To Feel

Heartrending and true. Beautiful!

A Strange In-Between Space

As you may have figured out from previous posts, I’m working for a company that is in the midst of developing a new sex toy–a toy that we feel will revolutionize sex as we know it.  In the era of Fifty Shades, it seems that sex (and kinky sex at that) has gone mainstream.

But has it, really?

In “Why We Need to Stop Bashing ’50 Shades of Grey’ Already” (a great piece, well worth the read), JoEllen Notte writes that, despite its problems, 50 Shades has helped to bring sex and real people’s sex lives into the national conversation. It, she argues, has also brought a major upsurge to the sex toy market.

Fantastic news for sure. I am in love with the idea of getting into the sex toy market at such a pivotal juncture. Not only because it seems like there is a lot of money to be made, but because I think this is something that really needs to be done.

My question is this: now that the major furor over 50 Shades has died down (though that song is a serious earworm!), will sex continue to be mainstream? Or will this country run right back into its proverbial closets and go back to pretending that we don’t do *that* kind of thing?

You tell me, dear readers. You tell me.

My Résumé is Suddenly All About Sex

Tags

adult materials, authenticity, closets, freelancing, sex, sex work, sexuality, writing

As you might imagine, it’s a little strange to be in the sex toy business. I’ve been an administrator for most of my adult life, in various roles, but still an administrator. I’ve worked for a law firm, a couple of community colleges and a university. My resume is a veritable check list of Victorian (or prudish American) Respectability.

In a lot of ways, content is content, right? I could be writing blog posts for a natural gas company or for a local day care or gift shop. What matters, on a fundamental level, is that I am writing and getting paid to write.

But writing about sex is a whole different thing. It is intensely personal, by its very nature. It is vulnerability and exposure in ways that I didn’t really imagine at the outset.

And, for all of my preaching about how we need to live more authentic lives (my whole blog is about that, remember??), I’ve found myself hiding or shielding myself from being easily identified with our projects. An anathema to everything my career wants to be: visible, public, successful. Hell, I know writers that accept even the lowliest gigs simply because it gives them a byline! Yet here I am writing my ass off, but not claiming my work publicly.

Some of this hesitation to broadcast is practical. If the sex toy and the company don’t take off in the ways that I need it to, I might find myself looking for a new job, an effort that will clearly be hindered if I have sex blogger on my list of accomplishments.

Still, though, some of it feels very much like ingrained social norms and a vague unwillingness to be associated with the sex industry. That, my friends, is something I need to figure out and get over because sex work is real work and, done right, it is good and honest work.

On Accidental Employment and Sex Machines

Tags

freelance, freelance work, sex, sex machines, sybian

A former professor (and friend) of mine asked me to babysit her kids. Her husband was out of town. (Let me just tell you, four rambunctious boys are a handful. But that’s a topic for another post.)

After she returned home, we got to talking about what I’ve been up to recently. I told her I have been doing some social media management along with my other freelance activities.  She was excited to report that her husband’s business could use a social media person.

At her urging, I set up a meet with her husband. I assumed that he would need someone to babysit his company’s Facebook page for a couple of hours a week. Easy peasy.

Sure, I’d have to learn a whole new industry (his company makes lift kits for trucks), but I’m a quick study. I’d rise to the challenge.

It turns out that what he really needed was a half-time content creator. Essentially, he wanted someone who could take his many ideas and present them to the world (wide web) in some coherent fashion.

Though I was quite stunned, I accepted the offer and, in exchange for a break on my hourly rate, he put me on the company’s payroll. Thus, my accidental job.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and we’re at a nice little mom and pop breakfast shop having a meeting. Watching YouTube videos of a prototype product. The next product he wants to manufacture: sybian style sex machines.

Only I would manage to accidentally get hired by a guy who makes sex machines. And only I would not only be thrilled, but be uniquely qualified to partake of all steps of the development process–can you say product tester? Only I would be connected to enough of the right people to actually sell the damn things.  So yays! I accidentally landed the perfect, authentic me kind of job.

Bondage

Tags

bdsm, erotica, love, poetry

Pull me close with your desire.

Bind me with your passion.

Tie me up in your words.

Wrap me in the ropes of your pleasure.

Handcuff me with my need for you.

Restrain me with the freedom of servitude.

Let me surrender. Captive at your feet.

To a lifetime of bondage. To a lifetime with you.

(I wrote this in the middle of the night last night and posted it to my actual porn blog. If you like kinky gifs check out Yessirdaddysir. There are also some stories there, if you’re into that kind of thing.)

On Internet Identity

Tags

poetry, pseudonym

Identity

They say there’s something inauthentic

about using a pseudonym.

You can’t possibly be you if your documents don’t match the

name you call yourself.

But what if identity is better expressed,

without fear of reprisal?

Without every single thing you say

or post

or write

being connected to your

outward life?

A persona developed from the shadows you carry

might just allow you to live your

life

in the light of your

truth.

Shared from WordPress

Tags

exploitation, making it, poetry

Depressing. But full of good information, particularly the comments. http://sundresspublications.wordpress.com/2014/10/28/fck-this-i-quit-kind-of-on-poetry-contests-and-opportunity-cost-by-les-kay/

Ugh. Yep. The rules still apply.

Tags

bdsm, fangirl swoon, Fetish Flea, writing

So here I am, in my bedroom, in my mom’s house. After a series of unfortunate events not really worthy of discussion here, I am, at age 39, living at home.

A day or two ago, I answered a twitter call by an author I follow asking if anyone was interested in reading work at the Fetish Flea conference in Providence in February. Sure, I tweeted back. I would love to.

Conversations later, and not only am I preparing to send some erotica samples to said author, but I’m having trouble containing myself because I’ve just figured out that she is not only organizing the readings, she is one of my all time favorite bdsm authors!

In the midst of my fangirl swoon, it occurs to me that I can not share my squee (for it is a squee to even be considered) with my family. Because the rules apply to me and I am, for a long list of reasons, subject to the very thing I wish to tear down here: an inauthentic life.

Le Sigh. Proof that there is work yet to be done.

Still…I’ll use my platform to encourage y’all to check out her books. If you’re at all into kink, they are fantastic. You’re welcome.

Author, Hottie, Subject of Fangirl Swoon

How About Some Sexy Poetry?

Tags

bdsm, erotica, poetry, sex, sexy

I am in a mood tonight, dear readers. So I think it’s time I posted some erotica. A couple of poems to start…

Here Kitty Kitty

In the beginning,
it’s all coffee dates and matching intellects.

then,
     a nip on the lip
          a slap to the rear
               a growl in the ear
hints at what’s to come.

Moans and grunts
instincts
rutting,
pounding,
dripping.

Rationality and mutual attraction
give way
to primal passion.

Because, aren’t we all just animals anyway?

I Want

I want bold lips, bold hands.

I want the sting of slaps;
          the sting of humiliation.

I want to be teased and tormented; bound.

I want sore…everything.
          A body well used; sated.

I want to beg. I want to be gagged.
I want to moan and writhe.
I want to be forced to be still and quiet.

I want to pray for mercy.

I want to love to hate it and
          I want to love loving it.

I want soft caresses and sweet kisses.
I want bruises.
I want comfort and soothing.

I want no escape.

I want the ache of desire, that ache to build until I’m ready to explode with it.

I want denial. I want release.

I want…surrender.

But most of all…I want to please.

I Love Sexting

Tags

desire, poetry, sexting, sexuality

The thrill of the ping, the discontinuity in the context of whatever else I’m doing, the elicit bubble of brain chemicals. Whatever it is, sexting is one of my favorite pastimes. I do it A LOT. So here’s a few stanzas about that:

Sexting

ping, ping
short, sexy, sweet.

A few lines;
it’s really just text.

But it means the world to me.
Until I’m on to the next.