It's all about the ha, ha

My original BFF (since third grade, y'all) was in town this past weekend to see Daniel Radcliffe naked. Well, to see me too but really to see Daniel Radcliffe naked. I saw the film version of Equus years ago and it always stuck with me. It was a fascinating question: what does it mean if in curing someone's illness, it means killing the one thing about them that is truly unique? In making someone more able to fit into society are you also taking away what is most passionate in them? Is making someone "normal" always the best thing? Of course, if you go and stab a bunch of horses eyes out, you might want to nip that issue in the bud, but still. Interesting question.

In the film, the scenes where Alan Strag is worshipfully brushing the horses and riding them naked in the middle of the night, isn't all that sexy because, you know, they're horses. I'm just thinking, "Man, this kid is nuts." But in the play, naturally they aren't using real horses, but very, very fit men in tight, brown pants wearing metal framed horse heads and metal horse "hooves". They're hot. Nugget? Nugget is fucking hot. So all of those scenes where Alan (Daniel, who ain't little Harry Potter no more) is brushing and stroking the horses and kneeling down to kiss his hoof and riding around on his back...

She and I looked at each other after the standing ovation and said the same thing, "I was not expecting it to be that hot." I think we've discovered a new euphemism for sex (or maybe masturbation. I haven't decided yet): Brushing the Nugget.

But aside from that, it was actually a very, very good performance and we learned all about "stagedooring". So next time we see it, (and oh yes, there will be a next time) we're totally stagedooring it.

She brings out my inner-dork and I embrace it wholly.

When we got home, we put in the first Harry Potter movie but that just fucked with our heads too badly. I was also starting to feel really, really ill. We had thai food at this place called Yum Yum not far from the theater. It was yum yum going down, not so yum yum coming back up.

The next day, we had a hearty breakfast of pancakes at Chat 'n Chew, which was a rather brave choice on my part. After having a nice sit-down in Union Square while I waited for my nausea to pass, we headed out to meet up with a friend of hers at the Guggenheim to see the Louise Bourgeois and Catherine Opie shows (celebrity sighting: Chloë Sevigny). Then a quick drink and off to the Democracy in America show. 

Sunday was pretty chill we met up with a friend of hers for brunch and ended up hanging out at her place with her chihuahua for a bit. On the walk back to my apartment we passed a bakery where the only thing they had available was red velvet cake. I love red velvet cake. It was uncanny.

The cake wasn't that great, but that's beside the point. A store that stocks nothing but your favorite cake is good. Chihuahuas that burrow all way through your shirt from the neck down are good. Waiting outside a theater to get a glimpse of Harry Potter for the hell of it is good. Making up curses about leg warmers is good. Inside jokes, secret languages, nicknames, laughing so hard it hurts, knowing someone has your back no matter what, is all good. Having the same best friend for the past 28 years is very, very good.

Remember, be a Xanadu. Not a Xanadon't. 

Because, I have good friend karma too

Show some love, people. It could happen to you.

A prayer of thanksgiving

I still have two more camp days to get through, but I just have to pause for a moment of reflection.

I've always had good job karma. When I freelanced and hit a dry spell, just about the time I would start to panic, I'd get a call or an email from a friend or former co-worker or a headhunter and I'm back in business.

I got laid off a couple of weeks ago from one of those big, bad banks that's been all over the news, causing irreparable damage to the world's economy. It's a very good thing. I hated my job. I wanted to quit. I missed working for myself. Now, I'm out of there, but with three months severance (including benefits), two weeks vacation pay and unemployment. A day after the aftermath, I was getting emails from people asking if I was available for freelance.

See? Good work karma.

I think I have good sex karma, too. I was going through a bit of a dry spell after Ben and I broke up. Well, we didn't so much as break up as he just stopped returning my e-mails. I was in no hurry to find a replacement for my regular Friday night / Saturday morning lay. I was sick of looking on-line for one-night stands. I was tired of the whole interview process of dating. I was really tired of all those fantastic first and second dates that never went anywhere. I was sick of the guys who are perfect on paper and all wrong in reality.

I was just plain sick and tired of the hunt.

I've had my dry spells. I've had dry spells that lasted for years. Now, if a month goes by without some contact with a penis, I start to panic a little. I start considering craigslist and calling up former flings that should never be called upon again. But just when I start to panic a little, I get a call or an e-mail from a new friend or a former lover or a perfectly good one-night stand that just got stalled. And just like that, I'm back in business.

Good sex karma.

My last day at camp, I got two e-mails within minutes from each other: one from Liam, who I haven't seen in maybe 2 years and another from this gentleman (we made a date for this Thursday). 5 days later I'm laying on a table while one hot girl rubs me with fire (more on her later) and another fists me while a few more punch me up. Last night I had the pleasure of one of the roughest fucks by one of the sweetest guys I've ever had the pleasure of making my neighbors uncomfortable with. I love it when all of the bedding, I mean including the mattress pad, gets ripped off the bed.

Boy, do I like nice people who know how to fuck mean. There will be more to come with this one, that's for damn sure.

Do not misjudge me. I am not about to get cocky. Both my work and sex loads tend to be seasonal and I know this is probably not going to last. Probably. I'm just saying, if there is a patron saint of awesome, crazy monkey sex, I would like to know who it is so I can light a candle in thanks, that's all.

(and I just got a voice mail from a friend about another freelance job)

Letters from camp_day two

After a solid two, maybe three hours of sleep, I woke to the sounds of crickets and moaning. With the help of a shower and a cup of coffee loving made by our cabin's personal maid, Sissy Stephanie, I slipped on a robe and flip-flops and headed down the hill for breakfast. I came back to the cabin not planning on doing anything other than putting on some clothes, but was stopped by one of my particularly randy cabin mates. 

After a little good morning making out, things progressed rapidly until I was naked once more and lying on his side of the sheer curtain that blocked my bed from his and his girlfriends. Their side was elaborately decorated with little Christmas lights and colored flags, which I spent the better part of the morning staring up into as he fucked me into a soppy mess. I normally hate humidity, but goddamn there is nothing like sliding your hands up and down a body slick with sweat.

Folks wandered in and out of the cabin and I could hear bits and pieces of conversation and I'd catch Stephanie's pink petticoats out of the corner of my eye. I've been on the other side, wondering, "Do I just pass on through? Would it be rude to watch a little? Do I just go about my business as if they weren't there? When the fuck are they going to stop?!"

We didn't so much as stop as just wind down. I was in that blissed out state where I was perfectly sated but just as easily could have kept on going. We both looked at our watches. He said, "I've had my cock inside you for a hour and a half." The sheets were a mess of sweat and mostly my body fluids. Before we parted he asked if he could look at my pussy for a while. I obliged. He smiled and gave me a a few loving licks. So that's what the Tantra stuff is all about. Nice.

After the second shower of the morning, I made my way to Sharrin's Branding class. For me, going to classes like these has little to do with whether or not I'm going to do it, but more out of pure curiosity. I am just not that masochistic and I'm a little in awe of people who are. I watched her slowly burn an image of a running horse into the side of a woman for as long as I could, but the barn was getting really, really hot. I took some long gulps from my water bottle as I watched the willing victim scream into a towel. And oh, yeah the smell. I quietly stepped back and walked outside into the fresh air before she finished. So, yeah. Saw it once, don't need to see it again.

After an al fresco lunch of burgers and hot dogs and a quick pre-mummy scene meeting with Bill, I headed off to Erotic Energy Play 101. I had a little taste of the Tantric stuff that morning, so I thought I'd keep on expanding my horizons. I met a fantastic woman, an anthropologist and fellow skeptic. We took turns not being able to change the color and texture of each others energy and failing at filling a flogger with our auras.

But next up, was something that was a bit more tangible and much more geared towards my skill-set: Cocksucking. But when watching Nina Hartley suck bio and non-bio cock for an hour and half can't keep my eyes from drooping, I know I have to buckle down and admit that I might need a nap. 

After a little shut-eye and some dinner, I went down to Night in Flames and watched people get set on fire and tossed into the pool, which was just as cool as it sounds. Then it was mummy time! It was kind of warm in the dungeon and I wasn't sure how I would hold up. I can get a little fainty sometimes, so I downed some water and stripped off my clothes. I stood on the stage next to the bondage table and put on the blindfold, blocking out the rest of the world. He started at my ankles and worked his way up, wrapping my legs together with one of those big rolls of industrial plastic wrap. He kept going up my waist and then around my arms. He maneuvered me on to the table where I laid down (well, more like fell over). Since, this was my first time and his first time with me, he only wrapped me up to the neck. 

After I was properly sealed for freshness, he wrapped the plastic all the way around the table. I exhaled sharply as the pressure tightened across my body with each squeaky layer. He topped it off with a few nylon straps until I couldn't move at all except to wiggle my toes. I laid there frozen in the dark, my breathing shallow, feeling his hands roaming across the surface just above my body. I jumped (as much as I could jump) when I felt the prick of the knife on my suddenly bare skin. I felt the cool press of the blade as he sliced open the layers around my pussy. He cut away the plastic around my tits and they perked up when they hit the air. I heard the hum of my vibrator kick in and he fit it in the gap he made in the plastic. All I could feel is the vibe on my clit, his togune on my tits and the ocassional scratch of the blade. When I come, I tend to, well... flail around a lot. This time all I could do was squeeze my ass and thrust my hip up a fraction of an inch over and over.

"I think I'm going to start cutting you out now," he said.

"Um, okay." That seemed quick, but it's his first time playing with me, maybe he just wants to be on the safe side. It was pretty warm in the dungeon and I knew I was getting dehydrated (I kept licking my lips). That couldn't have been more than 15 minutes, I thought.

"You were in there for about 40 minutes." He cut away the plastic and peeled it away from my body revealing a pool of sweat from the neck down. I swear, I must have lost about 2 pounds. I slept like the dead that night.

Letters from camp_day one

After dropping my overstuffed bag on to one of the remaining  beds, I took a moment to arrange my meager belongings. It was just starting to rain so I pulled out my fabulous Muji poncho and took off to my first class: Humor in BDSM. I figured that would be an easy way settle into things. I mean, I like BDSM and I enjoy humor. I ran into a very hot guy I had chatted with a little before and we shared a make-shift sofa in the back. Soon a naked man would come in and sit down next to me. There are very few situations where one finds nudity and presentation easel pads in the same place. I must be at camp!

After a rainy late afternoon nap, a bourbon and "dinner", it was activity time! I'm bad at flirting. I'm bad at cruising. I'm bad at all of those seduction skills. I should have gone to that Asking for What You Want class, but that wasn't happening until the next day. So 5-Minute Dating was helpful to say the least. For the evening, we had to chose whether we were "top" or "bottom". We sat in rows across from each other, tops on one side, bottoms on the other with 5 minutes to converse about what we were into, what we were looking for and such. I had a general list of things I dig and wanted to try at some point in my life. One of which was getting mummified. My whole body I mean, not just my head.

After a few five minute "dates" I found myself across from a handsome guy I recognized from the profiles. Turns out he like to mummify people. Jackpot! But tonight I had a date with a hunky guy in a cowboy hat. After the humor class we chatted a bit about the mischief we could possibly get in to. I rambled on about being objectified and wanting to knock out my gag reflex once and for all, so that was a good place to start. I threw a mix of various things into my little bag and met him in the dungeon.

I'm learning the spontaneous crafting of scenes is a bit like making dinner with whatever you have in the fridge at the moment. I've got a couple of rolls of Vetrap, a blindfold, a Pocket Rocket and I want to be treated like a a hole to be fucked. Throw it in a pan, add some spices and let's see what it tastes like!

What proceeded was quite the kinky casserole. I stripped down and he wrapped my head in Vetrap, leaving my nose and, naturally my mouth open. Now blinded, I sat up on the spanking bench with my legs spread. He busted out my virgin paddle and slapped my inner thighs, pushing them apart when I tried to press them together. He lifted my leg and smacked the bottom of my feet while I squirmed and squealed. He slipped his fingers into my mouth and I sucked them down, he twiddled them around trying to trigger a gag (okay, maybe I've gotten pretty good at getting that under control, but I still think the "help me get rid of my gag reflex" makes for a good pick-up line).

I was maneuvered on to my back, and his fingers were quickly replaced by his cock. We took turns taking control of the blow-job and after some good skull-fucking came more spanking, on my ass this time, and then the vibe. I could hear my little Pocket Rocket buzzing near my clit, he teased it there for a while and then got an idea. I could hear him tear open a condom packet (it's funny how recognizable that sound is) and suddenly the vibe was inside me.

Now I never used it inside, I never thought of it as an insertable. It's not exactly comfortable. After a while I couldn't even feel the vibration, it just felt kind of hard and weird so I asked him to take it out. Well, the condom had slipped inside, so it took a little digging to get it out. Back on my back, he pulled out the portable Hitachi. I braced myself on the bench as he hit my clit and did his best to shove that head inside me. I warned him that I was going to squirt, I could feel it. He told me to hold on to the vibe. I could hear him walk away to, I assumed, grab some chucks. I'll admit, I cheated and let up on my clit a little,  he was taking way too long and there was no way I was going to be able to hold that in. I've never been a fan of orgasm control. He took the vibe back and told me to let go. Finally! When I opened my eyes he had laid down a path about 7 feet long of drop-cloth. I thanked him for assuming I was capable of that kind of distance.

Word of advice, Vetrap sticks to eyelashes and eyebrows so remove carefully.

Letters from camp_introduction

One of the things that bugs me about being kinky in a non-kinky world is that I sometimes think that people perceive me as being more boring than I actually am. Monday mornings my co-workers would gather around and talk about what they did over the weekend. I would smile and nod listening to tales of beach houses, barbecues, drunken skee-ball and baby-showers. Me? Oh, I just hung out with some friends. You know, nothing special (just a small orgy, some flogging, reviewed some sex toys. Same old, same old.) Most of my weekends are just as boring and clichéd as any other 30-something living in New York. For God's sake on any given Sunday how many people are having brunch. But every once in a while, I know for damn sure my weekend was a hell of a lot more interesting than theirs. 

The other night I was chatting with a (former) co-worker at a trade show. There was an open bar and when I drink, I get... confessional shall we say. I have had many a drunken conversation that started with, "I like you. I trust you. You're cool right?" So when the conversation somehow moved from annual reports, to photo shoots, to kinky people, there was no way I could resist sliding in my very anti-Sunday brunch weekend. I always liked him. He seemed like the kind of guy who has a secret drawer himself. Besides, I don't work with him anymore anyway. So I told him about my weekend at camp. Just the broad strokes, no details. He was pleasantly intrigued and actually not all that shocked. Sometimes I think I wear my freakness on my sleeve, whether I mean to or not.

A big reason why I came to camp this year was to see if I actually enjoy it. I went to Leather Retreat last year and had a good time, but when Sunday night came around, I was ready to go. So this time I thought I'd check out Dark Odyssey thinking the broader sex-oriented atmosphere was more my speed rather than the BDSM focused Leather Retreat. And this time I would learn from my mistakes. I had a ride this time, so I didn't have to deal with lugging my impossibly heavy bag on the train. I got a sleeping bag, so in case the temperature dropped at night, I wouldn't wake up with my teeth chattering. I knew more people. I was prepared.

For the most part.

I did a lot at camp. I managed to get into some mischief and checked off a number of "to-do" items. I've found that if someone asks you if you would like to try something, it's best just to say yes. I met some fantastic people, a few I hope to see again. I kept myself busy. But when it came down to it, what was missing for me was that one person, my co-conspirator. The guy who's bed I would push together with mine to turn the two twin beds into a king size.

For a lot of people camp is a reunion, a freeing place to reconnect with a community, a place to (figuratively and literally) let it all hang out. But the truth is, the people I see a camp are people I see in the city, but without the communal bathrooms and spiders. And walking around naked outdoors is not a relaxing thing for me, if anything it's just anxiety producing. I've learned that eating lo mein topless is not a sexy thing for me. A swing through the sex-o-rama confirmed that I'm not really a voyeur. Watching people (well, watching strangers) fuck only does so much for me. I'd rather be the one being watched and getting fucked. 

But did I have fun? Hell yeah! Would I go again next year? Maybe.

Next: Day One

To-Do list / item no.3

Bound Gods

I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, but it looks pretty damn fantastic to me. It's like an art installation.

Toy Review: Naughtinano

Isn't this the perfect follow up to my previous post? I bought the OhMyBod when it first came out. As someone who's life and career are rather heavily dependent on the doings of Apple Inc., it seemed fitting that my masturbatory habits got thrown in there too. Plus, I loved how technology and music and sex were all combined in one object.

The Naughtinano is smaller than the OhMiBod, but the curvy silhouette and velvety finish more than make up for it. Plus, if you want to wank in silence, you can switch out to the battery operated cap with seven different pulsing vibrations, so you can groove to their pre-established beats.

As you can guess, the key here is the right kind of music and if there is one other nocturnal pastime I love more than getting off, it would be making mix tapes (I mean CDs, um I mean playlists). 

I had my very first orgasm while listening to Depeche Mode's Never Let Me Down on my Walkman, so of course this was going to be the first track I tested out. Not bad at all. I have a lot of dance music and that predictably did the trick. My hips would start rocking to the beat complimenting the pulsing in my pussy:

> Around the World by Daft Punk

> Radio by the Avalanches

> My Love by Justin Timberlake (Steve Angello and Sebastian Ingrosso remix) This one was nice because there was a continuous vibration that ebbed and flowed, plus a pulsing beat on top.

> Anything by The Chemical Brothers

But I wanted to change it up:

> Paper Planes by M.I.A. is worth the wait for the chorus.

> Cars by Gary Numan is almost perfect.

> Mansard Roof by Vampire Weekend was a delightful surprise.

> Let Me Borrow That Top by Kelly is kind of great, but it's the most hilarious song to try to masturbate to.

> We Got the Beat by The Go-Go's was not as good as I was anticipating.

They recommend setting the volume to about 75%. I found myself pushing it up to about 80%. Be careful, the louder it is, the stronger it is and I'm just a few orgasms away from tinnitus as it is.

You can also download pre-made playlists from iTunes, but that's no fun! And fun is exactly what it is! I never laughed so much while masturbating. Plus, it's so fantastic to have your favorite song blend so perfectly with your body. You know when you're at a concert and you're standing so close to the speakers you can feel the beat through your entire body? It's like that, but in your cunt. Nice.

I also love the idea of someone making a playlist for me. Yeah, I know, it's kind of High Fidelity, but how hot would it be to craft a CD based entirely on making someone come? Right?

They just need a wireless version.

iSlut

My beloved iMac is dying, or something. It's taken to powering down at the slightest whisper of activity and the only way I can revive the poor thing is to unplug it and wait 20 horrible, horrible minutes before I can attempt to print out an e-mail before it dies again. My computer has developed a delicate constitution.

After a $20 cab ride to the Apple Store, I set my baby down on the Genius Bar to let a stranger tinker with her unmentionables. I explain the problem and in an attempt to recreate the failure I suggest we plug in my phone to shock the poor thing into passing out. As my fellow iPhone havers out there know, when you plug in the device two programs automatically open up: iTunes and iPhoto.

A flash comes to me. What were the last photos I had up on there before it died? That would be a lot of Half-Naked Thursday photos of me in various stages of undress and a few self-portraits of my vagina. The Genius Bar was pretty full for a Sunday morning and that 20-inch screen was open to all of the other bitter enthusiasts waiting behind me.

"Uh, let me just see something here." I half-laugh in a panic as I frantically turn the computer away from my Genius and stand to shield the screen with my body. "Not sure what photos are going to pop up, ya know? Ha, ha, ha..."

I peek down and low and behold, mixed in between a series of photos of bonsai tress from the National Arboretum was a whole lot of skin. My skin.

"Ha, ha. Let me just shut off iPhoto."

The genius smiled, but looked unfazed. They must see this sort of thing all the time. But handing over my computer was handing over myself: my work, my money, bits and pieces of my family and friends, the last few suspect Google searches, each naughty bookmark, the carefully sorted folders of pornography, my embarrassing half-assed attempts at writing fiction, my crushes, my heart breaks. They're all in there, trapped in this 20 pound aluminum and glass body that's failing on me and I'm handing her over to strangers.

But I remind myself, they don't care about all that and I don't really care if they did. They don't have time for all of that. They just want to fix it. Anyway, they probably have more porn on their hard drives than I do. He theorized about the possible problems and made a plan of action. I glanced at the iTunes window. Playlist item two:

Blow Job Mix.

Awarded Nobel Prize in Hawtness

'Cosmopolitan' Institute Completes Decades-Long Study On How To Please Your Man