Kilted Wookie's Naughty Hashtags

I must admit, I hadn’t actually thought about the kinky connections of winter. Having said that, as we hurtle towards one of my least favourite times of the year, I’m not really thinking about the kinky connections of anything. First off, I am fortunate that I don’t suffer from Seasonally Affected Disorder (SAD). On account of my depression, I’m a miserable fucker all year round, the only difference between winter and summer being that it’s colder, so I generally wear more clothes. There is something nice about snuggling up with someone in the comfortable warmth of indoors when the weather outside is cold and bleak and daylight is an increasingly rare commodity. Whether its under a blanket on the sofa, in bed and a heavy tog duvet, or lying together in front of a log fire, there is very little that beats the intimacy and closeness of a good, long lazy snuggle (except, perhaps, when the “snuggle” is somewhat less lazy). And that, possibly, is one advantage of this time of y

Roll With It! With whom would you like to take a bath? You are driving motorcycle hard down a country road, wind in your hair. Who is the hottie on the bike with you that you will be riding later? Baking naked–who is kneading your dough? 😉 Come sail away, come sail away, come and sail away with me! Who is joining you for a sexy sea adventure? “I got your back.” Hands down who do you fully support, stick by no matter what, Who are you willing to help at all costs? I am kind of cheating this week but only for the simple reason that the answer to all five of the above questions is the same person. Yes, I know, it’s all a bit boring, but when you have that one special friend that you share many a wonderful sexual adventure with, they have to be first choice. Bonus : Belly button– “inny” or “outty”? Are you going to show us? 😀 It is an “inny”. KW

Some of you will, no doubt, be at least passingly familiar with the concept of Schrödinger’s cat; the idea postulated to explain the strange nature of quantum superpositions, in which a quantum system such as an atom or photon can exist as a combination of multiple states corresponding to different possible outcomes. The prevailing theory at the time said that a quantum system remained in this superposition until it interacted with, or was observed by, the external world, at which time the superposition collapses into one or another of the possible definite states. Still with me? To illustrate this. Schrödinger  proposed a scenario with a cat in a locked steel chamber, wherein the cat’s life or death depended on the state of a radioactive atom, whether it had decayed and emitted radiation or not. One of the obvious problems with this, aside from its inherent cruelty to the cat is that, depending on how long the radioactive material actually took to decay, the cat could die fo

Every now and then I stumble across one of those articles/posts that falls into the: “ Real Doms …” and: “ You can’t be Dominant if you don’t …” categories. These kinds of articles really piss me off. Why? Because they are a total load of shite! It’s bad enough trying to kinksplain D/s to a vanilla audience but when the shite is being spouted by individuals pertaining to be in the D/s community, it just makes things worse. D/s relationships are not about pain or punishment, they are not about forcing someone else to your will, they are not about power and control and exploitation. Well, OK, that’s not strictly true. D/s relationships can be about those things if that is dynamic of a particular relationship. If it is, and it works, and the individuals are happy with it, then great. It can be about those things, but   it doesn’t have to be . So here’s the thing, as I see it, a D/s relationship is, first and foremost, a relationship. Every relationship is as unique as

One of the things I really don’t understand is the idea that performing cunnilingus on a woman is somehow an inherently submissive act. I get that it can be. I realise that porn abounds with images of the Domme female forcing her sissy male to eat her out. I understand, really I do. But just because something can be done in a submissive fashion, doesn’t make it inherently submissive. You will no doubt have read the views of many female bloggers, women who identify as submissive, on the “power” and “control” they feel when they are sucking a cock. Does this suddenly maker the submissive woman Dominant in that relationship? No, of course it doesn’t. The chances are, while she may still doing it to please her Dominant; I suspect however, that rather than sucking cock as an act of submission, mostly the women in question are sucking cock because they love to suck cock. The same is true for me and cunnilingus . It is something I love to do. I love the taste of a woman. I love her r

Sexy Specifics What do you find sexiest in a woman? I’ve written about this before . I don’t think there is any one thing that makes a woman “sexy”. While physical appearance/attraction may be the initial hook, what draws us in and lands us is a combination of things; looks, personality, humour, attitude, confidence. A self-assured woman with a hint of vulnerability who can fuck me with her eyes before a word has been spoken is pretty much my kryptonite. What do you find least sexy in a man? Being male and boringly straight, the thing I find least sexy about men is that they are men. Have you ever been the other woman or man? Would you do it again? Yes, I have been the other man . It wasn’t the easiest or best situation, but we both knew where we stood and what we wanted out of it (basically sex). The sex was very good and there were no “deeper” expectations. Would I do it again? I suspect not. I hope I never find myself in circumstances that even come close to those I was in

It’s a strange one, isn’t it? Ask a woman what size her boobs are and, assuming she’s willing to divulge such information, she’ll tell you. Ask a man how big his cock is, and you’ll probably be met with something along the lines of: “Um, dunno, probably about 6 inches”. If you are really unlucky, he may take that as an invitation to send you a photo of it. Now I suspect one of the reasons women know their measurements much more accurately than we men know ours is that they have to get themselves fitted to wear an uncomfortable garment that, ultimately, is still the wrong size; whereas we don’t need to worry about such things. Also, a woman’s boobs, even when modestly covered are still pretty much on display; whereas what we men have in our trousers is, by and large, more discreetly concealed. It’s not that we men are reticent about our penises; far from it. Indeed, we seem to take the opportunity to proudly wave them about at every opportunity, so why are we generally so vague

The crack it makes as I snap he ends together. The way you flinch with anticipation and apprehension at the sound. The soft, unblemished skin that has yet to feel its kiss. The whistle in the air as it swings on its path. The way you tense as you wait for its contact. The mounting yearning for its stinging caress. The drawn out moment as you wait to feel it. The unbearable slowness of the passage of time. The movement of the air as it approaches. The resounding smack as it bites your skin. The mix of pain and pleasure as you cry out at its touch. The deepening crimson glow that marks its path. The increasing heat and pain with every stroke. The intense arousal each kiss ignites. The relief that comes from knowing you’ve endured the final lash. KW

Spice it up! Why should you have sex on a first date? Why not? If the chemistry is there and both of you are willing, just go for it if it seems right. If the sex is “passable” then you know it may be worth trying again. If the sex is downright awful, then you probably know it’s not going anywhere, but at least you both got a shag. Why do you like giving oral sex ? I had to change this question because as a sensualist it is something I love doing and I love everything about going down on a woman; the taste, the scent, the sounds, her every reaction. Quite simply, it’s something I can’t get enough of. Tongue or no tongue? Explain. Tongue – just because it’s natural. The more aroused you get, the more it’s likely to happen. Would you have a sugar daddy or sugar mama? No. Even as someone who identifies as “Dominant”, I’ve always felt uncomfortable about the term “Daddy”. Not being judgemental because I appreciate that it works in some couples’ dynamic and that kink is a very pe

I’ve had a few chats about anonymity in the context of our community of late. It seems we occupy a very polarised section of reality. There are some bloggers, who are pretty much “out”. I’m thinking along the lines of people like Molly Moore and Tabitha Rayne . Whether or not they use their real names or pen names, their identities are pretty much known. They show their faces, and other bits. They are out and proud. Then there are the “halfways”. This time I’m thinking May More and Helen Scott . They use what may (or may not) be their real names. They blog openly about subjects that affect/interest them personally. They participate in (potentially) revealing memes like #SinfulSunday . And yet, for all that we know that both have cracking breasts, we don’t really know who they are; we never see their faces. Finally, there are the “anons”. People like Girl on The Net and myself (not that I’m holding myself out as being in her league). For all that we frankly discuss the a

Where does truth end and fiction begin? I read this post   by the wonderful Girl on The Net recently, and if you haven’t read it, I can’t recommend strongly enough that you do so. No. Seriously. Stop reading this and go and read her post, then if you can be arsed, you can come back here and finish reading this drivel. Now, as anyone who follows her knows, GoTN. unlike me, is a woman and she writes freely about her sex life. If you have now read the post, you will have got the fact that while she writes honestly, she may, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes deliberately, change certain things and/or leave certain details out.  Does that make what she writes any less true? I don’t think so. And, after all, if she hadn’t told us, we’d all be none the wiser. Now me, on the other hand, I dress things up. Yes, I can happily ramble on giving you my opinions (whether you want them or not) on everything from pubic hair , to why I enjoy cunnilingus , to why I will never give y

I have a confession to make; something that I just have to get off my chest. I have a dreadful, awful secret that I can no longer keep to myself. I know what I am about to reveal will shock some of you on the grounds that: I am a sex-blogger; and I am a man But I hope you will be able to see past my confession and support me. So, here it is… * deep breath * I can’t remember the last time I had a wank. There, I’ve said it. I feel so much better now. So what prompted this? Well, partially it’s because it is, of course, a Monday, which means it’s time for Kayla’s fabulous #MasturbationMonday meme. Then, today as I was scrolling back through some of my older material, I stumbled across this poll that the wonderful Girl on The Net ran: Quick poll: how often do you wank? Assuming you’re not having partnered sex at the time. Well, that finally tipped me over the edge (no, not like that, or I wouldn’t be writing this post, would I? Pay attention at the back th

It starts, as it so often does, with an early morning text message. It’s not even a particularly naughty one; often no more than a “Good morning” or “Did you sleep well?” The scene, however, is already set. As the morning progresses, the level of suggestion in the exchanged messages deepen.  Selected pins from Pinterest are used to convey desire, to express what is being felt, to emphasis what we would do if we weren’t miles apart, if the hours instantly passed and we were together. The ante is upped as the quotes make way for the images from Tumblr; each one that little bit more explicit, more graphic than the last, each one a statement of intent. As the day progresses we tease and arouse and seduce each other with words and images. She knows I long to taste her, to lick her and feast on her until she cums hard on the tip of my tongue. I know she wants to take me in her mouth, to lick and suck that part of me that she has made so hard. We both know what we want and need, a

Sensualism /ˈsɛnsjʊəˌlɪzəm/ noun the quality or state of being sensual When it comes to sex, I am all about the senses; the sounds, the feelings, the scents, the scenes and the tastes. Great sex combines each of these; taking those essential building blocks and building them into a whole that is so much more than their sum. Humans are a visual species, and it is fair to say that what we see is what initially attracts us to another person. We each have our own measure of the qualities that we find visually appealing in a potential partner. Vision, however goes much deeper than that. They is the voyeuristic pleasure of watching your partner arouse and pleasure themselves. There is the joy that comes from watching their response to your attentions; the involuntary twitches and shakes, the changes of expression, the sinuous arching of their backs as the pleasure builds within them. I am, by my own admission, an extremely tactile person. I love touch and I loved to be to

Every now and then it becomes a necessity; there is a need to step away.  The blogging/twitter community is a wonderfully supportive group, but sometimes space is needed. It’s not that unusual for me to shut myself off from the world periodically. My mood, and indeed my general personality, tend to mean that I prefer/require a degree of solitude. Depression itself can be a very solitary condition. It has a tendency to focus thoughts, feelings and emotions in on sufferer’s sense of self. It leads us to withdraw, to shut ourselves off, to distance ourselves from those who care for us because we feel we are a burden, that our own pain brings those around us down. When the black cloud descends, it is difficult to see beyond it. It seems impossible that anyone would want to have anything to do with us, let alone love/care for us; especially as we feel incapable of doing these things for ourselves. It can, and does, put a strain on friendships and relationships. So once again

Dispassionate /dɪsˈpæʃənɪt/ noun devoid of or uninfluenced by emotion or prejudice; objective; impartial My daily job is one that requires me to be objective and impartial. I go to great lengths not to prejudge and to weigh up the evidence in front of me before I make a decision. On Saturdays, on the rugby field, I have to make those decisions instantly and without hesitation, applying the laws of the game fairly and consistently. It is also true that I am not particularly given to, or indeed comfortable with, public displays of emotion. I have a tendency to have a very fixed demeanour in the company of others. However, for this post, I am concentrating on the “ devoid of or uninfluenced by emotion ” part. As is the case with so many of us who struggle with mental illness, I tend to wear a mask in my day-to-day dealing with my fellow humans. It is a mask that I tend to keep very firmly fixed in place. To the outside world, it does perhaps seem that I am without e

TRIGGER WARNING: This post will probably make me sound like a massive bellend/pious twat.   Filthy… Dirty… Illicit… Sinful… Wicked… Bad… All words that are frequently used to describe aspects of sex. Also words that are used in the names of some of my favourite blogs and blogging memes; blogs and memes that promote body/image/sex positivity. Yet, despite all the good things about these, I have one niggling problem them; the names. Now, I  must emphasise that I am not having a go at the bloggers and writers involved. The problem isn’t with their blogs, or what they write, or the photos they post. After all, I participate in these memes, posting both my writing and photos. My problem is with the language. Not the language used by my fellow bloggers/writers you understand, just the language that has grown up around sex itself. Now, when it comes to writing about sex, I am as “guilty” as everyone else; I describe it as dirty/filthy/naughty/etc. The problem is, the n

I came across this recently. Apparently it’s a fairly common meme with numerous variations on the same theme.  Thing is, bollocks like this really pisses me off; not least of all because it is precisely that: utter bollocks. Let me explain… I’ve given flowers. They are a gesture. Sometimes they are a “thank you”, sometimes they are a “sorry”; mostly they mark a specific occasion like a birthday, a wedding, a funeral, that sort of thing.  I have never given flowers in the expectation of, or in thanks for sex. Now, some of you who give blow-jobs may, on occasion, give them as a “thank you” or a “sorry”; if that’s your thing, that’s cool. Whatever works is fine. To me, however, flowers are flowers and blow-jobs are blow-jobs. If you want to give me flowers, fine; if you want to give me a blow-job, even better. Actually, given that I have an insufferably low pollen tolerance threshold, if you were inclined to give me flowers, I’d rather you saved your money or gave me a

Is it possible to have a long-term “no-strings” sexual relationship? At a first glance, the question above seems like a fairly straightforward one. Looking at it more closely, it is a bit less so. To start with, what is actually meant by “no-strings”? The chances are, if you are reading this, you have engaged in some sort of casual sexual activity at some point in your life; by which I mean sex that didn’t really mean much, but that was probably enjoyable enough because it was sex. Now, in my opinion, casual sex can absolutely be, “no-strings” attached. You see someone, you fancy them, they fancy you, you fuck them, you both walk away – no questions asked, no expectation of commitment; simply, if you are fortunate, a mutually sexually gratifying experience. If the experience was particularly enjoyable/satisfying, you might even choose to repeat it, but ultimately that’s as far as it goes. The contradiction at the heart of the above question is “no-strings” and “relations

Dissociation /dɪˌsəʊsɪˈeɪʃən; -ʃɪ-/ adjective the act of dissociating or the state of being dissociated It’s one of those strange feelings that, I suspect, many of us who suffer from depression and other forms of mental illness experience. It is an odd feeling of being separated from one’s self. It’s as though there is an actual gap between our spirit and our physical selves; a feeling that we don’t fully fill our physical bodies. It’s an oddly disconnected feeling; that somewhere between my skin and my soul there is a black void of nothingness. It’s as if I am lost within a hollowed out shell of my own being. It is a form of detachment. Not of detachment from the outside world, which is all too common an experience, but a detachment of spirit and body, where the former retreats into the darkest recesses of the latter to hide away and lick its wounds. KW

To me, the question as to which is the most important sexual organ is, if you’ll pardon the mixed oxymoron, a no-brainer.  It is the mind that interprets the stimuli received by our senses, it is the mind that generates desire. It is our mind that creates the eroticism of words and images, and it is our mind that dictates our responses. Different parts of my body are assigned different tasks; my lips are assigned the task of kissing you, my tongue gets then task of licking you, my fingers get the job of caressing you and my cock gets given responsibility for fucking you. It is, however, my mind that is control of each action; orchestrating and coordinating the sensual whole. I will admit that I used to use contact/hook-up sites (Twitter isn’t really one of those, now, is it?). The biggest and most common complaint from women using these sites was about the lack of originality/imagination shown by the male users. All too often, it seems, “communication” from us men was a picture of

Beauty, they say, is only skin deep. Sexy, on the other hand, goes right to the core. So what do we mean by sexy? Is it appearance, is it an attitude, or is it just some unfathomable quality that you see in someone? Humans are a visual species, so it is impossible, I think, to completely divorce sexiness with physical attractiveness, but in my opinion, the two are not inextricably linked. While everyone has their own “standards” of what they find attractive in another person, simply finding them attractive does not necessarily mean that you also find them sexy. Sexy is something more than just the physical. It may be an attitude, but what attitude? Many people say they find confidence sexy; I’m one of them. At the same time, however, I would also say that I find a sexiness in vulnerability too. I think much depends on the person; it also depends on the circumstances, and the situation. In a club, the way someone moves when the dance may make them sexier than the other m

Insular /ˈɪnsjʊlə/ adjective of, relating to, or resembling an island remote, detached, or aloof isolated or separated The English poet, John Donne, famously wrote in 1624: No man is an iland The modern version of this is, of course: “no man is an island”. Now, this may be true, but for those of us who battle mental illness, the feelings of being remote, detached, isolated or separated from the rest of the world are all too frequent. All to often it is easier to simply draw ourselves away, shut ourselves off from the world rather than to explain why we are the way we are and feel the way we do. Even the most well intentioned enquiries as to our well-being can cause a rush of anxiousness that makes us retreat. Sometimes we do it because we cannot cope with the outside world. Sometimes we do it because we believe it’s better not to inflict ourselves upon others, especially those we love and care for the most. We become reclusive, shunning contact from friends

I am completely open about my illness. It is a part of me and, much as I would rather it were otherwise, it has played a major part in making me the person I am. It is such an ingrained part of me that I cannot even begin to imagine what life without it would be like. It never lets me forget. Even in those periods where I have the illusion of having it under some sort of control, when I am free from the worst symptoms, it is always there, lurking in the background, reminding me that it can return, without any warning at a time of its choosing. Life is a daily battle. It’s a battle where the only “victory” to be had is to stave off total surrender and defeat. I know it’s a battle I can never win; the very best I can hope for is some soul-sapping rear-guard action – retreat, regroup, then retreat again. It is tiring. Not just a physical tiredness, but an emotional tiredness, a spiritual tiredness; a tiredness that burrows its way into your very core. There is no escape, nowhere

It’s not just about the pain that it inflicts on the receiver; although that can be a big part of it sometimes, it is about so many other things. Firstly, it’s about trust. It’s the trust that the receiver has in you, knowing that you are going to cause pain, but trusting you to keep it to what is acceptable. It’s about exploring boundaries. Linked in with the trust mentioned above, there is the exploration of limits, of taking things that little bit further, of pushing the person on the receiving end to take that little bit more and, for them, trying to determine their own levels of endurance. It’s about the senses. There is something animal, something primal about the sound of skin striking skin. There is something about that particular sound of hand coming into contact with buttock that has an electric feel about it; it echoes and reverberates in a way that is uniquely alone. There are the moans and cries of the receiver as the pain and the heat grow with each contact,

Relationships Why would you go to a therapist? a. You need support b. You want to take responsibility for your life’s outcomes? c. You need guidance and to be told what to do I have been to a therapist/counsellor because of my depression. I went because I need some extra support. I needed to discuss what was in my head with someone on the outside, who wasn’t directly involved or affected by my moods. Seeking help was a way of taking back some element of control when my depression had dragged me down to the very bottom. Thinking of the main lover in your life, what is sex for her: a. stress relief, tension reliever b. a way to show love c. something exciting she likes to do I would think that it is a combination of all three to some extent, but primarily it would be something that she enjoys doing and wants to do. The fact that it is me that she wants to do it with is something I never take for granted. Do you feel a partner is being invasive for wanting to know your pla

It’s A Good Week To Have A Good Week What is your reality? On account of my depression, I tend to live very much in the here and now. That’s not to say I don’t make plans for the future, but they do tend to be more in the form of short to medium-term goals rather than long-term aspirations. I try to avoid the past as much as I can.  There are lots of bad things in there, and nothing I can do will change or eliminate them. Will you have sex today? This week? I have already had sex today and I can’t completely rule out the possibility that I might have sex again today at some point. If I don’t, I’d kind of hope that I will have sex again at some point this week.  That said, if it ends up that it doesn’t happen, that’s life… What did you hate doing this past weekend? I spent a large part of this weekend doing some very unpleasant but extremely necessary filing. What did you love doing this past weekend? I spent a large part of Sunday morning having some pretty damned good sex.

I have a problem with “lady parts”.  Not the actual parts themselves, of which I am particularly fond; more the fact that you lot have so bloody many of them. Now, don’t get me wrong; I love each and every one of them. I love they way you react when I touch, kiss, lick and fuck them. It’s just that, as a " writer ", trying to describe them is a nightmare. We guys are pretty simple. On our chests, we have nipples; that’s pretty much it. You lot though… I mean yes, you have nipples and they respond in various wonderfully delightful ways, but you also have boobs.  Now I’m certainly not knocking your knockers; anyone who knows me knows how much I love them, but when it comes to writing they are another bit (or is that bits?) that have to be considered. Part of the biggest problem is what to actually call them? Boobs, tits, breasts, norks, knockers, funbags (OK, so I have never, ever used the term funbags in erotica); you get my drift… And if that weren’t bad enough, don’t

So, this teaser was posted on Twitter recently: Would you stay in a sexual relationship if oral sex was totally off the table” At a first glance, this seems like a very simple question, but give it some thought, and there are all sorts of ramifications behind it. Firstly, there is the nature and context of the “ sexual relationship ” itself. For me, sex is about what pleases both partners. If the sex was part of a deeper emotional relationship, then the absence of oral sex possibly wouldn’t really be a factor. If that were the deal breaker within the relationship, then it would have to be in a pretty bad place to begin with. A good sex life is an important factor in a committed relationship, but it is  only one factor. There are so many other things that are equally or more important, such us the emotional support you give each other. So, in this context, if oral sex was off the cards and, assuming every other aspect of the relationship (including the actual sexual act