I've moved (er... I'm working on moving. It seems to be a lengthy process...) my blog over to WordPress.
YEA! Now everyone can comment! Hahaha.
I've redirected my domain to my WordPress site; but you can also find my new website here: http://teachershavesex.wordpress.com.
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Late last summer, I made an attempt to get an IUD placed as I’d recently stopped using condoms with The Texan; things didn’t work out so well. I wanted a copper one, but the office I went to didn’t have any, so I opted for the Mirena instead – but when my gynecologist tried to place the IUD, my cervix was so narrow that she couldn’t get the tube in. She said I had two choices: come back again when it was a better time in my cycle and my cervix was more open and malleable, or sit around and get my cervix dilated. I hightailed it out of there and said I’d come back later.
During that appointment, she said I should go off the pill; I never asked why. Instead, I kept taking them until The Texan left in December, after which I finally went off after twenty years of hormonal birth control… and I waited. I wanted to get my IUD in during a period when I knew I wouldn’t be having sex (the highest risk of infection comes in the three weeks after placement), so I waited until one partner was gone for the summer and another one was leaving Korea AND timed it so I was both off work that day and in a place in my cycle that would be conducive to a slightly more open cervix. Sheesh.
Women who have IUDs have lots of feelings about them; some love them and some hate them. I did as much research as I could; determined not to go back on hormonal birth control, I found a hospital that had a small copper one and set a date. It was my first time seeing a male gynecologist; I thought that would make me nervous, but it didn’t. What did make me nervous is when he showed me a uterine sound and told me he was going to insert it to check the depth of my uterus. And after that hurt like a son of a bitch, he then told me that he was going to need to dilate my cervix a little with bigger sounds to get the insertion tube in. Eek! I consider myself a strong person, but that didn’t stop me from crying a bit and saying “OwowowowOWOWOWowowow” over and over. It made me feel completely in awe of any woman who has actually pushed a human baby out through her cervix. He told me to relax. Ha! “I’m going to put this metal stick into you – so you know, just relax.” That being said – it worked this time! Hurrah!
|"It can't hurt that much, lady."|
Day one was pretty awful, not gonna lie – lots of bleeding and cramps. Days two and three involved lots of bleeding and almost no cramps; days four and five were reversed (the worst cramps I’ve ever had, but very little bleeding). So… we’ll see. Is it worth it as a backup method? I’m still using condoms with my partners as I have more than one, but I really don’t want babies. I like having a just-in-case birth control method. And who knows? In a year or two I may end up with a partner with whom I decide to bond fluids.
Oh, and that whole gynecologist wanting me to go off birth control pills thing? I asked this doctor about it and he said, “Yeah, you shouldn’t be taking the pill for more than two years at a time.” WHAT. Thanks for telling me that, no gynecologist I’ve ever had. He then said gravely, “You should probably get a mammogram – extended pill use is linked to breast cancer.” “But I’m only thirty-five,” I said. “Do it before you leave Korea,” he retorted. (Korea has amazing health care – the kind where you can just walk into any office any time without an appointment and it’s cheap AF. My copper IUD was only $100; in the US it could easily be $500.) So it looks like I’ll be getting a mammogram this year… at thirty-six.
On a complete tangent, I found this amazing website where someone documented his partner’s cervix through actual pictures the first month after she got her IUD in; it’s completely fascinating!!! It made me feel better knowing that other people have experienced the same things I’m experiencing (and likely will be for the next month or two… ugh). I’ll make a full report on my first post-IUD penetrative sex later and I promise it will be much hotter than talking about mammograms and sounding.
 A note on the articles I read while researching: IUD placement seems to be quite different in the US than here. I got no Misoprostol, no numbing agent, no prior STI tests or pregnancy test… pretty sure my gynecologist didn’t even wear gloves.
Saturday, August 6, 2016
I live in a loft apartment, making the shoot from below prompt a snap; I shot more saucy photos, but I like the suggestion behind this one.
I also have some glorious photos I wanted to share taken underneath love motel ceiling mirrors, but they feature partners whose privacy I respect. Perhaps that warrants a trip to a love motel solely for the purpose of taking pictures under a mirrored ceiling...
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
|Photo from www.wisconsinhistory.org|
For the third day in a row now, Mari could feel eyes caressing her back as she unlocked the door to her office at Ambrosia. She’d only started there a week before; she assumed it would be like her previous HR jobs, but it was so much better. She remembered being a child and smelling the chocolate factory from her school bus as it rumbled through freeway traffic every morning; now she inhaled deeply, turning the key in the lock, and paused for a minute to feel it course through her before briefly turning back to see if she would catch someone looking at her through the glass that separated office workers from the factory floor. All the machine operators and assemblers, however, had their eyes down or forward, making sure everything continued to move smoothly along conveyor belts and into boxes.
By lunchtime, she was starving. Walking past the other offices on her way to the parking lot, she looked over the factory floor to her right and noticed a woman she hadn’t seen before writing on a clipboard nailed to a post. The woman was tall and muscular – or at least she looked so in her white coat – and suddenly she looked Mari directly in the eye and smiled, tilting her head a bit. It was a genuine smile, full of curiosity; Mari could make out bundles of black hair under the woman’s hair net. She wondered briefly what it would be like to take the hair net off and run her fingers through the woman’s silky hair; the invasive thought caught her off guard, and she tripped over a snag in the hallway carpet. Collecting her purse and shaken, she looked again for the mysterious woman, who had turned around and started moving a machine behind her. Mari blushed and hurried on her way, holding her purse tight and her breath tighter, her heels soundless on the carpet.
She lay in bed later that night, thinking again of the amazon. Imagining her strong arms (god she looked so strong) picking her up so that Mari’s thighs gripped her obliques and placing her on the small desk in her office, deftly working one hand up Mari’s thigh and snaking her fingers under Mari’s panties and into her wet cunt, the other hand pulling one of Mari’s small breasts out of her camisole so she could slip the taut nipple into her mouth, her long black hair falling in waves over Mari’s face. Her hair that smelled like chocolate. Her breath that smelled like chocolate twirling up through Mari’s nostrils as she leaned in to kiss Mari with full lips, making her moan from her diaphragm. She rubbed her clit in circles, coming in undulations as she felt the woman’s tongue and fingers and body weight.
She came in early the next morning, wearing a red blouse and a bit of blush, which she never wore to work. Shortly after arriving, there was a knock on her door; “Come in,” she said, staring at the green and black computer screen in front of her. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” a husky voice said from the door frame. She didn’t need to look up to know. Her heart felt like the Kool-Aid man bursting through a wall; she swallowed and lifted her eyes. “I wanted to introduce myself,” said the woman, confident and direct. “I’m the forewoman on the floor; I thought it would help to know someone’s name in case you needed to talk to anyone here about paperwork or other unresolved issues.” She strode in, took the latex glove off her right hand, and extended it to Mari, sliding it perfectly into Mari’s small hand, her skin smooth. Her skin that smelled like chocolate. She held Mari’s hand in hers for longer than necessary, her eyes searching for Mari’s and her hand making promises. “I’m Tanya,” she said with her beautiful lips, Mari barely hearing the words, seeing in her mind her own hands on Tanya’s face and Tanya’s lips on the nape of her neck. She felt warm and full as she made it through the words “It’s nice to meet you, Tanya – I’m Mari.” Words like peanut butter in her mouth.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” said Tanya, again with her engaging smile. “You know where to find me, I believe.” She strode out, but not before turning to say, “And by the way – you look great today.” Cocoons opened throughout Mari’s body as she held her balance against the swivel chair behind her. Yes. This was so much better.
As an aside, the Ambrosia chocolate factory is a real place; Jeffrey Dahmer worked there while he was mid-killing spree. He lived eight blocks away from my elementary school while I was a student there – I remember his trial well because it was the biggest local news story for months.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
I never buy lingerie, but when I saw these stockings with a back seam AND attached lacy panties, I couldn't resist. One of my partners (I should give him a nickname...) was very pleased when I opened the door in them! This photo was taken immediately beforehand; the stockings didn't stay on for long, but the heels went back on...
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Seven years ago, I walked with some trepidation into a tiny shop on the third floor of a commercial building; it was up a narrow staircase, and I had to ring a buzzer at a heavy door with a tiny window to get in. I only knew this place was there because other foreigners told me so: “Look for the interlocked male and female symbols,” they said. Walking past masks, fake blood, face paint, props, and various other costume pieces, I saw what I came for: sex toys. Well, sort of. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and had Japanese writing on it; it all looked very old, as though it had been smuggled in via Soviet Russia. There weren’t very many products – a fake pussy here, a crop there, a couple of PVC dildos. Pornography is illegal in Korea; adult toy stores are highly frowned upon and hidden away, and I think they can only be open as novelty stores. Anything considered “obscene” by the Korean government can be confiscated by customs; the Korean version of Amazon does sell a limited number of items, but only on its Korean-language page. and shoppers must submit a phone number for age verification.
|A bit like these guys...|
But back to this store. The older man with greying hair behind the counter lowered his glasses and looked me up and down before asking, “Vibrator?” I nodded and walked toward the counter. From behind the glass, he brought out a huge rabbit and told me the price: 100,000 won. Nope, I said – too expensive. I was just looking for a cheap way to get off quickly. He then brought out, in sealed plastic wrapping in a tiny box one egg vibe, bright yellow and transparent. 20,000 won, he said. Sold. I know this is outrageously expensive for a cheap plastic egg vibrator – but seeing as how Korea is lacking in feminist sex-positive sex shops, I took what I could get, and I got down.
I had that vibrator my first two years in Korea; it never blew my mind, but it did the trick! It was a traumatic time in my life, and that little vibrator meant waves of relief when I desperately needed it. Every time I go home to the States now, I make several trips to my local superhero sex store and stock up, very, VERY thankful that I have all the vibrators at my disposal that I could possibly want (and that nothing has been confiscated by Korean customs). And dammit, I want them all.
I’m a fan of rumbly over buzzy; of patterns over continuous vibration; of silicone over… well, everything. I use vibrators mostly when I want to get off hard and fast; if I’m in for a long wank or am highly aroused and lubricated, I prefer my hands and a dildo. That being said – I bought my first vibrator on my eighteenth birthday (it was pink and had hearts all over it – triple ugh) and have never looked back.
I bought my mom a vibrator (maybe that’s what this post should have been about!) for her 55th birthday after she confided in me that my father wouldn’t touch her anymore… and she shed tears of joy when I said that every woman had the right to experience pleasure. She called to say thank you the following week, and we never talked about it again – but I know it made an impact on her to know that her daughter had her back. We should all have each other’s backs when it comes to the right to self-pleasure. Maybe when I move back to the States, I should make it a point to mail all my friends in Korea vibrators for their birthdays – I’ll just write “novelty item” on the customs slip.