With slight sadness, she told me she didn’t have anyone to speak to about sex, that she was on her own when it came to help & encouragement with her sexual journey. She told me that she wished she had someone to lift her higher within her sensual expression. She told me that she wanted more accountability, more camaraderie, more community.

“Kind of like a sensual safe haven,” she said, smiling.

She was a dancer. She had danced for most of her life & had a way of moving her body with such elegance that it brought people to their knees. She adored this art, adored that it allowed her to connect not only to her body & essence, but to other people who were just as passionate about dance.

“I don’t know what I would do without the dance community,” she said, using her hands gracefully as she spoke. “I mean, I could turn my apartment into a dance studio & go at it alone, but, I don’t know. . . I need the community aspect of dance. Without my teachers & my dancing friends, my dancing career wouldn’t be as strong or refined.”

She paused to think, & then spoke once more. “I guess that’s what I mean about me needing a sensual safe haven to allow me to explore my sexuality. It’s kind of how I need my dance studio & peers to shape my art.”

She told me that she wanted it because she was curious about what other people’s struggles & triumphs were within the realm of sexuality/sensuality. But she especially wanted to be surrounded by examples of those who were actualizing their erotic nature. I nodded, understanding, agreeing.

“Perhaps it would help me to be fearless in my own sexuality,” she speculated, giggling a little. “No one really talks about these things out in the open. It’s all very unfortunate.”

She talked like this for a little while, a desperate kind of longing tinged in her voice, & I listened with empathetic ears, not saying a word, letting it all sink in.

And then I woke up.

I had this dream several months ago & when I awoke from it, I felt as though it was more like a distant memory. It all felt incredibly familiar. Not just because it featured one of my favorite coffeeshops in Portland, but because the sentiments were so spot on.

I had heard them before.

Within the work I do, it’s been conveyed to me over & over & over (by readers loyal & new) that Sex Love Liberation was the only resource available to them to have open, honest, nonjudgmental discussions about sex & sexuality.

And while these people had a wealth of varying relationships — friends, mothers, wives, sisters, lovers — sexual matters were often not explored freely, but rather were tackled alone in the shadows & stillness of their own hearts.

Now, there’s great solace in being able to discover yourself through the comfort of their own still, open heart. This is true. I have nothing against that.

But we are human. We want companionship & support & the comfort of knowing that we are being heard. We want to feel less alone. We need that. We would have such a hard time feeling fulfilled without those things.

And with a taboo subject such as sex, a whole host of stiflings is created when we keep from using our voices to speak & stop our minds from exploring its delicate avenues. We silence our inner voluptuousness. We hinder our carnality.

Yet, if we speak about our desires, if we choose to actualize & explore our fantasies, we begin to lift the veil on something perpetually forbidden & turn it into a celebration.

We become sexually liberated.

There are those who are fine without a dance studio & encouragement from peers. These are people who can dance alone with confidence, & it’s incredibly beautiful when they do so.

But then there are those who are hungry for loving, unabashed community to learn from, because they need to be amongst other sensual beings — the ones who are just now budding & the ones who have ripened with years of succulence.

There are those who are craving to have no-hold’s-barred conversations about sex, to reveal their deepest desires, & hash out their fears & worries among likeminded people.

There are those who want to be supported & challenged by a circle of people who will only lift them higher.

I think you might be one of those people.

I also think that it’s time a place like this existed.

Introducing. . . The Sultry Sessions

I am in the throes of creating an exclusive community where those who are dedicated to their sexual growth can come together & learn from & support each other. A sensual safe haven of sorts.

The first of its kind.

This place will be intimate, private, & remote from the outside internet world. Only those invited will be able to get in, but not before going through an informal screening process to ensure that the community remains safe, respectful, & sultry.

Everything that happens in the space — all of the magic, all of the companionship, all of the secret-sharing — will stay in this space. This privacy will never be breached.

And in addition to being able to speak one-on-one with me about sex & sexuality, you’ll chat with other sensual artists who are currently walking down the path of sexual liberation.

We’ll hold each other accountable. We’ll inspire sexual awakenings. We’ll stand on the thresholds of our boundaries (perhaps even shift their positions).

We’ll discover the inner workings of our sensual nature & we’ll be getting beautifully, totally vulnerable.

And I’ll hold the space for you to do so.

What do you think?
Is this something you’d want to be a part of?

Leave your say-so below.

BONUS: Tell me why you want (need) this community to exist.

I’ll only go through with this if there’s fervid (& I mean, fiery! passionate!) interest.

recommended reads:

1. The Splendor of Total Vulnerability
2. Who Do You Want to Be?
3. Live Your Truth

{via}

(Note: Occasionally, I get a question from a reader that is compelling enough to become its own article. This is one of those questions.)

“Dear Ev`Yan,

I have never had an orgasm with a guy before. I do not like guys touching my vagina. I don’t know why. I just can’t get comfortable with them touching me there. My poor boyfriend. He really doesn’t like how I push his hands away when he tries to pleasure me. I know it bothers him. I have no issues giving blow jobs and doing anything for the guy, but when it comes to me, no way.

I barely like touching myself anymore. I used to enjoy sex, and now… I barely ever get horny. It’s extremely frusterating and sad. I think my emotions are playing a decent part in this.

I’ve looked up things on the internet, I’ve read books. I enjoy porn, and that used to get me going, but not so much anymore.

Has anyone else ever had this problem?

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

– Amber

Dearest Amber,

What you’re describing is, by definition, what it means to be “sexually frigid,” a term that I completely dislike but am using anyway to put a word to what it is you’re going through.

Do I think you’re “sexually frigid”? No.
Do I think there’s a deep, underlying reason for your lack of desire? Yes.

Believe me when I say this: There is nothing wrong with you. What you’re going through happens to the best of us. I myself have experienced this, as have many of the people I’ve worked with.

And yes, I think you’re absolutely right: Your emotions are likely playing a big role in this.

For many women (& some men), sex is very much interconnected to all the other things within them. Therefore, sex, in all its vast forms, can be tied very intimately together with other things not necessarily pertaining to it: our work, our play, our relationships, our dreams, our emotions.

If just one of those things is off kilter, even slightly, everything else can feel off, too.

Your not wanting your boyfriend to touch your vulva is a signal that something deeper is happening within you. Something is off.

This doesn’t mean that it’s something you’re personally doing (or not doing). It could very well reflect something that you’re feeling on a level that has perhaps never been clearly revealed to you.

It could be some kind of sexual core wounding. It could be something — a memory, an experience, a harmless affirmation — that you’re unknowingly carrying around in your body. It could be that you’re having trouble getting vulnerable & letting go. It could even be that you’re asexual.

As you can see, this is a loaded conundrum. No amount of speculation could ever scratch the surface of what’s truly the cause of the walls you’re keeping around you.

In my own personal experience, I’d push my lover’s hands away (& turn down his advances) for reasons dealing with harmless affirmations (“I’m not worthy of pleasure; sex is bad; he doesn’t deserve my body. . .”), the awkwardness of coming into my own skin, & major trust issues.

It wasn’t until I worked to heal my own wounds that I could finally address the relationship I had to my body & the trust issues I had with my partner. It took large amounts of time & even more patience, both with myself & my lover.

I encourage you to really sit down & ask yourself what you think is keeping you from surrendering to your boyfriend’s touch; to sexual release in general.

Some questions to ask yourself:

• Does my partner make me feel safe?
• Is it the way he approaches me that causes me to close up?
• Is it in his technique?

• What do I really think about sex, my body, pleasure?
• What kind of things do I say to myself about sex/sexuality?
• What triggers this sense of ‘No’ when it comes to sexual intimacy?

Asking yourself these questions & really analyzing them will likely give you a clue as to why you push his hand away. Knowing this could also explain your lack of desire.

Now, in terms of your inability to orgasm with your partners:

This doesn’t necessarily suggest that there is something wrong with you or your body. It could very well be that the guys you’ve been with simply aren’t touching you in a way that causes you to climax.

People will often do to you what it is that feels good to them. And many don’t have the concept that their partners’ arousal looks & feels very different from their own. If they’re inspired by what they’re seeing in porn, then they’re being even more misled.

On the other hand, it doesn’t just rest on your boyfriend’s shoulders; it rests on yours, too.

Sexual essence is innately within us, to be sure, but our sexual expression is learned behavior.

If your partner isn’t arousing you, you must tell him. Ask for the touches, the thrusts, the intimacy you want. He’ll never know what he’s doing wrong if you don’t tell him (with kindness, of course).

This is all going to take a little while for you to sort through. Matters of the heart & body take time to heal & mend. But know that what you’re going through is common in all stages of life — young & old. Stay vigilant in your quest to discovering your triggers, the reasons for your emotions, & the whys.

And continue repeating this: There is nothing wrong with me.

recommended reads:

1. Reader Question: On Having a Low Sex Drive
2. Reader Question: Race & Sexuality
3. Reader Question: Pubic Hair & the “Hairlessness Epidemic”

{via, with my modifications}

Six months ago, I cheated on my husband of nearly ten years. I cheated on him with a woman. It happened once.

This affair was my first experience sleeping with a woman. It was explosively passionate, like catching fire, like waking up screaming. I felt known, understood, and safe with her.

Friends asked me, Was sex better with her? The thing was, aside from the illicit thrill and the chemistry she and I had shared, I hadn’t had an orgasm. It had been a lot of fun, but in the end I’d had to say to her, “Don’t worry. It’s not something I can really do with other people.”

Once I’d said it to her, I became aware it was the truth. I’d never had an orgasm with my husband, either. Nor with any previous partners or one night stands. This felt like a shocking secret, sometimes more shocking than the affair itself.

I can orgasm just fine on my own. What prevents me from doing it with someone else?

During the months of therapy and conversations and figuring out our post-affair marriage (and my post-affair self), my husband and I had a lot of sex. A lot of really fun, creative, passionate sex. We’re still doing it. And I still haven’t been able to orgasm.

I don’t know what that means, or how to fix it, or whether “fixing” it is the wrong approach. Sometimes, when I realize we’ve worked so hard to get there yet again and I know it’s just not going to happen, I experience what I’ve come to think of as the “reverse orgasm,” where sex ends with a panic attack and a painful mental storm of self-recrimination, disappointment and despair.

Even though he comforts me and says all the right things, this is a moment of relative solitude. It’s just me and my orgasm, not happening. Once again. And if I cease to work on it, am I settling for less, yet again?

I know I don’t want to leave my marriage, and I know there are no simple solutions. Vulnerability and trust and belief in my self worth can’t happen overnight.

I’m not sure what the solution will be. But learning to talk about it, having the courage to write about it here and be honest about this vulnerability, is a big part of it.

– Jolie, London

//

Sex in Public is an ongoing storytelling series devoted to uniting people through vulnerable & intimate admissions of sexuality, self-love, & body image. 

The purpose of this project is community. So with every story, listen, feel, empathize, encourage. The best way to do this is by leaving a comment.

Want to share your story? Click here.

recommended reads:

1. Sex in Public: “I’m an orgasmic virgin.”
2. Sex in Public: “This is what an abusive relationship looks like.”
3. Sex in Public: “What about the burden on men?”

Next time you catch yourself doing any of these things, rather than see it as part of your normal routine, shift your thoughts. Savor the idea that in this moment you are exhibiting a pure form of self-love, however simple.

Once you acknowledge it, feel the difference of the task at hand. Watch as it instantly becomes more tediously loving, more meaningful, more wholesome.

I dare you to try it.

Love is everywhere, especially the love you’re unknowingly giving yourself.

Seek, & you shall find.
Acknowledge & celebrate yourself.

//

Speaking of which, this summer I’ll be lending my voice at a no-cost virtual event about self-love. I’d love it if you came.

Enroll in The Self-Love Revolution, a 30-day academy of 12+ speakers (myself included) reflecting on self-consideration & healthy narcissism.

Did I mention it’s free?

recommended reads:

1. Self-Love/Self-Hate
2. Reader Question: Self-Love & Body Image
3. An Infallible Test to Help You Dissolve Unworthiness

None of these people can possibly know how you’d like to be touched, how you wish to be kissed, how you desire to be heard — really & truly heard — unless they’ve got telepathic powers. And they likely don’t. So you must tell them.

You must ask for what you want.

If you want less talk & more action, ask for it
If you want more sugar in your coffee, ask for it.
If you want to role play in the bedroom, suggest it.
If you want to be fucked harder, lighter, longer. . . tell her.
If you want your masseuse to massage a specific kink, tell him.
If you want a raise, ask for it.
If you want the trash taken out, ask for it.
If you want him to call you sweetheart, request it.

I know it seems silly (& a little remedial) to reiterate such things, but sometimes we forget that we are powerful, persuasive, that we have the ability to choose the way in which our lives are played out.

And, too, we often think that we’re not worthy of pleasure or worthy of an extra cube of sugar in our coffee; that if we were worthy, it would’ve automatically been bestowed upon us. So we see the lacking as a sign.

“Perhaps it’s not meant to be. Perhaps this is just the way things are. Perhaps it’s better this way.”

No.
You have a voice.

Use it to ask for what it is you want.

This is key to liberation; sexual or otherwise. When you ask for what it is you want (& need) you are taking ownership of your desires.

And there’s another mantra worth remembering:

Take ownership of your desires!

Life’s too short (& far too precious) to suffer through a ill-seasoned cup of coffee; or a love-making session where your arousal isn’t present; or a relationship in which you’re never truly listened to.

You deserve to have everything you desire. You deserve a life in which you lack nothing.

So, I’ll say it one more time, for good measure:

Ask for what it is you want.

No one — no one — can read your pretty little mind.

//

Do you want simple tidbits of sage wisdom? Subscribe to the newsletter, the Self-Love Letters, & get moxie in your inbox weekly.

recommended reads:

1. Believe Those Honeyed Words
2. Conversations in the Bedroom: Lust
3. The Splendor of Total Vulnerability

You’re invited. . .

Your presence is humbly & happily requested at SLL’s first live, FREE event.

It’s happening tomorrow, Thursday, May 3rd @ 5pm PT / 8pm ET. 

I’m going transmit a short talk about what I like to call The Sexual Embodiment Myth; or, in layman’s terms: why one shouldn’t seek sexual liberation from an outside source — like a pole dancing class or a self-help book — & instead they should look within.

(It’s not as deep as it sounds. Promise!)

After which, I’ll set aside a heap of time to talk to you — yes, you! — about anything you’d like relating to sex, love, & liberation. Part Q&A session, part sensual pow-wow, part heart-to-heart with a close friend.

Did I mention it’s free?!

Where it’s happening:

In your living room. In your office. In your bathroom as you soak in the tub. Basically any place where you have internet access.

The event will be held via the internet & hosted on both Facebook & Vokle.

Then, be there @ 5pm PT sharp.

If it’s a hit, we’ll do it again. And again. And again.

Let’s do it.

xx,

A few FAQS:

I live in [your state/country here]; can I still attend?

Absolutely! If you’ve got internet access, you can be there in real time in a flash.

Does it matter which platform I use (Facebook or Vokle)?

It does not. Whatever’s convenient & comfortable for you.

Are you going to be teaching me something?

Let’s look at it like a story sharing session with me about sex & sexuality, not so much a school lesson. It’s going to be very chill & a lot of fun.

How much does it cost?

Zero American dollars & zero American cents. It’s freeee!

What if I want to chit-chat with you? What if I want to ask a question?

Wonderful! YES! I encourage you to bring any comments, stories, or question to the table so we can create a smashing, lively discussion. I most definitely want to hear from you!

If you’ve got something you want to share, you can do it in one of two ways:

Text or video.

If you’re going to do it via video, make sure you keep the background noise to a minimum & you turn your speakers down to keep away the echo.

***Please check out this how-to (& this one, too) so you know precisely what to do when we’re live.

Do I need to RSVP?

If you want! You can do it either through Vokle or you can just show up when it’s time to come. There’s no limit to how many people we can have attend.

I’d personally appreciate having a decent headcount, so if you’re gonna be there, simply say so in the comments section below.

What should I bring?

Your favorite refreshment. Your lovely smile. A wide open heart. And maybe a notebook & a writing utensil (just in case you think of a question during the chat).

SEE YOU THERE! xx

recommended reads:

1. The Sex, Love & Liberation Manifesto; a Sneak Peek
2. You Have Only 72 Hours to Rock Your Life
3. A Manifesto for the Bold at Heart: It’s Finally Here

{via, with my modifications}

Since childhood the word “love” has borne a satirical, false impression in my mind. I’ve never really been heartbroken—I’ve never really been in love—and yet that word, love, doesn’t impress me much. Is that the despair or lucid thinking?

I think love is wonderful in the grand scheme of things: love for mankind, love for your family, love for your neighbor, love even for those who hate you. I applaud grand love. I revel in grand love. Grand love is my religion.

But the idea of looking at someone in the eye and saying the words “I love you” and meaning it makes me laugh embarrassedly, like I’m telling a rather silly joke.

The idea of being in love seems like a fantastical unreality. I chalk it right up there with my dreams of magic, flying, and genies in lamps. It’s a pretty little falsehood.

It’s not as if I don’t believe in love at all—as easy as it would be to pretend that, that would be a foolish and naïve assumption. Love is all around. Most people born in the world are direct creations of love. But it’s a rare blessing if you think about it. What is love but a curious chemical mix of attraction and fascination and admiration?

Frankly, I’d like nothing more than to go off my own way and find a lover that will make me recant every dour statement I’ve made against love in my life time. But I’ve grown tired having to face the inevitable disappointment and scorn looking at me.

And so now I don’t feel delight when I speak to a guy; I feel a dullness when kisses suck me into a void of boredom and the barest of toleration. There are too many interesting things in the world to settle for mediocrity—all the days of my life are meant to be wonderful. And love is like a time bomb holding me back.

Think what you like of me—frigid, cold, in desperate need of a therapist. Whatever rationalizes my way of thinking for you. I’m just being honest as I can be on a subject that is very hard to be honest about.

– Kim, New Jersey

//

Sex in Public is an ongoing storytelling series devoted to uniting people through vulnerable & intimate admissions of sexuality, self-love, & body image. 

The purpose of this project is community. So with every story, listen, feel, empathize, encourage. The best way to do this is by leaving a comment.

Want to share your story? Click here.

recommended reads:

1. Sex in Public: “I look best naked.”
2. Sex in Public: “What about the burden on men?”
3. Sex in Public: “I am more than my pussy.”

I sometimes think we take sex too seriously (myself included).

This is rather easy to do because we live in a world that seems to put sex on this very high & seemingly unreachable pedestal.

We create debates around it. We enforce strict laws against it. We analyze its methods & meanings to great lengths (sexual orientation, for instance, is widely & excruciatingly disputed). We treat it with with formality & humorlessness.

And here comes the paradox: This world is infused with sex. It’s on television, in movies, in books, in music — sometimes as subtle as whisper, sometimes as in-your-face as a celebrity’s leaked sex tape.

We are puritans, & we are pornographers.
We glorify sex, & we demonize it.
And yet. . . sex is all around.

There would literally be no trees, no tulips, no earwigs, no platypuses, no sparrows, no gorgeous, messy life without sex — both on a reproductive & an energetic level.

We need sex to thrive, like the breath in our lungs & the blood in our veins. We also need sex to connect & regenerate. We need sex to evolve.

Sex is incredibly powerful. And we know this, which is why we do our best to master it, understand it, tame it, discourage it.

All noble feats, to be sure, but it is in this flurry to interpret it that the utter joy of sex becomes diminished.

Yes, sex is joyful.
And simple.
And pleasurable.

Sex is not meant to be serious. It is us that places so much weight on it, particularly in the realm of how, when, & why it’s done.

Sex itself is really quite easy like Sunday morning.

Imagine that. No, really. Imagine for just a moment what sex would be like if it were easy like Sunday morning.

It would be pure bliss. It would be absolute contentment. It would be perfectly carefree, without any pretention or expectation.

I believe that that is the way sex is supposed to be.

I believe we should see sex in a way that it is easy, rather than perplexing. I believe that sex is joy just as life is joy, as birth is joy, as eating a decadent piece of gooey, dense chocolate cake is joy.

Perhaps that would be a perfect analogy. Let’s speak about cake for a moment.

Picture with your mind’s eye the most perfect piece of chocolate cake in all the universe. It sits prettily on a delicate piece of vintage china, a fork on one side of the plate & a soft, cloth napkin on the other. Perhaps a tall, cold glass of milk — soy, almond, hemp, cow, whichever — accompanies this heavenly treat.

As you feast your eyes on this piece of cake, your mouth begins to water & the pit of your stomach starts to beckon its chocolately goodness with deep, excited growls.

With every cell in your being, you want to devour this cake. You want to fill your mouth with this moist, rich confection & let your tastebuds dance with its sweetness. You want to take big, voluptuous bites of it, all while experiencing the divinity of tasting it.

So all of this desire is bubbling up inside of you & you begin to anticipate the moment in which you’ll give in & open your mouth to chew up this most perfect piece of chocolate cake. Everything is telling you to do so now. . .

But instead you go against yourself & walk away from the table.

You then begin to busy yourself with research about the maker of this cake, where she lives, where she was born, the origin of her maiden name. You scrutinize every ingredient in the cake — the flour, the baking soda, the sugar, the way the butter was churned. You brood over the history of cake, the way cacao trees grow in the rainforest, & the process of making chocolate.

You think that if you could know everything there is to know about cake that you would enjoy this particular slice that much more.

We treat sex like this sometimes.

We know in our minds that it would be absolutely ridiculous to go to the library & research cake extensively first before eating it. Why should we do all of that before we eat a piece of cake? What a waste of perfect time & precious energy! Both would be better spent on eating the cake straightaway.

We should simply eat the cake & enjoy it.

Same thing goes with sex. We should do it, have it, be it, & enjoy it.

Don’t get fixated on becoming an aficionado before you practice the art of sex. There’s no need to read abstract manuals or watch hour-long documentaries or consult an expert (unless of course those things give you joy). It’s not necessary to fully understand what sex is for or why sex is.

If you really want to know what sex is, it’s this:

Sex is joy.

And humorous. And messy. And innate. And fun.

Don’t take it too seriously.

Keep it easy like Sunday morning.

recommended reads:

1. Jilling Off
2. Reader Question: Race & Sexuality
3. 6 Things You Must Know About Sexuality

{via}

Occasionally, I’ll ask you a bold question & invite you to divulge your thoughts in the comment section.

Today’s burning question:

What’s one thing you simply will not do sexually?

What sexual act is absolutely off limits & out of the question for you?

(Examples: oral, anal, swallowing, toys, dirty talk, admitting fantasies, etc.)

Share your answers below. You can stay anonymous if you’d like.

And feel free to add any details in your comment that you feel might be relevant to your answer (like your age, gender, orientation, relationship status, etc.).

recommended reads:

1. The Key to Succulent Sex: Go Out of Your Mind
2. Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: An Experiment
3. On Women & Pornography

I think of airy lightness, like a dandelion plume floating carelessly in a gentle, warm breeze. Bodies feel like they’re floating above sheets, with skin like wisps of electricity, dancing with light — light from candles, light from sun, light from eyes.

I think of deep, cleansing breaths & the manner in which bodies seem to become enveloped by to those rhythmic exhales, surrendering.

I think of sensuality. Awareness heightened, senses honed, logic suspended. Every touch, kiss, & thrust is perpetually timeless. They go slowly, slowly, slowly against time, not dawdling but idling, lingering, savoring. There is no hurry.

I think of breathless climaxes with smiles on faces, full of relief & love. Blood rushes to meet pleasure spots, warming, engorging.

Making love feels like the luxurious tips of swan feathers; like innate grace with heaps of vulnerability; like goosebumps; like home.

Making love smells like sandalwood; like freshly brewed coffee on a dreary Sunday morning; like your lover’s favorite band t-shirt; like the color purple.

Making love sounds like raindrops dripping onto fallen leaves; like an ee cummings poem; like Imogen Heap’s Between Sheets; like enlightenment.

When I think of fucking. . .

I think of saucy, raw, almost brusque eroticism.

I think of steaming windows & moans that escape the basin of bellies. Fingers grope around flesh searching for an end to latch onto, kneading, wanting. Tongues thrash around mouths never quite satiating their desire.

I think of tangible, voracious lust; of clothes that hang haphazardly from fumbling limbs. There’s franticness in movements, as though time is speeding up & one can barely keep up.

I think of sexual urges that have no filter. Pain mixed with pleasure mixed with pain. Arms & legs on the verge of buckling, held up only by gnawing desire. Prayers sent up to the heavens — thanking, greeting, pleading.

I think of a beautiful kind of agony that appears on faces, with waves of euphoria rushing over damp skin. And then. . . heavy sighs, easeful heartbeats, & deep sleep.

Fucking feels like heat & humidity; like slowly going mad with lechery; like wild romps through dense forests; like an itch begging to be scratched.

Fucking smells like salty sweat; like smoke from a burned out candle; like alcoholic breaths; like copulence, sweet & earthy.

Fucking sounds like heavy bass; like sharp, well-meaning obscenities; like a YES that’s been uttered with total truth; like animals fighting.

//

Q: What does making love/fucking feel, smell, sound like to you? Are they polar opposites of each other, or does one seem to trickle into the other?

Paint me a picture.

recommended reads:

1. The Art of Orgasmic Meditation: pt. i
2. Reclaiming the Word Cunt, & Other Explicit Vernacular
3. Conversations in the Bedroom: Lust