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Posts Tagged ‘alphabet sex’

It’s taken a year but I finally have a guest post from Stranded! The first, but hopefully not the last. I asked for his thoughts on voyeurism…


Dateline 1979, August…well, August-ish…Calgary, Alberta, Canada

The sun was going down relatively early, which puts the time in late August…Calgary may have more sunny days than any other major Canadian city, but the hours of sunlight dwindle quickly with Rocky Mountains blocking it out.

Our bikes were strewn behind the local Gulf Petro Station on the southeast corner of Fairmont and Southland Drives in the Willow Park section of Southeast Calgary. About ten of us stood huddled, scanning the pages in our hidden lair as though we were hungry dogs that had just been tossed a veggie burger…it looked like meat, but we were not quite sure yet.

One of the boys had found a “nudie magazine”. Playboy, in fact, from April of 1979 that he had stolen from under his brother’s bed and brought for us all to see.

We were not supposed to see that.

We really should look away.

…but we just could not.

That was just before my ninth birthday and, already, voyeurism had me in its clutches. I just had no idea how much of a grasp the concept had on me.

“Quite so. He sees, but he does not observe.” – Sherlock Holmes (played by Michael Caine in Without a Clue)

We all rubber neck at car accidents, natural disasters and Toronto Maple Leaf hockey games…why would seeing the taboo acts of a sensual nature be any different? We all like to watch. We all like a show. The multi-billion dollar porn industry is banking on each of us having a voyeuristic streak to one degree or another.

Let us skip ahead to Mississauga, Ontario, Canada in February of 1991. My friend, Richard, decides he is going to introduce me to something risqué. We drove east along Derry Road to the Northeast Mississauga where Lester B. Pearson International Airport resides, and headed north on Torbram Road. There was housed the Million Dollar Saloon…a strip club, for lack of a better term. That evening, a young woman (older than me) name Teagan danced for me at Richard’s expense…as she danced shockingly close with her look, but do not touch private lap dance.

For the record, the club is still there and has become quite notorious as part of Mississauga’s “trinity clubs” for having a reputation of bawdy houses more than strip joints. The shock of seeing a naked woman, that was one thing…I had obviously seen that before…but the fact she was dancing, trying to get a rise out of me specifically and I did not even have to buy her a drink while I just sat back and watched. I recall very little of the stage show, however…

Looking but not touching…seeing the taboo things that should not be seen…it was exciting. It was exhilarating. It showed a side of myself that I did not understand. Like porn, the entire business of stripping is based upon voyeurism…all these clubs where we go and watch the fantasy of what could be.

Another skip ahead…early 2013…along Lake Shore Blvd. in Southwest Toronto. We park the car and find the glass doors of the club, which open upon steps descending beneath the street level and into the club where dance music booms. Being our first time, the reception desk clerk asked us, “You are aware this is a swingers club, right? I know it sounds silly but I have to ask.” A tour, a few drinks, and a few dances later, the back play area opens up and assaults our senses with the dreams of voyeurs everywhere. To see the actual sex act, not depicted on pages nor fantasized about on a strip club stage…but watching one man we had met at the bar kneeling before his date while she screamed at his tongue work. Watching another couple as she crouched and lowered herself onto his erection for all in attendance to watch.

This place is where exhibitionists come to entertain voyeurs. A meeting of those wanting to watch with those wanting to be watched.

What a glorious concept.

It was the first time I discovered that being watched, for me, is even more fun than watching…at least on this level. Being I write erotica, in one sense, I was already well aware of this, but this place took it to an entirely new level.

I digress, however, as exhibitionism is a discussion for another time.

Voyeurism, however…the thrill of watching others play…others join in…even watching my own lover as she accepted another man’s erection into her mouth…it took 42 years to find the level of voyeurism I wanted. I still want more.

Watching sex is easy…it sells everything, so extremely easy to find. Pushing the envelope to find that level one is most comfortable with, however…that is the adventure.

Blog: http://strandedintoronto.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/stranded_in_to

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I received quite a few questions about the clamps I wore on a recent post so I thought I would elaborate a bit with a little photo essay…

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This is an assortment of clamps that I have. Mainly various nipple clamps, but the pegs are useful for other things as well. You can clamp your nipples, tits, clit, labia, penis, balls. These are just the parts of your body with “sexual” connotations. Reality is you can clamp any part o your body you like.

I will start by saying those pretty magnetic ones with the jewelled clamp ends was a complete waste of money (they cost more than double all the other clamps combined!). They look pretty but they don’t work at all, at least not for me and I would guess not for anyone with larger nipples or who like to wear them for longer than five seconds. They also aren’t designed to be able to use them on another part of the body. Learn from my mistakes, don’t bother with them.


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These rubber band type clamps are great for wearing during the day under your clothes. They also work well when you want to show off your nipples or make them appear larger. You can purchase a kit that comes with the suction device and several different sized bands. Once you find the size band you like, run to your local hardware store and by a package of o-rings in your preferred size. Much cheaper than buying the kit again when you are inevitably left with only one original of your size.


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Next we have the basic style chain nipple clamps. There are also ones called alligator clamps that are very similar but the clamp part is more ragged and looks like an alligator’s mouth (hence the name). These are ok and many people love them, but they don’t work well for any amount of time on me. They tend to move so that my nipple is in the wider area of the clamp and not receiving enough pressure, or the tips of the clamp are on my nipple and they slip up to the tips of the nipple and fall off.


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This is my favorite by far. $5.97 for a 20 pack at Walmart. Non-marking/non-slip clothes pegs. Not the old fashioned kind (I show the wooden and plastic versions in the first picture at the beginning of this post), these are so much better. I found that the original style pegs tended to twist and not stay on very well. Depending on what you wanted to clamp, they also didn’t hold well due to the curved ends and how far back the clamp part actually is. With these new ones there is no twisting and the clamp is almost right at the tip of the peg. They are also rubber coated so no scratching or slipping.


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What is your favorite style of clamp? I am open to recommendations.

Click the link below to see who else is being wicked this Wednesday…20121205-004144.jpg


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P is for PAIN

There were some discussions this weekend about limits and “normal” thinking, “normal” reactions. Some of it was with regards to what we write about, how dark or demented we can go with our imagination and our words. The other part of it was about real life experiences and how or when we push our limits. Do we push ourselves, or do we let others push us to that place we won’t admit that we already want to go to?

Normal is relative and personal. What you find or think normal is not the same as what I consider normal. For you normal may be sex every Saturday night after a bubble bath and a glass of wine, missionary position, with oral reserved for special occasions. For me that wouldn’t be normal at all. Besides the no oral part (because seriously, how could that not be compulsory?) I enjoy a kinkier sex life.

I was recently confronted with a truth I wasn’t entirely aware of. I had always considered it to be something that wasn’t normal and hadn’t been with anyone who shared the same enthusiasm. I like pain. I like it a lot and I want to experience more of it, in the right context and with the right person of course.

I’ve always liked my tits and nipples played with. I like when they are pinched and nibbled and sucked and bitten. The harder the better. Nobody has ever been too rough with them to a point where I didn’t like it. If anything, I find that previous partners were not rough enough. It is a delightful pain that is directly connected to my cunt. I can cum just from rough nipple play alone. Even if I don’t cum there will be a massive amount of wetness dripping from me.

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On my weekend away with Him, we both brought a few things to play with. My favourite was a rubber loop slapper of his. It snaps and bites, at first a sharp little pain but then it lingers and grows, and builds oh so fantastically with each subsequent slap. The marks it leaves behind are so sexy. Crescents of red across pale skin. The slapper was similar to the pic below. Sadly we did not take any pictures that weekend. Maybe another time.

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I wanted Him to take the slapper to my tits but he reserved those for his mouth and hands only. Handprints across my chest and some teeth marks are one thing, but I’m certain he didn’t want to seriously hurt or scar me right off the bat. It takes time to learn each others limits and tolerances. I appreciate that but I still wanted it. He smacked my ass and my cunt, and I loved it. I didn’t realize how good it would feel on my cunt. I nearly exploded all over him.

This is also one of the things I enjoy about anal sex. I always thought it was about the submission, about the space I go to when having a good, slow anal fuck, but it’s more than that. That moment of penetration when I am being forced apart, that moment of pain, that’s the part that sucks me in. It is the sub space that keeps me there, but it is that initial jolt of pain that keeps me asking for more.

Some of my favourite toys to play with are the ones that inflict some level of pain… the flogger, the slapper, paddles, clothes pegs, nipple clamps, other clamp… Even my favourite fantasy involves pain. Hmmm, interesting.

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It goes from pain to pleasure. That’s the disconnect from what I’ve always been taught. Pain is bad and you shouldn’t like it. Right? There has to be something seriously wrong with us if we like pain. That’s what I was taught. Otherwise why would punishment work at all? Maybe that’s why it never worked for me when I was younger, because I enjoyed the tender ass after being beaten with the belt or the hairbrush. I would go to my room and masturbate afterwards.

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