Welcome to On Queer Street, the sex blog of journalist, sex writer, and Renowned Transsexual Quinn Rhodes. Here you’ll find nudes, porn writing, and essays about sex, love, and relationships.
Nowadays, Quinn’s most regular writing happens on his newsletter – you can subscribe to Genderbent to get essays about gender, transmasculinity, and mental illness delivered directly to your inbox.
For Quinn’s journalism, please check out his portfolio. You can find (and buy!) his physical porn zines at Gender Neutral Urinal Press.
A recently kinky adventure confirmed something that previous hotel stays had only confirmed: hotel sex is fucking brilliant. But while there are many delightfully filthy highlights from my first adventures in hotel sex, what I really remember are all the sounds.
Twitter informs me that it’s National Coming Out Day… so obviously I’m spent twenty minutes this morning taking all of my sex-positive artwork down. I also hid my bisexual pride flag and my Eroticon mugs. Why? Because I still censor myself for my parents’ approval, even though I hate myself for doing so.
I had such carefully planned filth to share with y’all today… and then got fixated on one particular image and found that my cunt was quite insistent that I shouldn’t write about anything else. Today, I’ve been thinking about how hot it would be to hold someone’s head in place so someone else can fuck their face. Like seriously, mmfff…
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It’s October’s prompt week, which means I spent a lot of this afternoon having fun walking around my flat naked so I could take photos in doorways. It also means it’s October, but I’d prefer not to dwell on that. Though it was Halloween-y inspiration that led me to being sexy while wearing kitten ears, and thus sharing my cute kitten butt with y’all.
Right now, I have an itchy vagina. As I type this, my fingers smell of my cunt – and specifically of the crusty gook that was coating them after I’d reached down into my knickers to rub my vulva. I think there’s a correlation between how heavy my period is and how itchy my vagina is as it comes to a close, and while I can’t prove that, I can write (terrible, but it is 1am after all) poetry about my itchy vagina.