Knowing Me, Knowing You – #SoSS
Welcome to another Saturday round up of ‘Sh1t Sharing’! It has been a great week for erotica to read, hey! I’m still working through all the #WickedWednesday, entries and the #MasturbationMonday meme had a bumper crop too! I don’t usually share photos in my round-up but there were many lovely & witty ones in this week’s #SinfulSunday – you should check those out too. I give below a few posts that made me (or my fanny) say “Hot Damn!”
The other thing I usually do on a Saturday is interview a blogger who’s come onto my radar and given me blogging-envy and inspiration, satisfaction or pause for thought. This week it is my friend E.T. Costello (known also as Quill or Quiller). This over-achiever writes poetry, sizzling hot erotica but also draws and paints (perhaps you’ve seen his recent homages to May_Moore, ConfessHannah and Spymistress Posy!) Prepare to be entertained by his self-effacing, honest answers.
- What made you decide to write a sex blog?
Mrs Q. It was my birthday and during work, I’d been tormenting her with a series of episodes in a fantasy about her day at work in which she met her lover in the park and they titillated each other throughout the day and then fucked in his office and so on, and she said, “you know you should publish this, it’s so good!” So I did.
There’s a bit more to it than that, but initially it was a way of dealing with the my kink, which is bound up with Mrs Q and her dalliance, which I welcomed heartily, and needed an outlet for. We’d had a go at poly, but it wasn’t for us, and this was a way of kicking on from the thrill and using the stimulus creatively. I love her fiercely, and as things are developing, it’s far less about therapy and more about growth.
- What’s behind the title of your blog and blogging name?
Hephaestus. That bit is easy. He was the broken down blacksmith-god married off to Aphrodite in order to avoid a war in Olympus over who might have her – and the fact that she didn’t see it that way, being something of a strumpet. It seemed to fit. E. T. Costello developed out of a weird combination of: a Nicholas Montsarrat novel, a dog, a favourite musician and another character I’d written IRL.
The Story of Esther Costello had a big effect on me when I read it aged 7 expecting something else. It’s about cynicism and exploitation and power. I wasn’t an easy kid after that. Then because of Esther, I got into Elvis Costello and then later on, when we were first married we had a dog called Elvis. We had the poor old bugger put down about two years ago now, and when I started writing, I wrote him into a YA story about the grail legends as a dogged detective called Costello. So looking for a nom de plume wasn’t too hard. The rest of it is bound up in a nice broth of personal history and desire.
- My blog in a nutshell:
An outlet for things I haven’t properly articulated and a means for me to articulate them.
A mesh of ideas about sex and the other, woven into a tapestry I can’t yet see.
- How long have you been blogging on this theme?
Since March 17th this year. Most of the poetry was written prior, but all since roughly the same time last year. There was a day, sometime in April, when Mrs Q came home, wearing one of my favourite skirts, a tight pencil skirt, black, covered in jungle grass and flowers and parrots and macaws. She sat at the kitchen table for a bit while I made tea, and seemed distracted.
After about twenty minutes or so, she got up, smoothed the skirt and said:
“I’m going to lie down on the sofa.”
As she left the kitchen, she sighed a little and said:
“I’m not wearing any knickers”
I followed her, of course, and knelt like a supplicant next to the sofa and worshipped her for a good, long while. It was a lovely start to spring. We carried on the same dance for about a fortnight, I think, until she plucked up courage to tell me about Him and what she wanted to do with Him, and what she had done. There, or thereabouts, is when I started to write, really write. It was impossible to articulate how I felt in ordinary prose. You know, among the discussions about household stuff, food and shopping and washing up and bloody laundry. So I wrote her poetry, to show her my love for her, and the dry-mouthed hotness of this idea, this alternate reality of her, my wife, having a lover. It was a rich damn’ time. We probably made love at least twice a day, and fucked a lot too, and it was hot and sunny and ace.
So it all started about then, really.
- What is your favourite type of adult toy?
Now that’s a good one. Easy, but hard. We’re on our fourth (sixth, seventh? Who’s counting?) Rabbit-analogue. Currently it’s the straight up Lovehoney Jessica Rabbit and is affectionately known as the Pink Fuck Stick, which serves to illustrate it’s popularity don’t you think?
However, we’ve recently discovered the G-spot (I don’t mean in the “Uh-huh honey that’s nice” way, that was ages ago, but in the eargrabbing, hair pulling, thigh-pinching, bloodcurdling screams way) so the Lovemoiselle Aveline curvy ceramic dildo has been rediscovered too and is seeing some serious action, teamed up with the Bombshell Balm bullet vibe, which I sometimes also use, for a bit of a tickle. It’s complicated, but really filling toys, with lots of reach are what’s doing it for us right now. I particularly like watching her use the PFS, but slowly rubbing the Aveline up the back of her thighs as she’s waking takes some beating too. Taking her from slow, quiet muttering to bent over, spread and snarling… Unnnnnngggff. As Eye might say.
- Desert Island Toy?
That depends very much on whether it is I and Mrs Q, or I alone on this desert island! With Mrs Q – see above. Dildoing her on her knees in the evening surf would be lovely, I would imagine.
However, to maintain variety, I’ll assume a lonely marooning. While waiting for Gauguin’s temptresses to turn up clad only in the outrigger they’re sailing, I’d want to use my penis pump, I think. It’s a very generic beast, Lovehoney again. And I love it for solo play, especially if teamed up with some porn and the little bullet. But just that would be lovely I think. It’s difficult to describe what it does for me. The closest approach I think, is the way that Confess_Hannah describes the feeling of being filled, completely from both sides. It’s like that, but a mirror-image. It’s not just sucking. Its filling up, as if the edge of me and the beginning of heat and pulse and sex are completely blurred..
- What’s your current sexuality? At what age did you realise this was the right ‘fit’ for you?
God. So Cishet it hurts. Well, I guess I’m a bit kinkier these days, but straight up straight, frankly. I’ve always been fascinated by girls, and women. I remember being about five or six, and sitting in the back – the boot – of an estate car and thinking about the ways in which girls might be different. Specifically about what Chrissy Knock might have between her legs instead of a winky, and being abruptly startled by what happened to my winky when I did. School passed in a fug of the backs of girls’ knees and PE skirts and inexpert snogging in uncomfortable places. What education there was was principally gleaned from old creased copies of softporn mags found in bus-shelters and Shirley Conran’s Lace. The beauty with which she described bosoms and cocks and fucking in baths was in stark contrast to the male gaze of Men Only and helped me to be more inquisitive about female pleasure and desire.
I was pretty lucky in the women who showed me the way and once I got started had a pretty rich and varied sex-life. I don’t suppose though that I’d even considered the possibility of cheating that wasn’t cheating until I met Gisela, who had an earthy set of rules about what she considered fidelity to be. I don’t remember fantasies of swapping or sharing or cuckoldry – or whatever you call what it is that I like – with partners other than Mrs Q, but Gisela certainly made me realise that there were other ways. I’m not even counting the generic threesomes, invariably FFM, that populated the well-worn pages of 80s skin magazines.
I expect it was the internet that brought those ideas to me, which was about a year or two after we got married. There was a website called The Wetlands. Don’t know if it’s still around. Strapline “Where wives get naked”. In reality it was where wives got a thoroughly good seeing to from their husbands, each other, each other’s husbands and assorted bit players. If it hadn’t have been dial-up I might have been lost for ever. There is still a little clip going around, originally called “Scout in the Green Sweater”, where Scout is enthusiastically fucked over a kitchen table while wearing a big green turtle neck. All you see is her face while she comes and the sounds are wet and delightful. It was heady stuff.
About the same time, I left Mrs Q at a party and she came home very late full of contrition and desperately told me she was really sorry because she’d snogged the host when he walked her home. We reprised the Scout clip, immediately. So that all became part of our ouevre, although purely as fantasy, occasionally enriched by Mrs Q having the odd bog-snog at parties. We discovered toys properly around ten years ago too and everything got a lot richer.
But I didn’t start thinking of myself as kinky until this year, really. And even that is pretty vanilla. Man wants wife to fuck other men, so far so mundane. I don’t think I need to join in, but I probably would. I like her telling me what she’s done, and I would love to watch. We’re constantly growing in all this, I think, and I’ve recently discovered that I want to be both spanker and spankee, so there’s a space to watch, if you like! Oddly enough, the opportunity for me to have a lover was given, and taken, but it didn’t work out. I just felt guilty. Mrs Q found it upsetting – and was upset that she did so, because it seemed hardly fair. So I couldn’t get into it, and I found that I felt guilty about not committing to the other woman. Complicated.
So there you are: Sexuality = Complicated Vanilla. Something like good organic vanilla ice-cream, with a smidgeon of chilli and chocolate. And good hard cheese.
- Naked or dressed up for sex?
We usually end up completely naked if playing at home, although the undressing element is important, and a good impromptu session somewhere al fresco or out of the ordinary is generally clothed apart from the strategic removal (or tearing, oooooff) of items. I don’t think I have a preference as such, but the morning nakedness of Mrs Q takes some beating.
- Is there a kink or fantasy you’re yearning to try?
We’re pretty on target for now, I think. We’ve just started fooling around with spanking and that’s oh-so-mmmmmmm – from both sides. We both like to spank and be spanked. We’re looking at getting a Doxy, and I’ve recently been getting some expert advice about glass dildos. I think I could easily get a little carried away by dildos. They’re sculpture, but filthy. I adore them. We could explore role-play a little further in the coming years I think, and possibly spouse-swapping, but I’m pretty damned sure it will always turn back to dildos!
- Fictional being or species you’d like an encounter with?
Mermaids definitely. I’ve a thing for water-sprites in general. But there’s also a woman in an Ian M Banks novel, Consider Phlebas, who was completely covered in a very fine short fur, like hairy suede. I’d like to see that.
- Anal Sex – Yay or Nay?
Pretty seasonal really. We go through passages of it, and sometimes it’s volcanically amazing, and sometimes its just, well, awkward. One session is up there in the Wank Bank Hall of Fame though. Both a little drunk, and Mrs Q was using the PFS (see above) and I was sliding along in the crease of her bottom, and I asked if I might, and she said yes and Lord! that was good. I could feel the PFS through her, buzzing against my cock. I was elated with filthy transgression for days.
Personally, I love a bit of anal play. Always have liked to tickle my bottom and I have tried slipping a bullet vibe up there and it was pretty damned incredible, especially pulling it out (it was on a cable, separate power pack – another Lovehoney job) at exactly the right moment. The O lasted for about a week, felt like, and I developed cramp in my right buttock during it. It was spectacular. But, I tickle my bum a lot, and I didn’t like how doing that changed it’s shape, it was – upsetting. Like when you’re favourite pants don’t fit anymore. So I stopped.
Together, we’ve explored this a bit too. Mrs Q may pop up a finger up there soon. I’ll report back.
- Funny / Humorous sex anecdote to share?
Sure. On two occasions, I’ve sent partners off to A&E due to clumsiness during the, um, closing stages. A partner was on top and being especially filthy and I came so hard I sat up rather fast and headbutted her, not quite breaking her nose. The funny element was the ER nurse going, “a door, huh? You sure?” and giving me the evil eye.
Secondly, a different partner was giving me head and I came in her eye. That stuff is fast, and caustic. She had to wear an eyepatch. I still don’t know if eyepatches are sexy in their own right, or if I was just weirdly proud. I suppose neither of those things are really funny, though. The funniest sex-related thing EVER, though, was a party in Amsterdam where, at about 10pm long after everyone had forgotten about the kids, the seven year old boy and five year old daughter came bursting into the company shouting “Mummy! Mummy! Can we play with these rockets?” while brandishing a first edition Rampant Rabbit and something that looked like a sort of bulbous Thunderbirds ship!
- Sexting – Love it or Hate it?
A definite love! Boundaries and so on can be easily misconstrued, but when it’s on.. oh yeah! I love it. I also really enjoy sending a well-weighted filth-bomb into somebody’s vanilla day, trying to turn them on at work is a big thing. And vice-versa. I once got a text of torn tights which had me blushing and rock hard in the middle of a very important meeting Another time, Mrs Q was turning me on so much I made up some story about parental duty to sneak off from work. Which was bad enough but the HR manager gave me a lift home. So I could fuck my wife!
- Favourite sexy mainstream film scene
Secretary. That scene where he’s spanking her over the desk and can’t help himself and comes on her bum. The expression on her face. I mean, the whole thing is absolutely lovely filth throughout, but as moments go. That’s brilliant.
- Do you watch porn?
Yes. For years, in the same way that one might eat peanut butter straight from the jar. Of recent years I’ve become more discerning, but I still eat peanut butter.
- Favourite Adult Film
I’m a fan of Frolic.me, and there are a couple – Hot Wife and Feet – which do good things to me. But for full spectrum ohmygoodness, it’s gotta be Erika Lust. There’s one – Horned Beasts – which is quite magically, balletically filthy, and I’m still not sure exactly what’s going on. Mainly because I tend to, um, miss the end. Ahem.
- Adult blog You’d Recommend
So many, but for me, in among a pretty decent constellation of great, filthy writing there’s a standout author, who’s work simply astonishes me. Me, I just hurl words at the page and some of them stick and it’s OK. This woman, she uses words as if she’s building a rose out of the blades of scalpels. Each one carefully chosen, weighed, bent on a sand block with a tiny hammer. Only those found not wanting make it into her product, which is quite ringingly beautiful. You read her work, and you are changed. Seriously. She keeps her light under a bushel at theprose.com/19syllablestheprose.com/19syllables.
Prose is not an easy platform to navigate, but if you want to read stuff that sounds like it was written by the cut-glass love-child of Hemingway and Dorothy Parker, you need look no further.