Sweet tears, sacred love

One 2812341774_c7095a7c6e_mmoment, our lips explore each other with delightful wonder. The three of us are playing, expanding, discovering new landscapes, greeting our edges gently and compassionately.

And then, sweet tears, sacred love. I see you. I hold you. I love you. Never before have I received such a precious gift, such vulnerable beauty. I am lying supine beneath you, and our faces are so close, the crystal water spills from your eyes and onto my face, into my own eyes. We are tear sisters, fluid bonded in a way I have never conceived of prior to this.

We gently lay you down, cradle you, receive you, hold space. There is nothing to fix, nothing to change, all is perfect.

Thank you, beautiful soul, for your divine gifts.



Today’s inkblot: gang bang or sacred play?

olivier-valsecchi ink blot
Photo by Olivier Valsecchi

I have just had a black leather blindfold gently placed over my eyes. I am told to stand up and bend forward. Strong muscles under warm soft skin wrap around my torso and I am lifted into a fireman’s carry over the shoulder of a man who has never before experienced my touch. I am carried with ease up a flight of stairs. Foot steps follow us.

My feet brush across a doorway frame, we are in a room. More hands reach for me, as I am carefully lowered into a pair of straps mounted to a ceiling. Whispers help guide me into a swing. It’s my first time in a sex swing.

All of my lovers go silent. Hands gently cradle my head so I can completely sink into my surroundings. I inhale, find that place in my heart of trust, relax my body as I exhale, and prepare to offer the ultimate gift of total surrender of my body over to the care of my lovers. The gift, is to myself.

For the next two hours, I experience a flow unlike anything I have ever known. Several lovers (including one friend I have never been intimate with) are here to worship me, take me, over and over, without ever making a sound. I let go of any curiosity as to who is inside of me, who has just thrust themselves into my eager mouth, who is at my neck, my breasts. I am the only one making noise, and my moans erupt freely, pulsing in parallel to the pleasure I am swimming in.

With salience, I remember this feeling inside me. As if crossing through a portal, I have completely returned to erotic innocence. I hope that you, the reader, have a youthful memory that involves the compassionate curiosity of our earliest experiences of sexuality. If you are so blessed, you will remember it when you find it again as I did. A moment where you know you are so safe, so loved, so held, that you can say ‘no’ or make a request with no fear of trauma or judgement. And your lovers can receive that ‘no’ without ever taking it personally or projecting any meaning. All our memories of woundedness melt away, and we are simply present, curious, and playful.

This was my birthday wish. To shed a layer of shame, the internalized oppression of self judgement – slut, dirty, cheap – that comes with growing up in a world where my sex and my sexuality is feared, judged, and objectified. I created a scenario to challenge those beliefs to the core. Like ophidiophobia (fear of snakes), I chose graded exposure to face my fears. And lovers, you obliged.

Garter snakes mating

I feel so much bliss right now, so much love, so blessed. I am awake and aroused. Pleasure is safe, pleasure is beautiful, pleasure is a divine gift. Thank you for this ultimate birthday present: sexual healing.


The Truth Part 2


My heart continues to melt, and my soul is enveloped and nurtured as, page by page, I journey ever deeper into one person’s journey into sex, love, authenticity and spirituality. I am continuing to devour Neil Strauss’ new book, “The Truth: an uncomfortable book about relationships”. This excerpt captures the essence of why I am here, giving a voice to the spiritual hedonist inside of me. Here Neil discovers the very real possibilities for love and healing within a group sex environment:

“I gaze deeply into the world in [her] eyes and she into mine – and it feels like love. Not the love that is a thought that comes with expectations of commitment and fears of abandonment, but the love that is an emotion that makes no demands and knows no fear. I’ve found, for a moment, love in a swing club.

“Connected sex is a spiritual experience…because it’s a release from ego, a merging with the other, a discorporation into the atoms vibrating around us, a connection to the universal energy that moves through all things without judgement or prejudice.

“Thus, orgasm is the one spiritual practice that unites nearly everyone on the planet, and perhaps that is why there’s so much fear and baggage around it. Because…it is sacred.

“And every orgasm. Is in itself an act of faith. An attempt to reach out. And just for a moment. Relieve our separateness. Escape from time. And touch eternity. And, yes!

“As she drenches the mattress, I fill the condom.

“Not only did I find love at an orgy, I think I found enlightenment.”

I have experienced the touch of the creator in the sacred sensuous space of a play party, a swing club, an unexpected connection in a cuddle puddle at a house party. I am so grateful that people “out there” are beginning to talk about the healing powers of sexuality beyond the limits offered within ‘traditional’ relationship structures. Thank you, Neil.


Photo courtesy of erosphotos.com


A string of perfect moments. Juicy, swept-away-into-bliss, bodies, rhythmic perfection, harmonious connection. This isn’t our first time, it’s the fourth actually. Yet it’s been this good. Every time. I am surrendering into a sea of lovers, four of us, moving with the grace and harmony of a string quartet. Direction undulates among us, now leading, now following, this sensual dance that elegantly draws one moment to the next. Conscious and playful, sensitive and intuitive, intense and loving, adventurous and courageous. Four hearts intertwined, limbs writhing in synchronous pleasure, snakes at the bottom of a ravenous pit of ecstatic bliss. Coiling, slithering, succumbing, suggesting. Laughter, moans, a collective breath. Lungs and lingam and tongues tasting beads of sweat, sweet scents. My lips, mouth, face all repeatedly, rhythmically pounded, from the roots up into your mons pubis, as I lay prone before you and take direction from the pelvic thrusts of my hungry lover behind me. Continue reading