Oct 202014
 

I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was upset – acid indigestion. I made the mistake of having two glasses of grapefruit juice right before bed. I should have known better.

Anyway, I browsed on Netflix for something, and stumbled on “Thanks for Sharing,” one of the recent spate of movies about “sex addiction.” It’s really not so much about sex addiction as it’s about three men and a woman who are in a sex addiction program (seems to be Sexaholics Anonymous or Sexual Recovery Anonymous, based on its definition of sobriety, which explicitly precludes masturbation or sex outside of a committed relationship).

The movie was a bit of a mixed bag for me. It’s an imperfect but mostly charming and gentle depiction of complicated people facing difficult challenges, done mostly well.

Continue reading »

Oct 192014
 

I don’t write about politics often, because I figure it’s not my politics that brings you here, and it’s not my politics that motivated me to write. But once in a while, there’s something that crosses from the land of politics over into the land of sex bloggery and polyamorous/swinging/slutty private behavior. Or that I feel strongly about, or just want to write about. This is some combination of those things.

James Comey, the director of the FBI, recently said some shit that I think merits comment here. In very brief, he believes that Americans shouldn’t be able to have phones that he can’t pry into, that there should be no right to have any zone of complete privacy. He is willing to stipulate that his/the FBI’s access to our phones should be subject to requirements of due process, but he finds the notion that there should be any zone in which information cannot be intercepted anathematic to his view of the needs of law enforcement. Continue reading »

Oct 162014
 

You know how I love me some orgasms. Here are two recent ones from Rose. One, from just before we last met. One from since then. And, fwiw, she pretty much agreed with my post about how our last encounter went. So here’s hoping our next encounter – after she moves, and returns on a visit – is a return to our previous form.

Orgasm 1, from before – quiet, delicate.

Orgasm 2, from after – a little… louder.

Both are delicious.

Oct 132014
 

I’ve been writing about “the talk,” and a reader sent me a link to Hersake.com. It seems like their goal is to be a sort of repository for videos of women talking about, and demonstrating, their masturbatory and sexual techniques. It’s explicitly conceived of as educational, not pornographic, and the sample video they’ve posted, though erotic, clearly is more educational/communicative than pornographic. From their “The Cause” page:

The sexual revolution is not over.

The taboo and lack of open conversation about women’s sexual pleasure has had far reaching effects….

That same taboo has kept us from acknowledging that the truth of sexual pleasure is nuanced, varied and, by its nature, very explicit.  We will not let cultural taboo keep us from being truthful.  This means as we share women’s personal narratives in our videos, we’re choosing to include real-life photographic video of real women and their vulvas.

I’ll be curious to watch the project evolve, and to see what they end up featuring.

Ladies, it’s worth noting that they’ll pay you $1,000 a day, for one or two days, plus transportation to San Francisco, plus a “nice hotel.” All just for talking about and demonstrating how you please yourself.

Thanks, loyal reader, for bringing this to my attention. Let’s wish them well.

Oct 122014
 

There’s tons of writing out there by sex workers. I’ve linked to some of it. I read, and link to, Maggie McNeill, religiously. She sits in my blogroll, over there on the right.

But it’s rare that I read a sex worker who writes from what I think of as the opposite side of my coin. Most sex workers are writing about experiences that feel somewhat disconnected from the experiences of most of the sex workers I’ve known. This isn’t a knock on them. Neither is it in any way intended to suggest that their experience or writing is wrong, or even non-normative among sex workers.

It’s simply that it’s not what I think of as the flip side of the coin with which I grew familiar.

Not so this essay, by Svetlana Z.

I’m three-quarters of the way through, and I’ll have stuff to say about it, but for now, suffice it to say this: I find it compelling, and familiar. I don’t know if I ever met Svetlana – my sense is, probably not, given the timing – but I do think that I might as well have. Not to reduce her to anything other than the unique person she is, but rather, to say that she is articulating the experience that I imagined many women I knew were having.

Read her. She’s compelling.

Oct 082014
 

I’ve had more massages than most humans. This is probably true both of “massages” and of massages.

The other day, while I was having a massage (as opposed to a “massage”), I found myself thinking – as I have on occasion – about the odd way we relate to sex and sexuality, and to genitalia, in massages. I mean, here I am, lying on a table, covered by a sheet. I’m in my boxer briefs (because this particular modality of massage is done in underwear) and nothing else. My masseuse, over the course of 90 minutes, touches every inch of my body. Well, almost every inch. She leaves out, say, 5-6 inches on the front of me, and a slightly wider region on my backside.

I understand all sorts of practical reasons why this is so. But I want, for a moment, to entertain the possibility of a world in which a full-body massage might, actually, be a full-body massage.

Ok.

I did.

Winking smile

 

Wicked Wednesday