I’ve been sex blogging for four years.
I can’t believe it’s been four years. I started my sex blog at nineteen – it feels like my adult life started when I started writing about sex. My life has changed so much since I started pouring my heart out onto the internet alongside filthy stories that make my dick twitch and photos of my arse. I’ve met incredible people, made friends who I consider my found family, and had some brilliant adventures. I’ve stepped into my gender, written for publications I wouldn’t have dreamed of pitching four years ago, and had some seriously good sex.
I’m so proud of everything I’ve done. I started my blog on a whim: setting it up was a coping mechanism to get through a night where part of my mind was screaming at me to kill myself. I stayed up for most of the night; choosing and buying a domain name, figuring out how to set up and self-host a blog. And then I wrote. It’s hard to look back on those early blog posts: my words feel so clumsy, my ideas half-formed. I’ve changed so much that it’s painful to see the person I used to be. I’m proud of how far I’ve come – not only as a writer but as a person.
I’m still suicidal. My mental illness has grown, and it’s hard to remember that I’ve become stronger as well. I’m struggling right now – I’ve been struggling for a while. I didn’t write a post for my three year blog anniversary because I couldn’t force myself to push through the waves of overwhelming depression. I barely blogged in the second half of 2020. I’ve barely blogged this year at all, and I’m fighting a wave of guilt and negative self-talk telling me that the lack of weekly posts means hitting four years doesn’t really count. It does count though, because I am still here. I’m still writing.
To celebrate my four years of sex blogging, I went on a hike with the aim of getting naked and taking some photos of myself. I love being naked outside. The thrill of stripping off and balancing my phone on moss-covered stones to snap photos isn’t overtly sexual, it’s just fun. I was going to share one of those photos today – I shared it on Twitter on my blogiversary itself. But then I ended up spending a lazy morning in bed on Thursday. I wasn’t touching myself, I was just feeling present in my own body. I felt so good, so comfortable in my own body, that I ended up grabbing my phone to take some photos.
This photo is similar to the ones I shared back in 2017 and 2018 before I was outed. There’s still some on my blog now – quick and dirty nudes that aren’t especially good quality. But while I’m still taking photos on my phone, I could never have taken this photo four years ago. I’m far more confident in my body now, far more confident in myself. I’ve been struggling with gender dysphoria and feeling unattractive recently, but looking at this photo all I can see my own strength. There is power in owning who you are, and that’s what I feel with my hand on my dick. (Also hands holding dicks are hot, right?)
I’ve grown so much in the four years I’ve been sex blogging – this photo shows that, in small ways. It makes me smile to imagine how much more I’m going to grow as I keep writing.
If you’ve liked any of my work over the last four (!!!) years, it would mean a lot if you want to help me celebrate by buying me a hot chocolate. I’m really grateful for everyone who has supported me over the last four years and encouraged me to keep writing. Thank you for believing in me and my little blog!
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.