I want to write. Really I do. I wake up with whole passages in my head. I have entire posts written in the middle of the night. But then the day starts and I end up with barely enough energy to do the needful: work, be present for my partners, friends and family, do the things that need to be done to facilitate our move, pack some boxes…live. And writing falls away into “I wish I had more time.” And yet I resist dragging myself out of bed any earlier than absolutely necessary. I really, really relish and appreciate that extra half hour after the alarm has gone off, and I’ve muddled through my dreams in my dream journal, I’ve sent morning greeting texts off and I am snuggled down in the comforter with the dog lodged behind my knees, holding my pee until I can’t bear it another moment. I don’t want to give that up.
My nesting partner leaves before dawn, kissing me goodbye and leaving the hall light on at my request, because the basement rooms we sleep in here let in so little light that if he didn’t, I’d never rouse. My alarm goes off half an hour later. If I could just rouse myself enough when he leaves, not to do anything crazy like exercise, but so that I arrived at my desk a half hour earlier, I could, theoretically, have time to write. It’s just so so hard to make myself move any earlier.
I don’t do official sex toy reviews, mostly because I don’t feel qualified to discuss issues about product safety, etc., and if you get those things wrong, well, bad things can happen. So I leave that to the pros. But I do use sex toys, both with partners and alone, and sometimes I write about those experiences. You know, because sex and sex toys are fun. :-)
A friend of mine posted an image of her orgasm tabulation for the year (hashtags that equaled approximately 10x the number of orgasms I have had this year so far) and I felt, well, a little embarrassed by my lack. NOT the correct response, and not what she intended, I am sure. I love her sexual energy and wish, sometimes, that I could capture it, could breathe it in and let it fill me up. Instead, so often, what’s going on in my environment, and in my relationships, inhibits me from enjoying my sexuality. And there’s a lot going on in my environment that I allow to affect me adversely, both globally and personally.
Sexual energy is good energy, healthy energy. It buoys one up, even if one isn’t having intercourse, in fact it oftentimes has nothing to do with intercourse. A lot, if not most, of my sexual energy comes from interactions with my kink partner(s), and attempts by me to establish some sort of daily sexual ritual have always failed, mostly because I don’t interact with them in that way on a daily basis. There used to be a lot more of that energy, but the pandemic has tamped that down a lot, and oftentimes I don’t even think of myself as a sexual person. I am a (sometime) submissive, I am a (sometime) lover, I am a girlfriend and a life-partner, a mother, a coworker, a friend. Those roles don’t often make room for a “sexual being.”
I’d like that to change. I’d like sexual energy and joy to be as much a part of my existence as any other. I believe our society shames women who insist on exploring and celebrating our sexuality after a certain age and I want to combat that in my own life. I can’t force sexual feelings, but I can be open to giving myself opportunities to experience it, and take those opportunities when they arise. I settled down with a new sex toy the other evening after work with exactly that thought in mind.
I love the idea of having my clit sucked deeply by a machine or toy, or even, when I fantasize about having a clit-cock, by a human. I’ve played with the Womanizer, a pricey clit-sucking toy, before, hoping the reality matched my fantasies, but it didn’t work out that way for me. The pressure on my clit was too pinpointed and uncomfortable. Eventually, with a lot of work trying to find the right spot, I could come, but it was an almost painful sensation. It became a toy that my kink partner used as an occasional torture device rather than one about sexual pleasure, and after a couple times, never saw the outside of my sex toy box again.
Then the other day I saw a review for this toy. It’s called the Sohimi Clitoral-Sucking Vibrator (a brand I’ve never heard of.) There were a number of things that convinced me to give it a try: it has a curved g-spot insertable with vibrations, a wider “mouth” for my clit, and it was really affordable. The big mouth on it was the real selling point. Many times I have thought, if the sucking area could just suck all of my clit in, like a wide, grasping mouth – well, that’s part of the fantasy in my head. It could work. And at that price, how could I resist?
I’m glad I didn’t resist. The first time with the toy was not great, and I was sure it was going to be another Womanizer fiasco. I did have an orgasm, but it was…strange. It built up and up, never really finding the right place but using the g-spot stim to push me to the edge…but when I got there… Poof. It was over. I like a lot of clit stimulation, and it just didn’t deliver.
But then I tried it again. I didn’t want to give up without really giving it a chance. I used lube this time, unlike before, and rather than just focusing on the sensations, I let myself drift into fantasy, imagining I was strapped down to a table and this sucking machine was being strapped to me, forced upon me. Suddenly it was a wide-mouthed sucking machine, and I was helpless against it. I spread my labia wide and experimented with the various speeds, and, since the body of the toy is somewhat pliable, I was able to maneuver it against my g-spot better, rocking it in micro-pulses so the suction actually pulled on my clit while the vibrator stroked my g-spot. And that did it! It wasn’t a screaming orgasm, and it was far more pin-pointed and focused than other orgasms, but it was pleasurable, and I liked that I took the time to coax it out of my body. That it wasn’t the slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am of my Hitachi.
Okay, had to take a break to give it another go, after writing about it turned me on.
Yep! It worked, just like before. It takes a lot more patience than I usually have when I want to orgasm. And it doesn’t have the power of my Baldy (Hitachi) orgasms. But it was a fun way to re-introduce myself to my own sexuality here in the new year, a fun way to play, and a nice bit of self-care here on a morning when I needed it.
And now, I’m off to yoga and maybe run, because it’s my day for it, and – even if I resist doing it – I always feel better after. Oh, and then packing and grocery shopping and I had had vague plans to hike this afternoon, but the cold weather is impacting that decision, so we’ll see.
Oh, and guess what? I finally finished the 12 Tasks of Christmas! I’ll write a post about it soon.
I don’t do it often, and I don’t particularly like to do it, but, what the hell. It’s nice to be recognized occasionally.
As some of you know, I write occasionally for what used to be Eden Cafe, but is now SexIs Social. Recently they announced a writing contest, part of which would be judged by their editorial staff, the other part more of a popularity contest (for lack of a better term.)
I’ve never been one for popularity contests, especially the kind that means posting “Vote for me!” messages all over social media, but…sigh…maybe I am feeling the need for attention, for recognition…to know ya’ll care or something. (Yeah, whiny, needy girl strikes again.)
In any case, for real, if you’d like to, I would love to see my writings “loved” on some. Voted for by readers that enjoy my writings, both here and there.
The first, “Playing with (Human) Dolls” (and one of their “featured” articles) is about just that: the fetish of dollification, how I got interested in it and what it is. The second, “How Not to Win Friends and Influence People” is a reaction to a douchebaggery email I got from someone on Fetlife, an (almost) first for me, and why I found his comments offensive and repulsive. I would never advocate voting for my writing just because you like me (“you really like me!” ~smirk~) but if you find either piece compelling or interesting at all, I’d sure like to know it by seeing a vote for it in the forum. :-)
To vote, please click here (links above will take you directly to my articles, not the voting page.) I do think there are some sign-in requirements (creating an account or linking to a social media account, etc.) but it’s fairly non-invasive and easy to do. Besides which, SexIs Social has some darn good writing on it, so I’d recommend it anyway, even if I wasn’t writing for them occasionally.
Check out all these fabulous sexy authors I am nestled in this book with!
Table of Contents
The Perfect Dom Lucy Felthouse
Birthday Boy Cecilia Duvalle
Unwrapping Craig J. Sorensen
The Assignment Donna George Storey
A Game of Numbers Kiki DeLovely
Mermaid Teresa Noelle Roberts
Butch Girls Don’t Cry Giselle Renarde
Echo J. Sinclaire
Bitch Elizabeth Silver
The Price of Experience Kate Dominic
The Spanking Salon Elizabeth Coldwell
The Impact of Change Maggie Morton
Writer’s Block Evan Mora
Lessons Learned Jade Melisande
Invitation to a Spanking Andrea Dale
A Timely Correction Dorothy Freed
Spanking the Monkey Cynthia Rayne
Shine Shanna Germain
Papers to Grade Thomas S. Roche
Lean on Me Adele Haze
Proxy Lucy Hughes
Bad Boy Isabelle Gray
Marks Rachel Kramer Bussel
If you’re a blogger or a writer, you probably have the same affliction that I do: bunches and bunches of half-written posts (or less than half-written, maybe even just a sentence, a snippet, a couple of words) just sitting there in your Drafts folder, waiting for you to actually write them. (At the moment I have 132 Draft posts, including the 3 renditions of this very post that you are reading.) This is both good and bad…I’ve got a lot of writing nuggets sitting there for inspiration; but on the other hand, the longer it gets since the time of the event/thought and the actual writing of it, the less…intense it is. It loses color, immediacy, authenticity.
Plus, I just plain forget shit.
For instance, I have a note about Ad fucking me in the ass while W lay next to us, sleeping. I recall that there was something oddly sweet and endearing about it, as well as just plain hot, but…more than that, I can’t recall. And I really had stuff to write about it (besides just the sex part.) I really wanted to share things about that incident…things that I have, sadly, forgotten. What exactly did I find important about it? Why did I think it warranted its own post?
We may never know.
Lately, as I mentioned, I have been also afflicted with an inability to write. Or a lack of desire. I’m not sure which. I am just not feeling it, yanno? I thought I’d give myself some time and space, and yes, that is necessary and acceptable at times. But then this morning, lying awake at 3am, I realized that it may not actually be an inability to write. “Lack of desire” comes closer to what I am feeling – and I realized that by recognizing that this depiction could describe how I am feeling in general, about everything.
It’s been a rough two weeks. Even with last weekend’s sexiness (yes, apparently two cocks can fit in one hole), these two weeks have been tumultuous emotionally and stressful professionally, and I feel like I’ve just…shut down in a way. I feel numb, all my lovely, usually-sparking-99%-of-the-time nerve endings deadened. I can barely force myself to pretend interest in anything at all right now, much less actually feel an interest.
Or maybe that’s just a reaction to things not being quite back to normal between W and I, as we try to return to normalcy after our recent issues. I keep waiting for a sign from him that he’s feeling better…that things are back the way they were (ok, that he wants to tie me up and hurt me!) but he needs time/space for his own confidence and desire to return, too, so I don’t want to ask or push. I know he’ll be there again, we’ll get there again, but meanwhile, as I try to cope with my own feelings/still-raw emotions, I feel myself withdrawing, protecting myself. I don’t think I could take rejection at this point, even if it was only temporary, even knowing that it was just him needing that time/space, so I hold back, afraid to even want anything, much less suggest it. In a way, I am stuck in limbo, waiting, curbing and cauterizing my own desire.
Is it any wonder I can’t seem to recall the urgency I originally felt in any of the writing topics in my Draft posts?
Boy, that’s a bunch of poor-little-me-whiney-ass shit, isn’t it?
I really hate to be that girl.
So I’m not going to be. There’s something written somewhere about smiling. Even if you are depressed, if you force yourself to smile–fake it if you have to–eventually, you actually feel happier. Some weird brain chemistry thing. (Wait, I found it! Smile! It Could Make You Happier. God, I love the internet.) Your brain thinks, because you are smiling, that you really must be happy, and it becomes the truth. Fake it til it’s true, right? Or something like that. I don’t know about all that, truthfully, but I am tired of wallowing in this BLAH place. So…for the next week or so I am going to challenge myself to write and/or finish one of my Draft posts each day.
Can it be done? Will it help? Who cares: I’ll be writing again, and that’s what matters.
First up (for Monday–tomorrow I’m posting a Sinful Sunday): Innies, Outies and Three-Way Communication.
I got to be the last featured Voyeur Eyes Only author of the blog tour, with my post A Voyeur to My Own Life, appearing over on Lisabet Sarai’s Beyond Romance blog. In it I talk about the fact that yes, most of my “fiction” comes directly from my own, real-life experiences. Go check it out! :-)
As continued from last week, here is this week’s round-up of contributors to the Las Vegas-themed anthology my own story, “Vegas Lights” recently appeared in.
But first, some thoughts on putting myself in the “Discomfort Zone.”
I’m not actually the “networking” type. Although I love to talk to people, I suck at that whole “cocktail party” thing, meet’n’greets terrify me, and if I never had to go to another munch I wouldn’t. Even just a regular house party is a challenge for me. Introduce myself to people? Talk to strangers? Guh. The Guys both laughed at me this past weekend as we were getting ready to go to the Memphis group’s party: Why, why why do I do this to myself? I wailed. They just looked at each other laughed. This is my typical pre-party, pre-event freak-out. They’ve seen it many times, and know they are likely to see it many more.
But it doesn’t stop me from doing it.
I don’t know why I do it, but I do. I force myself to go out there, to talk, to meet people, to make forays into the terrifying world of meeting strangers and making small talk. And maybe-just maybe-making connections.
It is painful, every time.
And it is also rewarding. I (almost always) find myself enjoying myself (in spite of myself!) And afterwards, I am glad I did it. That I made the effort. I think…because I love a challenge. I like to push myself out of my comfort zone, to exist in that discomfort a bit, even as I hate it. There is a queer kind of pleasure in the discomfort. Kind of like all these other things I do. Pleasure in the pain, in…getting beyond the discomfort, in discovering…that I can. I can survive, I can persevere. And…I can do better than just survive and persevere.
Sometimes, it’s true, I don’t do better. Sometimes I miss making the connections I wanted to because I am too afraid to speak up. Too afraid to go through with whatever it was that I could have done, if only I was brave enough. Those are the times I kick myself about, after. Not the ones I did do. Never those. After pushing myself I feel…triumph. I feel powerful and brave. A warrior. A winner.
Huh…life lesson there, eh?
Anyway, one of those times was going out to the inaugural Erotic Authors Association conference in Vegas. There were so many firsts, so many times I pushed myself beyond my comfort zone.
And too many times I didn’t. I regret the people I didn’t talk to. The party I didn’t go to. The party I ran away from. The time I didn’t speak up and participate, the time I hid out from everyone…
The list goes on. I could beat myself up endlessly (and okay ~sigh~ I do.)
But there is also the list of times I did step out of my comfort zone. (Step? How about pried myself forcibly.) There are the people I talked to. The connections I made. The friendships made. Hell, just going out there, alone! My challenge is to remember those, and to remind myself of the rewards of having pushed myself out there, so that next time, I will have that to dangle in front of myself when I am afraid, or feeling shy, or needing that extra boost to force myself out of my safety zone.
Looking at the list below and seeing three people that I personally know from that event, one who became a friend that weekend, one who feels like a friend here online, and the other who’s story was inspired in part by a real-life conversation we had that weekend. And the last is the editor to whom I submitted a different story that was recently accepted and published in Spankalicious.
How cool is that?!?
Yes, there are rewards for living in the Discomfort Zone, even if I’m only just visiting.
So, without further ado, here are this week’s blog posts by contributing writers of Voyeur Eyes Only. Oh, and scroll to the bottom for the buy links for the audio versions of book as well!
*Sort-of print. E-book format, actually. But whatever–it’s out and available, with my story, “A Lesson for Penny,” included.
From the book description:
If you’ve ever considered spanking an art, and I know you have, here is a collection of spanking stories that elevate the genre to an art form! George Glass shows us some very imaginative playtime with sci fi addicts in “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” Sometimes what you were looking for turns out to be right in front of you all the time. You’ll discover a tutor who is sure to get you a passing grade in A. Erin Golding’s “Dorm Room Disciplinarian.” You’ll also find out why ballerinas always appear to be so perfect in “Glass Slippers” by Leela Scott.
There’s spanking art galore here, enough to savor for many a night to come. Trust me, there’s plenty here to whet your appetite and gear you up for your next rosy-cheek session!
An erotic collection of shorts stories by best-selling authors with a central theme of voyeurism in Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Not anymore…
High above the Las Vegas strip, at the top of Skylane Tower, the rooms come with one special amenity; a high powered telescope. When a group of erotica writers descend on Sin City for their annual conference, the voyeurs witness first hand, that some authors live by the adage, ‘write what you know’.
A woman’s curiosity is piqued as she observes a beautiful stranger being bound in silky red rope. A man scouting for new sex slaves, watches as an elegant woman gets more than her hands dirty. A prostitute pulls a switch – sending her lover out on a call. A simple slip of the hand, causes a case of mistaken room identity and a linen closet at a nearby hotel, sees more action than all of them combined. And that is just the beginning…
They say perception is reality. Is what the Voyeur sees through their spyglass just a fantasy; on which side of the lens would you like to be?
Not least of all the good things that came out of my trip to the Erotic Authors Association Conference in Vegas last year was my publication in this anthology. I’m thrilled to have my story appearing alongside so many other authors that I have read before and that I had the opportunity to meet at the conference. There’s a (really cool!) audio promo for it too, with the authors talking about their work and the project, but I haven’t figured out how to download it yet. As soon as I do, I’ll post it. Meanwhile, go get your copy for Kindle today!
So yeah, apparently I am. I was named Top Sex Blogger in this year’s Riverfront Times Web Awards. It’s an honor…but on the other hand, as W said when I told him that I was one of the top 5 nominees, “You mean there’s more than five sex bloggers in St. Louis?” LOL So. “Big” fish (I use that term very tongue in cheek), small pond. Ha.
Honestly, though? Winning this thing (that I didn’t even know existed before last week) makes me a little uncomfortable. I mean, I’m really honored that I was, and did, but…well, that much attention makes me a little (and sometimes a lot) uncomfortable.
I know–“Bullshit, Jade!” you say. “Look at what you write here, look at how you expose yourself, look at the pictures you show, the things you say, how you love to go to events and have the guys do awful things to you in front of all those people! Don’t go trying to say you don’t love the attention. (And if you don’t, what the hell are you doing blogging in public about it?!?)”
And you’d be right. I do love a certain kind of attention: attention from people that I know will at least see what I do for what it is. This is my life. I do this stuff – and write about it – because I love it. I love the Guys, I love the things we do, we are happy and joyful and content and we’re…just us. Part of us is this “freakish” stuff we do…but to us, it isn’t freakish at all.
I don’t write this stuff because I’m a freak. I don’t write it to be a freak-show. I don’t want my blog to be that.
I want it to show…the power and strength and beauty and, yes, sexiness, of what we do, who we are. Fuck, I’m a 46 year old woman with three grown children, and I’m having the best sex of my life.
But I am also living the best life I could imagine, the life of my dreams. I am involved in a deep, abiding, loving relationship with two incredible men. I have a family, and want to teach my children to be good human beings; to love and to allow themselves to be loved; to care; to have open hearts. I struggle like anyone else with self-image issues, with fear and selfishness and longing and unmet potential and anger and sadness. But every day is a fresh start, and I am living my life exactly as I choose, in a world that sometimes values conformity more than it should. I want people to see that part, too.
Not just the “dirty, freaky” pictures.
This is what the RFT had to say about my blog:
“Pieces of Jade is the dirtiest, freakiest sex site out there and, we warn you, not for the squeamish. We’re not sure how the site got its name, but we’re guessing it’s because author “Jade” is so eager to showoff every “piece” of her body (especially the naughty ones) and floridly describe what she’s subjected said pieces to lately.”
You know, I don’t mind being characterized as the “dirtiest, freakiest” sex blog, I suppose. I mean hell, it is a sex blog, and I write about my sex life in the most graphic of terms. And I don’t mind the reference to posting pictures of my body and all the awful/wonderful things that get done to it. But I feel like they kind of missed the point of my blog, by focusing on the spectacle of what it is we do. Don’t get me wrong – I love posting my pictures, and I love knowing that people get off on them. But my blog is about so much more than that. And I hope that the people that come here because they’ve seen the link in the RFT will see that.
Their comment about my name, “Pieces of Jade,” speaks to this misunderstanding perfectly.
The name “Pieces of Jade” is not about how many “pieces” of my body I am “eager” to expose. Pieces of Jade comes from the fact that when I started this blog, 3 or 4 years ago, I started it so that I could write here about this one “piece” of my life in a place that was about this one piece of me, the kink piece, and that alone.
The whole point is that this – what we do, who I am here in these pages and with W and in my sex life – that is just one piece of me. One part of my life. A “Piece” of Jade.
That’s how it started out, anyway. And that’s where the name came from.
It has come to be so much more than that, though. It has become a chronicle of so much more than who I have fucked and when. Of how W uses me, or lets me be used. Of the games we play and the kink we get up to. And if I am to be recognized as a “Top Blogger” of any sort – I want it to be because of that. Because I am unafraid to lay it all out here, the Good, the Bad & the Ugly. The things that work, the things that don’t. The things that I get off on and that get the Guys off. The dynamic within which our relationship lives, and the relationships outside that dynamic.
I hope…that anyone that comes here for the “freak show” will go away understanding that. I don’t imagine that too many will. As Ad said, “People come for the wank material, Jade. If you don’t want to be wank material, don’t post the pictures.” And he’s right…but the truth of the matter is that if people get off on what I write or post…I am okay with that too. Honestly. Hell, probably the main reason I write is to get W off. So I am good with that. But maybe…just maybe a few of them will also see that there’s more to this than just wank material. Than just the freak show.
And if so – then I can live with being a little uncomfortable.