I’m not the kind of woman you’d describe as ‘petite.’ Or ‘dainty’ or ‘pretty’ or ‘feminine.’ In fact, I’m a little bit sensitive to the idea of being ‘feminine’, and any suggestion from helpful friends and family if they recommend I get my hair cut more often or try on a pretty dress: it’s not just that I don’t want to be feminine, it’s that I truly don’t think that I can. What came first: my refusal to perform femininity, or the knowledge that I’ll never be able to?

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Bend over. Put your face in the pillow. Stick your ass out. Spread your cheeks. I want to get my dick as far inside you as it will go: all the way in. 

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Join me on a journey of self-discovery, which begins with a spiteful commenter calling me a narcissist and ends with me explaining why personal sex stories are awesome and this commenter can suck on my hugely-inflated ego.

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I’m excited to welcome today’s guest blogger – the fabulous Quinn Rhodes from On Queer Street (who you can support on Patreon here!). Ze’s a fantastic sex blogger, who has written a beautiful guest blog for me here before on discovering hir sexuality. Today ze’s back with a new discovery or three. Do you remember your first time in a sex shop? Quinn’s here to tell you about hirs, and how visiting a Glasgow sex shop led hir to discover hir love for a few new things…

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There are three parts to this story. You don’t have to believe them all. In fact, if you don’t believe any of them it doesn’t matter much to me. There are many of you I love and respect, but few who I rely on for the kind of intimacy I’d expect of a partner or friend. But if you’re my friend, my lover, or anyone else who cares about me, I need you to believe me when I tell you about my life.

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