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!”

“Crazyass!”

“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.

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