Skin Color, Sex, Spicing It up


Have you ever seen “Cupid Angling” ? No? Me neither. Why do I mention it then ? Because it is widely accepted as the first movie in color. And to me, as much as adding colors revolutionized TV, adding colors should revolutioize our sex lives. Yes. Clearly, we are not there yet. Interracial sex may be much more common in porn movies than it is in real life. And I find it’s a shame. There is nothing more beautiful than mixed couples, nothing more beautiful than mixed babies.

The funny thing is, before dating my ex-boyfriend (who was as white as could be), I only had had sex with a man who wasn’t white once. That changed radically after we broke up. Not that the sex with my ex-boyfriend was terrible. It wasn’t exactly amazing either, but definitely not bad enough to be a reason for me having a complete change of taste in men.

I guess that, after a year spent travelling, I simply was up for trying new flavors. The first try converted. As a matter of fact, that man would deserve an entire post to himself. With him I discovered a whole new world of sexual chemistry. The variety of performance quality I experienced after him did not stop me from trying different flavours.

I love a dark skin against mine. It is not only colorful, but very photogenic, if you know what I mean. Last time I had sex with a white guy was about a year ago. And he was a jerk (that one too would deserve a post to himself). I can’t help thinking that I will not have sex with a white guy in a long time, if ever again.

This is my call to trying new flavors. Spicing up your sex routine. Not with a new move, not at a new place, but with a different color of skin. Believe me, it is worth getting out of your comfort zone.

Photo via


Ménage à 4

I should warn you straight away: there’s less to that story than what the title suggests.

I was recently on vacation in the US, crashing at a friend’s place. A cute guy with whom I had had terrible sex a few months before. But I’m the relentless type, and who shouldn’t be given a 2nd chance anyway?

The first 24 hours we spent together were absolutely awkward. The guy was in a terrible post break-up depression. But he had promised to go out with me and somehow, after one and a half day under the same roof, dragged himself to dine with me. He chose a nice Japanese restaurant and we feasted on Suhis, Sashimis, and of course Sake.
After dinner we joined some of his friends in a bar. Two guys who were already hitting on a lovely Swedish girl, but who seemed happy that my friend was bringing an extra blonde. Very quickly after “Where are you from?” and “How long are you here for?” came the inevitable (while nodding to my friend) “Are you guys together?”
No. I wasn’t in a relationship with my host, which left me free to drink as much as I wanted without looking at consequences. The lovely Swedish girl left early and made it clear to the guy taking her home that he could be no more than a “big brother”.
So here I am, the only girl left in a group of three guys hungry for sex. I kissed one when the other two went for a drink, another one when the remaining two went for a smoke. I mixed alcohol, pot, cigarettes and making out happily…
We got out of the bar when it was closing and went to my host’s apartment. Some more alcohol, some more smoking. For some reason none of the guys wanted the others to see them with me. So I had them all, but the one I wanted most was my host. When we finally got rid of his friends we made out on the couch. I remember running my fingers over his muscular abs and arms with sheer pleasure. Taking it to the bedroom while taking every remaining cloth off… Alcohol has blurred a bit the whole impression, but I still remember that it lasted what seemed to be an eternity and the pleasure wouldn’t go away.

I had high hopes that the night would have at least left a smile on my host’s face. But even though he agreed at some point that it had been one of the most amazing sexual experiences he ever had had, he returned to his blank non-expressive face. And the rest of the week was awkward again.

Dear reader, please tell me: am I abnormal thinking casual sex should work magic as a therapy?!!

The Very Inspiring Blogger Award

Dear readers,

This a very special honour that I am most happy to share with you. Thanks to the amazing Prinze Charming, I received the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. Considering the amount of posts I have published lately, I am not sure it is deserved, but I will still take it.

 Perspiring Inspiration; The Very Inspiring Blogger Award
The Very Inspiring Blogger Award

Here are the rules of the award:
1.) Display the award logo on your blog.
2.) Link back to the person who nominated you.
3.) State 7 things about yourself.
4.) Nominate 15 bloggers for this award.
5.) Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so that they get notified by ping back.

So, 7 random things about myself:

  1. I do have sex WITHOUT feelings
  2. As a good (half) French, I get homesick if I can’t eat good cheese
  3. My level of arousal depends much on the guy’s (but I have to like him in the first place of course)
  4. I traveled around the world for one year
  5. I recently discovered that I am a very effective hunter
  6. I learned Russian a few years ago and wonder why now: I’m SO much more into dark-haired men
  7. I’m working on a professional project that’s eating a lot of my time, which is why I haven’t written for  a while…

And now, the 15 Very Inspiring Blogger Awards go to:

  1. I am amazed at Prinze Charming‘s level of commitment to the blogging sphere, but what I enjoy most is his poetic skills: http://poeticallycaptivating.wordpress
  2. Rare on the web sphere are such gems as sorryiamnotsorry: She’s had many awards before this one but it is absolutely impossible for me not to list her here.
  3. Soul-stirring, gutsy poetry by a politically engaged young man:
  4. Compiling dreams in a very poetic manner:
  5. Benefits is not always what you get from F-friends. And life is definitely not that simple, but it is worth sharing the pain:
  6. Writing beautifully about sex is an art, absolutely mastered by Sam:
  7. Writer in the making, looking forward to her next posts:
  8. A ethnological study of sex:
  9. Wish there was more in this man’s memoirs:
  10. Images, words and puns: temperature’s rising because of Ms Fever:
  11. There’s something surprisingly refreshing and honest about Kisskaleidos:
  12. Sex and Poetry. What could one ask for more?
  13. Every line on this blog brings a smile to my face:
  14. Sex and rock’n’roll. Ooooh Yeah.
  15. And last but not least, the crazy guys at Moolta, I ran into those guys in a completely different context, and that was way too funny to not list them here:

I Put a Spell on You

This is a bit late for Halloween tales. But better late than never…

There was no blues music and deep voice to that spell. Just a fierce will to compensate fall gloom with a rightful dose of sex.

So here I am on Halloween night, wearing the same hat as hundreds of other witches. Luckily a good spell is not entirely about the outfit (though fishnet tights and high shoes do help). The plan was to go to this big party, screen the audience, put a spell on an attractive man and take him man back to my bed.

With that in mind I stepped into the crowded room. It only took me about 20 minutes to spot this hot Mafioso (I have a thing for borsalini. Nothing along the lines of fetishism, but I do like men wearing those wild gangster hats.) We regularly exchanged looks and I was on the right track.

But we were three that evening and my two friends wanted to move it along. While we were getting closer to the action-packed dance floor I was sadly losing sight of my borsalino guy.

One last stare and I knew he was mine… But what was the point if I was to look for him among all sorts of scary creatures, all more noticeable than he was?

My friends and I drank, danced for a while, drank, and danced again. At some point I had to leave them for something all teenage girls do together. Good thing as adults we give up on the bathroom chit-chats. Of course the line was as long as a women’s bathroom line should be and I had to wait for an eternity.

On my way back I decided to look closer at the ghosts and zombies that crossed my path. It was not long until I saw the borsalino bearer again. We approached each other most simply and he told me straight up he had been looking for me. We went to the bar and had one or two drinks together (alcohol helps maintaining the spell effects).

We chatted for a while until I felt guilty about disappearing off my friends’ radar. We came back to my friends but the desire to try out my newly captured victim was too strong. And we did what adults should give up doing after their 17th birthday. We kissed and made out like teenagers. Surprisingly enough it did not take my friends a long time to “go have a walk”.

The rest is Halloween history. A lot of kissing, a lot of touching, a lot of warming up in the sheets. Long gone any sign of shyness. The Mafioso unleashed his wild side for the witch. The varying pace of penetration and beautifully-mastered motions made for an incredible “petite mort”.

And what could be a better way to end the All Hallows’Evening than a beautiful little death?

If you do have Halloween make-out stories, please share them with me before it’s Christmas.

Evil bless you all,


Spare Rubber

It seems there is a very common allergy among men.

Symptoms: red cheeks, sighs, abnormal tendency to make foreplay last.

Result: semi-hard erection at best, no erection at all at worst.

And all of that (supposedly at least) because of a tiny piece of rubber.

I am hereby calling to scientists and researchers worldwide:

Please, oh please, find a cure to that rampant sickness, which seems to be spreading at lightning speed!

Now I have a few questions to all men suffering from the aforementioned symptoms:

Let’s not even mention contraception, It’s a female issue, we all know that.


Do you really think you are the first man I’m having sex with on a first date?

Do you happen to believe A.I.D.S. means Awesome Infinite Delightful Sex?

Would you drive with a flat tire?

Would you cross a highway because there is a videogame shop across?

Would you bungee jump without cords?

NO. Of course not. Hence, my very own conclusion to this short but effective study:


And don’t bother me with any lame excuse. Believe it or not, I, too, have less pleasure with a condom. But I’m not willing to take any inconsiderate risk for a moment of pleasure, as intense as can be.

Thank you all for your attention.

PS: Any other variant on A.I.D.S.’s acronym welcome. I wasn’t very inspired with that one.

Promotion Canapé

That is a tough expression to translate to English. But you will get to translate it yourself when you finish reading that post.

I met this colleague based in Toronto about a year ago. She comes to Geneva for work on a regular basis. We met outside of work for the first time on a freezing winter night. We discussed work of course, but the conversation was friendly and rather natural. When we went out we both had a smoke. I remember I was surprised because I know how smoking is frowned upon in North America and I thought she must belong to the bon viveur category.

I was right. Whenever she would come to Geneva we would have a drink or dinner and laugh all evening. I was intrigued and somehow flattered that a woman educated in top universities took any interest in me. Also, I must admit, I was thinking that moving to Toronto for a better job could be an option. And that she could be of help with that.

We started seeing each other ever more frequently and our relationship was getting more and more personal. But even so, it never occurred to me that our relationship was actually ambiguous. Not until she took me by the arm after we had more drinks than usual. We saw each other again a couple of times after that, though, and nothing along the lines of an affection gesture ever happened again.

She paid for every meal we had outside and at some point I felt I owed her at least one dinner. Since I knew she would pay anyway if we were at a restaurant it had to be at my place. So she came to my tiny apartment. During that dinner she got things straight and said she was gay. I did not know how to react and figured she knew that I was straight anyway. The evening went on, talking about what I should do with my life. I walked her back home. She offered a last drink that I declined.

A month later I texted her for her birthday. We exchanged messages and she said she thought I should move to Toronto for work. I got pretty excited about that idea, but I wasn’t too sure about life in Toronto and told her. She then proposed that I visit her and specified she had a room for me there.

I knew this ambiguity had been lasting for too long and that I needed to clarify things at the risk of embarrassing the both of us. It was my turn to get things straight and say I was 100% straight. When I did, she backed off and said she wasn’t too sure about job opportunities in Toronto. She even insisted that I wasn’t advanced enough in my career to get a working visa easily.

It hurt badly. I felt down for a few weeks. I went from excitement at the sight of a new life to the daunting feeling I was stuck in Geneva forever. I did not hear from her again. I have to say it was painful that if not for sex, I was clearly of no interest to her.

Take note for later: watch Disclosure. Remember that “promotions canapé” (the French for “casting couch”, but suitable for any business context) are not only the doing of some powerful sexually-insatiable men, but are also used by charismatic women. And remember, too, that they are not sexual orientation-related!

The Tongue Master (vs The Women Eater)

I realize I haven’t posted about positive experiences so far. And I was just given an opportunity to, so it would be a shame not to share.

I was pretty much in need of sex when I hooked up with that guy. After running my hands over his muscular body, kissing him languorously, licking his neck and the rest of his body, I was all set for the final act. But when he threw me on the sofa and spread my legs, what happened next was not what I expected.

He started slowly licking my genitals. Following the philanthropist’s prowess, I was suspicious about any attempt of cunnilingus and it took me a moment to let go. But that one was amazing. There was no need for words. No talk, all action. Sweet and slow moves. A carefully-rehearsed choreography that left me panting. When he finally penetrated me I was very close to climax. Only the final act was too short for me to reach orgasm. He was aware of it and repeated the second act. One more time, until I reached Heaven. Or should I say Hell…

I wish you all a naughty day,