Archive for category sex
Full-length windows framed daffodil blooms bright against vibrant and deep greens. For the comfort of bare flesh, the furnace was turned up, and turned up again. As dusk gathered, six of us breathed, coming together consciously with intention. We were here to explore ourselves. Together.
The room was full last Friday for a public viewing of the Bodysex Workshop DVD in Portland, Oregon, where I make my home. I had hoped we’d have twenty-five people show up, and almost twice that number attended. Many friends were in the room, and seeing their curious, supportive faces in the audience calmed my loudly thumping heart. I’d hosted a private viewing in my home last year, but this was the first time I’d shown it publicly, my own body, face, cunt, and orgasm flickering on the screen behind me.
I saw the curve of her jaw, the way her lips rested together, the tension in her forehead that smoothed out as I continued to look. We were matched, eye to eye. I noticed the red rings, the puffy places under her bottom lashes. She’d been crying.
As the gaze lingered, under the spotlights of being seen, something shifted in her eyes. She was basking in being seen as much as I relished doing the seeing. It felt like forever since we’d done this. I had missed her, missed noticing her actively, instead of just passively hauling her around my life.
Eventually, I broke the spell when I stepped back from the mirror by the back door. I flipped off the light, picked up my towel, and went outside to the hot tub.
The collective gasps, laughter, nods, and the rustling of audience members crossing and uncrossing their legs delight me. Attending something sexy, whether a film festival or a play or an event that is billed “sex-positive,” inevitably has me smiling in appreciation at my fellow attendees. We are all there for the same reason: we are interested in sex.
You really don’t want to miss this. If it is remotely possible to get yourself to a showing of Bike Smut as it crosses North America, I urge you to make it happen. Minneapolis gets it Saturday 9/22. Milwaukee gets it Thursday 9/27. Then Chicago, Detroit, Toronto, and more. In fact, you might be able to get Bike Smut to come (or cum) to you. Write them at email@example.com. The tour is in process. See bikeporntour for the ever-updated information.
Portland, Seattle, Bend, Salt Lake, Boulder, Denver, Ft. Collins, Bozeman – we’ve already been gloriously Bike Smutted. And it was good. So very very good.
What is it? you’re probably wondering. Because they say is so damn well, I’m taking this right off their tour site:
This was my designated Summer To Get On A Bike. (Eventually I also came to think of it as Getting Off On A Bike.) Perhaps it was overdue, or perhaps it happened right on time. But early last spring I vowed that I would not go another summer without spending a significant portion of it on a bicycle.
During the first few weeks, I was sore and raw and I cringed at the prospect of mounting up. Getting my crotch accustomed to the pressure was a challenge. But in a surprisingly short period of time, long stints became much easier, even pleasurable, on my tender bits.
Part of that ease and pleasure was perseverance, as well as installing a cushy, wide saddle for my ample hips and ass. Then I got some padded shorts. I wasn’t about to let soreness between my legs dissuade me from my goal.
The tension between sexuality and religion is not news.
As a person who considers herself sex-positive, and who associates with other sex-positive people on and offline, I’m well familiar with the often-justified assessments of religion as damaging when it comes to holistic health, especially as vehicles of guilt about bodies and sexuality. The criticisms, the examinations, the tirades – I often agree with them. But I’m also left with a nagging feeling, that such categorically dismissive views on religion end up alienating people who might otherwise be allies for a saner attitude toward sex and sexuality.
Am I fan of religion? I’m not. Have I been harmed by religious dogma and hurt by those who live for and through such dogma? Oh yes, I sure have. But do I think that blasting religion is going to convince anyone that they should give up religion? I don’t. Not at all.
Perhaps the real question is: do we want to have a conversation with people who think and feel differently, or do we want to preach to the non-religious choir? It seems unlikely that anybody who feels sympathetically toward religion is going to change their mind or heart by reading someone’s angry or patronizing views on why religion is ridiculous, harmful, or wrong.
What is the first question I hear when someone learns I grew up in Utah? I bet you can guess. “Are you Mormon?”
With the lights dimmed, I sat at the back of the room. Flickering light and shadow were flung across the faces of eight women sitting on couches and chairs in an arc around the screen. It was my first time watching Bodysex with anyone other than my partner.
Plans are underway for a public showing, but I wanted to start with a private viewing in my home. I sent the invitation to 38 women, specifying that this first event would be female-only. Most of the people I invited were familiar with the project, but for those who weren’t, I included the following: “The film documents Betty Dodson’s sex-education workshops, which she ran for twenty-five years. Fair warning as you decide whether you wish to attend: the seven participants (including me) are nude, show their genitals, and learn various masturbation techniques.” I felt it was important to be candid about the content. The last thing I needed was someone showing up without a clear understanding of what they would see.
Yes, yes, I’ve heard it before. Sex is active, it’s physical. So if you’re in good shape, the sex will be better. There are a couple of things, though, that we should clear up. First of all, fitness and fatness are not mutually exclusive. Secondly, sex is not only for those whose “good shape” isn’t fat. Sex is for everybody. Every. Body.
Since I’m broaching this topic, perhaps I should get personal about my own flesh. Whether or not I personally qualify as a fat person is debatable. My body waxes and wanes. I’ve talked about that in Feeling (about) My Body, where you can see a picture of me in the buff. And I also talked about it on the Bodysex video, where you can not only see me in the buff but also watch me masturbate. Sometimes I’m biggish, sometimes I’m smallish. Some call me overweight. Plump. Full-figured. Chubby. Womanly. Butterball. Rubenesque. BBW. Others roll their eyes at such assessments and say I’m not “that” big. At this point in my life, I’m trying not to attach too much importance to the bigness or smallness of my body. It’s easier said than done, not attaching importance, but I’m still trying.
After coming home from the Bodysex filming, my body and I entered a waning phase (see wax and wane, above). When people see me and tell me that I “look great!” and ask if I’ve lost weight, I generally smile and shrug. “It comes and it goes,” I tell them vaguely. If I get too hung up on feeling “great!” that other people like my body, then my self-worth is externalized and it becomes too easy to feel shitty about myself if/when I enter a waxing phase, or encounter someone who judges my body as less-than-great.
With that caveat, that I may or may not qualify as a fat person, I want to open up the discussion about fat sex.
The pressure builds slowly, sometimes imperceptibly. I can almost forget about it. But at a certain point, the tautness can no longer be overlooked or dismissed. Lately I’ve conceived of this mounting pressure as a balloon filling, slowly at first, and gaining momentum as the weeks pass. By the end, before my balloon releases, the pressure demands notice, requires my attention.
One of my earliest posts here and on Dodson and Ross was an attempt to earnestly and poetically express my feelings about my menstrual period. As a new blogger, I remember being rattled by the comment thread at D&R that followed, and have generally avoided the topic since. Of course I don’t want to reduce women and the female experience to hormones and menstruation. But to deny its impact on my life, inner and outer, would be disingenuous, especially as it relates to my sex and sexuality.