From Curious to Bifurious: Why it’s good to be the “out” friend.

knee socks

I’m that girl. 

The girl that can turn a vanilla birthday party into a quasi orgy without any warning. 

Now, I have to say right up front, this doesn’t happen because I start hitting on people. It happens because people start hitting on me, and as someone who spends a fair bit of time at sex clubs, I’m quite comfortable hitting back when / if it does. 

Take last night for example. I attend a small party (20-30 people I would guess). The birthday girl and many guests are former coworkers. Some are new workers who came after I left. One, in particular, is an adorable, spunky, intoxicated (and a little intoxicating in her forwardness) female. This time it happens almost as soon as I walk in the door. A woman friend is introducing me to some people, and she bounces over in a baby doll romper dress, knee socks and a beanie cap. 

I’m not making that up. 

She extends her hand and interrupts the conversation to give me her name. As I take her hand I turn to look directly at her. I can see she is sizing me up. Not in the competitive way that women do, more in a predatory, but polite way. 

I tell her it’s nice to meet her. 

She feels the same. 

She has made no effort to take back her hand and we stand there, palms touching. After a moment she skips back to the conversation she had left just a few moments before. I watch her go. I also remind myself this isn’t a sex club and these are not swingers. However they also aren’t a prudish crowd. Quite the opposite. This group has a history of drunken shenanigans. Pictures have circulated. People get naked. (The difference is all the pent up heteronormative  energy doesn’t collide. We fuck. They fight).

My woman friend looks at me as she leaves “that was exactly what you think it was”. 

I start to laugh and ask “what do I think it was?” She says “she was totally checking you out. It’s been known to happen.” 

“She switch hits?”


The knee socks are now perched across the room and she finds my gaze. I stare back, a little bold. She smiles and averts her eyes after a moment. My lady friend witnesses this, and I Feel her move in a little closer. I am well aware that she has an appreciation for the ladies, but it isn’t common knowledge. She’s not open about it, except of course with her husband. I also see him, watching her, watching me. He knows her cues. He can see that my presence is loosening her discretion as it sometimes does. It is fairly common when we socialize together for her inner bi tendencies to become known. She isn’t a playmate. She’s a dear friend. But she comes on to me often when drinking, and we have kissed on a few occasions. Rather innocently. 

Woman friend has indicated a desire to take sexy pics with me. I suspect it is an initiatory tactic, bringing us relaxed and close together….cheek to cheek. We are there to celebrate the birthday of a girl whom I have known since our first meeting, had attractions to women. I don’t know if she knows, but I knew. I understand her curious body language. It was once my own. On previous outings she has gotten quite close to openly discussing it….but not quite. I, on the other hand, freely discuss my partners, male and female (although not by name or detail per se). She knows I sport fuck.  She knows I’m attracted to “everybody”, or rather capable of it. She knows that sex with women, with and without the presence of men, is fairly normal for me. As Woman Friend calls on a fellow guest to “take a sexy picture of us” the birthday girl suddenly appears. We all lean in -cheeks, bodies and bosoms together….just a little closer…..a few poses….smiles….tongues are out now….aaaand it’s a three way kiss. Initiated by the tipsy  straight birthday girl. Cameras are going. And suddenly, there it is.  That electricity you feel in the air at a club….that shock and ‘sexy as fuck’ factor that suddenly ignites from the freedom to act primal and aroused…there it is, loose in a suburban kitchen. An electric charge fills the air. A few heads turn from the adjoining dining room. Now that it has finally happened, the birthday girl steps forward and kisses me full on. With intent. We giggle as I walk away and perch myself on the stairs. I put on my boots and grab my cigarette pack and lighter. 

Immediately the knee socks have returned. They are kneeling before me, looking up into my face, asking to join me. We step outside. She is short, feisty, and full of liquid courage. She stands staring directly up into my eyes for a moment. She says “sooooo….”

I hand her a cigarette and a lighter. 

She stops short of putting the cigarette between her lips. She stares at me again. She says “Are we gonna do this?”

I answer “which part?”

She giggles. 

“Kiss?” She says with a coy tilt of the head. 

I smile and ask “are you sure? Like, you won’t wake up tomorrow panicked and feeling silly?”

“kiss me ” she whispers. 

I step forward and place my hand gently on the back of her head and guide her enthusiastically to my lips. 

We embrace. 

Her hands graze the outline of my breast. Two other smokers exit the house. We continue to kiss until finally stopping to grin at each other. 

I have been at the party less than one hour. I have made out with three “mostly straight”, uninhibited ladies and I have one who has made it clear she would like to take it a step further. With haste. 

So what is that? 

As a swinger, am I giving off some crazy fuck vibes that cause other people to act on hidden impulses, especially when on the way to white girl wasted ? Is my Scorpio energy so strong that I’m turning people into perverts just by being close to them? Well, that’d be cute. A nice little stroke to my perverted ego…but alas, I have a different theory. I believe the reason this happens is because I am “out” with this group of peers. I didn’t have a friend like me in my social circle when I was a teenager but I’ve often wondered, if I had, how my process of self-acceptance may have been accelerated. I spent a lot of time actively blocking and refuting attractions to women. Even though as a young girl, I had done a lot of experimenting with a female playmate. Like, a LOT. I spent many years telling myself it didn’t define me and “didn’t mean anything”. Flash forward to today, I range from tastefully discrete to flamboyantly out depending on the comfort zone of the crowd. If you are actually my friend though? If you ask for my friendship? I will be out. I’m not into facades. To borrow a cheap slogan “I put my best price on the window”. I am who I am. Don’t hang with me if it makes you uncomfortable. The reality is that people are curious. I make it known I don’t mind talking about it. I don’t  mind answering the questions everyone once had (“Will I know what to do once I get down there?” For example). And this lowers ones guard a little. Not because I talk “dirty” but because I talk openly, and positively, with almost no giggling. So as it happens, when people who “know about me” hear Im coming, their curiosity is peaked. I have seen the “can she somehow tell” curiosity in their eyes before. Here, at this vanilla gathering, all shields are down. Tongues are touching all over the place. Girls are kissing girls all over the place. Before it would end I would find myself in the bathroom with a pair of knee socks wrapped around my ears. In the swinger world, I don’t  do this. I’m not a ‘DTF with strangers’ girl by any accounts. Here in this moment, as a sexy woman begs me to lick her pussy while she grabs at the back of my neck, I succumb to the moment and lick her deeply. She lets out a loud moan and almost instantly she is wet. I am not gentle with her. I nibble and suck furiously as she pulls at my hair and clutches the sides of my head with her thighs. Her ankles lock behind me and I am instantly compelled to bring her to orgasm, as I thrust a finger deep inside her. 

The moral of the story? Sometimes being out is a very very good thing. Sometimes it opens the door for conversation. Sometimes it helps others deal with their own discomfort about themselves-when they see people being ok with who they are. Sometimes, it means you walk into vanilla parties and the curious and horny start to swirl about like butterflies trapped in the conservatory desperate for someone who has the door code to set them free. I say, unlock every cage. Let fluid sex positivity reign!

Politics and Play-does it matter?

Yes, yes it does…..


Nothing has made me stop and evaluate my play partners like the recent election of Donald Trump in the United States. This might seem utterly silly, especially if you’re liberally DTF, but let’s work this through…

I’ve seen the meme’s. The ones intended to make you feel silly for questioning the politics of your friends and suggesting you aren’t a good person if you’re judging them. I need to be very clear about what that is and what kind of weak minded people it appeals to. That is an idea intended to make people feel and look silly for taking a stand for human rights. It suggests that a “good person” wouldn’t turn their back on a friend for having such political leanings. Here’s why that’s horseshit, especially for myself: I’m a proud and out bi/pan woman. My closest playmate is a man of colour. My two best lifelong women friends are women of colour.  I AM A WOMAN. My world cannot be a selfish one. My world must be inclusive.

It’s convenient to say that supporting Trump “doesn’t make you a racist” (oh, but it does) or that it doesn’t mean you don’t support Black/LGBT/women’s rights (oh, but it does). It’s convenient because sometimes you just want a squeaky clean justification for why you happen to like the guy. But it’s not just him. Supporting his ideology, or his very presence, means you are supporting a whole lot more. His politics cannot be separated into pretty boxes. It’s a Pollock mural of hate. There’s nothing neat and tidy about it waging a war on refugees, women, and human rights in general. Nothing. The people he has aligned with are even more radical than he and that’s no accident. He is a person of constantly changing substance, duping his followers and quite literally appealing to the uneducated and weak minded. He knows this. He doesn’t even pretend to be consistent. He doesn’t have to be. And yes, if you happen to like this piece of human garbage, you are immediately a flake in my eyes. You cannot be a person of substance and agree with the removal of human rights. You can’t claim to be forward-thinking and support backward-moving flawed logic.

Now why does this have anything to do with getting it on? How does this have any place in the swing community? While that answer is so obvious to me that it hurts my heart, it seems some others have missed it completely. I’m not a DTF player. For those swingers who don’t really need to know your name, or even sexual practices to proceed- it probably doesn’t. I have to know you somewhat, I have to like you, and I have to respect you, to fuck you. I play with others who also feel this way. It means I know my safety is important to them – because they value my rights, they value my person, they value me as a woman, and not a pussy to be discarded without any care. They won’t be tossing me out the door at the moment of ejaculation. They will defend me when needed. They will STAND WITH ME when my safety or rights are threatened and have the gumption to say “that is not okay. We are a community”. If you think it’s kinda funny that the 42nd President of the United States brags about grabbin’ em by the pussy like a 13 year old boy trying to impress the boys….if you think it’s okay that he label Mexicans as rapists and criminals….if you think it’s okay that his own advisor referred to slaves as immigrants….you are not the caliber of person whose penis, fingers or tongue I want inside of me. If you think you can separate all of those things about him from “the person, the character, the celebrity” then you are, frankly, delusional. You are an inherently selfish person who doesn’t care about your fellow humans. If you thought he was Making America Great Again…I’ve got news for you. American wasn’t great. America was built on the backs of slaves. It is rich with systemic racism which started long ago. What era are they going back to when they talk about making it great again? I’m so curious to know this answer. WHICH ERA? The one where black people weren’t actually people? The time when women couldn’t vote? The great depression? Where is this pivotal point in history where America was better than, or closer to, what they aspire to be, than October of 2016?

So, abruptly put, if you think that stain on humanity is entertaining, contributing to society in a positive way, or even just funny – you are a selfish douchebag. You stand against women just for not speaking out against him. You stand against your neighbours of colour. You stand against the LGBTQ community. When you share those memes that say “I’m a grown up and I don’t need to sever friendships over politics” you are silently helping to shut down human rights advocacy.  You are shaming your friends for having stronger character than you are showing. You are weak. The truth is, it matters. As swingers, we are one of the remaining invisible groups whose lives could change drastically if we were to become visible. Don’t kid yourselves into thinking your life won’t change with a strong conservative twist in politics. This is what leads to our clubs getting shut down, our websites getting hacked and our privacy removed. This. Is. How. It. Starts. We are the rebels of the traditional world (as are the kinksters , nudists and poly people). We get to do this freely BECAUSE the LGBTQ community and so many others have smashed the wall of prejudice around hetero-normative behaviour. It’s a delicate balance though. We should NOT take our freedom for granted, and that means we need to support liberty. Actual liberty. Freedom for all, not freedom when convenient.  Not oppression when it’s entertaining. A day will come when we are the ones being judged.

When they start shutting down the play spaces of wealthy, white people-what will you say then? Don’t expect the world to stand with you, when you refused to stand with them, in the name of entertainment.


So hard.



So hard

You were so hard.
Soooo hard.
All I could do was squirm and refocus.
Licking, milking, enticing, devouring
To savour
Eyes closed
I try so hard to keep them open.
To watch it all.
To drink you in, from every possible place
But they close
Alas they close….
Without sight to distract me,
I am locked on to your taste.
My taste.
Our taste.
My tongue is relentless in investigation
My mouth moves so slowly
I can feel every pulse
My hand ignites as you throb in my grip
An electric pulse
That motivates me like nothing else
I am so conflicted in my ecstasy
In a cock worship frenzy
My pussy is on fire
I wiggle about
I lower myself underneath you
Tongue extended
Now watching
As I lick
I massage you with my lips
Wrapped full around my beautiful cock
I am merely preparing you
Prepping the beast
I rise from the floor, quivering.
Our lips meet for a moment…
Instinctively you lower yourself to the sofa and order me to mount
There is nothing like that moment
When you slide inside me
Skin taught
Eyes locked
We do not miss a beat. The rhythm finds us quickly while our mouths attack. In this moment, i cannot fuck you hard enough, fast enough, violently enough… to demonstrate my desire.
My arms lock atop your shoulders pulling me into your body,
my nipples at your mercy
I ride myself
Into a blackout
Of pleasure.

A Real Man

A real man looks within before lashing out

A Real Man


He’s tough with a side of feelings

A cliché of the very best kind

His voice flows freely, he talks deeply

His vulnerability is his strength, however rare


There’s a process at work

Wheels turning

Heart burning

He builds a wall around you

He’s proud to talk about you

strong enough to walk without you-

And wise enough to never doubt you

He’s got your back

when life pounds you


A real man

Doesn’t punish.

He is mature enough to know

That life has got that covered

Instead he is your lover,


He rewards you,

Sees all that you do

He knows

he couldn’t do it without you


A real man

Isn’t judged

By his job or his income

Not by his name, but his wisdom

He lurks in the hearts of little boys

manhood undiscovered

Chivalry,  not yet uncovered

Taking it all in.


A real man,

Ever hunted

His instincts are strong

He knows where he belongs

he is capable of being led by love.

You can spot him by the twinkle in his eye,

His willingness to try

The surrender in his sigh

You feel his absence like the winter sun

(waiting, hoping)


…but the surest sign you’ve found one?


A real man knows a real woman, when he sees one.

So When Do We Tell The Kids? Dear Minx tackles a tricky question.

Dear Minx

Dear Minx tackles a question about disclosure from some very brave parents.

Dear Minx:

We have always been open about things with our children and encouraged open and honest communication. Our kids are young adults now and we are free to do what we wish with our time, but we find we are always lying about where we’re going and it’s nerve-wracking. We are wondering if and when to tell your mostly-adult children that you are a swinger? Is there ever a reason to tell? Are we crazy to consider this?

-Frisky Parents, Nosy Kids

Dear Frisky,

There is no simple, cookie cutter answer to this question. It will always depend on the parents (and the foundation for understanding that they have laid for their children) and it will also depend on the children. Would your children want to know? Maybe not. I’m a huge fan of “being out” for those who have the ability to do so. How much easier our lives get when we eliminate the need to lie regularly about the parts of it that bring us joy and excitement. Having said that, there is heightened excitement around secrets for some people and that can play in as well. Some things lose excitement when they just become a part of everyday reality. There could also be consequences that include the loss of respect in the eyes of your children, who still live in a mostly monogamous-minded society, and they are entitled to their own reactions.

If, as you say “you’ve always been open” with your children, and you find that pursuing your own desires as an adult is forcing you to change your regular way of being to  what you consider “a lesser way”, and your outlook would be improved by coming clean – then I say, come clean. Keep in mind that kids don’t want to hear about their parents having sex any more than parents want to hear about their kids having sex, and you are the parent – so the information should be as limited as is required to fulfill the duty of disclosure. If your children have been sending a message, quiet or loud, that they do not want to know about “these kinds of things” then I believe you ought to support their wishes rather than impose your truth until such time as they are READY to hear it.

Your kids may surprise you. They may say “we had a feeling” or “this doesn’t surprise us”, OR they may even react very judgmentally, particularly if they feel this contradicts the values you instilled, either intentionally or unintentionally, while raising them. You may need to be prepared to answer questions and offer reassurances, and they may need time to process this and see that despite this new information – nothing has changed with Mom and Dad.

If you can do all that, and leave the communication open while eliminating the need for lies around your lifestyle, then I believe you are officially “living the dream”. I think the idea to remember here is “do no harm” but have faith that if you have set an example as a loving couple you may also be able to set an example as a loving non-monogamous couple. Imagine if you could just say “Hedonism was a blast, no cameras due to nudity” rather than “somehow while travelling the ruins of Mexico we did not manage to get a single picture” because a) you weren’t there and b) you weren’t there.

Best of luck in whatever you decide – the world needs more honesty *for those who are ready to receive it*.


Got a question for Dear Minx? Drop her a line using the contact form below!

The Struggle (Play) is Real


**Warning: This post has bothered a few readers (although likely, it’s one 2 a.m. reader with 4 aliases)… We thought that putting the words “struggle play” right into the title might tip people off that such activities may be discussed. This is an explicit warning that this post contains discussion of fantasy around violence and struggle play** If you choose to read it, choose to enjoy it xo


Ever since I was a little girl, I have been consumed with both struggle and abduction fantasies. I call them fantasies now because that’s what they are, but when I was a child I certainly didn’t see them that way. I disturbed myself with my penchant for thinking about such scenarios. Escape from attack/confinement/fire have been very strong themes, and the fact they have been with me for so long isn’t something I share freely. I know this immediately starts to trigger theories (and fears) in others, some of which are justified and very valid.

Let’s just say I have several different sexual identities. Personae. I love the one I’m currently living with. It stands close to the invisible line between the person who desperately needed to connect all the sexual dots and make sense out of every fantasy and kink, and lines up all the experiences that created them. That person was inquisitive and open hearted, but her sexuality suffered, immensely at times. She lived a hetero-monogamous lie.  On the other side of that line is me, now. Several years ago I stepped across the invisible moat, to the place where I am present, living in my body now, and indulging my fantasies rather than dissecting them. The reasons don’t matter so much now. The reason they don’t matter is that I understand I have them and my reasoning for why might change on any given day, but the fantasies remain regardless. Some fantasies are truly meant to linger in our imaginations, but a fantasy that persists for over 30 years just might be asking to be acknowledged rather than denied away by reasoning.

I’ve been blessed with several great loves and great lovers in my life.  One such lover was a man who was physically shorter and lighter than myself. And while I am a fairly solid woman with more strength than I show, he was the epitome of “freakishly strong” for a man his size. I discovered that this turned me on wildly. What evolved into frequent bouts of wrestling and pinning, started out innocently enough. He was armed with some skill in judo and Greco-Roman wrestling. I was armed with a great love of show wrestling and a lifetime of backyard and living room wrestling with my older brother: my first opponent in life. Between the two of us, I was the first to master the figure four leg lock. It was 1984 and Greg “The Hammer” Valentine was warring with Tito Santana and popularizing the figure four leg lock all at once. It was the moment I realized that the size of my opponent did not predict the outcome of the fight, and that an opponent’s size could be used against them. My brother wasn’t as limber as I was; his legs were long and awkward at 14 years old. I could slide into the move before he could even consider trying it on me. I used it often, adding extra threat near the precious jewels with my toes.

As a woman in her late 30’s whose boyfriend suddenly flips her over and pins her by the wrists and dares her to try and get up- as that woman, something lit up inside me like a fourth of July firecracker and the dark corners started to stir, once again. We wrestled often. Most often, in a non-sexual way, even in front of the kids, who also were taught how to escape certain maneuvers and certainly never saw anything sexual about our play. Because despite the undertones, it wasn’t sexual. His thought patterns and fears of appearing abusive could not allow him to cross the two. And we enjoyed it immensely without a sexual element….but a few childless weekends at home in the afternoon, wrestling on the floor, I wished he would kiss me right there in the middle of the struggle. If I could’ve successfully pinned him down, it’s what I would’ve done. Instead we would begin this way… wrestling, sitting close, and then shortly after, we would go and have sex. I was delighted with that.

The struggle play theme has been back for about 2 years now. Two years ago I explored )but did not act on) this with an online associate, whom I had met and had a sexual dynamic with. Our scenario was significantly more risky and involved genres of play not related to the more generic “struggle play”. We had a very detailed and specific role play, (which, again, we did not enact). I think that he was terrified that he had found a stranger who   

  1. he was able to share the scenario with (amongst other secrets)
  2. b) was familiar with, and willing to engage, the same scenario.

He backed down immediately. I happily dove into sport fucking.

Flash forward to today. The perfect storm is brewing all around me. The man in my life happens to trigger a very rare willingness to engage in a powerplay where I’m not always winning, whether sexually or otherwise. He rules my loins with a quiet power. He rattles me in unfamiliar ways. He is absent yet ever-present. He is the unreal person I’ve frequently sought. Available but unavailable. Mine, but not mine. He embraces my desire to take ownership of his cock, to rule it, adore it, and occasionally, share it. He can trigger a girly grin with a single line text. Silently, Alpha. This man, I want to wrestle.

One of our amazing dates took place in an elegant hotel room, close to my home. He had travelled several hours and we had both moved heaven and earth to grab approximately three hours together. It would turn out to be a truly intimate affair, as most of our dates are, regardless of environment. It was exactly what we always do. It was deep kissing and fucking and exploring and spanking and…on and on…but there was this one moment:  I had raised both wrists back over my head as though reaching for the headboard (which wasn’t there) and he put his hands down over mine and pushed himself up, hovering over top of me. I could feel his full weight travelling through my wrists and directly down to my pussy. I was fully alive with the need to be fucked immediately. If we had known each other more intimately at that time, I would’ve fought him right there.

Having recently limited my availability to playmates, in lieu of spending time with my important lovers, I found myself with a willingness to go deeper with my partners. That is true with the sexy couple that drives me wild. That is very true with my girlfriend (Gypsy),  and also incredibly true with the gent who drives me a little wild.

One day I just sent him a text and asked. “I would like to know how you feel about grappling. I would like to do it with you”. I waited…..

Finally he replied “I’m in”.

So I sit here lingering in perhaps the greatest part of any fantasy, the moment when you decide to act on it, but you haven’t yet… are swimming with all the possibilities. Aroused again and again with combinations, and curiosity. It is officially on the agenda. This is happening.


Of course this ruins my focus for writing, working and general function. I am pinned under the memory of being pinned beneath him for a brief moment before begging to be fucked hard and fast.  I lust after the feeling of surrender that comes when you realize you cannot win, and you don’t want to. It’s a hard spot for me to reach. Surrender, for me, does not come easily, and often not without a price. 

He had ripped that surrender from me on our very first date. We had sought a private place at a party, once we finally began to kiss, we attacked each other with lustful abandon. I had straddled his lap in an effort to slow us down. We kissed, and slowly his cock literally reached for me. He was instantly hard and throbbing against me. My pussy took control of all decisions at that moment,  I leapt on top of him unapologetically. I had ridden him to an explosion of wetness that was both sexy and shocking. Our lips always connected, electric. Seconds later I threw myself onto the mattress on the floor face down, ass exposed, and begged him to fuck me.

When it comes to surrender, I don’t stand a chance. Quietly, coyly, he owns me.


We have made no plans around initiation. No details discussed-but it will make for great bedroom talk. When the moment presents, I will know. I’m twitching just thinking about it. I feel like I could explode at any second.


I’m pretty sure he’ll kick my ass.

At least I’m hoping 😉







Grrrrl adventures…part un.

grrrrl adeventures

The motel room is one of the sexiest examples of trashy kitch I have ever seen. Like two Sirens, we are perched on either side of the heart shaped tub. Steam rises from the water below, making the air damp with intrigue. I reach for my glass of wine and she mirrors my action. I listen to her talk as I slowly slide towards the middle of the tub and reach for my cigarettes. A burst of smoke escapes as I draw deeply in and out. I glance sideways at her, and a smile escapes my lips. She is full of perspective and brilliance, and I cannot help but notice the rise of her breasts as her voice becomes passionate. She pauses in her story and stares back at me like she has just caught me watching her. Suddenly she reaches across me and takes a cigarette out of the pack. Her breast grazes my arm, her legs slide easily into mine, and we interlock. She draws on her cigarette but does not move. She remains there, touching. There’s a quickening of senses as she places her head against my shoulder, her red hair grazing my nipple, and instantly I am alert to every sound and pulse.
As I turn my face towards her, she raises her mouth to mine….
We meet in a mixture of lips and lust and I am suddenly, fully, aware of her nudity. Her skin, touching me, everywhere. I turn towards her. My hand instinctively cups her gorgeous breast.
A whisper escapes my lips as I feel the soft fullness of her breast in my hand. “Yessss”
I kiss her neck, her chest, her nipples…
I pull away to look at her, taking a mouthful of wine while I admire her beautiful curves. After a long draw from my cigarette, I place it in the ashtray. I turn my full attention to her and ask her to sit on the edge of the tub. I watch her beautiful shape in the mirrors as she slowly slides up out of the water and perches on the edge of the tub.
I do not have to ask her. She quickly spreads her legs, inviting me in. I smirk and place my wine on the edge of the tub. I lean in to give her the kiss she really wants….
I am in heaven as I feel her legs wrap around me, holding me tight. Demanding.