Jul 292012
 

954839_465797316846757_1485554164_nBy Stanley Siegel

“Sex Worker or Therapist?” was censored by Psychology Today on February 21 and never appeared online.

Several years ago, a 62-year-old man had a consultation with me a few months after good friends had conducted, let’s say, an intervention on his behalf. Andrew was a pediatrician who had worked nearly his whole life in rural Vietnam,  a demanding job that caused him to sideline other important parts of his life. Now that he had retired, his friends decided Andrew needed help building a sex life. He accepted their rather unconventional assistance.

Andrew told me he always knew he was gay even though until recently he had never had sex with anyone. “For the first time in my life,” he said. “I’ve developed an intense excitement about having sex with men and perhaps even a loving relationship.”

I asked him about the recent sexual experience arranged by his friends.

“They found an escort for me. It was a little like you see in the movies — the father taking his virgin son to see a prostitute to initiate him into manhood. Having done their research, my friends chose well. The young man understood that I was a virgin and was extraordinarily kind, loving and generous with me. I was terrified and overexcited. He handled me perfectly,” Andrew said. “Since then, I’ve seen Peter weekly. It’s been the most amazing experience. I am learning to appreciate my body as old as it is and I’m also learning the mechanics of sex which I had only occasionally seen in porn movies. My whole attitude has changed. I feel much more confident about myself and I’ve started to date. I’m so grateful to Peter for what he is giving to me.”

Another patient Judith reported that in the past she had seen a male escort who helped her with a deep fear. Judith had several disturbing childhood experiences with an uncle who fondled her, sometimes masturbating while he touched her prepubescent breast.

Judith had consequently developed a lifelong fear of physical contact with men and although she had fantasized regularly about having sex, when she expressed her fears to the men she dated, they inevitably left her. “Too much baggage,” she said. “As it turned out the right man for me was an escort.”

“I confided my fears in my closest girlfriend,” she continued. “She made the suggestion that I try an escort. I thought she was nuts at first, but it was absolutely the right thing. I found an escort service online and called. Dan was sweet, tender and gentle. He knew exactly how to touch me. He had a lot of patience that guys I dated didn’t have. I saw him about four or five times and while I am not entirely cured, I am on the way. I’m no longer afraid the way I was. I’m making better choices with men now because of Dan.” Later, she said, ”It didn’t matter at all that I was paying him. I’ve paid more to therapists over the years and I didn’t get anywhere.” She added one more thought. “I got attached to him, maybe I even felt a kind of love. But, I got over it quickly. I put it in it’s place. Yet I have to say that it opened my heart to other men in a way I couldn’t before.” Like Andrew, time with a sex worker prepared Judith to go out into the world with experience, self-confidence and a positive attitude toward sex. She felt she could finally have a sexual relationship.

Every escort might not have the same talents to heal and while some do exploit their clients, the sex workers I spoke with, as well as some I have been with, share many of the same positive values and ethics as therapists. Both psychotherapists and sex workers have guided me, at different times in my life, to a deeper understanding of my true desires, partly by challenging me to confront shame.

Of course, a sex worker’s profession is illegal in most states.

In the 1970s, sex researchers Masters and Johnson introduced the idea of using sexual surrogates with patients to engage in intimate sexual relations to achieve a therapeutic goal. The idea caught on for a short time. Sex surrogates were eventually certified to use a combination of techniques — talking, listening and performing to help resolve a patient’s sexual issue. Psychotherapists referred patients to surrogates who had problems with self-confidence, sexual anxiety, premature ejaculation, vaginismus, sexual inhibition and erectile dysfunction.

Despite the high success rate of surrogate programs, complicated legal issues, along with intense criticism from both the far right and feminist organizations, arose. Few states allow sexual surrogates to practice these days.

The sex worker industry, on the other hand, will never disappear. And while therapists cannot refer patients to them, they are working with mental health professionals to help patients explore and develop their sexual potential.

Of course, communication plays a key role in the success of these sexual exchanges as it does in therapy since so many sexual issues are psychological. I have heard of sex workers who use relaxation techniques, intimate verbal communication, non-genital contact, sexual touching as well as intercourse.

Because of negative attitudes associated with prostitution we think of it as lacking humanity. After all, it’s an activity engaged in mostly by strangers with an exchange of money. Therefore, we make the wrong assumption that both parties are entering into a very intimate encounter with a total detachment.

But this wasn’t the case with my patients nor with some of the sex workers I interviewed.

“I’ve had such positive experiences with hookers,” one straight patient told me. “The best experiences have been the conversations. Some are better educated than I am. They seem to genuinely enjoy their work and care about their clients. We are no different. We’re all people. I’m sure their relationships are just as fraught with complications as mine. The only shame I have about it is what society places on me. I wouldn’t talk about it with my friends, even though I’ve learned so much about sex and myself through these experiences. My guy friends would think that I’m not cool enough to find and keep a girlfriend and my female friends would be totally creeped out. I wish I could openly recommend it to my friends, but I can’t.

I wanted to learn more about the views of escorts.

“I introduce guys to their bodies,” one woman I met online told me. “Most of  the men I meet are pretty out of touch with themselves physically. They think they want to just fuck. I teach them that sex isn’t all about fucking. I relax them first with conversation, then sensual touching I teach them what women need. The connection is important. “Sometimes I’ll ask a client about his fantasies if I feel comfortable enough with him. They don’t always know I coax it out of them If we’re sexually compatible, then we will go ahead and try to play his fantasies out. There are times I’m just not into what a guy wants and will politely tell him that he would have a better experience with someone who enjoys what he does. I do it without shaming him.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not entirely a missionary. I enjoy the money. There is something erotic about getting paid. It’s as much a turn-on as anything else. It satisfies a deep need of mine to be admired.”

I spoke with Devon Hunter, a gay man who has a decade of experience in the adult entertainment industry and who became a sex worker, or courtesan, as he prefers to call himself, after years of deliberation.

“What motivates me is the desire to create an experience that awakens kindness and compassion in my clients. Most of my clients are not coming to have intercourse. The great majority seek intimacy and affection I create a boyfriend experience in which we get acquainted through conversation, touch, perhaps tender kissing. We might go out to dinner then come home and have sex, but just as often not. Together, we establish a romanticized, or idealized version of what every man hopes for. In part, I accomplish this by focusing my attention with deep compassion and empathy for what it is someone needs. Whatever they look like, act like or fantasize.  I suspend all judgements. My goal is to affirm people.

“Some of these men come from relationships that are dysfunctional or co-dependent where there has been sacrifice. Our experience acts as a counterpoint. It’s healing in that my client internalizes the kindness, compassion and tenderness we exchange then takes that into his own life and propagates it. Although I am not trained as a therapist, I always hope that the experience is a therapeutic one for my client. That doesn’t mean that it’s not sexy.

“I develop a bond with clients as regularly as might happen in real life and it’s as authentic as any that would happen outside of the situation. It grows from the cycle of freely giving and receiving that I work to establish. Being a man is demanding. Men have to prove they are men usually through aggressive behavior. When we are together, we can suspend that performance. Often I teach a client to receive. To let me take care of them. Most realize that intercourse is not what they want Affection and sensuality is what’s most meaningful to them. Kissing achieves that.

“Unfortunately, sex workers are marginalized and demonized on all fronts. I understand there are people who are hustlers — ‘gay for pay.’ They are often men who are self-loathing, emotionally inauthentic and inaccessible. Those kind of people exist in every profession. Some men are sadly attracted to the danger and potential self-destructiveness of encounters with these men.

“I want to bring attention to the fact that while sex workers have to constantly deal with society’s demonization of them, many are not self-hating. Personally, such ostracism reminds me to act with greater kindness and empathy towards everyone.”

It’s difficult not to continue the comparison between the goals and techniques of these sex workers and of psychotherapists — empathy, compassion, communication and connection, self-knowledge, affirmation and a corrective experience. Both experiences take place within a suspended reality where the relationship is limited to a prescribed time and place.

I remember sitting in the lobby of an office suite I once shared. Several patients sat on either side of me and I imagined what it would be like for them waiting for their session to start. My watch read 12:50 P.M. Suddenly, the doors of a dozen consultation rooms flung open. It was the end of the patients’ fifty-minute session. They were followed a minute later by nearly twelve therapists who came out for a stretch or bathroom break.

The image of sex workers standing outside their doors waiting for their next client in Amsterdam’s red-light district instantly came to mind.

LINK TO ORIGINAL ARTICLE: 

Stanley Siegel – Sex Worker or Therapist? | Psychology Tomorrow Magazine. July 2012 – Issue 1

Stanley Siegel, LCSW, is a psychotherapist, author, lecturer, and former Director of Education and Senior Faculty member of New York’s renowned Ackerman Institute for Family Therapy. With nearly 40 years of experience in the field of psychology, Siegel has developed a bold and unconventional approach to psychotherapy that has led to his most recent book, Your Brain on Sex: How Smarter Sex Can Change Your Life. Siegel has taught at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, Adelphi University, and the University of California, Berkeley. Additionally, he was the founding director of the Family Studies Center in Huntington, New York, and has served as a consultant to hospitals and mental health centers throughout the country. The creator and writer of the “Families” column for Newsday, Siegel also co-authored two popular books: The Patient Who Cured His Therapist and Other Unconventional Stories Of Therapy and Uncharted Lives: Understanding The Life Passages Of Gay Men, both of which have been translated into 6 languages. His books serve as the basis for workshops around the country. Siegel has served as the review editor for two professional marital therapy journals, and his work with couples and families is the subject of two educational videos. Siegel’s lifelong interest in art has included a period during the mid-1990s as the Dance Editor for Showbusiness, in which he reviewed and reported on the dance scene in New York City. Siegel created the popular sex column Intelligent Lust for Psychology Today Magazine, which is now featured in this magazine. It also appears regularly throughout the Middle East in FitNStyle Magazine.

To learn more, visit www.stanley-siegel.com.

Jul 292012
 

954839_465797316846757_1485554164_nBy Stanley Siegel

“Sex Worker or Therapist?” was censored by Psychology Today on February 21 and never appeared online.

Several years ago, a 62-year-old man had a consultation with me a few months after good friends had conducted, let’s say, an intervention on his behalf. Andrew was a pediatrician who had worked nearly his whole life in rural Vietnam,  a demanding job that caused him to sideline other important parts of his life. Now that he had retired, his friends decided Andrew needed help building a sex life. He accepted their rather unconventional assistance.

Andrew told me he always knew he was gay even though until recently he had never had sex with anyone. “For the first time in my life,” he said. “I’ve developed an intense excitement about having sex with men and perhaps even a loving relationship.”

I asked him about the recent sexual experience arranged by his friends.

“They found an escort for me. It was a little like you see in the movies — the father taking his virgin son to see a prostitute to initiate him into manhood. Having done their research, my friends chose well. The young man understood that I was a virgin and was extraordinarily kind, loving and generous with me. I was terrified and overexcited. He handled me perfectly,” Andrew said. “Since then, I’ve seen Peter weekly. It’s been the most amazing experience. I am learning to appreciate my body as old as it is and I’m also learning the mechanics of sex which I had only occasionally seen in porn movies. My whole attitude has changed. I feel much more confident about myself and I’ve started to date. I’m so grateful to Peter for what he is giving to me.”

Another patient Judith reported that in the past she had seen a male escort who helped her with a deep fear. Judith had several disturbing childhood experiences with an uncle who fondled her, sometimes masturbating while he touched her prepubescent breast.

Judith had consequently developed a lifelong fear of physical contact with men and although she had fantasized regularly about having sex, when she expressed her fears to the men she dated, they inevitably left her. “Too much baggage,” she said. “As it turned out the right man for me was an escort.”

“I confided my fears in my closest girlfriend,” she continued. “She made the suggestion that I try an escort. I thought she was nuts at first, but it was absolutely the right thing. I found an escort service online and called. Dan was sweet, tender and gentle. He knew exactly how to touch me. He had a lot of patience that guys I dated didn’t have. I saw him about four or five times and while I am not entirely cured, I am on the way. I’m no longer afraid the way I was. I’m making better choices with men now because of Dan.” Later, she said, ”It didn’t matter at all that I was paying him. I’ve paid more to therapists over the years and I didn’t get anywhere.” She added one more thought. “I got attached to him, maybe I even felt a kind of love. But, I got over it quickly. I put it in it’s place. Yet I have to say that it opened my heart to other men in a way I couldn’t before.” Like Andrew, time with a sex worker prepared Judith to go out into the world with experience, self-confidence and a positive attitude toward sex. She felt she could finally have a sexual relationship.

Every escort might not have the same talents to heal and while some do exploit their clients, the sex workers I spoke with, as well as some I have been with, share many of the same positive values and ethics as therapists. Both psychotherapists and sex workers have guided me, at different times in my life, to a deeper understanding of my true desires, partly by challenging me to confront shame.

Of course, a sex worker’s profession is illegal in most states.

In the 1970s, sex researchers Masters and Johnson introduced the idea of using sexual surrogates with patients to engage in intimate sexual relations to achieve a therapeutic goal. The idea caught on for a short time. Sex surrogates were eventually certified to use a combination of techniques — talking, listening and performing to help resolve a patient’s sexual issue. Psychotherapists referred patients to surrogates who had problems with self-confidence, sexual anxiety, premature ejaculation, vaginismus, sexual inhibition and erectile dysfunction.

Despite the high success rate of surrogate programs, complicated legal issues, along with intense criticism from both the far right and feminist organizations, arose. Few states allow sexual surrogates to practice these days.

The sex worker industry, on the other hand, will never disappear. And while therapists cannot refer patients to them, they are working with mental health professionals to help patients explore and develop their sexual potential.

Of course, communication plays a key role in the success of these sexual exchanges as it does in therapy since so many sexual issues are psychological. I have heard of sex workers who use relaxation techniques, intimate verbal communication, non-genital contact, sexual touching as well as intercourse.

Because of negative attitudes associated with prostitution we think of it as lacking humanity. After all, it’s an activity engaged in mostly by strangers with an exchange of money. Therefore, we make the wrong assumption that both parties are entering into a very intimate encounter with a total detachment.

But this wasn’t the case with my patients nor with some of the sex workers I interviewed.

“I’ve had such positive experiences with hookers,” one straight patient told me. “The best experiences have been the conversations. Some are better educated than I am. They seem to genuinely enjoy their work and care about their clients. We are no different. We’re all people. I’m sure their relationships are just as fraught with complications as mine. The only shame I have about it is what society places on me. I wouldn’t talk about it with my friends, even though I’ve learned so much about sex and myself through these experiences. My guy friends would think that I’m not cool enough to find and keep a girlfriend and my female friends would be totally creeped out. I wish I could openly recommend it to my friends, but I can’t.

I wanted to learn more about the views of escorts.

“I introduce guys to their bodies,” one woman I met online told me. “Most of  the men I meet are pretty out of touch with themselves physically. They think they want to just fuck. I teach them that sex isn’t all about fucking. I relax them first with conversation, then sensual touching I teach them what women need. The connection is important. “Sometimes I’ll ask a client about his fantasies if I feel comfortable enough with him. They don’t always know I coax it out of them If we’re sexually compatible, then we will go ahead and try to play his fantasies out. There are times I’m just not into what a guy wants and will politely tell him that he would have a better experience with someone who enjoys what he does. I do it without shaming him.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not entirely a missionary. I enjoy the money. There is something erotic about getting paid. It’s as much a turn-on as anything else. It satisfies a deep need of mine to be admired.”

I spoke with Devon Hunter, a gay man who has a decade of experience in the adult entertainment industry and who became a sex worker, or courtesan, as he prefers to call himself, after years of deliberation.

“What motivates me is the desire to create an experience that awakens kindness and compassion in my clients. Most of my clients are not coming to have intercourse. The great majority seek intimacy and affection I create a boyfriend experience in which we get acquainted through conversation, touch, perhaps tender kissing. We might go out to dinner then come home and have sex, but just as often not. Together, we establish a romanticized, or idealized version of what every man hopes for. In part, I accomplish this by focusing my attention with deep compassion and empathy for what it is someone needs. Whatever they look like, act like or fantasize.  I suspend all judgements. My goal is to affirm people.

“Some of these men come from relationships that are dysfunctional or co-dependent where there has been sacrifice. Our experience acts as a counterpoint. It’s healing in that my client internalizes the kindness, compassion and tenderness we exchange then takes that into his own life and propagates it. Although I am not trained as a therapist, I always hope that the experience is a therapeutic one for my client. That doesn’t mean that it’s not sexy.

“I develop a bond with clients as regularly as might happen in real life and it’s as authentic as any that would happen outside of the situation. It grows from the cycle of freely giving and receiving that I work to establish. Being a man is demanding. Men have to prove they are men usually through aggressive behavior. When we are together, we can suspend that performance. Often I teach a client to receive. To let me take care of them. Most realize that intercourse is not what they want Affection and sensuality is what’s most meaningful to them. Kissing achieves that.

“Unfortunately, sex workers are marginalized and demonized on all fronts. I understand there are people who are hustlers — ‘gay for pay.’ They are often men who are self-loathing, emotionally inauthentic and inaccessible. Those kind of people exist in every profession. Some men are sadly attracted to the danger and potential self-destructiveness of encounters with these men.

“I want to bring attention to the fact that while sex workers have to constantly deal with society’s demonization of them, many are not self-hating. Personally, such ostracism reminds me to act with greater kindness and empathy towards everyone.”

It’s difficult not to continue the comparison between the goals and techniques of these sex workers and of psychotherapists — empathy, compassion, communication and connection, self-knowledge, affirmation and a corrective experience. Both experiences take place within a suspended reality where the relationship is limited to a prescribed time and place.

I remember sitting in the lobby of an office suite I once shared. Several patients sat on either side of me and I imagined what it would be like for them waiting for their session to start. My watch read 12:50 P.M. Suddenly, the doors of a dozen consultation rooms flung open. It was the end of the patients’ fifty-minute session. They were followed a minute later by nearly twelve therapists who came out for a stretch or bathroom break.

The image of sex workers standing outside their doors waiting for their next client in Amsterdam’s red-light district instantly came to mind.

LINK TO ORIGINAL ARTICLE: 

Stanley Siegel – Sex Worker or Therapist? | Psychology Tomorrow Magazine. July 2012 – Issue 1

Stanley Siegel, LCSW, is a psychotherapist, author, lecturer, and former Director of Education and Senior Faculty member of New York’s renowned Ackerman Institute for Family Therapy. With nearly 40 years of experience in the field of psychology, Siegel has developed a bold and unconventional approach to psychotherapy that has led to his most recent book, Your Brain on Sex: How Smarter Sex Can Change Your Life. Siegel has taught at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, Adelphi University, and the University of California, Berkeley. Additionally, he was the founding director of the Family Studies Center in Huntington, New York, and has served as a consultant to hospitals and mental health centers throughout the country. The creator and writer of the “Families” column for Newsday, Siegel also co-authored two popular books: The Patient Who Cured His Therapist and Other Unconventional Stories Of Therapy and Uncharted Lives: Understanding The Life Passages Of Gay Men, both of which have been translated into 6 languages. His books serve as the basis for workshops around the country. Siegel has served as the review editor for two professional marital therapy journals, and his work with couples and families is the subject of two educational videos. Siegel’s lifelong interest in art has included a period during the mid-1990s as the Dance Editor for Showbusiness, in which he reviewed and reported on the dance scene in New York City. Siegel created the popular sex column Intelligent Lust for Psychology Today Magazine, which is now featured in this magazine. It also appears regularly throughout the Middle East in FitNStyle Magazine.

To learn more, visit www.stanley-siegel.com.

Jul 202012
 
tumblr_m3ffbcu4dz1r5ty2ro1_400

seduction100

I was leaning against the modern wooden room divider in a black lace bra and panties set. The hard wood cutouts made the position uncomfortable, as did the plus size thigh-high digging into my skin. I felt the top of each thigh high and tried to adjust them so that the bubble of skin that the elastic made was less noticeable, to no avail. I had oiled my body out of the shower. Supple and with sheen, it was what he liked to see upon laying eyes on me for the first time in weeks. He said he longed to feel the slip of his fingers on my skin when he put his hands around my waist in preparation to kiss me. I longed for this too … so much, the thought made me slippery above those ill-fitting thigh highs I had given up on. I heard the electronic key card allow him entry and the sound made my pussy throb with expectation, as I heard him pad deliberately into the room. He turned the corner to see me against the divider “close your eyes” He said.  I did as I was told.  I felt him close to me … maybe an inch … his breath mingling with mine in timed beats. And then I felt it. The tiniest, sweetest of kisses being bestowed on my cheek and more down my jaw. He continued little raindrops of these kisses upon my forehead and nose. Making certain his delicate balance was felt on each side of my face, I only felt his lips … that’s all he wanted me to feel …just his kind kisses … and that I was loved. I felt loved. Right now anyway, and that, it seemed, was my greatest desire. I ached for feeling … something reciprocal, something true. Was this it? It didn’t matter right now.

He traipsed his mouth down to my neck, making certain to retrieve the salty essence from my skin with intermittent licks. He concentrated on my clavicle, my shoulders … taking his time. No hands were in play, just his breath and his lips swollen from dragging them upon my skin. Skin now adorned with goose bumps and exuding little shivers when he placed his mouth on new spots. The worship continued over my chest, teasing my nipples through my lace bra, licking the adjunct of the cups in between my heaving breasts. He elle-feb-reader-the-hunger-mid-life-0113-xln-d9RArY-mdnwas now at my mid-section … using his scruffy cheeks to give me a new sensation across my skin. Back and forth. Left cheek. Right cheek, until I felt his darting tongue in my navel in a “come hither” movement. I was writhing slightly, moving my body to the metronome of his breathing. “Don’t move,” he said softly. Compliant, I steeled myself and stopped.  He was at my hips and the tops of my thighs now and in presumption of the area that was next I let out a barely audible chirp, “Shhh” he said.

My body was lifting off the divider now. My hands in my hair, only my shoulders held me up … I was giving my body over to him without my even being aware of it. I could feel my wetness soaking my thighs and calves. His tongue making soft, grazing, protracted movements toward my sex. I felt the tip of his tongue now, swishing closer to my slit getting nearer to the center of my desire. Then, a tiny flick. That’s all it took to transport me through my body and into the rapture of orgasm. Fick, flick. Again, my body convulsed and shuddered with heady and overpowering thrashes of delight and release. His torso leaned back sitting on his thighs to watch my process and to admire his work as my breathing normalized and I came back into my sweaty and sensitized body. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, grinning. I grinned back, looking into his azure blue eyes, still not moving from my place at the divider … waiting to be told I could speak or move. He rose and moved toward me until he was so close I could feel his body heat through his suit. Our eyes were locked. I could feel his desire and his need. He gently grabbed my wrists and held them to the divider, still keeping my gaze, he kissed me.

All the tension from weeks of no physical contact was released through the passion in that kiss. Soon we were moving. I found myself taking off his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and whisking his belt away from his pants all without leaving him and that succulent kiss. I felt the backs of my knees against the well-made bed. The high thread count felt cool against my burning skin. He pushed us down so that we were now on the bed, only his left arm keeping his entire body weight from enveloping me. Somehow, he had managed to break free from his clothes and now feeling his erect cock and the pre-cum on my leg I was even more aroused. His placed his right hand on my breast, suckling it with ardor and the desperation of a starving man. His left arm was now between us surreptitiously pushing my panties to my knees then that same bare hand cupping my pussy and feeling its soaking need, he broke free from my breast to look at me, smile and then continue. He was rubbing my cleft playfully but with intent. I was writhing and moaning, canting my hips upward so that my lips might feel the shaft of his hardness. tumblr_m3ffbcu4dz1r5ty2ro1_400He tried to control me but it was useless … I won.

The instant our sexes met he was imbued with an even greater passion. Sitting up and taking hold of his member, he began to stroke it up and down my gap bathing it in the juices only he brought forth. Taunting my clit with the heat and stiffness of his arousal I could barely stand it anymore. “Fuck me Martin. Please fuck me”. He managed a smile through his fervid expression. “Not yet my beautiful Ms. Cheeky”. He was now astride my shoulders and offering himself to me. I nodded and with that, he lowered his cock to my mouth and I greedily took it all in. I looked up at him to see his head bend to the side, eyes closed and biting his bottom lip. Not taking my eyes off him I worked my tongue around the crown and flicked the “sweet spot” just to watch him shiver. He opened his eyes to see me licking up his shaft from the base of his stem to his tip with the flat of my tongue and he let out an “ohhhh”. I was in control now and I liked it. I took him all the way inside my mouth again, sucking gently as I bobbed him in and out.

His moans grew louder and then, suddenly, as if something pulled him from behind and dropped him down again, he was on top of me. I felt the plunge of his excitement inside of me and I gasped with delight “Oh yes!/Oh God!” we both exclaimed at the same time. He began to move precisely and slowly in and out of my saturated crevice as I positioned my hips for maximum access. Plunging into my liquid hole he told me how soft and tight I was … how he had longed for this every waking moment for weeks. Moving my legs to his shoulders he progressed with more fervor more emotion. He continued faster yet with more tenderness as he leaned down to kiss my neck, my chest, my mouth. I whispered into his ear “Come for me my darling” and with that he rose above me and with firmly affixed thrusts, came with a yell of guttural satisfaction, rasping breath and a deep groan. He crashed next to me. His breath waxing and waning to match his heartbeat. I turned to him, taking his hand in mine and nuzzled my head on his shoulder. He leaned over to kiss my forehead “Nice to see you again Ms Cheeky”, he mocked. “It’s always a pleasure Mr. Guerre”.  With smiles on our faces, we both drifted off to sleep.

Jul 202012
 
tumblr_m3ffbcu4dz1r5ty2ro1_400

seduction100

I was leaning against the modern wooden room divider in a black lace bra and panties set. The hard wood cutouts made the position uncomfortable, as did the plus size thigh-high digging into my skin. I felt the top of each thigh high and tried to adjust them so that the bubble of skin that the elastic made was less noticeable, to no avail. I had oiled my body out of the shower. Supple and with sheen, it was what he liked to see upon laying eyes on me for the first time in weeks. He said he longed to feel the slip of his fingers on my skin when he put his hands around my waist in preparation to kiss me. I longed for this too … so much, the thought made me slippery above those ill-fitting thigh highs I had given up on. I heard the electronic key card allow him entry and the sound made my pussy throb with expectation, as I heard him pad deliberately into the room. He turned the corner to see me against the divider “close your eyes” He said.  I did as I was told.  I felt him close to me … maybe an inch … his breath mingling with mine in timed beats. And then I felt it. The tiniest, sweetest of kisses being bestowed on my cheek and more down my jaw. He continued little raindrops of these kisses upon my forehead and nose. Making certain his delicate balance was felt on each side of my face, I only felt his lips … that’s all he wanted me to feel …just his kind kisses … and that I was loved. I felt loved. Right now anyway, and that, it seemed, was my greatest desire. I ached for feeling … something reciprocal, something true. Was this it? It didn’t matter right now.

He traipsed his mouth down to my neck, making certain to retrieve the salty essence from my skin with intermittent licks. He concentrated on my clavicle, my shoulders … taking his time. No hands were in play, just his breath and his lips swollen from dragging them upon my skin. Skin now adorned with goose bumps and exuding little shivers when he placed his mouth on new spots. The worship continued over my chest, teasing my nipples through my lace bra, licking the adjunct of the cups in between my heaving breasts. He elle-feb-reader-the-hunger-mid-life-0113-xln-d9RArY-mdnwas now at my mid-section … using his scruffy cheeks to give me a new sensation across my skin. Back and forth. Left cheek. Right cheek, until I felt his darting tongue in my navel in a “come hither” movement. I was writhing slightly, moving my body to the metronome of his breathing. “Don’t move,” he said softly. Compliant, I steeled myself and stopped.  He was at my hips and the tops of my thighs now and in presumption of the area that was next I let out a barely audible chirp, “Shhh” he said.

My body was lifting off the divider now. My hands in my hair, only my shoulders held me up … I was giving my body over to him without my even being aware of it. I could feel my wetness soaking my thighs and calves. His tongue making soft, grazing, protracted movements toward my sex. I felt the tip of his tongue now, swishing closer to my slit getting nearer to the center of my desire. Then, a tiny flick. That’s all it took to transport me through my body and into the rapture of orgasm. Fick, flick. Again, my body convulsed and shuddered with heady and overpowering thrashes of delight and release. His torso leaned back sitting on his thighs to watch my process and to admire his work as my breathing normalized and I came back into my sweaty and sensitized body. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, grinning. I grinned back, looking into his azure blue eyes, still not moving from my place at the divider … waiting to be told I could speak or move. He rose and moved toward me until he was so close I could feel his body heat through his suit. Our eyes were locked. I could feel his desire and his need. He gently grabbed my wrists and held them to the divider, still keeping my gaze, he kissed me.

All the tension from weeks of no physical contact was released through the passion in that kiss. Soon we were moving. I found myself taking off his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and whisking his belt away from his pants all without leaving him and that succulent kiss. I felt the backs of my knees against the well-made bed. The high thread count felt cool against my burning skin. He pushed us down so that we were now on the bed, only his left arm keeping his entire body weight from enveloping me. Somehow, he had managed to break free from his clothes and now feeling his erect cock and the pre-cum on my leg I was even more aroused. His placed his right hand on my breast, suckling it with ardor and the desperation of a starving man. His left arm was now between us surreptitiously pushing my panties to my knees then that same bare hand cupping my pussy and feeling its soaking need, he broke free from my breast to look at me, smile and then continue. He was rubbing my cleft playfully but with intent. I was writhing and moaning, canting my hips upward so that my lips might feel the shaft of his hardness. tumblr_m3ffbcu4dz1r5ty2ro1_400He tried to control me but it was useless … I won.

The instant our sexes met he was imbued with an even greater passion. Sitting up and taking hold of his member, he began to stroke it up and down my gap bathing it in the juices only he brought forth. Taunting my clit with the heat and stiffness of his arousal I could barely stand it anymore. “Fuck me Martin. Please fuck me”. He managed a smile through his fervid expression. “Not yet my beautiful Ms. Cheeky”. He was now astride my shoulders and offering himself to me. I nodded and with that, he lowered his cock to my mouth and I greedily took it all in. I looked up at him to see his head bend to the side, eyes closed and biting his bottom lip. Not taking my eyes off him I worked my tongue around the crown and flicked the “sweet spot” just to watch him shiver. He opened his eyes to see me licking up his shaft from the base of his stem to his tip with the flat of my tongue and he let out an “ohhhh”. I was in control now and I liked it. I took him all the way inside my mouth again, sucking gently as I bobbed him in and out.

His moans grew louder and then, suddenly, as if something pulled him from behind and dropped him down again, he was on top of me. I felt the plunge of his excitement inside of me and I gasped with delight “Oh yes!/Oh God!” we both exclaimed at the same time. He began to move precisely and slowly in and out of my saturated crevice as I positioned my hips for maximum access. Plunging into my liquid hole he told me how soft and tight I was … how he had longed for this every waking moment for weeks. Moving my legs to his shoulders he progressed with more fervor more emotion. He continued faster yet with more tenderness as he leaned down to kiss my neck, my chest, my mouth. I whispered into his ear “Come for me my darling” and with that he rose above me and with firmly affixed thrusts, came with a yell of guttural satisfaction, rasping breath and a deep groan. He crashed next to me. His breath waxing and waning to match his heartbeat. I turned to him, taking his hand in mine and nuzzled my head on his shoulder. He leaned over to kiss my forehead “Nice to see you again Ms Cheeky”, he mocked. “It’s always a pleasure Mr. Guerre”.  With smiles on our faces, we both drifted off to sleep.

Jul 132012
 

Melissa Harris-Perry   |  Aired on July 07, 2012

Porn in America

Melissa Harris-Perry and her panelists – including feminist pornographer Tristan Taormino, Fordham University’s Zephyr Teachout, author Jaclyn Friedman, and Georgetown University professor Michael Eric Dyson – talk about the American porn industry.

Porn in America – Video on msnbc.com.

Jul 052012
 

556761_10151507468618913_1345142771_nPosted on 6/29/12 – Letters Of Note  blog:

In the 1940s, at which point she — along with a collective of other writers that included her lover, Henry Miller — was earning $1 per page writing erotic fiction for the private consumption of an anonymous client, author Anaïs Nin wrote the following passionate letter to the “Collector” and made known her frustrations — frustrations that had been caused by his repeated insistence that they “leave out the poetry” and instead “concentrate on sex.”Incidentally, some of those stories written by Nin were later published in the book,Delta Of Venus.

(Source: The Diary Of Anais Nin, Volume 3; 1939-1944; Image: Anaïs Nin, via.)

Dear Collector:

We hate you. Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit, mechanical, overdone, when it becomes a mechanistic obsession. It becomes a bore. You have taught us more than anyone I know how wrong it is not to mix it with emotion, hunger, desire, lust, whims, caprices, personal ties, deeper relationships which change its color, flavor, rhythms, intensities.

You do no know what you are missing by your microscopic examination of sexual activity to the exclusion of others, which are the fuel that ignites it. Intellectual, imaginative, romantic, emotional. This is what gives sex its surprising textures, its subtle transformations, its aphrodisiac elements. You are shrinking your world of sensations. You are withering it, starving it, draining its blood.

If you nourished your sexual life with all the excitements and adventures which love injects into sensuality, you would be the most potent man in the world. The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation. Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods, no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all of the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.

How much do you lose by this periscope at the tip of your sex, when you could enjoy a harem of discrete and never-repeated wonders? Not two hairs alike, but you will not let us waste words on a description of hair; not two odors, but if we expand on this, you cry “Cut the poetry.” Not two skins with the same texture, and never the same light, temperature, shadows, never the same gesture; for a lover, when he is aroused by true love, can run the gamut of centuries of love lore, What a range, what changes of age, what variations of maturity and innocence, perversity and art, natural and graceful animals.

We have sat around for hours and wondered how you look. If you have closed your senses around silk, light, color, odor, character, temperament, you must by now be completely shriveled up. There are so many minor senses, all running like tributaries into the mainstream of sex, nourishing it. Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.

Anais Nin

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