Sunday, May 16, 2010

Wonderpuss and Anal Advocacy... an Afternoon with my Sex Mentor

These days, I am constantly busy editing my memoir-- getting it ready for the copy editor. I've just revised this section about my sex mentor/friend Teresa and am including it here for your sexy consumption. I hope you enjoy it and are nourished!
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________THE NIGEL SESSIONS... UNLEASHING SACRED DESIRE, pages 152-155

“So you can actually sit on this thing and get it in all the way in!” I exclaim in disbelief. I am handling the biggest, blackest dildo I have ever seen in my life. I am with my friend Teresa in her bedroom at her swanky home right outside of Austin.

“Yeah, you just relax into it. It takes me awhile but I can do it.”

An attractive, blue-eyed brunette with a sexy, slow talking New York City accent, Teresa is my female sex mentor when when it comes to toys, kinky sex ideas, strap-ons, dildos and guy fucking. She was the one who turned me on to the best websites when I first ordered my equipment. Monogamous, she’s been fucking her rich computer genius husband Mario’s butt for years. It’s just one of the many things they do together... her sitting on huge black dildos with her pussy while he watches is another. Teresa’s collection of dildos beats mine tenfold and my Goliath seems small next to what she’s got. I marvel at Teresa’s assortment of wigs and black corsets that take up more than half of her enormous walk-in closet. She also has an awesome array of hand cuffs, cock rings, ropes, butt plugs, surgical sex apparatus and fornication furniture. Sex is Teresa’s passion and personal performance art. She inspires me.

“Mind if I give it a try?” I ask. The athlete in me is curious.

“Sure, go right ahead,” she responds with her provocative voice, “I’ll just have to wash it off good when you’re done.” She winks and smiles. I am always captivated by her brilliant, oceanic topaz eyes.

I pull my pants off (no panties) and try and negotiate this monstrosity. It’s kind of like approaching a big, sloppy taco and wondering how the hell you are going to eat it... where that first bite will take place... only it’s my pussy that’s doing the eating and I have to admit that my mouth’s just not large enough. I twist, turn and torc and the best I can do is to get my outer lips barely around the head which, and I am not exaggerating, is the size of a medium cantaloupe.

“You really can do this!?!... You are amazing!” I exclaim to Teresa, “a real Wonderpuss!” I fall off the dildo and mimic exhaustion.

“It takes a lot of practice... you can’t rush it.”

Teresa has a lot of pride in her special abilities. This is good because she doesn’t earn an income and has issues about being completely financially dependent on her husband. To further complicate matters, Mario-- an Italian originally from Rome who keeps her on a short leash-- is the most jealous man I have ever known. Teresa is under his complete control, something she always complains about. Mario is so possessive that one time when they were having sex she told him that she thought, just THOUGHT, about her dentist and he completely forbade her to ever see that dentist again. Stuff like that makes me really appreciate how open-minded and understanding Will is with me. For as much as a difficult person he is, Will has always empowered me when it comes to my sexuality. He never shames me. I use fantasy all the time during sex with him and when I tell him about it he encourages me to go even further. He loves my creative mind... well, as long as he gets to tie me up as often as he likes!

“Here,” she says, handing me a lovely black corset with garters, “I never use this one anymore... it’s yours if you want it.”

Although it’s not my style to wear such things, I accept it because it’s got Teresa’s great sex energy in it. Maybe if I dress up in it sometime I can pretend to be her and who knows... maybe I’ll learn how to be a Wonderpuss!

We both have a chunk of free time-- which is a rarity-- and so we agree to go have a leisurely lunch. We decide on Z’Tejas Grill at the Arboretum, a Southwestern Tex-Mex restaurant in an up-scale Austin shopping area. We enter the chi-chi restaurant and heads turn, mainly to look at Teresa. I think people can sense that huge pussy of hers and her aura of compliant accessibility. We get a table on the veranda overlooking the beginnings of the Hill Country and order a couple of stiff top-shelf margaritas. We’re ready to continue our deep sex conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about the ass a lot lately,” I start in, “I never knew that I would grow up to be such an Anal Advocate! Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would be talking up the benefits of anal awareness in a culture that disdains the ass. I’m almost fifty and I’ve just discovered the pleasure and treasure of the ass!

“A real ‘booty’ find,” Teresa giggles.

“I mean, think about it... the ass almost always gets a bad rap. People are always using it as an insult. For instance, 'You asshole!'”

“You’re full of shit!”

“You’re a pain in the ass!”

“Kiss my ass!”

“I’m gonna kick your butt!”

“You shit on me!”

“What a piece of shit!”

“You’ve got your head up your ass!”

“Shove it up your ass!”


“Don’t give me that crap!”

“Up yours!” we magically say together in perfect unison. We are practically on the floor heaving with laughter as we both simultaneously give each other the finger. Thank God it’s after the lunch rush and our handsome metrosexual waiter seems to be quite tolerant and rather amused by us. I notice he has a great ass.

“Wow, the poor ass, “ I continue, “maligned and despised by most, if not all, cultures. How can we continue to hate this part of our body? The ass is a PART of us and should be honored as such.” The margarita is kicking in and I’m on a roll and a little loud now, “I don’t just tolerate my ass as a necessary nuisance, I really OWN my ass in all its power and glory. I’m so glad that I learned how to FUCK with my ass, the Best Kept Secret of body parts!”

“Yeah, it’s fine to hate the ass the way it’s fine to hate tree cockroaches... it’s like we can project our inner anger and disgust onto them,” Teresa adds, herself a little tipsy.

“And I get a a culturally condoned chance to release these pent up negative emotions when I grab that big shoe and smash the inner guts right out of that thing!” I exclaim banging the pepper shaker on the table. “It’s as if the ass is the ‘shadow’ side of our psyches... you know, those unconsciously motivated dark places that Carl Jung talked about... anytime we dissociate from a part of ourselves we are kept from living and breathing as whole sentient beings. We are fragmented. Everything we are afraid of...all the instinct, irrationality and creativity we keep repressed... all of that that gets projected onto the ass.“

“The joke’s on us though,” Teresa adds, “because our asses, like tree roaches, are here to stay.”

“Well said!” We stop a minute to place our orders and to devour the incredibly delicious homemade corn bread that Z’Tejas is famous for. “And the poor gay guys,” I continue, “all the names... faggot, queer, sissy.”

“Cocksucker, pervert, 3-dollar bill...”

“It’s as if it’s completely OK to hate and scapegoat them as a societal subclass. Like the tree roaches... to project one’s anger, frustration, and inner turmoil onto them is culturally condoned. And every once in awhile when somebody public is busted-- say a politician caught in a gay affair or trying to solicit for gay sex in a bathroom... or a movie star getting found out with a transvestite-- it is once again reinforced that it’s fine and dandy to hate the ass and any sexual practice that goes with it.”

“The poor, denigrated ass... and all it’s trying to do is complete the natural process of converting food into energy for our bodies,“ Teresa expounds, while sticking her fork into her very raw, very pink piece of tuna that reminds me of what her pussy must be like. If I was lesbian... and alas, I’ve tried several times and it’s just not my thing... she’s a women I might go for.

“And why do we disdain the leftovers? Let’s face it, shit is just the by-product of food. Why do we LOVE food but HATE shit?!” I reason out while biting into my piping-hot delicious stacked chicken and artichoke dish. “We eat, break the food down, use what nutrients we can and then recycle the leftovers. Remember... shit makes for great fertilizer!”

“Which in turn makes for rich soil so more delicious food can be grown. It’s really a beautiful system! But it’s as if we only love the first part of this natural process and pooh-pooh (we both laugh incessantly again) the second part.”

“And let’s be honest, it feels great to take a good dump! Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to eat, smell or play with shit... I like a squeaky-clean ass for sex. I just think we need to acknowledge the PLEASURE in this area of the body. For most people, the ass and all of its ass-ociations (we laugh our “asses” off again!) is a source of shame and fear. I say... get over it! Or rather...get into it!”

“Would you two lovely ladies like another drink, or perhaps I can interest you in dessert?” interrupts our eloquent, fetching waiter. We decide to share a Z’Tejas hot apple pie a la mode.

“I’d do him,” I whisper loudly as he sashays off. “I mean... since being with Nigel... I look at men differently now... like, I want to get INTO a man like a guy would want to get into a woman. I get it now.”

“Yeah, he looks like he wants it up the ass. I see what you mean about the pleasure thing ‘cause I like the sensations of receiving it, but I’m not as into giving it to men’s butts like you are... I only do it because Mario asks for it. And I’m not really that great with the fucking.”

I notice Teresa’s nails are long, well-groomed and polished black for dramatic effect. I figure she probably doesn’t relish getting her fingers into that hot, heartbeat, “seat-of-the soul” pulse place like I do. Short nails are so much better for anal exploration!

Our awesome dessert arrives. We devour it as Teresa mischievously goads me on to hit the waiter up for a date. I tell her, ”No, I’m really a girl at heart and not that promiscuous. I’ve got to have true feelings for a guy before I plow his hiney!” We giggle like seventh graders.

Two hours after our arrival we finally finish our lunch. The waiter gives us a sweet, sideways smile and professional nod as we joyously totter past him out of the restaurant. Either he’s heard what we were talking about or he’s real happy about the huge tip we’ve left him. I notice I’m wet and turned-on from all our sexy talk and can’t wait to get home to fuck Will before the kids return from school... and then... soon, I want to nail Nigel again-- we’re way overdue! Session # 6 is right around the corner.


Friday, April 30, 2010

A Divine Revelation

On several occasions, people have asked me when the first time was that I realized I was a dancer. I tell them this story. It was such a life-altering experience that I have devoted two pages to it in my soon-to-be-released memoir, THE NIGEL SESSIONS... UNLEASHING SACRED DESIRE. The following is an excerpt, pages 64-66:

"The anxious exhilaration I feel driving to Session #2 is similar to that of when I drove to Session #1, only this time it feels even more like an acid trip. I did a lot of LSD in college (in Amish country, Lancaster, Pennsylvania) and there were many times when my hippie friends and I would stay up all night and have wonderful, crazy trips together. To help focus my mind as I make my way to Nigel's land, I get to thinking about those fun days.

There was one very memorable trip in which I had a profound realization of my destiny. It was in the middle of the summer of 1975. I was between my sophomore and junior year of college and this was right before I left for Bangor, Wales for a one-year-abroad program. It was midnight and about six of us were mightily tripping and full of energy. One of my friends worked as a part-time secretary at a Protestant Church and had the keys to it, so we gathered some musical instruments and snuck into the Chapel.

The Chapel itself was unpretentious and elegant. The sides of the room had exquisite stained-glass and on the floor was a wall-to-wall deep red carpet. On a raised platform toward the front was a simple wooden altar with a Bible that rested upon it. We set-up and began to play guitars, hand drums, tambourines, rattles and even the Church’s ornate organ. I remember the sound of the music being huge, sumptuous and fantastic.

I was so inspired by the music and the beauty of the room that I began to dance... stately at first and then wildly, with full expression and abandonment! I had just purchased a beige antique shawl from the late 1800's at a local flea market and used this as a prop as I twirled, gyrated, pulsed and leaped around the altar. Everything I did was perfectly timed with the music and seemed to be sublimely connected to Universal Spirit.

When the music suddenly and climatically stopped, I released the fancy flesh-colored, floral-patterned shawl and it fell into a perfect semicircle around the altar. At the same instant I dropped dramatically to the floor landing flat on my back with my feet underneath. It was then-- at that impeccable moment-- that I had a major realization: I AM A SACRED TEMPLE BELLY DANCER! It was as if I had remembered this from a past life because the dance came to me so naturally and effortlessly. I knew that being a priestess belly dancer was in my destiny for this life as well. The dance movement I had done, I found out years later, had a name; it is called a Turkish Drop.

This revelatory moment wasn’t just in my head. Everyone was enthralled at the time and also in awe the following day when we were lounging, recouping our energy and recollecting our trips-- something we usually did after one of these drug experiences. We were laughing about how when the cops came we were able to hide in the church pews and sneak out before they caught us. And then everyone mentioned my dance and how much it moved them.

I have often wondered what my life would have been like if I hadn’t done LSD. Would I have become the psychologist I had originally intended to be?"


And so, Illuminating the Dark blog reader, I ask you, have you ever had such a Divine Revelation about your own life?... a moment in time when your destiny has been revealed to you and your life is changed forever?

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Bound by Love

(Attention Readers: this is a continuation of the last post. So, if you haven't already, I suggest that you first read the last couple of blog entries for some background info on East Indian Sahajiya love relationships.)

Ah yes... the After Session #20 Session with Will. This experience is way different and yet just as sexy as the one with Nigel. I'll get into some delectable details in a moment, but first some words about my marriage.

My husband Will is my partner in art and life. If being with Nigel is dreamy, other-worldly and surreal, then being with Will is concrete, deeply nourishing and very fucking real. We share a house, chores, two children, a bank account, orgasms, coffee, opinions, emotions, dance shows, birthdays and projects of all kinds. He is my best friend and worst foe. We've been on this karmic roller coaster journey with each other for over thirty years now, so I guess you could call him my first-- and only-- mate. I love Will... even when we are not speaking to each other.

The Sahajiyas designed a religion that has at its core the pursuit and exaltation of an open love affair with someone other than one's spouse. Our culture generally does not condone such things--in fact, it's one of the biggest reasons for divorce. Someone fucks someone else and the entire shebang falls apart. How absurd!!! Think about it, the whole life that a couple has built for themselves goes to hell because intimacy was shared with another. Ridiculous! I believe that it is the LIES that kill the marriage. No one wants to feel like they have been "whamboozled," the pain cuts too deep and it destroys. Just think about all those celebrity affairs in the news these days. Pathetic.

Honesty is an absolute must if an outside Sahajiya relationship is to be developed. Only then can one reap the rewards of desire for the unfamiliar fulfilled-- of Divine Love expressed for its own sake alone, without the entanglements of marriage. In this regard, I have been fortunate enough to be married to a man who has always been open-minded and with whom I can be brutally honest.

I knew from the start of our courtship that Will was a person who was very savvy when it came to sexuality and matters of the heart. During this time, we both dated other people. Will never got jealous (it was a lot harder for me!). In fact, I had another boyfriend until just a couple of weeks before our marriage. Will was fine with allowing me to keep the boyfriend even after our marriage, but before that could happen the boyfriend broke up with me (at Trudy's Mexican restaurant no less, after enumerating all of my character flaws!) I came home and cried and it was Will who comforted me by saying, "Don't worry Sophia, I love you and we ARE getting married soon!" That's how liberal thinking he was and still is. Now, this doesn't mean that Will is a wimpy pushover-- far from the truth. Will always demands that he be given "his due." I can do what I want as long as he never feels short-changed.

I am greatly appreciative and it is in this spirit that I make the drive home from Nigel's land after Session #20. I'm feeling happy and energized from my exhilarating evening, but that nagging emptiness-- that murky void-- that began when I woke up has now become golf-sized in the center of my belly. I'm not worried because I know that Will is the man to fill it up-- he knows all about energy and how to wield it. He's my King of Wands.

When I walk in the door, I can smell the delicious coffee that Will has just made. We share a lot of caffeine brew together-- a personal ritual between us. He hands me my cup and I take a sip. As soon as I lower the cup down to the counter he immediately grabs my wrists, presses them together behind my back and passionately kisses me. Sometimes when Will kisses me this intensely-- and I'm not ready for it-- I will resist. It can feel too much like an invasion and can even trigger anger in me... but not today. Today I am full of gratitude and love. My mouth, tongue and throat surrender completely. Our kisses are full of depth and commitment. I find myself sucking in his breath. I am aware of the prana-- the yogic breath life force-- that is being generated between us. With each gulp I feel myself inflating, settling down, centering... I am home.

We drink and chat. He talks about his fiasco during the morning with the teens-- how Peter was worried about me and wouldn't go to school until he heard my voice on the answering machine and how Melissa was pissed-off when he truthfully told her where I was in answer to her inquiry as to my whereabouts the night before. I realize it's not easy on these kids. I look forward to doing damage control in the form of some good one-on-one time spent with each of them. I then go on to tell Will all about my evening. I especially expound upon the highlights of my beautiful orgasmic experience. Sparing no details, I dramatize the events and establish the story that I will eventually tell to several of my girlfriends who love getting first-hand accounts of my Nigel Sessions.

Will's just happy to have me back. He keeps referring to me as his "tart wife." I realize that this is a big turn-on for him and plays into why he's so good with the jealousy factor. He enjoys fucking me after I've been fucked by someone else all night! But there are other factors as well. Will actually likes Nigel and thinks that he is a good, hard-working guy. Will also appreciates Nigel because he sees how happy I am when I get to express myself in that special hermaphroditic way... and that happiness spreads into our marriage. Thank Goodness! I know that if I didn't have Will's approval, my Sahajiya relationship would simply not happen. It'd be too hard.

After our second cup, Will looks at me intensely with those hazel-brown eyes and says, "You know what I want... go get one." I say nothing and immediately run upstairs, rummage through our messy closet and pull out a 4-yard long bright yellow satin sash, a sometimes dancing prop of mine. It's only about 6 inches in width and it looks like a huge golden ribbon. I return. Will takes no time in pulling off all of my clothes. He swiftly and nimbly ties one end of the sash around my waist, secures it in the back and pulls the bulk of it down my sacrum and then up through my pussy lips. He then knots it in front to the belt he's just created. With the remaining end (stick with me here, 'cause I really want you to visualize the artistry of this!) he ties each of my hands about a foot-and-a-half apart. If I pull up on my arms it tugs the waist which tightens the groove in my pussy. I feel controlled yet in control.

We are standing and I put my bound arms behind Will's neck. He bites my shoulder while stretching and pulling different parts of the slinky love contraption. My one pussy lip swells up and pops out from the side of the sash. He enjoys exploring the tight space it makes and then dives his fingers into my very wet nether region. I love it!

"Probably best to leave my ass alone, it's a little sore," I tell him, "but my pussy needs some good plowing." Will has no problem with this. He absolutely loves my pussy and is happy to give it to me just like I want it. Yet this fuck's for him. It's pay back time and I want him to have the ride of his life. I do this with full love and gratitude. Maybe the Sahajiyas knew something smart about marriage. Maybe they knew that if prema-- Divine Love-- was attained from a ritualized outside love affair, that it could be used to enliven and enrich the commonness of matrimony. I think that this must be true. The prema I experienced from the night before has gestated inside me and my heart is now wide open. I want to give of myself completely.

He throws me on the living room couch. Taking my bound arms and placing them behind my knees, I find myself in a tight yoga ball. He has a beautiful, light-brownish full-sized cock and adeptly maneuvers it into my mouth. My throat yields like it did with Nigel, no resistance. It's not long before Will is throbbing and ready to plunge deep into my core. I'm not feeling the need to cum, so I tell him to go for it, unleash it on me. I'll get my orgasm later when my cum reservoir builds back up and I ask him for his fabulous head-giving skills-- he's the best at this, a total pro!

He pulls aside the part of the sash that has rested in my pussy folds, enters me and begins his ride. My pussy is hungry for him and he knows it. I am rolled, bound and free! I hold on for dear life as I get caught up in the whirl of ecstasy and ascend to paradise with him. Right before he cums, he exclaims, "Look at me! Look at me Sophia!" I do and I see a man completely and utterly in love. I am filled-up with Will's strong essence, enduring life-force and fierce passion. The dark void inside me is now completely gone. I love this man with all my heart. He sustains me like the earth I walk upon.

"So who gets to tie you up, Sophia? Who?... now who?" he says smugly, as I rest my head in his chest and his facile fingers release me from my love cuffs.

"You Babe, only you...," I promise.

"Yeah, because that's the husband's job and nobody else gets to do it."

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

From Kama to Prema... the Road to Divine Love

I know it's been awhile since last I wrote, but the mundane-- yet important-- obligations of life have consumed my time recently. So now that my taxes, continuing education requirements, course curriculums and parenting paperwork have been completed, I can concentrate on telling you about Session #20.

But first, here's a little background info on my Sessions with Nigel and some more Sahajiya East Indian philosophy. I will get to the sex soon, I promise!

Session #20 happened in early February of this year about six weeks following Session #19. Before Session #19, Nigel and I had not been together sexually for over a year. With the exception of the first few months of our relationship, that's pretty much how it’s been for the past five-and-a-half years... on again, off again. The general scenario is that Nigel is single, dating and whenever he hasn't been with anyone in awhile we get together. Usually after about two of our reunion Sessions, he starts dating again and gets into a semi-serious relationship for a couple of months. We don’t start back up till its over.

This cycle has happened at least a dozen times. At first it was very hard on me because I would get incredibly jealous of these other women, but now I realize that it was-- and still is-- an opportunity for me to grow spiritually. An important part of the Sahajiya relationship is that it involves non-attachment and separation. There can be no possession of each other in the conventional sense. For the experience to be pure, the quality of letting go must always be there. Each Sahajiya encounter must be approached as if it might be the last.

A second important part of the Sahajiya relationship is that it also cultivates the feeling of a deep longing, called "viraha." The greater the viraha, the greater the experience of self-knowledge and Divine Love. It's like, "The more you want something, the sweeter it is when you get it" idea. The longing deepens the experience. The spiritual challenge, for me, is in balancing the viraha, the longing, with the letting go... a divine paradox for sure. If I clutch and hold on tight, I lose it. If I trust and let go, it comes back. The practice is to stay blissfully unattached; easier said than done, but I have made progress.

Finally, the third important part of the Sahajiya relationship is the conversion of "kama," carnal attraction and desire, to "prema," true love as exhibited by Krishna and Radha, the role model relationship. In a Sahajiya union, a strong kama is necessary, at least at first-- so kama is actually a very good thing. But unless kama-- the desire to satisfy only the senses-- is transformed into prema-- a selfless Divine Love-- the path will not lead to ultimate joy. In fact, rather, the path leads to misery and discontent as one can get caught up in the egotistical and vain limitations of a non-spiritual sexual release and the baser human emotions that go along with it (like my insane jealousies!). Kama is the road, prema is the destination and when you have arrived duality ceases and a Blissful Oneness is experienced. Great!!! But once again, easier said than done. I have made lots of progress, however, here as well. Through this Sahajiya relationship my heart has grown fuller with love and gratitude... especially, and unexpectedly, for my husband Will.

I hope you have found all of this obscure East Indian philosophy interesting. It is necessary for me to talk about it because it gives you a basis as to the nature of my sexual relationship with Nigel.

And so, here it is, Session #20, hang on....

I arrive on a Monday night around 7:30PM as planned. I come straight from an advanced yoga class and am feeling vital and alive. It takes about an hour to get there since Nigel lives out in the country, outside of Austin in the San Marcos area. (I have a full description of his place in my up-coming memoir THE NIGEL SESSIONS, so I won't go into great detail of it here). He lives on land that he loves and where he has built a small, rustic, and very sweet straw bale house. I am dressed in casual yoga clothes. My body is well-oiled, coifed and completely cleaned-out with a Fleet enema I did earlier in the day. We both do this-- I call it our "anal etiquette."

As soon as my car drives up, Nigel greets me outside with a big smile. He is blond, beautiful, clean-shaven and right out of the shower. We are always thrilled to see each other. The anticipation of our union has been building, as it usually does, mainly through email exchanges. We haven't seen each other in a good six weeks. And as is traditional in our Sessions, I come bearing gifts of dinner (tonight it's a chicken fajita platter), a bottle of red wine and my large, autumn-colored tapestry bag filled with sex toys.

We hug, kiss lightly and get caught up on the latest news of our families, work and travels. He opens the wine, we smoke some pot and since we are both very hungry, we break out the food early. Soon after eating and relaxing we get down to business with some passionate kisses and big, broad muscular sexual gymnastics. I love grabbing his butt cheeks and pulling and tugging him apart. He immediately goes for my asshole, fingering me with gusto. I have to hand it to the guy, he wastes no time in getting to where he wants to be. Soon though, he says, "Get your equipment out, I really want you to fuck me." Of course I immediately comply. At this point, I'm besides myself with lust... the kama is building.

I go to the bathroom and make decisions on which dildos to use. I decide on Golden Boy (tan, with gold flecks-- my "belly dancer" cock) in my pussy and Goliath (big, purple, hearty, the "if I was a guy, this would be my cock" cock) as the main one to penetrate him with. I strategically situate my clitoral vibrator and carefully place the controls in the left hip strap of my leather harness. I keep my sweat pants on over my enormous protrusion for visual effect as I exit the bathroom.

He sees me and his eyes immediately light up, I grab his hand and place it on my dick. We wrestle to and then onto the bed as if we are in an ancient Greek Olympics sport. Fingers go in and out of every orifice we own. He whips out the two anal plugs I gifted him with on Session #19. He's been loving them. One is smaller, flesh colored, and the other is bigger and very black. He uses them in my pussy (later on), my ass, my mouth, and in his ass and mouth. He licks and sucks them-- as well as Goliath-- as if they were the most delicious ice cream cones in the world. If it's one thing I've associated with sex with Nigel, it's that all the normal rules of hygiene are broken. A toy, hand, finger, toe or mouth will go everywhere, anywhere, creating more bodily juice than I thought was humanly possible. My sweat, my saliva and the juices from my pussy and ass all pour out of me in abundance. We never use lube because we don't have to. I drink huge amounts of water the whole time to keep up with the outflow.

Finally it's time for me to fuck him. I go down on his ass, relishing the beautiful golden flecks of hair surrounding his pretty pink portal. I finger him-- one, two, three fingers, almost a whole hand-- as I milk his shapely, moderately-sized cock. I grab his legs and place them over my shoulders as I enter him from the front. He's so beautiful I gasp in disbelief. I feel so lucky to be having this experience. He moans with an exquisite cadence, soaking in all the pleasure he is receiving in his prostate. I fuck and fuck him and begin to think about all the joy he gives me and others as well. Although in real life he's not gay, I like to fantasize about him getting fucked by other men, especially athletic black guys who cum all over him in every which way... kama at its best.

I finally decide to turn him over and enter him from the back, the angle is better. I get a couple of pillows and put them under his hips. This is a technique I've learned from Will, who, by the way, is my biggest guy mentor on how to penetrate someone (beautifully ironic, yes!). I position Nigel just right, finagle Goliath so it stays in, and Nigel starts talking, "Oh fuck me, fuck me," he softly says, "You're the first one of the night and I want you right there." I practically go insane. The kama is over the top. I know he knows ('cause we've talked about it) that I love the idea of being the first one of the night to cum in a hot guy's ass. He knows this is a huge turn-on for me and he's giving it to me just like I love it! Flashes, Kodak images of hunky gorgeous gay men fucking him rolodex through my mind. I realize that I am about to cum and prolong the inevitable. Kama turns to prema as I gaze upon my wonderful lover and am filled with an awesome gratitude. My heart opens up and up as if I am flying and everything seems perfect, eternal and glorious. My orgasm feels like a mere by-product, a shadow, of the intensity of the Divine Love I feel at this moment for all life and the Universe. I ride the waves out, distilling every morsel of every pulse. I am at peace.

Nigel is also very happy. "That was really deep... felt great," he utters. I remove all my equipment--strap-on, dildos, vibrator-- and become a girl again. Once again, he wastes no time in going for what he wants. He pulls my head down on his cock and I just let my mouth relax. Both of our hands hold the base as he thrusts deeper and deeper. I let my throat soften like a sword swallower; I'm a dancer and yogi and pride myself on my muscular control and, in this case, ability to release. He's very hard by the time he pulls out of my mouth and begins to use a technique that I was first introduced to in Session #6, something I call "double dipping." It's an incredibly exhilarating practice in which he fucks my ass for only one thrust, and then my pussy for only one thrust and then he continues to alternate back and forth. The moans I make during it are right out of an Animal Channel show: high for the pussy and low for the ass. Talk about a great soundtrack!!!

After the double dipping the next part is somewhat fuzzy. All I know is that I keep getting pumped and filled-up with various and sundry things. I'm not sure whether it is a dildo, butt plug or cock in either one or both of my holes, I just know I'm dripping and screaming with delight. Finally, I sense his approaching orgasm. He grabs my hand and insists that I play with the rim of my ass and I can now feel a butt plug in there as well as his cock! I am amazed that I can be so wide-open and yet still be experiencing such pure pleasure. He commands me to dig my fingers in more deeply and I do so. Throttling me fiercely, he explodes and then joyously surrenders to ecstasy. Hot juice flows abundantly. He happily laps it up from my back and bottom, relishing every drop of the delicious nectar. We are both blissfully alive and living in the Land of Vrindavan-- Radha and Krishna, hopefully, are proud.

We lie in each other's arms for awhile and engage in an afterglow pillow talk before we fall asleep. I am very comfortable with sleeping with him. He's easy... no snoring or jostling. My dreams are a bit agitated, however, and as I awake to see the first light of sun squeak in through the curtains my heart begins to sink... because the time of separation has come. As is typical in our Sessions, when morning arrives Nigel, a workaholic, is all business and no play. In fact, he usually is fairly distant and cold. At first this used to shock me after having been so intimate with each other, but now I realize that for some reason he needs to be this way and for me to not take it personally. I accept it.

He leaves for work, I clean up and leave him a little thank you note. This separation is particularly challenging because I'm also feeling an emptiness of sorts. Once again I wonder if this will be our last Sahajiya encounter. The seeds of viraha are growing and I immediately begin to practice non-attachment.

I call Will on the drive back home and am comforted by his voice. I tell him some general info about my night. He's always so supportive and cheery about my endeavors. I feel so lucky to have a husband who understands me and loves the hell-out-of-me. He tells me he can't wait for me to get home and when I get there... well, that's the After Session #20 Session with Will. It's pretty sensational and deserves it's own blog post... till next time.


P.S. In case you are interested, I gleaned most of the concepts on the Sahajiya Religion from a book called THE PLACE OF THE HIDDEN MOON, Erotic Mysticism in the Vaisnava-Sahajiya Cult of Bengal, by Edward C. Dimock, Jr.


Monday, February 15, 2010

My Sahajiya Lover

By now it must be apparent to you that I don't live a conventional life. I'm not purposely trying to live outside the mainstream, I'm only trying to be authentic and true to myself. For the past several years, a series of self-awakenings have led me to make certain choices which have led me down this particular path of eroticism. So I ask that you have an open mind and follow me on this journey of my Sahajiya Lover... it's a path of the juicy and the divine.

Let me begin by explaining what I have come to know about the Sahajiya religious cult. First of all, it is a philosophy that came into popularity in the Bengal region of India in the 16th century. It has roots in both Buddhism and Hinduism and is very tantric by nature; in this respect, it still exists today. It's followers believe that every object has an internal and external form and that the "sahaja," or internal form, is eternal and is an expression of Divine Love. They believed that the simplest and most direct way to experience the eternal is through bodily love.

The story of the romance between the Hindu God Krishna and his consort Radha is central to the Sahajiya philosophy. It is an intense, romantic and unconventional love that exists between a man and a woman who are bound together by the ideal of love for love’s sake. Never is Radha depicted as Krishna's wife. She is always another cowherd's wife or Krishna's favorite fuck-able milk-maiden. Hence, followers of the Sahajiya philosophy believe that sex between partners who are specifically NOT married to each other is the spiritual path towards experiencing exalted Divine Love.

But what about marriage, you may ask? In Sahajiya thought, marriage is not considered the highest ideal of love in so far as the intensity of emotion is concerned. Long association and acquaintance tend to kill the strange mystery of the "other" which is essential to creating a blissful, transcendent experience. With marriage, social convention and a legal binding take away much of the extreme passion. In a sense marriage, by its very nature, is mundane. Therefore the highest ideal of human love-- called "parakiya" love according to Sahajiya philosophy-- is the love that exists most privately between couples who are absolutely free in their love from any consideration of loss and gain, who defy society and transgress the law and make love the be-all and end-all of life. In this school of thinking, the most erotic, blissful, out-of-the-ordinary sexual love is always cultivated in a relationship apart from marriage.

Herein lies the story of Nigel and myself. I like to think of Nigel as my Sahajiya Lover. (I have no idea of what Nigel thinks about all of these ideas, this is totally my take on our relationship!) In my first post I briefly explained how important Nigel has been to me. He's not my husband and I have none of the normal marital ties with him. We have no children together, no mortgage, bills, legal or social responsibilities to each other. Our communication in between sessions is very limited. However, when I go see Nigel at his remote place in the country our purpose together is clear: we are with each other to explore the highest realm of eroticism. It's not just the gender-bending and the special way I get to fuck Nigel, it's also about the way that I've had my energy blasted wide open when we have been together. I have to say that I've attained states of consciousness with him that seem-- upon reflection-- other-worldly to me. During our sessions, it's like I have gone to the supra-natural blissful land of Vrindavan, where Krishna and Radha exist.

The Sahajiya emphasize the importance of the body and believe that it "embodies" the Universe. I think the main reason that Nigel is so special to me is the way that he is connected to his ass and the way that he has connected me to mine. From him I have learned that the ass is a wonderful thing. Before being with him, the ass meant something shameful, dirty, bad to me... you know, the asshole of the body... stinky, smelly and best not-thought-about. To say the least, I was disconnected from mine. Nigel, through our sessions together, has shown me how our asses can be squeaky clean, open, exhilarating and totally pleasurable! It is self-knowledge to the extreme. Somehow going in deep, opened me up to myself and to a greater reality. I feel so empowered knowing I can fuck with my ass and also fuck another's. I feel reunited with a part of myself that was previously cut-off and maligned. After a session with Nigel I feel connected to myself, to him and to the Universe... and yes, I feel ETERNAL. Well, I guess you can call me a big ANAL ADVOCATE and that my path to enlightenment has been through a dark tunnel.

So what exactly is a session with Nigel like? You can read about it in my up-and-coming memoir THE NIGEL SESSIONS ... UNLEASHING SACRED DESIRE. I cover our first 10 sessions together and the whole roller coaster ride of emotions that went with them. It's due out this summer. Or, you can keep reading this blog because my next post will talk about the latest session, #20 to be exact, that happened last week. It was a wild one!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Belly Dance... my Religion and the Ultimate Drag Act

Let me just say from the start that I love belly dance. It is a deep part of who I am. Growing up Greek in New Jersey I saw a lot of belly dancers at our big events such as regional tri-state gatherings, christenings and weddings. There would be a Greek band leader announcing to the crowd, "The Belly Dancer is coming... The Belly Dancer is coming!" and out would appear this gorgeous, bombshell Goddess of a woman all bedecked and bejeweled. We, the kids, would be sitting on the floor in front of the front row and we were mesmerized and in love with her. She would swirl, twirl, shake and shimmy and above all, she was a glorious mystery. In a patriarchal world where the most powerful and revered woman was The Virgin Mary-- all sad and totally unsexy-- The Belly Dancer was a beautiful, refreshing and far more satisfying Goddess to believe in. Little did I know that I, the smart girl in school who was supposed to be a lawyer, doctor or psychologist, would turn out to be, amongst other things, a college belly dance teacher. I give grades for belly dance!

My career in the dance began way back in 1975 when I was in college. I was a drama major studying at the University of North Wales for my junior year and I was asked to play a dancing Bedouin princess in Henrik Ibsen's play Peer Gynt. With no real belly dancers around to teach me, I bluffed my way through the performance by using my early memories of dancers. It was very exciting and everyone said I was a natural. The whole experience piqued my curiosity and so after returning to America for my senior year in Lancaster, PA., I started taking classes from a Lebanese woman who lived in town. After college-- armed with my drama degree and lots of waitressing experience-- I moved to Los Angeles and studied some more. It was then that I realized that belly dance wasn't just a passing fancy. I was hooked. Long story short, belly dance has become a way of life for me and an important part of my spirituality.

Goddess energy is something I actively call into myself when I dance. "The Temple of the Beautiful Dancer and Holy Drummer" is what I like to say at our monthly coffee house gigs. I even pass the tar (hand drum) around for people to donate. I tell them if they give $5 they're exonerated from a little sin. If they give a $20 they get off on a few more and $100 means forgiveness for a whole week! Only in this religion, instead of being preached at and being told that you are a sinner, we offer hope and absolution through a pulsing, driving beat and redemption through sexy female compassion and love. Sometimes I even burst into a spontaneous prose or rhyming "little sermon" meant to inspire the crowd. I dance while speaking and cover subjects like "perseverance" or "the changing moon." The crowd walks away with something deep to think about and a renewed sense of hope for their lives. And we get some nice tip money! Along with the belly dance teacher, I guess you can say that I am also a career belly dancing priestess.

When I dance I am bigger than my everyday self and here in lies my Drag Act. First off the name, I am not "Sophia" but rather "Agape" (love) when I dance. Sophia doesn't style her hair or wear a full face of stage make-up, Agape does. Sophia has small, perky nubile breasts, Agape's breasts range from A's to D's depending on the costume. Sophia's work-clothes are cotton pants and exercise tops, Agape goes for very expensive silks, brocades and rhinestones. When I am Agape, I am big, big, bigger! I am an exaggerated female and given my complex sexuality with my fantasy penis and all, I really feel like I'm in drag. After seeing RuPaul's Drag Race show on the LOGOS channel, I have to say that I feel a simpatico with these hermaphroditic transvestites competing to be #1. On this show you also get to see these female impersonators talking as their regular, normal selves without make-up, etc and it's fascinating (they're all femmy, but definitely guys). Like myself, the double persona is always there for them. When I'm in all my belly dance gear with sparkles, boobs, painted lips, glamorous eyes and hair, I feel just like one of them and totally understand where they are coming from.

Belly dance for me is a wonderful expression of many facets of life, sexuality, spirituality, passion and connection. So the next time you hear, "The Belly Dancer is coming! The Belly Dancer is coming!" stand up and salute the living Goddess in the Flesh-- and if you look under her skirt, you may just find a lovely penis.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

The Wonderful, Wacky, Weirdo World of Autism...Trip to Detachment

I had a dream for my life. I wanted to be a healer, vital artist and force for good in the world. I also wanted to be married with a family. To a large extent I have successfully achieved this vision, but like so many things in life, I also got a lot more than I bargained for. Specifically, I got a son, now 18, who has a full-blown case of autism. His name is Peter.

I hate it when people say, "God must have known you could handle it, that's why He gave you an autistic child." Please, don't say that to anyone. NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD CHOOSE TO HAVE AN AUTISTIC CHILD!!! However I must agree, if learning to be more patient, more compassionate and more DETACHED from prescribed expectations is something my cosmic soul had to get in this lifetime, then a child with autism was a brilliant gift. It has forced me to be way nicer than I was ever meant to be.

Life with an autistic person is akin to living with someone on acid 24/7. For them, everything is shifted to the left, right, center, up, down, nowhere, everywhere and the usual common agreed upon reality that we all trust to BE reality has no foundation, wall or roof. Just when we think we have a grip on his condition, Peter will manifest some new behavior ranging from wonderful to terrible to funny to downright heartbreaking. Parenting him is a trip that never ceases to amaze me.

Now I'm not talking high-functioning Asperger's Syndrome here, I'm talking the kind of autism where everything is going great and out-of-the-blue your adult-sized child shrieks like a banshee and violently smacks himself in the head as hard as he can with both hands; SIBS, or Self Injurious Behaviors, is what they are called. "Shriek! Crack! Crack! Shriek! Crack! Crack!" It's horrible. We feel like we are living in a mine field never knowing when a bomb will go off. Frustrated, we are still in the process of trying to figure out where this latest round of freakiness is coming from. It's pretty new, just manifesting this Fall.

Could it be the effects of puberty and testosterone? Or maybe it's sub-clinical seizures, the kind that happen quietly without the convulsions. Or it could be another disorder that's coupled with the autism, like Tourette's or Bipolar syndrome, because that scenario does happen with some frequency and there's Bipolar in my family. Or is it Exposure Anxiety? ...a chronic fight-or-flight response brought on by changes in the environment. And which neurotransmitter is out of balance? Is it norepinephrine, serotonin or dopamine? I feel like we are always guessing and the experts don't know much more and offer little guidance. Our son Peter is an ongoing experiment and the last thing my husband and I want to do is to cause more problems with ineffectual therapies and medications. I'll never forget several years ago when we gave him a dose of secretin, a pig hormone that was being lauded as the latest and greatest cure for autism. Several hours after the injection he had an obvious seizure (never happened before) and he was noticeably depressed and upset for six weeks. My desperation for a cure scared the hell out of me.

The Universe is a funny thing, however, and there is some light. As despondent as our situation with Peter seems to be, one evening on You-Tube set me straight. I viewed video clips of very severe, completely non-verbal autistic teenagers being tied down to chairs, wearing helmets and protective gloves to prevent them from inflicting permanent injuries on themselves. "Oh my God," I thought, "that's really bad." Everything was put in perspective. At least Peter is loving and can speak (short sentences). And when he's not having a SIBS attack he's got lots of skills- always helping with the grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning and food preparation. (His salads are awesome!) So for now, my Buddhist sense of detachment has kicked in and I am, for the most part, able to keep from freaking-out. I can stand back and observe our situation with intelligent compassion. It helps to have a strong, sturdy mate to lean on. I really depend on my husband Will's indomitable spirit.

I don't know what straight, rigid, right-wing religious families do with their autistic children who break all the rules of life. For myself, I am thankful for all those hits of acid I did in college that opened my mind up to viewing reality from a different angle. Little did I know that the hand of Destiny was preparing me for my future and the trip of my life.