6/30/2009
6/26/2009
I'll do anything for a man with a bullhorn
I don't really have a problem getting naked in front of people, at least when everyone else is getting naked too, so the whole public nudity thing wasn't an issue for me. I was concerned about the cold and I was kind of hoping to be somewhere in the middle of the pack (I didn't want my sandy tits front and center, but it would be cool to be able to pick myself out of the great texture of human skin), but other than that, I was more excited than anything else. I always wanted to be in a Spencer Tunick photo. Friends of mine did the shoot in Grand Central Station and it seemed like a hoot and one of those things that one should just do at some point in their life if given the opportunity.
So, after a 3 hour trip on the Long Island Rail Road (arriving at midnight), a desperate attempt to grab a couple of hours of sleep (unsuccessfully), and a 30 minute cab ride from Amaganset, Lynsey and I and 298 other people gathered in the pre-dawn darkness, next to the Montauk Point Lighthouse getting ready to get naked for art.
People were wandering around or sitting in their cars waiting for instructions when finally we heard a voice from a bullhorn. A small cheer rose up from the crowd and we gathered closer, ready to do pretty much whatever this guy wanted us to do. We would have about an hour to wait until 5:15 when the sun came up and while we waited in line to get release forms, I turned to Lynsey and said, "It's getting chilly isn't it?" When we first got there, the temperature was surprisingly mild and thankfully it was not raining. But as the sun was coming up, the temperature seemed to be dropping and the wind was picking up. I pulled the hoodie over my head and wished for gloves. This might kind of suck, I thought.
Finally as the light crept up, Spencer climbed a ladder and bullhorn in hand, thanked us all for doing this, thanked his team and led us down to the beach. He warned that if he yells at us, it's not because he's mad, he's just trying to get as much done in the least amount of time. He ran through the poses he wanted to do: standing looking at the ocean, standing looking at the lighthouse, curled up in a ball… the "crab walk."
He walked off into the distance to set up and when he gave the signal, suddenly the big crowd of just people transformed into a big crowd of naked people.
My first thought was that the temperature was quite comfortable. It wasn't as windy as it was on the hill. I didn't even have goose bumps. The second thought was, holy god this is a very rocky beach. Oh yeah, this is Montauk. Tentatively, I maneuvered my way around the rocks and shards and twigs and landed on a relatively clear sandy bit.
Pose 1: stare into the ocean. It was really quite lovely. The cool air on my skin, the only sound was the roar of the waves and the occasional screams from those folks brave enough to actually get in or near the water. The guy in front of me was shivering. We were then told to lie down facing up. Then we curled up like ball, our faces to the sand. Every once in a while he would shout for somone to get down or to stop looking into the camera.
When the signal was given to stand, a cheer rang out. We'd done it! We're awesome! We're naked and we're awesome!
We're not done?
He wanted some shots further down among the rocks. The rocks, those horrible, horrible rocks. I inched along, each step a little more painful than the next. Then we sat facing the water on the rocks, then we laid on our backs (on the rocks) and arched ourselves up into the crab pose and the distant groans of muscle strain matched the squeals from the folks down by the water. Then we laid down on our backs, then on our sides with our arms draped over the person to our left. I carefully rested my arm on the sandy buttock of the woman next to me and closed my eyes while rocks jabbed into my side. Then face down and I closed my eyes to the scurrying bugs just underneath my face and thought about my friends who only had to contend with the clean, cool flat marble surface of the floor of Grand Central Station.
It is amazing the amount of power someone with a megaphone and a camera can yield.
When we were indeed done, I sighed with relief and cursed my soft, modern feet as we made our way past the two confused (and I hoped pleased) looking fishermen back to where we dropped our clothes. I have never been so grateful to put on shoes in my entire life.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
So, after a 3 hour trip on the Long Island Rail Road (arriving at midnight), a desperate attempt to grab a couple of hours of sleep (unsuccessfully), and a 30 minute cab ride from Amaganset, Lynsey and I and 298 other people gathered in the pre-dawn darkness, next to the Montauk Point Lighthouse getting ready to get naked for art.
People were wandering around or sitting in their cars waiting for instructions when finally we heard a voice from a bullhorn. A small cheer rose up from the crowd and we gathered closer, ready to do pretty much whatever this guy wanted us to do. We would have about an hour to wait until 5:15 when the sun came up and while we waited in line to get release forms, I turned to Lynsey and said, "It's getting chilly isn't it?" When we first got there, the temperature was surprisingly mild and thankfully it was not raining. But as the sun was coming up, the temperature seemed to be dropping and the wind was picking up. I pulled the hoodie over my head and wished for gloves. This might kind of suck, I thought.
Finally as the light crept up, Spencer climbed a ladder and bullhorn in hand, thanked us all for doing this, thanked his team and led us down to the beach. He warned that if he yells at us, it's not because he's mad, he's just trying to get as much done in the least amount of time. He ran through the poses he wanted to do: standing looking at the ocean, standing looking at the lighthouse, curled up in a ball… the "crab walk."
He walked off into the distance to set up and when he gave the signal, suddenly the big crowd of just people transformed into a big crowd of naked people.
My first thought was that the temperature was quite comfortable. It wasn't as windy as it was on the hill. I didn't even have goose bumps. The second thought was, holy god this is a very rocky beach. Oh yeah, this is Montauk. Tentatively, I maneuvered my way around the rocks and shards and twigs and landed on a relatively clear sandy bit.
Pose 1: stare into the ocean. It was really quite lovely. The cool air on my skin, the only sound was the roar of the waves and the occasional screams from those folks brave enough to actually get in or near the water. The guy in front of me was shivering. We were then told to lie down facing up. Then we curled up like ball, our faces to the sand. Every once in a while he would shout for somone to get down or to stop looking into the camera.
When the signal was given to stand, a cheer rang out. We'd done it! We're awesome! We're naked and we're awesome!
We're not done?
He wanted some shots further down among the rocks. The rocks, those horrible, horrible rocks. I inched along, each step a little more painful than the next. Then we sat facing the water on the rocks, then we laid on our backs (on the rocks) and arched ourselves up into the crab pose and the distant groans of muscle strain matched the squeals from the folks down by the water. Then we laid down on our backs, then on our sides with our arms draped over the person to our left. I carefully rested my arm on the sandy buttock of the woman next to me and closed my eyes while rocks jabbed into my side. Then face down and I closed my eyes to the scurrying bugs just underneath my face and thought about my friends who only had to contend with the clean, cool flat marble surface of the floor of Grand Central Station.
It is amazing the amount of power someone with a megaphone and a camera can yield.
When we were indeed done, I sighed with relief and cursed my soft, modern feet as we made our way past the two confused (and I hoped pleased) looking fishermen back to where we dropped our clothes. I have never been so grateful to put on shoes in my entire life.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Ease on down the road.
You can't win - Michael Jackson - The wiz
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I always had an irrational crush on the "sleeveless" crow.
6/11/2009
Woman on Wire
We were fucking like we normally do, which is to say kind of frantically, a little painfully, a bit desperate and highly improvisational. I never know what to expect with him. The last time we were together he managed somehow to have a multiple orgasms, which I didn't even think was possible for a man.
We've sometimes planned thing out, had goals for a particular evening, but for the most part we tend to fuck like neither of us has had sex in years and may never have sex again. The calm, civilized conversation ends, the beast comes out along with his cock, my eyes glaze over and all I can think is, "That should go somewhere inside of me." And the more urgent and aching for it he is, the more I am. I like it when someone is desperate for me, when someone can't wait a second longer to touch me. I like that glaze over the eyes. It's probably why I like rape fantasies.
So we're fucking, when rather abruptly he pulls his cock out of me and climbs over my body to reach the open top drawer of my bedside table, the one with the condoms and lube and my trusty pocket vibe. He grabbed the vibe, twisted it on and half lying on top of me, pressed the vibe to my clit as he pressed his body on top of mine. I was close already and with the sudden over stimulation it didn't take me long to come. I thrust my hips up to meet the vibe and he held me tight, his back to me, his arms wrapped tight around my body. I groaned and shuddered and felt my heartbeat start to slow down. I shifted my hips away from the vibe, or tried to rather as I came down from the orgasm, but he tightened his grip like a boa constrictor and kept the vibe fixed on my clit. I wriggled my legs, trying to get away when they next orgasm came... and the next, and the next…
I was crying at this point, the pleasure was shifting into, not pain exactly, but just... too much. I fought him, pounded on his back and tried to shove him off me, but he was too strong and way too determined. Then just I gave up. I whimpered and moaned and brought the back of my hand to my forehead like a damsel in distress, which I kind of was. There was a constant flow of fluid from my cunt and I just went limp thinking how long could this go on? Would my clit eventually just go numb like a leg that had fallen asleep? Would I pass out? Could you die from this?
I saw Man on Wire a while ago and there's an incredible shot of Philippe Petit taking that first step on the wire between the towers, that very first step between solid ground and nothingness.
I feel like I always have one foot on the wire and one foot on roof. I want to take my other foot off of the roof.
I've taken the nose dive a couple of times. Once was with someone I care very much for, who cares very much for me. The other time was a one-night stand who's last name I never caught.
I don't play as much as I'd like to. It's not because I haven't wanted to, I'm just a lot more selective of who I play with these days. I don't have much interest in the occasional pick-up scene or demo-bottoming. I only want people who like me to hurt me. But more than that I want someone who loves me to push me off the roof.
When he finally let go of me and turned off the vibe, I shuddered and gasped for breath and wiped my eyes. He pulled me up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around me, not quite as tight this time. We cuddled like that for a while, catching our breath and soon we were talking about politics and the economy. My cunt kept making those gasping spasms and my clit kept pulsing like it was reaching out for more, still not completely satisfied.
We've sometimes planned thing out, had goals for a particular evening, but for the most part we tend to fuck like neither of us has had sex in years and may never have sex again. The calm, civilized conversation ends, the beast comes out along with his cock, my eyes glaze over and all I can think is, "That should go somewhere inside of me." And the more urgent and aching for it he is, the more I am. I like it when someone is desperate for me, when someone can't wait a second longer to touch me. I like that glaze over the eyes. It's probably why I like rape fantasies.
So we're fucking, when rather abruptly he pulls his cock out of me and climbs over my body to reach the open top drawer of my bedside table, the one with the condoms and lube and my trusty pocket vibe. He grabbed the vibe, twisted it on and half lying on top of me, pressed the vibe to my clit as he pressed his body on top of mine. I was close already and with the sudden over stimulation it didn't take me long to come. I thrust my hips up to meet the vibe and he held me tight, his back to me, his arms wrapped tight around my body. I groaned and shuddered and felt my heartbeat start to slow down. I shifted my hips away from the vibe, or tried to rather as I came down from the orgasm, but he tightened his grip like a boa constrictor and kept the vibe fixed on my clit. I wriggled my legs, trying to get away when they next orgasm came... and the next, and the next…
I was crying at this point, the pleasure was shifting into, not pain exactly, but just... too much. I fought him, pounded on his back and tried to shove him off me, but he was too strong and way too determined. Then just I gave up. I whimpered and moaned and brought the back of my hand to my forehead like a damsel in distress, which I kind of was. There was a constant flow of fluid from my cunt and I just went limp thinking how long could this go on? Would my clit eventually just go numb like a leg that had fallen asleep? Would I pass out? Could you die from this?
I saw Man on Wire a while ago and there's an incredible shot of Philippe Petit taking that first step on the wire between the towers, that very first step between solid ground and nothingness.
I feel like I always have one foot on the wire and one foot on roof. I want to take my other foot off of the roof.
I've taken the nose dive a couple of times. Once was with someone I care very much for, who cares very much for me. The other time was a one-night stand who's last name I never caught.
I don't play as much as I'd like to. It's not because I haven't wanted to, I'm just a lot more selective of who I play with these days. I don't have much interest in the occasional pick-up scene or demo-bottoming. I only want people who like me to hurt me. But more than that I want someone who loves me to push me off the roof.
When he finally let go of me and turned off the vibe, I shuddered and gasped for breath and wiped my eyes. He pulled me up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around me, not quite as tight this time. We cuddled like that for a while, catching our breath and soon we were talking about politics and the economy. My cunt kept making those gasping spasms and my clit kept pulsing like it was reaching out for more, still not completely satisfied.
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