Dear Reader,
I’m a sex writer that doesn’t write about my personal sex life. There are many reasons for this. Mainly the whole internalized shame around sex and pleasure that I experience (and probably a lot of you), especially as a person with a big gurl corporate job. But let’s roll the dice, shall we. I have to get over that I might offend someone—I think it’s time I get to talk about the hot sex I have without fear or shame. Plus, my main goal in life is to be a hot plus-size gurl that has great sex because plus-size gurls deserve great sex. Also, I spell gurl with a ‘u’ in non-profesh settings is 100% in dedication and remembrance of GURL.com—my first online Bible for what was going on with my body.
So this newsletter is about the sex I like to have / am having. Turn away now if you’re stressed or pressed. Or don’t read or unsubscribe. Or stay and read and send me sweet messages about how hot you think this is. Or just hang for the next few minutes and read a bit from a gurl who sees the interconnectivity between pleasure and loving our bodies. I think we can all appreciate how difficult it is to be vulnerable, and how that vulnerability could be healing to the person/others.
xoxo,
Laura
PS. Happy 420 you sexy little stoned hotties. For you, a hot photo of me in the same position as my tattoo Jean. The product: Awaken Arousal Oil with CBD
Food, Sex, TV, Beauty, Books
best-in-show
🍝 Start your perfect day at Lafayette Grand Café & Bakery — order the lemon ricotta pancakes.
🍑 Grab yourself a box of latex or nitrile gloves. No pores, no hang nails, no clean up. Plus, everything is slippery.
📺 Ted Lasso. I just want to see men cry. But also, Roy Kent is wildly hot.
💄 It’s warm out so I’m transitioning into my summer color: Beam Cloud Paint by Glossier.
📖 How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are. I’ve read this so many times but I really love how it’s organized.
Le Sex / Il Sesso
Missionary. Hear me out. Take a hitachi magic wand and place it between you and your sex partner/lover/boyfriend/girlfriend/sex god person, but make sure it rests on your genitalia comfortably so they can press their body weight into you—thus controlling the pressure and holding the vibrator in place. And if you can swing you hang your head off the side of the bed, do it. You’ll cry into your hairline during climax.
Place your arms underneath your partner’s head when you’re on top/the top. It says, “I want you to cum and I want your sweet little head to be protected from the wall.”
Punch and slap chests. Yes. Yep. Bonus points if you’re wearing leather or latex gloves. It change the sensation. But of course, communicate and get consent.
Earlier in the year, I had a wild mishap where a metal plug accidentally lodged itself inside (yep) despite all the best efforts to keep the base secure. It was retrieved, thank goodness. Ever since then, I’ve been a little wary of using any plugs. But! If you use a more squat dildo like the Elvira, the base is so much more secure and easier to grip in case of a slip-too-far-in anal moment.
Looking to get slapped? Ask your partner (get their consent first) to tap your face at a close range. Have them get the feel of it first—don’t just go in for a whack out of no where! You need to understand the range, the sensation, where their cheek is in relation to their ear. Taps build up that muscle memory, making it easier to find a safe distance during play.
Not sex but wow, grab my belly. I give consent to the person I give consent to.
This silicone bit bar is great if you’re like me and you have a small mouth . . . to tell your little bottom to sit while you put a bar gag in their’s.
The last real sexy text I wrote was, “I’m just looking for hotties who want to fist me.” Then I caught feelings for someone who did it well.
Hmmmmmm love when subs cry.
Venus and the Lute Player via Titian (1565–70)
It’s currently not on display at The Met, but when it is this is the painting I sit in front of trying to figure out Venus’ secret to living so unabashedly herself as cupid crowns her and the shephard plays music. I wonder what she is thinking. My thoughts on Venus’s inner monologue—played to the tune of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 13 "Pathétique": II. Adagio cantabile:
I wish I had more of those grapes from earlier. They must have been chilled because the crunch into those frozen bites were perfect on a warm day like today. He looked so cute when he held them in his hands and felt the frost spread across his finger tips. The way he just sat there with his knees pressed together after I pegged him. My sweet good boy. I wonder when he’ll be done with his French lessons. I could go another round.
Side note: Venus would probably wear a Spareparts Joque Harness in size B.
The Sun & The Sea
I submitted this piece to an erotic online mag. The below is about half of it. Enjoy.
There was nothing particularly erotic about the view from the hotel pool high above in Anacapri that late AM. No overtly phallic symbols in the garden or bulging lemon tits in the distance or bare-chested servers asking if I’d like another refill of my morning-ish white wine—just the sea and the ferries and the shore line from my aerial view. But an Italian summer is intrinsically lusty, and I fell hard into its submerging grip.
The opera music in my headphones grounded me, kept me satiated in the romantic fantasy of simply being a soft, sun drenched cherub lounging mere steps from a pool behind me. My body faced towards the panoramic view—wrapped by a pale sapphire umbrella that engulfed my presence. In fact, unless I were to reveal myself no one would be the wiser to my freckled and shimmery existence. The pool was empty, the staff was quietly attending to other matters, and I was alone with Luciano Pavarotti's voice reverberating through my fleshy frame. The cerulean sky melted into the aegean sea, and for a moment I was both here and dreaming.
Maybe it was me. Maybe it was how my lingering neck naturally pressed itself out to meet the busty cloud compositions, maybe it was the way the thin straps of my bikini gave themselves to the weight of my toppling breasts, or even the string on the sides of my swim bottoms getting lost between my lower belly and upper thigh; making my legs press narrowly into one another to hedge the impetuous thudding below my waist.
This is simply a Skims appreciation post for making me look hot this summer.
To do:
Have sex at beach
Have sex in bathing suit
Have sex in pool.
Objects I Find Erotic
Spherical ice cubes
Long red nails
Ties
Thin Bracelets
Knives
Museums
Fresh paperback books
Lighters
Sundresses
Typewriters
Mesh
Gold chains
Finally Thoughts
Not that this happens often, but I do get the “you’re an influencer” comment every once in awhile. And not that it’s a bad thing, but mainly I don’t have the energy to place into influencer life. But ya know — if that’s what I am, let’s be influential:
Fuck to this.
Dress in this.
Watch this.
Hey Laura is a newsletter dedicated to sex, bodies, travel and being Italian.
My Book: My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex
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