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Sex & Gender
Gossip & ‘Gasms: How I Gave Myself the Ultimate Birthday Experience
Welcome to Gossip & ‘Gasms, the sex column where we talk about it all—the good, the bad, and the mind-blowingly orgasmic. I’m Ashley Cobb, your resident sexpert, storyteller, and homegirl who will overshare so you don’t have to. Think of this as your group chat’s spicy cousin—the one who keeps it real, spills the juiciest stories (including my own ), and always drops some game along the way.
We’re diving into sex, love, and pleasure from a Black woman’s perspective—unfiltered, unapologetic, and full of ‘aha!’ (and ohhh yes!) moments. Expect a mix of personal confessions, dating chaos, and pleasure-centered wisdom—all served with a side of real talk and receipts. Whether you’re here for the tea, the tips, or just to reassure yourself that you’re not the only one with a wild story, Gossip & ‘Gasms is your go-to spot. So get comfy—because things are about to get real juicy.
Have you ever found yourself deep in a late-night Twitter scroll, only to stumble upon something that completely changes the game?
The year was 2020. The world was shutting down, and we were in the midst of a global pandemic—a total shit show. But it also happened to be the year of my 35th birthday, and despite the looming chaos, I was determined to celebrate. The only question was: how?
One night, while mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, I found him—The Black Mr. Grey, a quite handsome, older Black man, casually advertising his work as a Dom. Now, for those unfamiliar, a Dom (short for Dominant) is someone who consensually takes on a position of power and control in a dynamic with a submissive. And while women can be Dominants too (they’re called Dommes), there was something about his energy that had me completely captivated.
In his video, he was flogging—using a multi-tailed whip to deliver a mix of pleasure and pain—blindfolding, and expertly tying up his submissives. And let me tell you, watching it turned me TF on.
Was it the control? The confidence? The sheer skill? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that after months of lockdown and uncertainty, I was craving someone who knew exactly what they wanted—and how to take it.
And just like that, my birthday plans took a very unexpected turn.
Before diving headfirst into something completely new, I decided to do a little research. I reached out to a fellow sex educator friend, who just so happened to know The Black Mr. Grey himself. She raved about his skills and professionalism, which was all the reassurance I needed. They say good recommendations are everything—especially when it comes to sex, so I was Sold! I slid into his DMs. And to my surprise, he already knew who I was. That eased my nerves—just a tad. Because this was my first time paying for a sexual experience. Wait… does that make me a trick? Then again, as the saying goes, it ain’t trickin’ if you got it. Sooooo
During our initial conversation, I explained to him what I wanted and he broke down how it all worked—his process, his boundaries, and of course, the cost. And let me just say, quality sex work ain’t cheap. For a 90-minute session, I shelled out $350. And honestly? It. Was. Worth. Every. Penny. That year, my birthday fell midweek on a Wednesday. Our rendezvous was set at a gorgeous hotel in Charlotte. He had a room on a different floor, and at the agreed time, I’d make my way to him for the experience.
When I arrived, we didn’t just jump right in. Instead, we sat and talked for a good thirty minutes—enough time for my nerves to settle and for me to get a better feel for him. He gave me a tour of his hotel suite, walking me through every piece of equipment he planned to use, complete with a step-by-step demonstration. If there was anything I wasn’t comfortable with, I let him know—no pressure, no judgment.
We also went over the safe word (think Kevin Hart and “Pineapples”), as well as any non-negotiables I had. Everything was clear. Everything was consensual. And everything was about to get very interesting.
I was allowed to wear as much—or as little—as I felt comfortable with. I settled on a lacy, sexy one-piece that made me feel equal parts seductive and vulnerable. He, on the other hand, kept it simple: a satin robe and boxers. Before we got started, he laid down the ground rules. I had to call him Sir and respond with Yes, Sir or No, Sir throughout our exchange. Sounds easy enough, right? Except, submission isn’t exactly my strong suit. And calling another man Sir—one who wasn’t Larry, aka my dad—felt super unnatural.
But I did it. And let’s just say… it did something to me. Lol.
We started the session with impact play—basically, any kink that involves striking the body with hands or objects to create different sensations. Think spanking, paddling, flogging—the kind of thing that, in the right hands, can be equal parts pleasure and punishment.
He used both a flogger and paddles, experimenting with different levels of intensity. But truth be told? Impact play wasn’t really been my thing. It reminded me way too much of the spankings my mom used to dish out, and that’s not the kind of power dynamic I’m into. So after about fifteen minutes, we moved on to something else—something I did enjoy.
Choking. While blindfolded.
He slipped the blindfold over my eyes, plunging me into darkness, and then teased my skin with different sensory tools—feathers, silk, who knows what else—before adding just the right amount of pressure around my throat.
And let me tell you… AMAZING.
We ended the session with light electro play—a kink that uses controlled electrical stimulation to create tingling, pulsating, or even slightly shocking sensations on the skin. Now, I know what you’re thinking: WTF?! But trust me, it’s not as scary as it sounds. In the right hands, electro play is fun, surprisingly sensual, and way safer than you might expect.
He had an electro probe kit—full of little doohickeys (yes, that’s the technical term lol)—and he knew exactly how to use them. With complete control over the intensity, he ran the probe up and down my body, sending the perfect amount of electricity through me.
And baby… my soul left my body.
At this point, all I needed was the grand finale—the Big O. And like a true professional, he obliged. LOL. He had a vibrator handy, and let’s just say… that thing had me seeing heaven. No exaggeration. This was hands down the best birthday sexual experience I’ve ever had—fun, exciting, unconventional, and absolutely worth every second.
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
But beyond the pleasure, this experience gave me a whole new level of appreciation for sex workers. I have zero shame in paying for an experience—especially when I know exactly what I want. Honestly, it’s so much easier to hire someone who already gets it than to waste time convincing someone to be open.
And trust me, I’ll take convenience and satisfaction any day.
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