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.
I started writing this post late at night, with my ear phones in and music blaring in an attempt to not overhear the sounds of two people fucking. I wrote it while blinking back tears, refusing to cry as I struggled with lustful jealousy and a desire to be spanked by a specific sadist. I wrote it to process the emotions I was feeling, so this is probably a clusterfuck of a post – sorry folks.
I’m unashamedly stealing the idea for today’s smut from Girl on the Net, but I think she’ll be ok with that, because I’m pretty she’ll be enthusiastic about the creation of more filthy stories about Xbox blow jobs. I should start with a disclaimer that I have never played a game on an Xbox, and this entire story of strap-on suck jobs and femdom fucking might be entirely unrealistic. I like to think it’ll still be hot, though.
I like adventures without knickers. Last weekend I took a flight to see my play partners, and – because it was a beautifully warm day, and because I am somewhat a kinky slut who likes a little hedonism – I didn’t wear knickers.
It’s June, so it’s time for a Share Our Shit Saturday post. As May is Masturbation Month, it maybe shouldn’t be a surprise that I’ve finished the month with more links to posts that stood out to me than usual. Although, not many of the posts in my round-up of May’s sex positive shit are actually about masturbation…
I wanted to write something vulnerable today, and channel my mess of emotions into creating a piece of impactful writing. I have no idea if I’ve done this, but this post discusses self-love and self-hate, with mentions of suicidal ideation because a lot of my worst depression comes from a place of being disgusted with who I am. It’s also sort of a love letter, to someone I hope one day meets the person I’m working to become.