I Wrote Some Poetry About Sex

A close-up of some rope marks on a white person's (my) torso alongside a cute little mole, because choosing an image to represent the abstract concept of poetry about sex

Hey, folks! I’ve been having a really rough time with my mental health, and writing whole blog posts is a bit beyond me at the moment. However, apparently writing poetry (mostly while stoned) is not beyond me, so I wrote some poetry about sex. I’m really self-conscious about my poetry – even, like, the ridiculous poem I wrote about Christmas – so please be kind about it. And if poetry isn’t your thing, don’t worry, because I do have a few blog post ideas up my sleeve and I might one day soon have enough executive function to actually write and publish them.


how do you write poetry about people having sex?

 

how do you make magical someone 

(or maybe more than one someone) 

mashing their body against yours – 

 

or how do you speak that magic to strangers, 

without letting some of it be stolen by the breeze 

impossible to translate in its sweetness

 

how do you say, convincingly,

that even as the hot-wax-sting bit your skin

the flame on the candle was beautiful

 

or that feeling fingers stretch your cunt

felt so good, felt so fucking good

that when you came, you felt God 

 

how do you explain, fully,

that you bit her because you love her –

and she loves you in part because you bit her 

 

and that your bruises are like love notes

left liberally across your flesh

along with licks and kisses 

 

how can you replicate in words the dark glow of the dungeon

where you made half your closest friends

and where you once got choked half-unconscious

 

or the sound of cum hitting your skin, the heat of it

the heat of other people’s holes around your fingers

and the way their muscles tighten to hold your hand

 

how do you talk beautifully about the twitch of a dick in your mouth

the texture of someone’s scrotum under your tongue

and the melody of moans you can elicit with your lips

 

how do you bottle the lightning that arcs between you?

how do you capture the magic and the mess?

how do you write poetry about people having sex?

Cum Tribute Musings (For #KinkOfTheWeek)

A cartoon white splash, because I'm lazy and use stock photos but didn't get any results when I searched for "cum tribute"

I’ve never received a cum tribute.

Not because I wouldn’t like a cum tribute, but just because it hasn’t ever been at the forefront of my mind long enough to request one from somebody, and nobody has ever sent me one spontaneously, possibly for fear of being creepy. And, um, maybe it would be creepy… except it would be the exact kind of creepy I would find really fucking hot.

Let me clarify: strangers sliding into my DMs with unsolicited cum tributes would be the not-hot kind of creepy – the kind that gets you blocked instantly. But somebody I already knew, with whom I already had some kind of sexy connection, going out of their way to notify me that they’d wanked over my pictures? Oof. And providing visual evidence of just how much, how hard and where they came? Double oof.

There are two ways I think a cum tribute could be the hot kind of creepy. The first is the dominant way, the way that says, “I’ll use your photos however I like, and I’ll use your body however I like, too.” A spontaneous cum tribute sent by a dominant party to a submissive party can be read as a sort of sexy threat, an indication that the other party wants you so badly they’ll come all over a photo of you (even if that involves actually printing something, like people used to do in the olden days), with the implication that they probably won’t stop there. It’s the kind of gesture that says, “I am obsessing over every millimetre of your face and body,” and also, “Next time I see you, I’m going to pin you to any available surface and fuck you until you’re begging for my cum, then manhandle you onto your knees and milk my twitching cock onto your tongue.” It’s the somewhat entitled kind of creepy that fills me with CNC fantasies and tingly, erotic nervousness.

The other way in which a cum tribute could be the hot kind of creepy is, as you might have guessed, the submissive way. If I were to order someone to provide me with a cum tribute, it wouldn’t be creepy, it would just be very hot and possibly a little bit consensually humiliating for person doing the ejaculating. But if someone were, again, obsessing over me – but this time in an adoring, devoted-to-me sort of way – so much that they couldn’t help but wank about it, and then they also couldn’t help but send me a photo to demonstrate how desperate they were for me, my touch, my mouth… that would be deliciously creepy. It taps into exactly the same part of my psyche as my stalker kink does: I want to be lusted after to such a maddening extent that someone will do weird shit that flirts with, but doesn’t cross, my boundaries. I imagine this cum tribute would be offered timidly, apologetically, captioned something like, “I know this is really weird, but I just wanted to show you how hot I think you are,” and I also imagine there would be the greatest volume of cum a person could realistically produce in one sitting scattered across multiple nudes of mine, taken from my blog or my Twitter page. It would be charged with a very similar obsessive, “I want to pin you down and make you mine” energy, but tempered with the devotion and admiration inherent to this brand of submission. As well as being a display of lust, it would be a display of vulnerability and deference.

The cum tribute in the first scenario says, “I’m going to make you take my cum wherever I’d like to put it,” and the one in the second scenario says, “This is all I have to offer you, but I am desperately hoping you’ll decide you want it.”

There are all the other bits of a cum tribute that appeal to me too, of course: I love jizz and I want it in my mouth, like, always, and it would obviously provide me with the mental image of someone doing the coming in order to produce it… But, really, the thing that I find hot about cum tributes is their potential for creepiness. It’s one thing to say, “Oh, I jerked it to those nudes you posted,” and quite another to actually show me the proof. There are extra steps involved – whether or not you print an image, you still have to aim, to make sure the cum is visible, and then you have to take the photo of the results, and then you have to send it. It’s those extra steps that push it from sexy and flattering to sexy, flattering and the hot kind of creepy, and it’s the hot kind of creepy that motivated me to pick up this week’s Kink of the Week prompt.

(Speaking of which – thank you to Molly for running Kink of the Week, and thank you to Mx Nillin for inspiring this prompt! Make sure to check out the other Kink of the Week contributions, this time and every time – they’re always excellent.

Also, I totally wanted to name this post ‘This Is Not The Greatest Cum In The World, This Is Just A Tribute’, but I didn’t, for SEO reasons. Please applaud my sensible decision-making and strong resolve.)

The Kink of the Week badge, which is a red lipstick print with the words "Kink of the Week" on it


If you want to show your appreciation for my work but you’re worried about being the not-hot kind of creepy, consider signing up to my Patreon, buying me a coffee or following me on Twitter!

Skills I’ve Learnt By & From Bottoming

A chalkboard with a mindmap on it, with a lightbulb at its centre. The mindmap is titled "Bottoming Skills" and has six bubbles, which say "boundaries", "self-care", "balance", "processing pain", "communication" and "mindfulness" inside

Last month, I asked my Patreon people what they’d like to see a blog post about for the month of October, and they voted for “Skills I’ve learned or am learning, as a bottom and a human”. So, naturally, I… proceeded to go about three weeks without writing or posting anything. My brain has been on the fritz again and writing about bottoming has fallen to near the bottom of my to-do list (get it?), but at least I can spin it in my favour this time, because one of the most important skills I’ve learned as a bottom is understanding and asserting my boundaries.

Looking after my boundaries comes under the heading of “soft skills”, and it’s a soft skill I’ve had to battle to learn. That’s not a surprise; I’m assigned female and recovering from abuse on top of that, so I’ve spent a lot of time acquiescing on my boundaries for the sake of my safety. In kink, though, the best way to ensure your own safety and wellbeing (and that of the people around you!) is to recognise and assert your boundaries, so that you don’t say ‘yes’ to something you can’t withstand. If you, like me, don’t care much about your own safety or wellbeing, you might find it helpful to reframe it as, “Part of being a responsible bottom is communicating about my boundaries and limitations. It helps my top/dominant if I am forthcoming about what I can and cannot do.” This helps you grant yourself permission to assert your boundaries, and the more times you voice a boundary and have it respected (and even congratulated, with phrases such as, “Good pup for telling me”), the more you’ll train your brain to connect asserting a boundary with having a good time, which is hugely helpful in non-kink contexts, too.

That’s the thing about soft skills like these: I learn or build them whilst bottoming, but they improve my quality of life in vanilla contexts, too. Skills in a similar vein include communication and self-awareness, as well as mindfulness and staying present within my body – something I struggle with, since 1. I dissociate pretty frequently and 2. My brain is usually running at ridiculous speeds and is never fully focused on a single thing. When I’m bottoming, staying present and attentive to my body and brain is essential to my safety as well as my enjoyment of the scene, and this has the pleasant side effect of teaching me that being present inside myself can be a good thing.

Another skill that I practice whilst bottoming and that helps me in my day-to-day life is processing pain. I have hypermobile joints that cause me chronic pain, with acute flare-ups often occurring in cold weather, when I’m ill, when I’m stressed, when I’m not eating right, and/or seemingly at random. It’s hugely helpful to have pain processing strategies to hand for these – things like deep breathing, visualising pain as heat which is radiating from my body, and learning not to freak out because pain is not always equivalent to peril. I’m not learning to ignore pain – in kink, because pain is part of the fun; with my joints, because pain is informative – but I am learning to cope with it.

Bottoming is also teaching me to prioritise self-care. I’m a better bottom (more engaged, more attentive, able to push myself) if I’m well-fed, well-rested and managing my chronic pain appropriately. It’s sometimes difficult to grant myself permission to perform self-care, so, much like with the assertion of boundaries, it’s useful to reframe it as being useful to other people, as well as mixing in the incentive that if I do more self-care, I can do more BDSM.

I have also learned and/or developed “hard” skills from bottoming. Some of these things are as minor and context-specific as coiling my Daddy’s rope for them, but some are bigger – like rope stuff helping me to improve my balance and proprioception. Bottoming-related hard skills are ones I’d like to explore more thoroughly; things like bootblacking would aid my hand-eye coordination, help me to keep my own Doc Martens in good nick and, as a nice bonus, put me into a service-oriented headspace. There are so many ways that bottoming has the capacity to improve one’s quality of life beyond just the bedroom/dungeon/wherever you do kink, and I’m excited to keep exploring them.