Where my curiosity takes me.

One of the great joys of being live is learning new things. As a writer, historian, and former librarian, my curiosity has the freedom to Go and Find Out (much like Rikki Tikki Tavi).

Also like Rikki, my curiosity goes everywhere, including some very strange and uncomfortable places. I have always found something worth learning whenever I have done this, though, even if that thing is simply, "Yeah, let's not do things quite *that* way, shall we?"

As a result of all this curiosity, I have a vast and eccentric body of knowledge that I've always felt vaguely weird about. Some of the things I've looked up and asked people about aren't, well, *respectable*.

But part of the joy of learning things is sharing things. As a result, I'm gonna share some weird tid-bits of my weird brain. The first installment is....

What is the difference between a sex sling and a sex swing??

(Yes, I have looked this up.)

Swing!

 

A sex SWING is made of a series of stretchy straps, designed mainly for heterosexual couples. The
straps support the back, the bottom, and the legs. They are often attached by a single point to door frames or other stable places, and are a fixture at heterosexual sex clubs. (Yes, I have looked this up) While often a boon for sexual activity, it tends to not be supportive enough for all body types and shapes.

A sex SLING is like a mini-hammock. Often associated with gay male sexual activity, it is either a sheet of stiff, strong leather or a netting made of leather (or easy to clean webbing). Since it is more substantial, it allows for greater support of all body types. It is usually attached to a rack or hard points by chains at each of the four corners of the leather sheet.

This is a sling sold by Jim Support.

Writing Prompt #2: Tiny Stories

Again, the challenge was to write, just write. Not think, not edit, not change anything.

As a result, I present:

Quest Accepted

It is the twenty-first century. The days of seven league boots, of secret wizards doling out quests from hidden booths in the market, of dreams that come true are long, long gone. 

Modern people could only shuffle through racks and shelves of vintage stores to get a glimpse of the most mundane of treasures. 

The well-worn denim jacket fit perfectly. Rare for a thrift store find, but what drew her to it was the trio of badges that promised things she only dared dream.

One was a smiley face with a negative sign to indicate a wink and a positive sign for a nose. One was a topless woman, reminiscent of a Nagel painting, with the words Soft Metals across the center, and the last, the most intriguing button said, “Talk Kinky to Me!” 

She clutched the lapels in her hands and posed in front of the mirror. The reflection showed a bad-ass, someone daring, someone who flirted and knew her own desires. Someone who took risks.

About as far as she could get from her normal introverted self. 

The jacket was five dollars.She chewed on her lower lip. Five dollars for a broken-in jean jacket was not a risk. She could take off the buttons if she wanted to.

Blushing, she bought the jacket and hurried out the store. Quest accepted.