She exists in moments.

She could have stepped out of a renaissance painting. Rossetti told her one too many times to pout and she walked straight off the canvas in a cloud of red hair.

“She’s straight. Definitely 100% completely straight.”

There’s a freckle on her lip. It pulls me in. I want to brush my thumb across it, draw her mouth to mine. I’m staring. She is watching me staring.

“She’ll soak up as much attention as you give her though.”

The day is clear and bright as only sunlight in the mountains can be. Her nakedness is surreal, glorious. There is a weight to her movement. The folding of her limbs is the shifting of continents. It makes me quake.

She slides into the water next to me with a sigh. Her fingers graze my thigh more than once. Not an accident, her goblin grin tells me that.

I am thinking about marking every last one of her freckles with my teeth.

She must have thousands.

Top 100 Sex Bloggers 2014

This list. You guys I’m on it!

How when what huh?

My first impulse was to go squee about it to everyone. Which isn’t an option, because 95% of people I know offline either don’t know I write about sex at all or don’t know where.  So I will squee here!

I’m flattered, flabbergasted, flummoxed, floored–generally excited unto alliteration. So thank you for reading, nominating, being present to all the things I pour onto the Internet whether they need to be said or no. Thank you. Best Christmas surprise an agnosti-Jew could ask for!

In which I fail, and fail, and fail

“Did you want to try to have sex, before I go?”

I don’t know. That is, I don’t, but I don’t know why I don’t. I’m frustrated and lonely and I crave sexual touch. It’s been months. “I don’t know. No, I think–” I’m inarticulate, nervous. Is it going to be a fight, if we don’t? Is it going to be a fight if we do?

“It doesn’t have to be like standard PIV. You could fuck me, or try punching or electricity. If you need to feel in control.”

My gut twists. I don’t want, not at all. It’s visceral, shocking. I am not like this. I’m babbling. I say definitely no but I’m trying to explain and it doesn’t make sense. I have to say it three times before he understands.

“What about just kissing? You like kissing.”

I do. It’s been months. I feel pressured and miserable and scared mostly, afraid because there’s a delay between reaction and reason. I can feel it, the gap. What I want/don’t want is inchoate and the words I give it feel like excuses, like lies.

I’m trying. I don’t want to say no because I want to want it, because I think maybe the fear will dissipate and excitement can take its place if I just try. Like riding a roller coaster.

It doesn’t work, the kissing. I try. My body wants to fold into itself, there’s no enjoyment, but I try. And then I can’t. I bury my face in his shoulder and apologize.

Questions. “Why” and “what’s going on” and on and on. It feels like pressure. I feel like I deserve it. I snap at him. I don’t want questions I just want to curl up quiet and alone. He deserves answers, it isn’t fair, but my mind isn’t clear enough. So I snap. So we fight.

He only suggested it because I said I was frustrated the night before. He thought I was pressuring him. I thought he was pressuring me. He pulls apart my words and calls them inconsistent. I don’t see it, don’t know how to explain.

This is what I mean by not working.


A woman dumps a man after three dates. She’s afraid he might have given her an STI. They never had sex. But she feels at risk, dirty, lied to, because he told her that he’s bisexual. She was the second person he’d ever come out to.

A man tells me his ex is “bi.” He uses air quotes. I frown. “No, he says he’s bi, but come on. It’s a passing thing. He’s gay really.”

An emcee shouts at the audience: “who here is straight?” There are cheers. “Who here is gay?” Another cheer. “And who’s too drunk to care?” I shout “fuck you” but it’s lost under the laughter of the crowd.

A man who identifies as “mostly heterosexual” describes his first sexual encounter with another man. It is introduced with “some men test out a gay side.”

So I, and others, call it erasive. But no, we’re told that we’re mistaken. It’s not erasure. Gay can be used to encompass bi experience. Not erasure, just semantics.

There is a difference between derailing a conversation that is not about language by nitpicking word usage and having a conversation which is about language, meaning, and its effects. Because the former is a common technique for avoidance of issues, “it’s just semantics” is seen by many as a justified shut-down.

When a discussion is about the language people use and the effects that language has, the issue at hand is one of semantics.

Pointing out that a discussion about words and their meanings is a semantic discussion is not a valid dismissal. It is a tautology.

Bisexual erasure is real. Language is the simplest and most pervasive tool of that erasure. How do you think it’s done? We don’t exist: gay is close enough, gay pretty much covers it. We don’t exist: our identity gets air quotes. We don’t exist: we’re not addressed in the literature except as a subset of gay people. We don’t exist: research in bisexuality is still asking us to prove we do before it will deign to investigate or address the health disparities that affect us.

It is semantics. It is absolutely semantics. It is a pattern of excluding bisexuality from language. It is denying the accuracy and utility of the word we use to differentiate ourselves from the gay and lesbian communities that all too often exclude us, telling us instead that we should use their words.

Fuck that.

The words are worth fighting for. Words inform research, policy, public opinion, funding. There is no way in hell I’m going to stand quiet while we’re continually left out of all of it. I’m not going to back down, because semantics are not petty.

e[Lust] #65

Photo courtesy of SassyCat

Welcome to Elust #65

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #66? Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

“Does this look sexual to you?”
Submission Can Be Hard
You can have a secret sex blog and be ethical


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

On Writing and Self Doubt

Online porn: the canary in the coalmine

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

The Pendulum: Why Americans Should Care that British Porn is Fucked

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Erotic Fiction

Dark Desires
This Is How You Use Her
“Office Santa”—A Free Story for the Holidays!
Justin’s Rope
Santa Sutra & the Rebellious Rein-Girl
I Want You, My Way
Caught In The Act
The Smile

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Feminist Rape
The Sex I Like
Post-Revolution Kink: What kinds of kink?
Why MakeLoveNotPorn Has It Wrong


I Do It My Way

Erotic Non-Fiction

Slave Olive’s Ongoing Chastity Experience
Coast to Coast Traveling Panties.
My Headshaving – During
Tell me…..(want versus need)
flip fucking a punk boy but good

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

To Avoid Street Harassment, Dress Slutty!
“You’re not a Domme, you’re a hooker”
We Don’t Do That: On Vulnerability
He suspects something’s up…
Aust Sex Survey: Triumph, Trouble & Tragedy
Erections, Erections, Erections
Am I queer enough for you?


Quandary – A Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

A Sticky Vocabulary Situation

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Tickling, consent violations, and violence
A Few Things I Wish I’d Known About Sex, Dati


ELust Site Badge

Missing Piece

I’m lonely. I miss you.

The words are wrong. How do you say them? To whom? Words communicate. Loneliness is is what happens when you can’t. We have a word for which there can be no word. It feels broken to say, a message without a receiver, but what else can you do? You say them. Not to communicate, to confess.

I’m lonely. I miss you. Pointless. Utterly pointless.

I said them anyway.