Duct Tape and Daddy Issues
Sex positivity from a positively sexy beast
The Nightclub Quickie - Filthy Friday
Combat, Wombat, Ass - Guest Post Wednesday
Here at Duct Tape and Daddy Issues we are inclusive of all sexualities, and love to educate people on the different types. This week's post is a lesson in never expecting the expected and just how fulfilling that can be.
Born in a parallel universe where Sonic the Hedgehog is not even in the top ten Fastest Things Alive this week's contributor lives in a tree with a fox who is cunningly disguised as an owl. Together they write adventures of Moo the Space Cow and eat mashed potato with strawberries. Enjoy.
This story begins on a July evening at London Paddington station. Comic Con had finished, getting a hotel for an extra night would've been a nightmare and it was either that or travelling to West Wales in one sitting. Fuck. That.
Cancelled.
Luckily, I'd done some planning ahead of time and the next step was waiting for the 20:02 service to Weston-Super-Mare.
"Just caught the train. I'm on my way."
"Awesome! Oh, it's up to you where you want to sleep. I'm fine sharing my bed which is a double, or there is a couch in our living room you can knock out on"
The first couple of hours flew but then I got to Bristol Temple Meads. My iPod died and the next 30 minutes or so were hell. Now hear me out, I love Lizzo as much as the next person but having her songs screamed at me a few times in a row in a crowded carriage, not so much.
If I'd heard "Okay (Okay), alright" or "In a minute, I'ma need a sentimental man or woman to pump me up" one more about damn time, I would've lost it.
“I’ll meet you at 10:25.”
Delayed.
“Hello.”
10 minutes later, we arrived back at the house and that little voice started losing its shit. Oh my god! This is it! It's actually happening! We took some drinks upstairs, tucked it and settled down with a film.
We watched Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman. Unfortunately, no, we didn't watch the movie WITH Hugh Jackman but how awesome would that have been if we had?! A quick side note here, as a couple of Lord of the Rings fans, Faramir as a monk didn't go unnoticed either. He might have been a friar but I digress. For some reason he decided to play this man of faith in a way I can only describe as human C-3PO. To this day, 'Why?' remains a total mystery. We made the only logical assumption any Tolkien nerds would and figured it was proof that Faramir had NOT taken 'Least favourite son' well.
1 A.M. and the film finished. How I knew the night would end and this being my first time didn't scare me anymore.
"Just so you know, if you wake me up before 9, I'm going to kill you."
Fair.
"Good night. Love you loads."
"Sleep well. Love you too."
AND YOU THOUGHT?! You really thought we were no better than Netflix and Chill? Oh for shame, dear reader. For shame.
We'd gone to bed together and watched a good movie so I was bound to casually put my arm around my friend, we'd make out or start fucking each other silly. Or both. Right?
Wrong!
How dare you? First of all, we watched cult classics at best because in this house, we have standards. Not to mention when we slept together, there was a major emphasis on the word 'slept'.
This is how the morning after the night before went.
We woke up, checked our phones and mere seconds later, the penny dropped. "Absolutely not. It's way too early. That's disgusting." So what was the plan? Closing our eyelids until such an immoral time of day got bored and left. Worked like a charm.
A couple of hours later, or just one less ungodly, we talked about everything and nothing. We watched TikToks and hailed whoever coined "Wombat Combat Ass" as a hero of our times. Whatever it ended up being, we NEVER had these chats on an empty stomach. Hot chocolate. Squash. Nutella on toast. Perfection right there.
After brunch, our next piece of cinema was I, Frankenstein and by some miracle, the bastards got us invested. Whoever made this beautiful mess wanted Cate Blanchett, who said "Not a chance." Thankfully, someone up there did casting in the laziest way imaginable by sticking with the LOTR trilogy, thus Queen Eowyn was born. Also, fun fact: did you know that when gargoyles die, they make Chewbacca noises? Me neither.
These points were peanuts compared to Aaron Eckhart. Is that the guy from The Dark Knight? Yes. Did he get the role based solely on Harvey Dent? Without a shadow of a doubt. Were they so shameless about it that he got a dumbed down "hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now" speech? You bet!
And yet, somehow the movie went one better. Hand on heart, it tried to make Frankenstein's monster sexy. That’s right, the masses looked upon a shirtless man made out of other people's dead bodies and knowing this, collectively thought "Honestly, I would", exactly as Mary Shelley intended. After all, it’s just like he said:
"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become Frankenstein's thirst trap."
I'll leave you with this. A simple but beautiful truth. Before I got to Weston, the idea that friends were allowed to sleep together in the same bed without anything happening was but a myth I'd heard once upon a time. Since the day I heard the legend, I knew I had to try it. Let it forever be known that it's so much more.
When I dozed off, I dreamed sweet dreams knowing our vanilla overlords would be furious if they could see us at that moment. Why would they be so angry? There's going to be no gossip. Then again, seeing how they've gone on record saying our way of doing things is reserved for "real" relationships time and time again, those boring fuckers can die mad about it.
It had always been my dream to bring about the collapse of society when a cosy disaster struck by watching a so-bad-it's-good movie. Causing the downfall of civilization by putting on a film that leaves anyone with more questions than when the thing started and sleeping like a log alongside a dear friend. Now picture it WITHOUT hooking up first. Yeah. Right?!
That’s us. That’s how powerful we are.
Double Ended Vibrating Strap On (Solo Use) - Review Tuesday
Am I Polyam Or Just Over It? - Discussion Monday
Good morning sexy people! Another monday has landed and with it some thoughts that have been mulling around in my head for a while.
I want to make very clear that this post is my own thoughts only. I believe that Polyamory is a valid sexuality, identity, way of life. I do not write this to decry any of it at all. In fact, I would love it if some Polyam people would put me right on anything I get wrong and engage in discussion with me on this subject, as it is one I find fascinating and also one I accept I need to learn about.
I recently came out as Polyamorous. Only to my nearest and dearest, (certainly not my in laws who are only just getting their heads round pronouns) and everyone has been "Yeah, cool." about it. I had been thinking about it as an identity for a long time as I have always been aware that I have the capability to carry on more than one relationship at a time without having to choose.
Is that it though? I can happily date two or more people and not have that emotionally drain me? It seems a bit simple really. Maybe it is. Maybe that is all that polyamory is. When I was little I had two boyfriends and a girlfriend and the adults thought that was cute (I still remember Roger, Gary and Mandy fondly). When I was an adult I had Dave, Simon and Claire and suddenly I was a slag. And to be fair, I was cheating on Dave, Simon and Claire were well aware of the whole situation. But other people who knew, did not have a good opinion of me. Not that I was overly bothered but how does that work?
These days I am married to Sexy Husband (SH) and apart from the threesomes, foursomes and moresomes, I have permission to go on dates with women and he has permission to go on dates with men. We both see our marriage as having absolute priority with each other and if one or the other decided that we no longer wanted to carry on this lifestyle then we could pull the plug. The other would end whatever assignations they had going and we would be enough for each other. Our dating partners are a separate thing from our marriage and though we can talk about them, and we support each other if we get stood up or break up, a throuple is a thing that is not going to happen.
Now, I don't know an awful lot about Polyamory apart from what I have learned on TikTok, but it diagnosed my ADHD so I kind of trust it where it comes to learning about differing sexualities.
And apparently we're doing it all wrong.
We're not supposed to have a hierarchy of relationships by all accounts, as it is toxic. As is only being able to date our own gender. As is giving and withdrawing of permission.
The thing is though, we are honest with everyone. Or should I say I am. SH doesn't date anyone else and though I remind him that he can, he is happy with me and the extracurricular sex we have together.
I am honest with every woman and enby I talk to. They know where I am at right at the start and if they don't want to get involved then I wish them a full and happy life and we go our own ways. I don't see what is so toxic about that.
I understand the potential for it to be if people are manipulative or dishonest, but we have talked about it at length and it is what we both are happy with.
I have had three of what were called "open" relationships before.
One was fine (so he said) as long as it wasn't a man and it was just for sex, and he could watch. In reality, when I did go away overnight he was a fucking nightmare when I got home. That was toxic as hell.
One said we needed to be totally honest with each other. When I was, he cried and he cheated on me in secret with someone at his birthday party that he said he didn't want me to go to. That whole situation was fucked up and toxic.
One had been seeing men behind my back for the entire 7 years we were together. For the last six months I said I would deal with it if I could go and sleep with women. The first time I did, I also tried being a sub for the first time and loved it. He saw the bruises and asked me where I had got them. When I told him I had a dom girlfriend, he filed for divorce. Hella toxic.
So excuse me if I wonder to myself what is so wrong about an arrangement in my marriage that we are both more than happy with? Maybe I shouldn't call myself Polyam, maybe what I am is just utterly over being told what I should and shouldn't do with my body.
My body, my choice isn't just for abortions.
Seminary - Filthy Friday
I had a dream this morning which really set my clit twitching. It was about a man, which is really very odd; I usually dream about women. The other thing that was quite odd was that the man in this dream is someone I don't fancy in real life at all.
I am not sure that I fancied him in the dream either to be honest, it was more that I wanted what I could not have. I wanted to corrupt him. I wanted him to want me.
And I wanted it badly. So badly that my clit just woke up at the thought of writing this down.
So in the dream, there were a lot of us on holiday together in my home town, which is a holiday resort. Sun, sea, scarily painful pebbles and arcades. The whole group were having a great time on the beach and this man caught me looking at him appraisingly. And why wouldn't I? He's conventionally hot. Great bod, cracking arse, cheeky smile, big hands. I was having a good long appreciative look and he caught me. He looked quizzically at me, and I gave him my most mischievous look back. He knows that look. He knows it well. He has seen me snag prey with it before. Cornered, rabbits in sexy headlights, they have no chance against me. He looks uncertain now as he towels himself off, confused. Why would I be using that look on my closest friend? Especially when we have both been very clear that we love each other in a platonic way only and would never, never cross that line. Especially when he is a 30 year old virgin about to enter the seminary.
Yes. My best friend is going to be a priest. I have no interest in religion but he is my best friend and I love him dearly so I support him in it. Besides, he is going to SLAY in the outfit. All black with that chest and arse? Fucking hell, I can hear the tears of his future parishioners from here as they cry with frustration at the Vatican edict on celibacy. This trip is a goodbye to him as we know him.
Over dinner (fish and chips, obviously) he whispers in my ear.
"What was that all about earlier?"
I look up at him using my eyes over my glasses only.
"I don't know what you're on about." I say and quickly bite the side of my bottom lip before eating a piece of fish by opening my mouth wide and using my tongue to pull it off the fork. His eyes narrow.
"Stop it." he says, quietly.
"Oh behave yourself," I say, "I just don't want to ruin my lipstick."
He knows all my tricks, but denying using them is leaving him slightly off balance. I leave it there and talk to his brother on my right, but I can feel his brain whirring and it has made me quite wet.
After a few pints I plead a headache and tell everyone I am heading back to the hotel. He offers to walk me. I accept, but only on the proviso that he return to the party afterwards.
When we arrived, the hug goodnight was longer than usual, I let my lips linger nearer his neck than usual, breathing softly. Fuck, he smelled so good that I nearly put my tongue to the skin there to taste him, but instead I stepped away and opened the door. As I stepped through I heard his voice.
"Magda."
Without turning, I answered.
"Goodnight. Father." and closed the door behind me.
The next day was our last one there and after a night of fucking myself silly with a dildo I was ready to apologise to him and to stop playing games, but he was already in the sea when I got to the beach, torso shining as the sea water dripped off him and hair being shaken (almost in slow motion) and pushed out of his face with strong arms that only accentuated his pecs. All apologetic thoughts withered and died.
He spotted me looking at him and smiled. He knew me well enough to know that I would have fucked myself silly with a dildo and got over both myself and any sexy thoughts about him. He would assume that all danger had now passed. And on any other day he would be right. Not today. Today I was glad I was wearing sunglasses so he couldn't see how my eyes were bulging. How had I missed this beautiful man under my nose? And now he was going off to be a fucking priest. I admit that thoughts of flesh in the confessional filled my mind. I would have to do such an awful lot of penance. Mostly on my knees.
"Come swim with me Mag, it is the last day!"
And I did, we swam out to a jetty and I put my arms out to let my legs dangle in the water. Like I was on a cross. The irony was not lost on me. He was treading water in front of me, chatting about what a great idea it had been to have this little holiday before he went, how he was going to miss me but there was nothing that said that he couldn't have friends, that he wasn't sure what all that Thornbirds v Fleabag thing had been yesterday haha that he was more Father Dougal if anything haha and the whole time I said nothing. I just looked at him. The way his mouth turned up at one side, the green of his eyes, those hands.
I continued to say nothing. I licked my lips.
And then he was swimming towards me.
"Magda. Fucksake Magda."
Still I couldn't speak. I just met his eyes with mine, shining with lust, my lips engorged and slightly parted. I must have looked like the Magdalene I was named for.
"Magda. Jesus Christ Mag."
His breathing looked heavy now and I wondered for a moment if he had swum too much and was about to tell him to get on the jetty. I bit my lip instead and found his mouth on mine. Perfectly still, like he could still take it back. He tasted of salt as I ran my tongue over his lips and then his mouth was moving on mine, we were kissing, bodies underwater moving away from each other with the current. He circled my waist with one arm to bring me closer to him and did not break the kiss for a second as he moved my bikini bottoms to one side.
I parted my legs so I could feel his cock hard against me, pushing against me, searching for me, still through his swimming shorts and though I wanted to reach down and stroke it, I was for once going to be passive. My cunt was not just wet from the sea, but this had to be his decision. His move. I was his temptation.
He broke the kiss and for a moment I thought that was it. He had faced temptation and risen above it. I didn't mind. I would have the memory of his kisses and his strong arms to guide me through while I fucked myself silly with a dildo. In twenty years, I would visit him in his parish and we would laugh about the time we nearly did it with the familiarity of lifelong friends.
Then he looked at me. And I looked at him. And we were lost.
"Magda." he groaned as he got his cock out and slid it into me. One fluid motion was all it took and we were kissing again as we rocked underwater, using the jetty for support. We both came, though it didn't take long and afterwards we climbed onto the jetty and lay there, running our fingers over each other's bodies, not talking for quite some time. I swam back first while he watched to make sure I was safe. Then we spent the afternoon with our friends.
After dinner he walked me back to my hotel room and this time there was not hesitation. We were fucking before we got to the bed. I couldn't get enough of that hard cock of his and he couldn't get enough of me. It was like he had never been hard before. I had him in my mouth, cumming in me while he held my head still by the hair. He pinned me down and fucked me hard, that lovely big cock that no one else had ever had thrumming as it pounded me and he bit me on my neck, my shoulders, my tits. All the while saying my name, committing the moment to memory.
"Magda, shit yes, ride me Magda, let me see you."
We did it gently, him sliding into me from the side while stroking my hair, we did it with me making him beg as I hovered above him, tip of his cock only just inside me.
As he slid into my arse, holding on to my cheeks I pushed back harder than I ever had. I wanted him inside me all the way, if he could have climbed in I would have let him.
We slept for a while, afterwards and I woke him by taking his cock into my mouth and sucking it into hardness. There was not a single thing I was not going to do with him because much as he might think it, I was not going to ask him to give up the seminary for me. I even fucked him silly with a dildo.
In the morning, I saw him to the door so I could pack. He kissed me deeply enough that I nearly dragged him back in, but I broke the kiss and smiled at him.
"Magda?"
"Goodbye Father."
And the door was closed.
The Life and Sexy Times of a Trade Union Rep - Part Four - Guest Post Wednesday
Learning How My Disabled Body Loves - Discussion Monday
I love my body, I really do. I spent more years than I actually want to admit to abusing it, ignoring it and taking it for granted.
My body used to run. Not far, not fast, but it did it and I felt good about it. My body used to kickbox. It would spin and kick and punch and spend all day in the gym toning and conditioning itself.
My body used to walk ten kilometres because it was a nice day and who wants to spend that on a bus?
My body danced all night, and walked home afterwards.
My body once walked from Birmingham to Stratford Upon Avon because I spent my train fare on beer.
My body used to fuck all night. It could get into any position you asked of it and would grin at you. It could wrestle with you, that glorious wrestling that led to primal, growling, biting fucking.
My body used to.
Now, it keeps me alive and that is about all it does. No, that is unfair to it. My body cannot run, but it can tell me when I need to rest some more. My body cannot walk far, but it can get me to the bathroom. My body cannot dance all night now but it can still feel music.
My body cannot fuck all night, and when it fucks at all, it is going to feel it the next day. So does that mean that I no longer have sex? No, no it does not. It means that sex is different now that I am disabled and as such I am learning how my body loves again.
And it is so much fun. For example. Before, I could jump on a cock and ride it for ages. It was one of my favourite things to do. Now, I can still get up there (just) but I have to take my time. I can't just push him onto his back and roll on, now I tell him, "get on your back" and I kiss all over his face, neck and torso while I position myself. Now, instead of sliding right down, while I adjust my hips to make them as comfortable as they can be, I hover, I take just the tip of him inside me. I order him to keep still and take my time sliding up and down. I might put some lube on before I do it telling him I'm getting ready for his cock. That anticipation and slower pace is proving to be quite the thing.
We can still do missionary, but for not as long as we once did. I use a series of movements with my hands to show him what I want. If I put them on his shoulders or biceps, it means ease off a bit, if I grab his (very lovely) arse, it means go for it. When my hips or legs have had enough of this, I whisper "cum for me" in his ear.
Doggy style is still doable, especially on the stairs as I can control what angle I am at and how I am most comfortable. If we get it right, my body and I, we can shout things like HARDER! FUCK ME! and of course, for us, it is close to the bathroom so if I have enough spoons to shower straight away I can sit on my stool and let him piss on me then cum on me, the shower taking care of the clean up and fresh bedding is put on the bed while I am in there as I am going to need to sleep.
I can still do group stuff, but I have to rest and save energy ahead of time and rest and replenish energy afterwards. Group stuff is easy as I am passed around like currency, but I get to stay pretty much in one position.
Just stay away from my nipples unless I tell you to play with them. My new nervous system does not like them even being perceived 99% of the time.
I did, when I first lost mobility and embraced the chronic pain and fatigue that my impairments bring, mourn my new lack of spontaneity, but actually, I now masturbate in front of SH on the days that touch that isn't mine is too much, give him more blow jobs than ever before and watch him masturbate as I read to him from this blog. He especially likes the corset one.
So my sex life isn't bad, it is just different, and just as importantly, SH understands that and loves the changes that have had to happen. If you are with someone who says that they wish things could go back to the way they were rather than helping you relearn what your body likes and incorporating that into your sex life, bin them. I'm serious. They do not deserve you and you deserve better.
New post up!
The Nightclub Quickie - Filthy Friday
I'm 23 years old and in a nightclub with my lover. He is older than me and married but I don't care, he looks after me. He takes me...

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I have such a crush on a woman I know. I massive, throbby, pulsating crush. She's exactly my type you see, short, rounded, voluptuous, s...
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I wake up in SH's arms in a hotel bed that is rumpled, still wearing the stockings and suspenders I had on last night. I must have passe...
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Sometimes, with my fibromyalgia, even if I have got the pain more or less managed, I cannot move. I find a position that is kind of comforta...