It’s almost midday and the beginnings of a headache are starting to scratch at the backs of my eyes. I know what’s causing it. It’s a combination of not enough salt and too much stress. The cat has barfed on the sofa, an unexpected (massive) bill has dropped on the doormat. A family member has taken ill, I forgot to order the Fella’s meds, my doctor’s appointment has been cancelled. I’ve given myself far too much to do and now I have to leave it all because I’ve run out of loo paper, and boy do I need to go.
Once upon a time, I would deal with these stresses by ramming a week’s worth of calories down my throat. And it shows. That’s something that adds to my stress, because I’m not comfortable in my body and my body hasn’t known the meaning of comfort for some time. Every time I walk past a mirror I see my lack of willpower and that drives me straight to the cookie jar on my lower days. Days like today. Continue reading “#30DayOrgasmChallenge – The Beginning”
Have you ever had one of those ‘monkey see, monkey do’ moments that, while they seemed to go well for someone else, tend to go spectacularly wrong for you? You’re human, so I’m guessing you probably have, and God knows I have.
When I spied the latest Kink of the Week, I cringed so hard I got cramp but I knew I had to write this piece for it. What’s the topic, I hear you ask? Figging. The topic is Figging, which is the art of inserting fresh ginger root into one or more of your intimate entrances.
Now, it probably makes sense to tell you that the first time I read about figging it wasn’t in a BDSM setting. It was a book about ye olde punishments, and I learnt that slipping ginger into a woman’s frilly bits was once a penalty for indulging in lascivious behaviour. I’ve had fresh ginger invade cuts and get up my nose while cooking so my reaction at the time of reading was, how very fucking cruel. Cos it hurts a canny bit, you know? Almost as much as getting fresh chilli in your eye does. Continue reading “I Don’t Figging Think So”
My first sexual relationship began just before I turned seventeen and ended on my eighteenth birthday. Three weeks later, I met my next partner, and three years after that we were married. And we still are. He’s been with me my entire adult life, sharing my days and nights, my bed, and my body. Because of him, I don’t know what it is to be single. I don’t know what it is to not have regular sex.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
See, back in 2008/9, I discovered that he’d been having a yearlong affair with someone from his past. My initial reaction was to smash things and tell him to get the fuck out of my life. I hated him for betraying me and I hated her for knowing about me while I was ignorant of her existence. As far as I was concerned, they were a pair of deceitful rat bastards and they deserved each other. So, I tried to make him leave and it looked like he was going to go. But seconds before I slammed the door in his bullshitting, lying face, he did something that eventually saved our marriage. Continue reading “Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder”
This post isn’t an erotic one. It’s my first contribution to a new writing meme run by the lovely sub_Bee. It’s a link up called ‘Menstruation Matters’ and you’ll find all kinds of posts there by all kinds of people, all sharing their experiences with a goal of normalising and destigmatising menstruation. Check out the link at the bottom of this post when you’re done reading if you want to know more.
Period sex. Some people love it so much they actively seek it out. Others hate it so much they actively avoid it. And some folks don’t care one way or another, cos a fuck is a fuck is a fuck and a bit of blood isn’t gonna put a dampener on things.
When I was younger, I would always insist that period sex either happened in the shower or it didn’t happen at all. So off to the shower we would go, and the hot water would wash away the mess even as we made it. Continue reading “Whose Shame is it Anyway?”
When I saw what the latest Kink of the Week topic was, I knew I had to take part, and I knew I had to ramble on about my own wonky self rather than weave a web of fiction.
See, I’ve made it no secret that I’m a lover of teeth. They’re the first thing I notice about a person and there’s nothing that makes my belly flip harder than a crooked toothed smile. Honestly, I love it when someone cracks out a grin and I spot a wonky (or pointed) canine or a chipped front tooth. It’s enough to make someone beautiful to me. I like bodies, sure, but even the most perfect of forms can lose its appeal for me if I don’t find its owner’s smile attractive.
Why am I going on about teeth in a post about eyes? Continue reading “Unnervingly Unnatural”
If you’re doing a spot of sexy shopping this Christmas, you’ll be in need of a good sale. Loads of sex toy shops have already launched their festive reductions to take advantage of Black Friday madness. One such shop is my lovely sponsor, Forbidden Pleasures.
This UK based company has something for everyone, no matter whether you’re paying with pennies or pounds. Delivery is free over £30, and if your chosen toy is battery powered you get your batteries free so you can play straight away. Just remember to pop them in your basket on the product page when you add your toy.
If you need a bit of gifting inspiration (and know that sex toys will be received well by your giftee) here’s a quick list of full brand discounts and a few of my personal top picks. Continue reading “Christmas At Forbidden Pleasures”
Most of what I write here at Scandarella is either toy reviews or complete fiction. I don’t often write about myself, about the Fella, or what we do with and to each other when the sun goes down. But I’m gonna look at real life for a change. I’m gonna take y’all way back when to the first time I ever shimmied my ass into a strap-on harness so that I could fuck the Fella with a faux cock.
Of all the things we’ve tried together, him deciding that he wanted to be on the receiving end of anal was the one that surprised me the most. Continue reading “A Bumpy Ride: First Time Pegging”
The Ersties Podcast is hosted by Lina Bembe, Olivia Rose, Pandora Passmore and myself, Paulita Pappel. Four perverts with a mouthful of sex. Our story is possibly one of true love. At least I rely on the emotional and romantic support of my fellow podcasters more than on any other lover. The four of us first came together to work on a project for Ersties. We were building a secret gang whose main purpose was to tackle feminism and public spaces with a touch of sassy humor.
Our work meetings usually started with a brainstorm session, and by that, I mean we ordered a round of cocktails and some food, and we ended up talking for hours about anything and everything. We had just met, and soon we felt very comfortable with each other. We started sharing very intimate anecdotes, including awkward tinder dates and herpes-inducing clubbing accidents. I guess it comes as no surprise that our favorite topics revolved around sexuality. Continue reading “Hello There! Meet the Ersties Podcast.”
(This ain’t no sexy post. It’s a rant of sorts in which I talk – possibly pointlessly – about depression as it is for me)
You may or may not have noticed that, on occasion, I’ll more or less disappear for a week or so. Scandarella will see no content. My Twitter page will be full of tweets spewed out by a plugin that keeps it looking active when I’m not around. My emails go unanswered, DMs get pushed to one side.
But all of that is the stinky icing on a shit cake I’ll have been baking for weeks behind the scenes. Before I make the decision to not write, many other things in my life will already be getting neglected. Continue reading “Where I Go When I’m Gone”
Image used with permission of Victoria Blisse
Tossing my empty coffee cup into the backseat of my car, I stare at the building in front of me. Broken windows, graffitied walls, a big fucking hole in the roof. Only God knows why these creatures choose such dilapidated buildings to roost in.
My car door slams and I don’t even get three feet away before the rainclouds overhead decide to shed their load. I hunker down into my mac, splashing through red and blue flashing puddles as I make my way to the city’s newest feeding den.
A young officer signals me over to his car. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m old enough that pretty much everyone looks young to me, but this kid looks especially fresh. Well, he would if he wasn’t so pallid. Rubbing his neck with a shaking hand, he bobs his head in the direction of the shattered hotel door.
“It’s in there.” Continue reading “A Pain in the Neck”