Off the forum. At the helm.

I know that many people read me from and followed me on the Lovehoney Forum, so before I talk about my weekend, I wanted to share with you all this important announcement:

On Friday, something happened on the forum. 

A member asked for toy recommendations for couples who are new to sex toys, so I pointed them in the direction of a few other threads on a similar theme. Valkyries said that there are a few bloggers on the forum too, and recommended my blog, since — duh! — I review sex toys. However, he said the poster could access my blog via the link on my profile, so I provided a direct link to my home page instead. 

I then told Valkyries that I’d received a product from a competitor brand (that I’d purchased, and shall be reviewing this week). Unfortunately, that was all it took for the moderator to crack down, remove my comment and any references towards my blog. They warned against directing members to blogs with sections that promote competitor brands. Further, they warned that non-compliance might mean no promoting blogs, at all. 

I understand their reasoning, of course I do, but here’s the thing: I also have a business to protect, and to be honest, my work on the forum wasn’t solely about being there and being helpful. Anytime I’m there and being helpful, people wanted to click on my blog and see what else I’m all about!

For a time that worked, and everyone benefitted from my presence. This policy felt a little bit too strong for me though; it felt like it was crossing one of my boundaries. 

And given that the Lovehoney Forum contributes less than 5% of my monthly blog traffic, it just wasn’t enough for me to accept them imposing those kinds of rules on my site. I need to be free to do business with whoever I want to do business with. 

So I left.

No drama, no showy “bye! I’m leaving!” announcement that could have been deleted. I simply logged out and left.

To be honest, I’ve felt for a while that my blog sat awkwardly within the rules anyway, because I am a blogger, and I do promote competitor companies on my blog. I won’t stop promoting Lovehoney’s competitors on my blog either, especially not if they bring my audience great quality products for cheaper prices. My priority is always to put my audience first. 

I will miss my forum friends, and I thank everybody who followed me. I hope some of you read this and follow me here, and we can stay in touch now and long into the future. I’ve also told Valkyries that I have “the best thing from the forum”, and no moderator can ever take that away from me. 

Alright! Onto the weekend. 

I ended up not shooting Valkyries. He clarified what he meant in his “cows” comment, and it wasn’t what I thought he meant. 

Valkyries wasn’t talking about being exposed to other women; he was talking about being exposed to me, over a long period of time. 

So I spared him, but that little misunderstanding nearly cost him. I did warn Valkyries that I don’t keep the safety on. 

Friday night, I stayed up late to watch the end of Fifty Shades Darker and the start of Fifty Shades Freed with Master. It was on, and so we thought we’d watch it. 

Master is full of questions about the franchise, and I am again critical about some of the things that are missing from Darker: the absence of a portrayal of Dr Flynn — Christian’s therapist who helps him overcome his intimacy fears in the book — and the absence of the auctioned dance at the charity gala. I had prayed that the auctioned dance scene wouldn’t be in the movie (the very last thing I wanted Master to imagine was auctioning a whatever with me, for charity), but later missed when it wasn’t, and felt that it should have been.

“This is a nice song” Master says airily of Hailee Steinfeld’s “Capital Letters”. I smile. 

“I’m glad you think so” I reply, “I like it too.”

“You prefer the second film. Right?” he asks. 

“No.”

“The first one?”. I stare at him. 

“The third one? This one? How come?”

“It’s more familiar, with the realities of our married life. With work, family and haircuts, and weaving dashes of kinky fuckery in between.”

“Kinky fuckery” he chuckles. 

“Kinky fuckery, indeed” I say, and kiss him on the forehead. “Comes from this franchise, funny enough.”

“Plus, this is the one where Ana helps Christian find where his mother is buried, and that’s familiar too” I say painfully. Master smiles and hugs me to him. 

“I know” he says, “thank you” he whispers. I squeeze him back. 

Saturday daytime, Valkyries sent me some photos of some swans on the water that he’d seen whilst he was out for a walk. One of the swans was away from the other, and we joked about why that was. I said that he had interrupted a “swan swap”. 

So it seems, far from just kinky fuckery science, now Valkyries and I have taken up ornithology too. 

A little later I had a heart-to-heart with Valkyries, about directions in life. Valkyries works hard and, in my personal opinion, sometimes he works too hard. He’s a very giving man; they both are. 

Our conversation progresses and we talk about metaphorical ships. About the need to put ourselves at the helm of our lives 

It’s been a while since I’ve remembered her, but La Sumisa returns. 

“La Sumisa” — “The Submissive” in Spanish — was a moniker indirectly afforded to me in a pirate-themed roleplay with an ex of mine. After we broke up — because of the way he treated me (as useless and worthless) — “La Sumisa” became my identity for my sense of self. It wasn’t about him anymore; it was about me. 

I remembered he thought himself aloof and adorable like Captain Jack Sparrow. and if that was the case, I decided, then I was like The Black Pearl. I am like The Black Pearl: valuable and desirable. 

I remember I set this tune as an alarm for a time, and one day, Mr C overheard it and recognised it. So I ended up telling him the story of how it came to be. 

He said I was “bad”, in a good way. 

Valkyries says that he hasn’t “cum alongside” yet (oh really) and I say that he’ll need a warrant to board, that boarding without one might be dangerous. Valkyries asks what life is without a little danger, and again I have no answer. 

Alas, I have no doubt that my good Sir will plunder below my decks for any hidden treasure. 

There’s more to it than this, but the long and short of it is this: Saturday night, Valkyries and I had a very late night, but we had a whole boatload of fun. Fuck the rules. Some things just can’t be contained, no matter who tries to keep us apart. 

I also explored a silicone butt plug, which I got on with much better. Not perfect, but better.

Sunday morning, it’s Master Levi who wants my attention. 

Master isn’t quite as forward about sex as what Valkyries and I are: he sometimes tries to hide when he has an erection, and he awkwardly called lube “helper fluid” the other week. He is getting better, but he isn’t quite fully onboard the sex positivity train just yet. 

So I release him from his boxer shorts and worship upon him. I show him that it’s okay to be hard. 

“Fuck” he hisses, his cock pulls from my mouth with an audible “pop” and I chuckle softly and take him back in. He flexes again beneath me.

My mind flips to the events of the night before, and how I’d promised Valkyries that I’d sleep without a stitch on me to make myself more accessible in the morning. I’d kept that promise, but right now one was with me in body, and the other with me in spirit. I wanted them both to be with me, sharing me. 

I thought again about my comment from the day before, that I might find a MFM threesome “overwhelming”. Right now, I didn’t think I would. Right now, it’d be a love-making with them both.

As if “simpatico+” was at work again, a little later, Valkyries mentions hotwifing to me. I recoil at that idea, and I’m not so sure that Master would go for it either. Hotwifing, at least as I understand it, is lots of sex with multiple partners and no emotion. I don’t do emotionless sex. 

Plus, most people tend to enjoy me with my clothes on. What they enjoy most about me isn’t my great tits, cute bubble ass or curvy body; it’s my warm personality, my quick wit and my infectious sense of humour. 

But that doesn’t mean they haven’t imagined me naked, at least once, and when I think about that, I realise all of the men — socially and professionally — who probably have. Our Housing Manager, Mr Sheppard, and blatantly Mr C, for a start. 

And I hate how that makes me wet.