturbate and then get terrible post-wank-guilt. Looking back it seems ridiculous, but it’s true. It took easily a good few years to get past that – but I have to say, I’m glad I did! Obviously, I was vaguely aware that some people had fetishes and kinks, but in an abstract way. I don’t think I correlated some early experiences of mine to BDSM elements, but they’re stories for another day.

Once I was introduced in a more personal sense to BDSM, I remained fairly passive for quite some time – in that what a partner wanted I would listen to, and perhaps do, but my own needs were seldom thought about. I feel I should clarify though, that a lot of my own needs, had I been listening to them, were the same things that were already happening. There were still, though, some practices that seemed appealing, but that I declined due to my own negative body image. Being invited to partake in some (clothed) bondage modelling springs to mind!

In much more recent times, by comparison, I have been very open in my own mind to the idea of being turned on and stimulated by the majority of things (in an “it’s possible, think about it” sense) – and find that with a little thought and daydream, I seem to have a lot of potential kinks. I’m lucky, I think, that these days I don’t feel guilty or dirty because of my kinks or my wider sexuality. I don’t feel that BDSM is immoral or wrong, and more than eating a banana is wrong – if you like bananas, eat them… just don’t shove them in the mouth of a person who can’t stand ‘em! ;) [aka SSC, kids].

Writing this has got me thinking though. Is there perhaps a part of me that is a little ashamed of some of my kinks, or maybe the volume of kinks? I only wonder because there are many I haven’t discussed with the Mr. It could be that, or it could be that we’re generally really poor communicators (which we are – let’s skip over that irony, yeah?).

I’m off to ponder this some more.

NK x