The Devil Is In The Details: Erections

Welcome back to my new miniseries of blog posts, The Devil Is In The Details, where I explore sex- and kink-related topics in way more depth than anyone asked for! Today, as you can guess from the title, I’ll be talking about erections and why I love them.

I love my own erections. I came with a vagina and a clitoris pre-installed, rather than a penis, and for the most part, I’m happy about that – my vagina has brought me a lot of joy over the years, and I wouldn’t want to get rid of it even on my most dysphoric days. My clit, too, has brought me a great deal of joy, mostly while it’s been erect. I love starting to masturbate and feeling my clit slowly harden and peek out of its little hood. I find my own erections affirming on my masculine days, but they aren’t so obtrusive or gendered in my mind to be off-putting on my feminine days. Plus, obviously, they’re a lot of fun to play with.

I love other people’s clitoral erections too, of course. Whatever the gender of the person I’m fucking, I love playing with their clit in a way that makes them squirm. I love that clitoral erections are a little bit harder to find and get my mouth around than penile ones, because it makes it all the more rewarding when I find that hard knot of flesh with my tongue.

Penile erections, though – that is, erections happening to a penis – are delicious in their own right. As well as saying, in a way I cannot refute, that I’m sexually attractive, an erection says to me that foreplay is going well. I love how obvious they are, how incontrivertible and, well, solid the proof is that sex is still going okay. (Note: erections are not a substitute for ongoing communication. However, they are a substitute for nervously asking, “Do you fancy me?” or “Is this neck-licking thing doin’ it  for you?” dozens of times during a single fuck.)

I also love the sensory experiences an erect penis can provide. There’s the halfway-there erection that gives way just a little under your fingers, the tissue springy but firm. There’s the rock-solid erection that twitches in your mouth (did I mention how much I love to put anything in my mouth? Never lend me a pencil.) and which shoves any foreskin out of the way, just inviting you to roll it back and forth over the head of a cock with your hands, your tongue, your tits…

Ahem.

Then – and this might be cheating – there’s the taste of an erection. It’s not just the texture of my spit, mixed with precum, on my tongue, against a dick – a unique sensory experience, the only word for which is “slick”. Erect dicks taste different to flaccid ones, at least in my experience, which might be because of sciencey things to do with pheromones or precum (which I did once write an entire blog post about – I fucking love precum), or which might just be to do with the magic of having a hard dick in my mouth. Either way, erections taste hot and human and different on everybody, and the sight of an erection immediately gets my mouth watering – what might this dick taste like? When am I going to find out?

I don’t know whether I have an oddly sensitive tongue or an oddly detail-oriented mind or whether this is a universal thing, but I also love feeling out all the different parts of a dick with my tongue – the curve of the head, the slit down the middle, the tautness of the frenulum, all the way down the shaft and then to the balls (which maybe don’t count as part of an erection, but don’t you just love the texture of a scrotum? The way it gives and folds? The fact that sometimes you can feel individual hair follicles with your tongue?).

Oh, and obviously: erections look hot as sin. Dripping precum, hidden in boxers, in the mouth of another hot human – all unbearably hot.

Y’all might have to excuse me. I have blowjobs to think about and an erect clit to deal with.


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Cum: The Devil Is In The Details

Selfie taken by Morgan where the top half of xir face is cut off and xir cleavage is covered in a lube which looks a lot like cum

Welcome to my new miniseries, The Devil Is In The Details, where I get unreasonably in-depth about certain aspects of sex or kink that fascinate me! This week, I’ll be talking about cum…


I have a complicated relationship with cum.

In theory, I love it. I fantasise about all the different ways I can interact with it – about being spitroasted and having cum squirt into my mouth and my cunt simultaneously; about being splattered with it in unrealistic quantities by one or more parties; about going for a walk straight after being creampied and feeling it ooze through the fabric of my pants and start to dribble down my leg. In all of these fantasies, I am enthusiastic about it, because in all of these fantasies, it isn’t cum-textured.

I might be alone in this, but I find there’s a particular squeakiness to cum on skin that gets my autistic hackles up somethin’ fierce. It’s akin to the creak of teeth against fabric – something I also can’t stand – and it turns my stomach every time I experience it. I love the sensation of being covered in or filled with something thick and wet and hot – but I can’t stand it on my skin for any longer than a few long, sexy moments. I can cope with it in my cunt, as long as I don’t have to touch my cunt, or have it touched by anyone else. I do, however, like the sensation of it dribbling out of my cunt, especially if it’s then caught up by fingers and fed to me (be they my own fingers or someone else’s).

The ideal place to put your cum, though, is my mouth. I love the taste of it – the way that some notes of it differ between each person while the bass line of human-tasting tanginess remains the same. (Forgive the weird music analogy – I have a lot of synaesthesia around tastes, smells and sounds.) I have no objections to the feel of the actual substance in my mouth, and I relish the moment that it hits my tongue, whether it be sucked out of someone and pulsing gently towards the back of my throat or shot hard into my mouth as a reward for someone’s handiwork – be it me, the person who’s coming, or a third party. I love letting it drip off my lower lip as I stare, dumbstruck by lust, at the person who put it there, but I also love dutifully swallowing all of it, including those last few drops that can be squeezed out at the end of an orgasm.

The other thing I love about cum is this: it’s tangible, physical proof of a job well done. It’s hard to argue that I’m not sexy or that I’m bad at sex when somebody has just ejaculated inside or all over me. Sometimes, in role play, I act as though I dislike or am indifferent to my partner’s cum, and that it only exists as a necessary byproduct of my obedience when ordered to suck them off or lay still for them – but it’s definitely acting. I definitely want the cum. I’m therefore far more comfortable in the role of desperate slut, whose sexual greed knows no bounds and who can only think about getting their holes filled, getting to come and getting covered in and filled with the cum of another person (or other people, plural) – which, to be honest, is kind of the case for me a lot of the time anyway. If you catch me daydreaming, there’s a solid 60% chance that you’ve caught me thinking about the tingle at the back of my tongue that cum can sometimes give me, or the way a dick looks when it’s twitching and spraying cum everywhere, or any other thing related to cum and how much I love it.

Who knows; you might even have caught me having that one recurring fantasy where I jerk someone off in the shower and then lick their cum off the tiled wall.


The pandemic and subsequent semi-lockdown that’s going on right now means that I’ve lost a lot of work opportunities (because every other fucker at my agency is snagging jobs before I can). If you also want to give me a birthday present four months early, consider buying me a coffee or commissioning transcripts or captions from me!

Kinks I Don’t Have

Stock photo of a fluffy black-and-white feather against a blue background, a reference to tickling, one of the kinks I don't have, and also a nice complement to my blue-and-purple blog colour scheme.

Sometimes, my vanilla friends like to tease me about how kinky I am. I don’t mind it; I love feeling seen by them, and there’s never an edge of malice or shaming to it. But sometimes, I’ll express that something is a kink of mine, and they’ll respond, “What isn’t?”

Today, I am going to answer that question.

Specifically, I want to think about the reasons for me not finding a kink appealing. I can usually identify what’s hot about kinks I do have – pet play is primal and unrestrained; CG/l fulfills my need for approval and nurturing, whilst also feeling super taboo – but I think it’ll be just as telling to investigate what turns me off about kinks I personally don’t have. (Naturally, I’m going to try and be as neutral as possible and to avoid shaming people who do have these kinks, because most, if not all, kinks are harmless when played with ethically.)

1. Coprophilia, AKA scat, AKA poop

This one is firmly on my list of hard limits, rather than just a kink I’m not actively interested in. Partly, this is because of the health risks it poses, which sit firmly outside of my risk profile – but also, it just squicks me on an instinctive level that I can’t override. Once, when a friend confided in me that they had an interest in scat play and felt conflicted about it, I searched Tumblr for scat-related porn (back in the days when you could find porn on Tumblr). I grew to understand it in theory – the intense sensory experiences of smell and texture, the potential for erotic humiliation, the taboo of it – but I just couldn’t get past my own knee-jerk response, which was, I’ll admit, disgust. That doesn’t mean that I think the kink is disgusting, of course; most people poop, and I eroticise piss, which seems to be only one step away from scat. It’s just that my Caveman Brain is producing a disgust response, presumably because it has identified scat play as unsafe in some way, and I’m incapable of shutting that off.

2. Food play

Some of y’all might know that I’m recovering from an eating disorder. You might also know that recovering from mental illnesses does not stop me from enjoying related kinks, as is evident in the relationship between my blood kink and my occasional self-harm, so it’s probably not my eating disorder that prevents me from finding play with food sexy. Instead, I think it’s the sensory component. I’m autistic, and some sensory experiences are fucking awesome for me – like touching fluffy things, or sniffing a lemon-scented body wash – and some are hellish. Anything that could be described as “sticky” falls into the latter category, as do many forms of “wet”. I hate showering because I hate the sensation of being wet. I hate going out in the rain for the same reason, but I also hate to use an umbrella, because the fact that my legs are wet but my top half is not is even more distressing. The idea of being covered in food makes my autistic skin crawl a little bit, and even covering somebody else in foodstuffs would make me cringe.

3. Leather and latex

I’ve lumped these things into one because my lack of interest in them both comes from the same place. Firstly, there’s the autism component: squeaky, creaky noises go straight through me, and I know there’s a lot of potential for those noises to arise in latex and leather. Secondly, leather and latex garments require a lot of care to maintain. I can barely keep myself and my dildos clean, and I just don’t think I have it in me to polish latex or leather as frequently as is needed. I also imagine that trying to keep such expensive garments clean and intact would make me so anxious that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy wearing them, particularly since latex has a reputation for tearing. I can admire other people’s latex and leather outfits from afar, of course, because people always look hot as hell in them, but I don’t think I could ever become a latex or leather wearer.

4. Tickling

So I have this really odd thing where if you get close enough to me and wiggle your fingers as if you’re going to tickle me, I start laughing before you even make contact. But it’s not an excited laugh – it’s just some anticipatory reflex thing, because frankly, tickling annoys me. I’ll tickle other people if they’re really enthusiastic about it, but the sensation of tickling just isn’t an enjoyable one for me. Light tickling, like the kind you can achieve with feathers, gives me Bad Autism and makes my skin itch relentlessly. Harder tickling with fingers is a little painful and a little irksome. This doesn’t mean, though, that I don’t want to be made to laugh in kinkier contexts; my Daddy can often make me shriek with enjoyable giggles by grabbing my shoulders, shouting, “Earthquake!” and shaking me roughly. I like laughing during scenes, especially when a top is using my laughter as another way to control my body, but tickling is just never going to be a way to get me there. It’s not fun laughter so much as involuntary laughter, and I like to save my involuntary responses in scenes for things like gagging and squirming.


What I’m gathering from this is that a lot of the things that stand between myself and some common kinks are rooted in autistic sensory aversions – and that’s okay! Nobody ever has to justify, to themselves or other people, why they don’t have any particular kinks, but I felt like it would be as interesting an introspective exercise as considering why I do have particular kinks. Are there any common kinks that you just don’t gel with, and do you ever think about why? I always love to hear y’all’s thoughts in the comments!