“Don’t get cum on my shirt,” I said.  “I just put it on.  Is your dick dribbling?”

He was naked after we had sex, and I suspected his dick was leaking a few last drops of semen.

I remember when I was a teenager, coming home from being out, checking for cum on my clothing.  Ah, Nest.  Slut then and slut now.

Days later we had sex in a room with more light that our bedroom.  I asked him to take a picture.  I like this one with cum on my shirt.


I started this blog to share the essay sexually responsible about sexual ethics and healing through bdsm.  That essay means so much to me.  Needing to talk about sex is a bad habit / good habit, and this is my third sex blog.  Learning about myself through my writing is a joy.  Yes, feels good to do these things.

I asked an acquaintance maybe a year ago if I could interview them for my blog, or if they would make a guest post.  They said this blog is about me.  I think they felt weird like they would be butting in.  Like my blog is the Nest show.

I was sad and hoped they would write a post one day, to increase the diversity, but they never did.  I could try asking more people.  But I guess my acquaintance was right.  They could see it before I could–it is about me.

great spouse

But it’s become about my spouse and how great he is also.  Sometimes I’m jealous he gets a lot of credit, but he should.  He’s amazing.

When people say I’m lucky, sometimes I want to yell at them: This luck has required a lot of hard work.  They don’t know what we’ve been through–they think we stumbled into this.  They have a pouty “no fair” attitude, that I get the gold when they can’t keep a man.  Or maybe their wonderful partner died, and they’re left alone with a dog and no prospects.

Yes, it’s mostly older women who say I’m lucky and ask “can you clone him?”  But we’re not naive children.  We’ve endured a lot to get this amazing functional relationship that many people only dream of.  With sex and everything.


Honestly, a big part of our success is that he’s not a man.  These straight women are screwed.  If they think a man is what they want, maybe they should try experimenting with their gender requirements.

I asked my friend about the husband of a mutual friend.  “What’s their deal?” I asked.

“Not sure,” she said, shrugging.  “I think he’s just a provider.”

I was like–wow.  Yes, it makes sense.  Many of my women friends who have kids are with men I think are horrible, which I’ve never understood.  But the men have good sperm in their balls apparently, go to work, and make money.

Is the bar really so low?  Sperm donor who makes more than $27k a year is the relationship goal?

I never wanted kids, so I’ve never been in that situation.  Wow, I guess it’s real.  They’d prefer a kind man who can love, give, and show up emotionally 100%.  But they can’t find that along with a job and sperm motility, so they adjust their requirements.


I’m happy my spouse is a functional person who’s learned emotional intelligence, will have a difficult conversation any day, and has studied enough anatomy to find the clit.  He plays my body like a musical instrument until I’m making sounds I’ve never heard before.

A man has never done that for me.  My non-binary spouse is the best.  He can get cum on my shirt.  My gratitude overflows like his semen.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *