Archived Posts from 'Ruby's Dirty Secrets' Category

The Kink Spectrum

I’ve been reading sex blogs long enough to know that I rank pretty low on the kink spectrum. I’m pretty comfortable with my vanilla (or sarsaparilla, if you prefer;) status, since I’m having rather spectacular sex. I’d also like to note that it’s not necessarily a static condition.

In just the last 5 years or so I’ve reached a more advanced level of vanilla. There was a time when I thought casual NSA sex and multiple orgasms were the height of my personal sexual daredevilry, for that was certainly as far as I ever wished to go. But as I grow older and (hopefully) wiser I seem to be getting kinkier, too.

I have to give Steel credit for much of my kink progression, for he’s the first man I’ve trusted enough to share and explore my kinks with. It all started when I ditched my inhibitions and began masturbating during sex. Now I’m an avid clitty slut and there’s no turning back. We’ve also dabbled in some light bondage. I can’t say that was a big turn on for me but it’s the sort of thing that can be fun when the mood strikes me. Steel’s also the first man to talk dirty to me and that definitely got my attention. He has the perfect voice for it and he knows how to use it. In turn, I’ve become quite the eager trash-talker myself and it’s clear that he enjoys my talents.

The next kink I’d like to explore is my exhibitionism. It’s a fantasy that I haven’t acted on yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I haven’t worked out the details either, but I’m sure Steel will be happy to help me negotiate my boundaries;)

I’m also a bit of a voyeur, too, which should complement my inner exhibitionist nicely, I think. So I’ve been planning to check out a local swingers club or party sometime soon. After next week my son will be spending a few weeks with his grandparents so Steel and I will have lots of freedom to indulge our naughty tendencies. I think it might be fun to test the waters at a swingers party and see what comes of it.

One thing is definite, I’m not going to do anything unless I really feel inspired to do so in the moment. It’s entirely possible that I’ll show up at an event with Steel and for whatever reason I won’t have any desire to remove a single article of clothing, let alone perform any orgasmic acrobatics. I’m very picky and I’m a big believer in chemistry, which is a vague and elusive but crucial element to my sexuality. I can’t perform in any way just to please someone else’s expectations. I have to be “feeling it” in the moment or it just won’t happen.

Of course, whether or not I’m sufficiently aroused to fuck for an audience, I’m confident that watching other people go at it will, at the very least, stir my pussy’s appetite for cock. No matter what happens Steel is sure to reap some benefits.

And once you release that genie from the kink bottle, you can never be too sure what will happen next as inhibitions and taboos are kicked aside. Maybe Steel will fuck me in a room full of people and I’ll be so hot and horny that I’ll be begging for more cock. With a room full of zealous volunteers, who knows what could happen?

I think this is why the unleashing of our personal kinks can be a bit scary. It seems that the more we explore our boundaries, the further we expand them and the only question is, where do we stop? When is it enough? Is there any such thing as “enough”?

For now, I’m relatively vanilla on the wide kink spectrum, but I’m looking forward to exploring new adventures. We all have to start somewhere and there’s no telling where we’ll end up. Perhaps exhibitionism is like a gateway drug and before long I’ll be hooked on the hard stuff;)

Filed under: Ruby's Dirty Secrets | July 9th, 2007 Comments (5)

Orgasm Addict

You know you have a problem when you’re getting carpal tunnel from rubbing your clit. In both hands. Thank god for bullet vibes!

It’s not just me, though, that’s addicted to my orgasms. It’s Steel. He can never get enough. In fact, the more I come, the more he wants. He’s a glutton, that one, and I’m not complaining. On the contrary, I consider myself blessed to have found a partner who is so dedicated to exploring new heights in orgasmic ecstasy. Not to mention the fact that his hard-ons never die. Steel, indeed. He’s earned his moniker. Virile? Goddamn right. Seven kids and he’s still out-fucking the porn stars. He’s my Big Daddy.

If it weren’t for the limits of my pussy we’d never sleep. We’ve learned that too much vigorous sex in one night will put my pussy out of commission for the next day or two, so we try to pace ourselves. She’s such a delicate flower, my pussy, and yet she loves a nice, deep dicking. What a conundrum!

But there is something to be said for delayed gratification. We seldom go an entire week without sex, even when I’m having my period. But the very best sex is a good fucking after a prolonged break. Three days off is plenty, but even one day will make a difference. When my pussy’s fresh and well-rested she performs like an Olympic athlete. Bring on the cock and let the games begin!

Every time we fuck it’s like we discover new feats of pussy prowess. I’m seriously in awe of my orgasmic potential. Every night I think that surely this is it, I’ve peaked, I can’t possibly outdo that last one. And yet the very next night I will. And the next night, and the next night. I’m beginning to wonder how much more I can take. I can’t wait to find out;)

I’ve long since given up trying to count my orgasms. I don’t even know how to tell when one ends and the next one begins. They pulse through my body in wave after wave of seismic tremors. To me it feels very much like someone has turned on an electrical current in my pussy, and that current begins in my clit and then radiates throughout my body in concentric pulses. I’ve learned that once I start cumming I can pretty much keep going indefinitely until I need to pause to catch my breath. Sometimes I need to change position when my hips or legs become cramped because my muscles have been tensed for so long.

Typically I come best when I’m in a position where I can thrust my hips and pelvis forward. Being on my back and riding cowgirl are my favorites and I will come effortlessly in those positions. However, sometimes my pussy will surprise me. If she’s particularly frisky I might come without even touching my clit, which is rather unusual but always fun when it works.

Normally I rely on lots of clitty rubbing in combination with a deep dicking. There’s just nothing like feeling my lover’s fat cock filling my pussy and pumping away while my clit builds up to a frenzied climax. Bullet vibes are very helpful for this purpose. I love the little wireless ones, but I tend to go through the batteries very quickly. We have another one that used to be all shiny with a silver chrome finish, but all the finish has been rubbed off and it’s looking rather dingy these days. Poor thing.

Being on top is a nice switch because that’s when it’s easiest for me to grind my clit on Steel’s pelvic bone while I ride his cock. God, I love grinding. Which is one thing that’s awesome about having sex in the water (which can be challenging due to lubrication issues): vertical grinding! Yes, it can be done on dry land but it’s quite strenuous and I don’t know about you, but I can’t do it very long and I’m pretty buff for a gal. Buoyancy is a beautiful thing, folks.

Why I am telling you all this? Because all you perverts eat this shit up, that’s why! Well, and because it has come to my attention that this sort of orgasmic ability is considered some kind of special talent, maybe even a fluke. But I don’t think it’s either of those things. I think most, maybe even all, women could orgasm just like I do. I think there are a variety of reasons why so many aren’t able to do so, and I want to talk more about those in upcoming posts. Stay tuned!

Meanwhile, here’s my theme song for today. Enjoy!

Filed under: Sugasm, Orgasms, Ruby's Dirty Secrets | June 15th, 2007 Comments (10)

Coming into my own: How I learned to masturbate

I lost my virginity at age 17, but it was another 3 years before I went spelunking. During those 3 years I slept with several boyfriends, but I was lucky if I had even a fledgling little orgasm.

I never felt compelled to solve my own mysteries until I found myself in a prolonged dry spell. I was living and working on a remote dude ranch in the Rockies and there were just two groups of people that I had contact with. First, my fellow employees, whom I considered off limits. We were a small, tight-knit staff and not only did we work together, but we lived together 24/7. I had witnessed the drama of several ill-begotten liasons and vowed not to make that mistake myself.

The other group consisted of the ranch guests, a group of 30-40 couples and families that arrived on a strict weekly rotation. There were seldom, if ever, any singles in the roster. I don’t recall ever feeling the slightest attraction to any of the guests.

You might think that on a dude ranch there would be some prime cowboy meat available for a casual romp, and you’d be partially right in that they were certainly available. Each season they never failed to score with a cutie from either coast, charming them with their tight jeans and jingling spurs. And those belt buckles! I, however, was not so easily impressed. For one thing, I was one of them - a wrangler - and I could handle a horse as good or better than any of them. But the biggest reason I never got frisky with a cowboy was on account of their rodeo-sized ego. I really can’t stomach arrogant macho types in general, and I’d be damned if I was going to be just another notch in anyone’s belt buckle.

Wrangling was the most fun and interesting job I’ve ever had and I absolutely loved it. But I wasn’t getting any horizontal action and for the first time in my life I was desperately horny. What’s a girl to do?

I lived in a bunkhouse with 7 other girls, so privacy was scarce. But some nights I would lie awake, my body restless, my imagination lusty. Eventually I could no longer help myself, and I stealthily slipped my hand under my panties. I earnestly fiddled and prodded and soon I was getting warmer. My breath would quicken and I’d stifle a moan, but I would stop abruptly if I heard anyone stir even a little. I was terrified of discovery and painfully frustrated.

It became my naughty little nocturnal ritual and in time I grew bolder. Finally, after weeks of pearl fishing I brought myself to a tense orgasm, teeth clenched and breath held. It was exquisitely tortuous. I became addicted.

Paddling the pink canoe was a little easier during the winter season because our staff thinned out considerably and there were fewer girls in the bunkhouse. I even had the place to myself for a while in the off-season and that’s when I perfected my technique. Toys were obviously out of the question in the bunkhouse, but I made do very well with my nimble fingers. I learned to stroke my g-spot with my two middle fingers hooked inside my pussy while I rubbed my clit with the heel of my palm. Mmmmm.

It’s a good thing I had that opportunity to come into my own or who knows how much longer it would have taken me to learn how to orgasm. As it were, I would spend the next few years lamenting the fact that the orgasms I had with partners were never as good as the ones I gave myself.

Now I’m happy to say the evolution of my orgasm is still in progress. Just when I think that surely I must have peaked, they keep getting bigger and better. I’m very thankful that I have a partner who thrives on making me come:)

Did you know that May is Masturbation Month? It’s great to have an excuse to pay homage to the fabulous art of self-love!

Filed under: Masturbation, Confessions, Sugasm, Ruby's Dirty Secrets | May 3rd, 2007 Comments (22)

Confession of a reformed Purity Girl

Jessica Gold wrote an excellent post in reaction to Harvard’s so-called “True Love Revolution.” There are a lot of great take-downs on the whole purity movement so I don’t need to echo anything these fine writers have already said. Instead, I’d like to share my story because I used to be one of those purity girls.

Of course, this was well before the advent of Purity Balls and the term Purity Girl didn’t exist yet, at least not to my knowledge. Back then I was simply known as a prude. You see, I was brought up on the fringes of a fundamentalist cult – one of those churches where women weren’t allowed to wear pants, shorts, or bathing suits. Since I was on “the fringe,” as it were, I was lucky in that my parents only enforced the dress code during church events. But then again, my mother had a reputation as a harlot, so it’s no wonder. But I didn’t cuss or even take the Lord’s name in vain, and I certainly didn’t think impure thoughts. I was most definitely saving myself for marriage. I held out for years, well into high school, before my ideology shifted. And I owe it all to one repressed pervert named Peter.

It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday and Peter was living with us at the time. My parents were divorced (that harlot mother of mine, again) and my dad was the sort of guy who was always taking in strays from the church. This particular summer we had two brothers living with us who were distantly related – my uncle’s in-laws from Canada. Peter was tall, slender, and very handsome. He looked a lot like Sting and he was 11 years my senior. He and I had become fast friends upon his arrival. We rode his brother’s motorcycle together on the winding New England roads of my hometown. We went swimming at the public beach after hours (fully clothed!) and explored abandoned houses together. We went canoeing and hiking and had all sorts of good, clean fun.

Peter was brought up in the same church, and since he was a stalwart Christian I never questioned his motives for spending so much time with a teenage girl like myself, nor did my parents. I would have never admitted it to anyone, but I had a big crush on Peter and if he had just expressed his interest in me in a very wholesome, Christ-like manner, I probably would have married the guy.

But that was not to be. His way of showing his feelings for me was to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and jerk off at my bedside while fondling my breasts under my shirt. Like so many other terrified girls before me, I froze. I hoped that if I just pretended to be asleep that he would go away and I could forget it ever happened.

By the time I woke up in the morning I was deeply confused. The events of the night before just didn’t fit in with my perception of Peter, and so I decided that it was just some weird fluke. Surely he wouldn’t try it again.

Well, of course he did. Emboldened by my silence, he was there two nights later with his cock in hand, pumping away furiously, and this time his other hand was bolder. I repeated my previous strategy: don’t move and maybe he’ll go away. It probably didn’t take long for him to get himself off, but to me it seemed like an eternity.

The next morning it was my sixteenth birthday. I don’t remember what plans we had made for that day, but they never happened. I hastily made excuses to visit my mother and tearfully told her the whole story. She called my father and he promptly evicted Peter.* Some sweet sixteen, eh?

Later I received a letter from Peter begging for my forgiveness. He explained that he had committed a terrible sin, but Jesus could forgive him and he hoped that I could, too.

There were two things about this incident that led to my ideological shift. First, Peter betrayed my trust. As I mentioned earlier, if he had just expressed his feelings for me openly and appropriately, I would have reciprocated. And the reason I trusted Peter was because he was a Christian. Hell, even my parents had trusted him. When Peter asked me to forgive him as Jesus had done, I was angry at Peter and Jesus. How dare he expect me to forgive him! How could Jesus let him off so easily?? I resented the fact that the burden of forgiveness and Christ-like behavior was on me. Fuck Peter. Fuck Jesus!

I would eventually learn that I was not the only girl that Peter had molested. He was charged by one young woman (another church member) in Canada for years of sexual assault. He was acquitted based on the usual scenario – his accuser was a slut and therefore her testimony was worthless. Over the years I would learn many ugly truths about respected members of my church. Turns out it was a haven for pedophiles and sex offenders of all sorts. I would learn that my own mother was severely sexually abused starting when she was just a toddler, by members of the church as well as her own family. As you would expect, she was condemned for being a harlot.

It’s no wonder, then, that I just can’t get behind any movement that puts the burden of purity on women, and then condemns “their” women when they are victimized by powerful Christian men. And don’t even get me started on the whole women-as-property mindset, because I might start hurling fire and brimstone.

Let’s just say that that summer was the beginning of the end of my purity girl mindset. It wasn’t until the following summer that I lost my virginity, but I’ll save that story for another post.

*I’d like to point out that I was extremely fortunate regarding the incident with Peter. First, I was old enough to know that what he did was wrong and I spoke up before things got worse. Second, when I reported his activities to my parents they believed me and acted swiftly to remove him from the household. Many girls are not so fortunate.

Filed under: Ruby's Dirty Secrets, Rants and Raves | April 11th, 2007 Comments (0)

Elusive spunk

So last night I had plans to have drinks with a friend. After work I changed into something sexy: a red plaid micro mini skirt with black knee-high stockings and a little black tank top. To complete the schoolgirl look I put my hair in pigtails, and with my black cat-eye glasses I was rockin’ the look, if I do say so myself.

Apparently, my husband, Steel, agreed. When he got home he took one look at me and smiled. Groping and kissing commenced, and it was clear that he was enjoying my easy-access skirt. I had to put the brakes on, though, because time was short and we are not so good at quickies (more on that later). He seemed a bit hurt that I would be leaving the house looking that good while he stayed at home, which only made it more fun to tease him. I was a very naughty schoolgirl, indeed!

I tried to appease him by promising that I wouldn’t stay out too late, and I would make it up to him when I got home. However, time got away from us and Steel was already asleep when I slipped into bed at the end of the night. It was, after all, a school night and I was tired, too.

This morning I showered and dressed and as usual he was still in bed. I sat on the bed next to him to give him a good morning kiss, and that’s when he placed my hand on his hard cock. Mmmm. I decided I should make up for my naughty teasing the night before, and I showered his cock with some proper attention.

Despite my talent and determination, however, Steel’s cock just wouldn’t give up the spunk. This has been known to happen and Steel is always very gracious and yet I’m always a little crestfallen. He assured me that it was a delightful treat and a fabulous way to start the day.

I pouted anyway and cried “But I was looking forward to a Breakfast of Champions!”

Someday I suppose I will learn to accept that Steel’s cock is just stingy with the spunk, and honestly, I can hardly complain. He’s in his 40’s so he doesn’t climax as easily as he used to. On the other hand, though, his cock is capable of marathon erections, which is a real bonus for me! We’re a somewhat unique couple, I suspect, in that I am able to orgasm easily and repeatedly, while it tends to take a lot more time and effort for him to climax. I say that we’re unique that way simply because there is so much fuss about men who come too quickly and women who have to work long and hard to reach orgasm, if at all. I’ve often suspected that this phenomenon has a lot to do with youth and inexperience, not to mention all the rampant hang-ups that both men and women have in relation to their bodies and intimacy.

In any case, I’m hoping to get another chance to play naughty school girl real soon. We’re going out together tonight - it’s our last night of freedom as my son is at his grandparents’ house for spring break - so I’m sure we’ll have all kinds of fun out of the house AND in bed;)

Filed under: Sugasm, Ruby's Dirty Secrets | March 30th, 2007 Comments (1)

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