Sex Positive!

i’m not here to tell you what to do with your saucyparts or your goods, but we all need to finally realize that being SEXY and SEXUAL is for everyone- no matter what body type, shape, gender, sexual preference or part of the rainbow! boy parts, girl parts, dirtybits, trans, no-no spots, special purposes, whatever!

because we all need a little boost now and again- here are some AMAZING sex positive tumblrs!
i guarantee you’ll find something to make you smile! (among other things.) ENJOY!

oh- and these are SERIOUSLY nsfw- so wait until you get home where you can (ahem) view these with more privacy *coughs*… because you will!

http://fuckyeahsexpositivity.tumblr.com/
http://queersexpositive.tumblr.com/
http://sex-positive.tumblr.com/
http://sex-positive-bitches.tumblr.com/

love your body! love yourself! be sexy! be pervy!
ADMIT THAT YOU LOVE SEX! ADMIT THAT YOU ARE SEXY! LOVE YOUR BODY! CHERISH WHO YOU ARE WITH! BE SAFE! and LIVE LIFE TO IT’S FULLEST!
(didnt i just say i wasnt going to tell you what to do? but these are good things- and you should do them!)

HAPPY WEDNESDAY!
HAPPY SPRING!
HAPPY MAY DAY!
HAPPY BELTAIN!
HAPPY SEX ALL!

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sixty-nine.

sixty-nine.

by *Miss Theresa*

Yes. I am going to talk about it. I’m going to talk about the infamous “69”.  I don’t remember when I first heard about 69- it was probably in middle school, but I do remember whoever was telling me, took great pains to explain that the “6” was one person and the “9” was another. That was all fine and good, people being numbers and all, but I didn’t understand why people were giggling about it. I wasn’t very good in math, and failed Algebra once and dropped Geometry, so what the hell did I know? X=Y after all.

Time passed, and I was now in high school, and by then I had lost my virginity.  Sex became a little more than just “doing it” and sort of actually almost started to feel good (and the women out there know what I mean.)  High school sex is more about the guy getting off and the girl just being in dreamylove with this boy they are letting poke at them for 10 minutes.  My (loser) boyfriend at the time was talking about 69 and I remember KNOWING that the “6” and “9” were people.  I felt IN on this dirty little secret!  The numbers are PEOPLE!!!! I yelled to myself in a sexually SOYLENT GREEN type of way.  But, what these peoplenumbers were actually doing was still very much a mystery. Eventually my boyfriend finally let me in on it, and before I could really figure things out, he initiated it.  Welp.   He demonstrated in the “best” way possible (for an inexperienced teen for had NEVER actually done anything but missionary, of course) – and we awkwardly began the dance that is 69.

I remember thinking that the commencement of the aforementioned position was beyond awkward, unceremoniously crawling up on each other, and bony knees jabbing ribs and feeling stupid.  I felt weird and claustrophobic, and of course, only being a new young slut at that time was still self conscious about, well, you know, letting a boy *whispers* (put his mouth down there) and then, to add nasty insult to filthy injury- he actually put his “stuff” near my mouth, and then, EXPECTED me to you know, give him, you know! I mean, REALLY!  Ghastly!

And this was what the fuss was about? All of this awkward discomfort? I remember it was about three minutes before I decided it was the dumbest thing ever, so, he more than likely shot his load someplace I didn’t want, and that was the end of 69 for awhile.  INTO the “NOT-MY- THING” CABINET WITH YOU, SIXTY-NINE!

69 was whispered about and giggled over all through my college years.  Occasionally I was lured into participating in it again, assuming that since my lovers were getting more skilled, that 69 would finally be what everyone was raving about… because… you know, “yer getting head while yer giving it- what could be better?”  Welp, I’ll tell you what’s better than some idiot making you “soixante-neuf.”  Anything.  Anything is better.  Gardening, going to the library, embroidery, clogging.  ANYTHING is better than the ol’ 69, especially with a boy that until that moment had only seen it in HUSTLER or heard other fakers bragging about it being the END ALL of SEXUAL EXPERIENCE.  It was all so scandalous, and SO taboo, it HAD to be great. I mean, “dude! She’s blowin’ you while you got yer mouth on her. It’s aweeeesome.”

Well, it wasn’t.

More time passed, and my disillusion grew.  I still heard so much fuss over 69 and finally figured that maybe I was the weird one; that clearly I found, dated and screwed every single lousy lover in the city of Pittsburgh.  I started to resent 69, as if it was some rare pearl that I would never obtain.  People talked tough about the ol’ “dinner-beneath-the-bridge” and I just felt unwelcome at that party, so it just became one more thing I never understood, like chess, cars or computers.

I hit my sexual peak, and incidentally found myself divorced and on the market.  This lead to a whole lot of interesting-ness, and my old foe- the “double header” was back in my playin’ field.  I had heard endless giggling, and so much big talk from my female friends, that I KNEW, I was missing out.  Again, giving AND getting?  Shut the front door!  You know it’s good girl!

Now, I had come a long way (no pun intended) from that stupid little wannabe slut messing around with stupid inexperienced boys in basements and cars, and one of my first established SEX RULES was that “I NEVER PLAY EVEN-STEVENS”- which translates to- just because I’m doing you, doesn’t necessarily mean you need to do me, and vice versa.  Sometimes it’s fun to focus on one partner, other times it’s all in (no pun.)  Because of my “TIT-ISN’T-NECESSARY-FOR-TAT” rule, I felt that 69 was not aiding to my cause of sexual independence.  I could be a woman and get mine, without giving, and that was pretty empowering.  This pretty much left 69 in the darkest corner of my closet along with the KAMA SUTRA book which I never understood and that horrible rabbit vibrator thing- that hurt a lot more than it pleasured.

In my thirties sex was pretty much in EVERY CONVERSATION EVERYWHERE and was totally unavoidable, so I had to define myself pretty quickly, picking and choosing from the sexual buffet BEFORE it came up.  My turn on’s and off’s, my do’s and don’t’s, condom preference, gender preference, past partner resume, what have you.

Again, lots of talk from lots of ladies- and I even fell prey to the whole, “oh yeah, I totally get off blowin’ a guy thing”– which, when honest, really means, “I really just want him to like me.”  Eventually I admitted this to myself, and although I like giving head to guys, honestly, it’s not within my TOP FIVE on my ol’ sex menu. *shrug*

More and more time went by and I finally got to the point where I am now- which is “I’m almost 40 and I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me” (which, between you and me and everyone over there, is a REALLY nice place to be) and do you know what I’ve found?  I am NOT alone in the “I just don’t get the whole 69 thing” category.  In fact, I have YET to meet someone who honestly and I mean HONESTLY enjoys the whole “flip flop double marriage” thing.  Now, I know what you are going to say, “But *Miss Theresa* I LURRRVE 69!” of course you do, honey. We all do in the sense that it’s sex.  But I’d bet with the right partner, you’d enjoy fucking in mud too, BUT you actually love a bunch of other positions more.

After all of the hype, I finally found someone that I enjoyed 69 with.  I did.  And they didn’t kneel on my hair, or make me feel like I was suffocating, or make me do anything with their ass, or bruise my lungs or kick me in the face, or say “I’m too heavy” or stop every 30 seconds saying “are you ok?”  but the reason it was different, was because I would do anything for this person, and so “loop de loop” was as good as anything that I could have done or have gotten done at that time.  When it happened it wasn’t as if I shattered the SEX CEILING or unlocked the mysteries of pleasure or anything like that.  It was what it was, our mouths on each other, giving and getting at the same time.  It was nice.  And it was good.  But it wasn’t a fistbump at the gym or a check mark on my POSITIONS I HAVE TO TRY card.  And it certainly wasn’t worth decades of secret snickering, giggling or pedestal-sitting either.  Now PEDASTAL SITTING… there’s a position.

So I’ve blown the lid off yet another taboo.  And I know, I know, that’s what she said, however, I spent a long time worried that I wasn’t in on the secret, and I find out 30 years later, I wasn’t really missing out.  Mystery Solved.  Now, I’m expecting a few angry emails from women still claiming to LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE giving blowjobs.  No worries, ladies.  Your secret is still safe with me.