Purveyor of Pleasure

Delving into my humanity and the joys and pitfalls of an overanalytical nature.

Tag: sex

Mindful Erotic Embodiment: This Sunday in Seattle!

MEE PosterI’ll be co-facilitating a Mindful Erotic Embodiment workshop this Sunday at the CSPC (the Center for Sex-Positive Culture in Seattle)!

It is be the first in a series of six we have scheduled monthly from now until September. I’ll be facilitating two of them, but hope to make it to five of the six (I’ll be out of the country for one of them, otherwise it would be all). The first one kicks off during National Masturbation Month! What timing!

This is amazing way to help get in touch with your body and your erotic self and to gain a deeper understanding of yourself and your sexuality.

Mindful Erotic Embodiment (MEE) is a practice of conscious engagement with your own body’s desires in the moment to give yourself the gift of your own awareness, presence, and attention and engage with pleasure.

It is a simple, yet profound embodiment praxis that recognizes the vastness of erotic experience that includes (and goes beyond) sex and sexuality. This will be within a communal environment, but is self-focused rather than interactive, introspective rather than performative. It is a time to really BE (with) yourself.

Click here for more information and to buy tickets in advance ($5 off the door price)!

Sexual Identity Story

I was recently answering a question in a queer poly FAAB/woman/feminine-oriented group I’m part of and thought it would make good blog fodder. I have a ton of posts I keep working on and meaning to finish, but keep putting off, so I figure I could slap this one up. I have no idea what my readership is like these days (not that there’s many of you since my writing gap has grown larger and larger), but I imagine this might not be new information. Oh well!

Question posed: What is your story with your sexual identity? What’s your relationship with being queer?

My post:
(tl;dr, early bloomer. much queer, but always awkward. so genderqueer. much kink.)

I had my first sexual experience around third grade with a female friend of mine at the time: kissing and rubbing our bodies, including genitals, against each other while sleeping over at each others houses. I fooled around with a few people in middle school and high school, had my first boyfriend in middle school, where we ended up in a polyish relationship where he was dating me and another girl for a period of time. We weren’t together for very long, but mostly because it was middle school and less because of the poly. I had a few girls who were maybe sort of almost girlfriends, but who were mostly friends who were girls that I made out with or had sex with once and not really ever again. I was horribly awkward and shy and I didn’t know how to approach girls, or anyone for that matter. I did experience some discrimination and uncomfortableness from others because of my visible and unapologetic queerness, but I was used to being othered for most of my life anyway.

Being attracted to people regardless of gender was always a non-issue for me to some extent. When I learned the term bisexual around 6th grade I began calling myself that and coming out as bisexual, which lead me to being the President and Co-founder of my high school’s Gay/Straight Alliance (as they were commonly called then), and also lead most of the people in my school and my hometown thinking I was a lesbian. I came out to my mom somewhere around freshman year of high school and her response was: “oh, I thought you were a lesbian.” A non-issue. My older sibling identifies now as queer, as I do, and they were where I learned the term bisexual from all those years ago.

I discovered the concept of bdsm/kink around 6th grade as well, having had fantasies about it for as long as I’d had fantasies. That became and has always been a central part of my sexual identity as well. I first believed I was strictly a Submissive or Bottom, but have been identifying as a Top and Switch for the last seven or so years now.

I started playing consciously with my gender in high school as well, probably also leading a number of people to assume queerness from me (even though the conflation of gender and sexuality is inaccurate and not useful for anyone, imo, it is unfortunately pervasive, and gender does in fact tie in to sexual identity, since sexual identity is based on it, e.g., one cannot be homosexual or heterosexual without having a gender to base the homo or hetero aspect of that identity on. But, I digress). My genderfucking once included a fellow student that I didn’t know once asking me if I was a guy in drag (I was wearing a wig and “feminine” clothing). This was highly amusing to me, even though it was obviously meant to be offensive (I didn’t take it that way, though). I also did a lot of acting all through school (elementary-high), and basically during the plays in 6th and 7th grades I went through a phase where I only wanted to play guys (a big part of that, I think, was that I was always taller and larger than all of the girls and most of the guys in my age range at the time, but also probably something else).

I started identifying as queer around when that became common language, somewhere around 2005ish while I was in my undergrad in Gender Studies. I started identifying as genderqueer around the same time, though I had played with gender for long before that.

Onyx and I met when I was 19. It was my first real long-term relationship, and we have been together ever since. We’ve been poly since we met, and I had a long-distance relationship at the time we met as well, and that was also a non-issue. I wasn’t familiar with the term polyamory when we got together, but I knew the concept of an open relationship and was happy to expand my identity to include poly as well. We were only theoretically poly/monogamish for the first few years of our relationship, though.

For the first few years of our relationship I also had a difficult time with him being cis male and us being in a seemingly heterosexual relationship. I was not used to experiencing heterosexual privilege and it was really uncomfortable for me. I felt invisible and ignored by both queer and non-queer communities and people. I began feeling uncomfortable in queer circles and queer community because of my primary partnership with a cis guy, and I experienced individuals change their way of relating to me once they found out about that. I had my first serious girlfriend when I was 23; an attempted triad with me and Onyx that ended horribly. We were mostly monogamish for a while after that, until over a year ago when I met Rose.

Expectations and Rituals

Note: I’m posting this in October of 2013, but I’ve backdated it to over a year and a half ago because that is when I wrote it and when the experience happened. I just found this in my drafts folder and didn’t want to just delete it.

Onyx and I had kind of lackluster sex the other night. A great part of that was my fault, I think, or maybe it all was my fault. We went to see A Dangerous Method earlier in the evening, which I thought was excellent. Anyone with an interest in psychology, especially Jung, and who doesn’t mind (or really enjoys) watching some hot sex scenes and spanking1 should see it. I found it quite arousing and have been really craving some rough treatment for quite some time so I was hoping that would be sparked by the movie at least a little bit.

Really all of my problems could have been avoided with some simple direct communication, which is clear in hindsight but sometimes in the moment it just feels like the last thing I could possibly do. Doesn’t make it right, though.

When we got home I removed his coat and shoes as usual, as soon as that was done we both were in need of food, he grabbed an apple and promptly sat down at his desk and became absorbed in his computer. I think what irritated me at that point was just that we had both talked about the movie and how stimulating it was on our walk home, but when we got home there was little interaction between us and I was hoping for more. I set up expectations but did not really do anything to help them happen.

As a slight aside, I’ve become a little irritated with our preparation ritual–my putting on or taking off his boots and coat before/after he leaves the house. It was originally implemented as a way for us to connect and it has become just that thing that we do, no longer a ritual but a habit. Not even that, despite how often we have been doing it with some regularity it is also sometimes forgotten. I believe some of this would be helped quite a bit if I were to simply up my enthusiasm for the act, and I have tried to do so today with some success. Perhaps we could add something to it to make it fresh and new again.

I grumbled and bratted, for some reason unable to voice what was going on with me or to make it clear what I wanted, and so we both remained unfulfilled. We were able to talk about what happened and our individual frustrations about it, but we were not yet able to get to the place of either of us getting what we wanted. Why is that? What is stopping us? Why can’t we just get what we want?

  1. though not enough of them, imo []

Jack Off

It wasn’t sexy or elaborate. Really it was downright mechanistic1. It had been a while since I had rubbed one out alone and the fast-paced lives Onyx and I have been living lately haven’t lent themselves to as much sex as either of us would like. It was time to remedy this situation.

I didn’t even move the pile of freshly washed clothes from on top of the bed, just nudged them aside so I could lay down2. I grabbed my Eroscillator, pushed aside my underwear, added a little lube, and arranged it to just the right spot. It had actually been a while since I’d gotten off with it, my Wahl has had preferential treatment as of late with its amazingly deep and strong rumbly vibrations. I had almost forgotten how much I love my Eroscillator, but tonight I was reminded.

While the Eroscillator has nothing on the Wahl as far as the bang you get for your buck3 I forgot just how deep and different the oscillations are from normal vibrators. It still produces a different kind of orgasm than any other toy, one I can’t put into words even though I’ve been trying to finish this sentence for ten minutes.

Though I had contemplated my Eleven or Pure Wand, my go-to dildos, I decided to forgo the internal stimulation. It wasn’t needed when the goal was release but not effort or sexy intricate fantasy. It still wasn’t many orgasms until I felt the need to squirt all over the bed.

Yes, many orgasms. When I come I can’t just stop at one, I’ve never really been able to. Onyx has tried to stop me after one and discovered just how irritating I can be when not fully sated. Although I suppose that implies that I am ever fully satiated and I’m not sure that can be said. There are times when I am exhausted, finished, and needing a break, but sated? Those are usually the same times that my clit burns4 as if to say “I NEED MORE.” There is often a point where I am unable to deliver or even come anymore but I wouldn’t call this sated.

I contemplated squirting for only a few seconds before dismissing it. I didn’t have my Throe under me and I wasn’t about to ejaculate all over the clothes I had just washed. Plus, this was mechanistic so the effort to get it and position it just right before coming again so I could ejaculate just seemed like too much work. Although even now as I write this I can feel that delightful pressure inside of me telling me to release it, a sensation I used to compare to needing to pee but now I know the difference.

So I came and held myself back from squirting, which in and of itself made the experience slightly less satisfying. How many times I came I don’t know. I always used to lose count after three so now I don’t even attempt anymore. There’s probably an app for that5. I stopped, even though my clit was screaming at me to keep going, and stumbled out of the bedroom in a post-orgasmic daze.

  1. a fabulous old post from Ellie Lumpesse, read it if you have not before! []
  2. I have more in the washer and dryer, I will put them all up at the same time. What? Don’t judge me. []
  3. $12.49 on Amazon! Seriously! Go get one now! I thought this was such a good deal I even bought one for my best friend for no reason other than it is wicked cheap and she needs one. []
  4. not from the chemicals in the lube, just from wonderful overstimulation! []
  5. Orgasm Counter for the iPhone?–or not, since Apple is all anti-sex apps, but it sounded good anyway []

Sex-Positivity

I don’t think I’ve read a better description or example of sex positivity before. It’s clear and concise and isn’t hinged upon using “positive” speech despite the sex-positive name:

Although fewer people would say that “I think anal sex is amazing” is a sex-negative statement, I consider it to be just as problematic as “I think anal sex is gross.” What makes something like this sex-negative isn’t whether one uses a positive or negative adjective. It’s that saying these sorts of things neglects the diversity of sexual experiences and pleasures.

Simply put, these sorts of things aren’t true. Anal sex is gross for some people and amazing for some people and boring for some people and exciting for some people. No matter what word you use to finish the sentence, you’re leaving out many people’s experiences and that is what makes it sex-negative.

On the other hand, when you say something like “I enjoy/dislike/fill-in-the-blank anal sex,” you’re practicing mindful speech. You’re explicitly recognizing that your experience is your own. You’re not making a sweeping statement and you’re not claiming that anyone else should have the same response that you have. It doesn’t matter whether the word you use is positive or negative in this example, either.

Sex-positivity isn’t about enjoying every possible way to have sex. Sex-positivity isn’t about only using positive words when talking about sex.

Sex-positivity is about making room for different people to have wildly different experiences. And in order to do so, we can practice using language that makes room for that. One of the best (and most difficult) ways to do that is to own our experiences and try to not make sweeping statements. It’s simultaneously quite simple and incredibly difficult, which is why so many people seem to not understand it. Well, that and the fact that there aren’t a lot of examples of mindful speech in the media- it doesn’t make for good soundbites. [emphasis mine]

This is from a post by Charlie Glickman on Good Vibrations Magazine called Owning Your Words: Sex-Positivity, Mindful Speech, and Why Some People Don’t Get It. I highly encourage you to read the entire article to get all of it in context, though what I quoted above is the crux of it. He has other awesome points that are just as important, however, so go read. I’ll be here when you get back.

Why does this matter? I’ve considered myself sex-positive for quite some time and this distinction is an important one. I’ve heard people saying that “sex-positivity” is some sort of trend word, which in some ways I think is true. There seems to be a big trend in those who write about sex and sexuality1 to adopt the term “sex-positive” even when it’s clear they know nothing about what it means.

Of course, being sex-positive and confronting your own internalized sex-negativity2 is a continual process, it’s not something you earn like a merit badge that you can then flash at people to prove that you are sex-positive. Saying you’re sex-positive only gets you so far if you don’t walk the walk. I love his point that it’s not about always saying something positive either, despite “positive” being right in the term itself. I think this is something people get hung up on and a very important point to make.

It may be some sort of trendy word to some, but for others of us it is something we strive for.

  1. as opposed to “sex bloggers” since I don’t really like that term []
  2. let’s face it, we all have some []

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