Me, years ago

When I was 19, I was a stripper.

My job was to get really close to men and arouse them. Their job was not to touch my breasts or genital area.

I did my job well, but they often tried sneaking a feel of the forbidden areas.

Sometimes they touched and I was badly surprised, and other times I could see them creeping toward the breasts, and I would tense up and cringe and try and deflect their fingers.

For nine months, I had hundreds of men grab my breasts and tweak/pinch my nipples without my consent.

When I finally quit there, my breasts were so traumatized that they couldn’t be touched for three years. If they were, it felt like an electrical shock.

Breastfeeding

Over time, I got a little better, but my breasts were still very sensitive and had to be handled with utmost care.

Then, when I was 27, I gave birth and breastfed for a year. I was SOO dreading breastfeeding, but was determined to do it for a year. My breasts swelled from A’s to D’s – they were swollen and engorged, with blue veins like highways.

The first six weeks were hell – it hurt so bad. My nipples were raw, red, chafed. Then I started getting used to all the latching, and tugging and pressure, but then I got a series of breast infections – mastitis, thrush, then mastitis again. Red, plugged ducts, feverish, itching, sharp, needle-like pain…

My breasts got brutalized!

(more…)

One of my favorite days of the year is our Sex Positive St Louis annual naked pool party. We’ve been having these for over ten years. It’s the crown jewel of the sunny season, the best way to enjoy a hot summer day.

It’s a private, screened event – we need to know the people attending, meaning they need to be established SEX+STL members, and by that I mean you need to be a part of the community, not just attend one or two events. This ensures a safer environment for those who attend. My C0-Leader David Wraith states the safety rules well: “No sexual activity. No touching without consent! No body-shaming! No slut-shaming! No sexism! No racism! No homophobia! No transphobia! No ableism! No hateration! No holleration!”

We actually refer to it as a “clothing optional” pool party, because we want guests to attend on their own terms. My sister attended our most recent one, and she told me, “I was invited to some other naked pool party, and their rule was: Nudity Required. That bugged me, like my body was meant to be on display for others, so I didn’t go. But when the rules are ‘clothing optional,’ it’s nicer, there’s less pressure, I have agency, which makes me feel fine about getting naked!”

Every year, I invite new people to attend. They act extremely intrigued, but most of them back out at the last minute, telling me they can’t do it. I’d love to know their reasons – are they self-conscious? Are they worried they’ll see someone they know? It’s too bad, because out of all the people who manage to overcome their fears and attend, not ONE person regretted it. EVERY person found it to be an overwhelmingly positive experience – for some, even life transforming.

It usually ends up being about 120 people, from all different backgrounds. (It can be a challenge for folks who have disabilities, because the pool is a 1/2 mile hike, a secret haven deep in the woods.)

Imagine 120 people of different genders, orientations, ages, body types, and ethnicities frolicking in this giant, spring-fed basin:

Welcome to Eden

(more…)

Remember that Pussy Project Matthew announced that was connected to this post he wrote? Unfortunately, he got sidetracked and it never came to light, despite an enthusiastic response from readers around the world.

Great news: I’m pleased to announce that I have found a similar project that has made it to beautiful fruition in the form of this book, I’ll Show You Mine, by Wrenna Robertson, a multiple degreed exotic dancer. “I’ll Show You Mine” is a photo study of female genitalia containing 120 life-size photographs of 60 women, all photographed from the same two positions. Each photo set is accompanied by the woman’s story, which reads more like a pussy poem, taking the reader on a brief, intensely emotional journey leading up to the glorious photograph.

In the book’s introduction, Wrenna states:

For much of human history, western society has perceived women’s genitals as shameful, unattractive and generally unpleasant. Women have been taught the the feminine ideal involves being as inoffensive as possible; polite and pretty, neat and tidy, chaste. While men are believed to have an innate sexual drive that cannot always be controlled, uncontained or inappropriately expressed sexuality in women is condemned.

Many of the women in this book report that they used to be ashamed of their genitals but have since overcome that early negative conditioning by society. One woman said her mother told her if she ran water over her vulva in the bathtub, she would get warts. Another woman’s boyfriend teased her for being too lippy.

Then again, other women have been blessed with very positive experiences that helped shape their body image acceptance, in the form of past appreciative lovers and spiritual healing centers.

One woman in the book, Emily, has only had her pussy for a year and a half – she had it created out of her original male genitals. If you’re ever wondered what reconstructed genitals look like, I think you’ll be impressed.

Some of the women use the term yoni for their pussy. Some folks find this too hippie dippy, but I like it. It describes the whole package, the entire sacred feminine vessel.

I pored over this book with my partner. I joked with him, “Do you wish this book was scratch-and-sniff?” He laughed, “Kindof.”

He dearly loves pussy. He embraces the fact that he came out of one and has spent his entire life revisiting the sacred place.

We played a game where we tried to find the pussy who most resembled mine, which has shaved puffy outside lips and just a little bit of inner lip sticking out like a impudent tongue, and trimmed bush on top. Hmm, maybe Alicia, the woman whose mother called vaginas “flowerpots.”

One woman featured expressed her extreme regret for overshaving for the photoshoot. She thought about backing out of the project, but decided to turn her rash razor stunt into a teaching moment for others, writing, “we are all beautiful just as we are. Don’t let anyone or anything change how you look naturally.”

As I read the book, I yearned to be a part of it. Good news – the book is a stepping stone in a fluid river of stories that can be added to the website.

I like how Tanya harkened our connection to nature with this sweet sentiment:

I think there are as many variations of a female flower in this world as there are actual flowers. There are roses, lilies, orchids, irises, gardenias, plumerias, carnations, daffodils, peonies, tulips…just to name a few. Every flower is exquisite and unique. If a flower’s petals are longer than another flower’s petals, does that make it ugly? No!

This book will last longer and be of more value to your loved one than any bouquet. If you have a pussy, yoni, flower – whatever you call it – do something nice for it to today. Show it some love. Give it some pleasure. Feed it something delicious. Make it feel ALIVE.

——

I donated this book to Shameless Grounds Sexuality Library, so please visit them and take a look for yourself!

I caught this exchange on a sex blog the other day:

“Is fisting painful?”

The sex blogger replied:

Two insidious suppositions haunt any discussion of fisting. First, that it will stretch out the vagina to cavern-like dimensions; and second, that it will hurt. Neither is true…

Remove the fist and the vagina does not hang open like the lips of a mouth-breather. It snaps back. Really. Maybe I should post some before and after photos some day?

In the comments, I volunteered to do an explicit photo series, because that’s what occurs to me when I catch wind of something sexually daring, unlike most people who read about it, nod with curiosity, and then go on about their business.

I enlisted my dear friend Rockabilly Girl to do the fisting, and Matthew to take pics.

Get this: I was featured in Hustler magazine earlier this year, and they asked if they could run this photo series. At first I was shocked at the idea, but then I decided it would be pretty fucking cool to rock the fisting in a national hardcore porn mag!

So they made everyone sign releases and submit photo ID’s, including Rockabilly Girl, whose fist is the only thing you see in the pics (until it goes in my vagina).

Then, after weeks of legal paperwork and emails back and forth, Hustler decided against running the pics after all. Too edgy.

But not for me! I think it’s natural, lovely, and intensely beautiful.

So here you go.

(more…)

My man likes the sexy dresses, fishnet stockings and all that, but what he loves most is the casual, natural look.

Jeans and a tank top, no bra:

Hanging out at home wearing jeans & tank top

Stripped down just a little bit more:

Live

These boy shorts say: life . energy . intelligence

What attire do you find sexiest?

Kendra Holliday, 2021

First of all, if it weren’t for the pandemic, this would’ve been a public event! I asked my friend Andy if he’d do a demo in the future, and he said YES!

So stay tuned for that, and in the meantime, read and see LOTS OF PICS showing how one goes about capturing a gorgeous 3D likeness of their genitals!

It all started with me posting on twitter:

Can anyone recommend a good vulva casting kit? Any tips? I don’t want it looking super raggedy and rotty. I can’t believe I’m almost 50 years old and have never had my vulva immortalized in this way, when it has brought me such pleasure and $power$. I’ve been looking up options and think it’s so funny some are called “Adult Vagina Molds” – I definitely DO NOT want a replica of “the muscular tube leading from the external genitals to the cervix of the uterus in women and most female mammals.”

My friend Andy from Shameless Grounds sent me a message:

If you’d like tips/instruction/help with doing a vulva casting, I have a fair bit of practice with casting, and I have the equipment to do a pretty high quality amateur casting (vacuum chamber to remove bubbles from the casting agent, mold release, etc.). I haven’t done a vulva casting before, but I have a pretty good idea of how to go about it to get a nice casting done..

If it comes out nicely, I will bask in the glow of having immortalized a powerful bit of feminine energy.

Isn’t that sweet?! You’ll be interested to know that Andy is quite the crafty, kinky handyman. He builds floggers, human cages, crosses – he even helps friends safely hang their sex swings!

He explained the process to me:

If you’re comfortable, Covid-wise, being in the same room with me for about an hour wearing masks, and being within 6 feet for about 15 minutes, we can do it.

For a single plaster cast, we’ll use dental grade alginate (made of brown algae – anyone who has played with nuru gel knows how great and safe algae products can be!).

You’ll want a relatively smooth and hairless vulva on the casting day. Pubic hair up higher is fine, as long as it’s not in the “casting zone”. Hair doesn’t “cast”; it gets embedded into the casting medium, and would likely get pulled out when the cast is removed. It also messes up the casting impression.

Shave your vulva 2-3 days ahead to give your skin a chance to recover from any shaving irritation before we slather goop on it.

Rub some coconut oil or similar vulva-safe oil on just prior to casting. It will protect your skin and make the casting come off super easy.

And just so you know what to expect for the actual casting, we’ll have you lift your hips and lower back up on a pillow. You’ll be stuck like that for about 10-15 minutes for an alginate casting.

We’ll mix the alginate with some warm water. I just “glop” that mixture on to your vulva, making sure we don’t have any bubbles in it, and making sure we cover everything about 1/2″ thick in the glop. While it’s still gloppy, I’ll pat some loose cotton fiber on top of it, and then put a layer of plaster bandages over the top of that. The cotton fiber binds the delicate alginate to the sturdy plaster – making the whole thing hold together better than just alginate alone. Then everything sets up for about 5 or 6 minutes, and it’s ready to remove. It takes about 15 minutes from mixing to cleanup.

I’ll take the fresh mold home with me, and make a casting from it. The casting can be either plaster or resin, and it needs to dry overnight. The next day we see how it came out, and do any little touchups that might be needed. And that’s it. You’re casting should be complete and ready to give to you a few days from when we met.

I’ll bring everything needed. I just need access to warm tap water, and a comfy place where you can lie back and elevate your hips for a few minutes. We’ll put a plastic trash bag under you to catch any drips or spills, but other than that, it’s not too messy.

Once the alginate gets mixed, it sets up fast, and I need to get it on you within 3 or 4 minutes. Once I start, my hands will be full of glop.

First, he practiced on a plaster vulva that was already on display in the shop (there are several you can see, made by a local artist). Wouldn’t it make a marvelous night light?

Sample vulva made of resin

Then he practiced on a real woman – his wife. Just think – when I first posted about this, Andy had never done a vulva cast – now look at him – he’s on a roll!

The morning of our vulva casting, I took a walk, and noticed how ALIVE my pussy felt – I was all tingling and turned on! Clearly, I was eager to indulge my exhibitionist side with a trusted friend.

(more…)

Note: This article was originally published here.

What’s in your pants? Can’t wait to find out!

I don’t know about you, but I love surprises.

You never can tell what a man’s penis is going to be like just by looking at him. I’ve hooked up with a 6’4” guy with huge hands and feet, only to discover he has an average size penis. I’ve been shocked to find out the 5’7” Asian man with delicate features is a show-er, not a grow-er.

The other day I met with a new client, an attractive, fit 34-year-old. Usually, I get a clue what’s on a client’s mind prior to meeting him, but in this case I had no idea what his issue was. This appealed to me. I was going to get a surprise.

The Long and the Short of It

We met at a coffee shop, and took a walk in the park. Settling down on a bench, he took a deep breath and nervously admitted that he felt his penis was too small. When I asked him why, he cited two main reasons:

1. A girlfriend in high school drunkenly mocked him, telling him he had a little dick.
2. His current girlfriend cheated on him with another man.

When he asked her if the other man had a bigger penis, she’d told him yes. As horrifying as this was for him to hear, he confessed that ever since then, he has enjoyed fucking her with a large dildo and imagining he is watching a well-endowed man pleasure her as he feels he cannot.

He told me he avoids being around other men in the locker room obsessively, and that he was finding himself getting more and more into a fetish called SPH, or small penis humiliation.

(more…)

Me in 3rd grade

This is a picture of me from the 3rd grade. Looking at it, it’s hard to believe I was molested – I mean, wouldn’t those ginormous nerd goggles be repellent enough, not to mention the shitty haircut and goofy fashion?

Then again, my opportunistic molester was pretty homely too, and wasn’t very picky. I daresay he had bad taste in children.

But this ugly child grew up to be a gorgeous goddess. Here are some steps I took in my maturity makeover:

Braces – My parents could only afford braces for one of their five kids, so they chose my sister. That means I made it to adulthood with one of my front teeth jutting out. In grade school, kids would come up to me all the time and inform me, “You have a crooked tooth.” LIKE I DIDN’T KNOW. I was self-conscious about smiling, so I scowled a lot.

Finally, when I was married and DINK (double income, no kids), I took the plunge and got Invisalign braces. I’M SO GLAD I DID IT. It was worth every penny (how many pennies are in $4000? oh never mind). Now I wear a retainer at night whenever I feel like it, which is about half the time. I’ve only broken it once. Flossing is so much easier.

Heart zapped – In 2000 I birthed my daughter vaginally – hooray! I didn’t want an epidural or a c-section, but I sure did freak out and request the epidural as soon as my labor pains kicked in for real.

My doctor took it upon herself to give me an episiotomy (a surgical cut in the muscular area between the vagina and the anus), which took a long time to heal. But further north, the pregnancy took other tolls on my body – my heart.

It had trouble keeping up with the extra blood flow and work involved with carrying another person around inside me for months, so it started to misfire. I developed SVT – Supraventricular tachycardia. My heart would sometimes race 300 beats a minute, which was inconvenient and scary. The solution was a procedure where they snake a laser up through your groin to your heart and zap the naughty part and kill it. So my heart has a scar.

The procedure cured my condition, but that zap also signaled the end of my marriage. I woke up from the procedure and everything changed in my life. My heart was fixed and broken, all at once.

(more…)