Hierarchy of Lust

sunriseI don’t usually analyze sexual desire. I figure it is what it is in all its primal and instinctual glory…however I was plodding along at work and found myself thinking about my hierarchy of lust and love, and the annoying complexity of fucking after age 60.

At this point in my life, sex and love are intertwined. My ability and interest in fucking outside of a romantic relationship has lessened, and I’ve talked to enough people over the age of 50 to know that this change is be common for many people. I find it frustrating, but only in the sense that I sometimes long for a lover the way that I long for a pizza to be delivered to my apartment; someone to magically appear, give me hot greasy pleasure, then disappear until the next time I call up for a delivery.

I’m not celibate, however only my lover is myself.  I can fuck myself fine. Could that be engraved upon my headstone, eventually partially obscured by soft green moss? “They could fuck themselves fine.”, maybe in a glamorously old-fashioned Celtic font. It’s true though. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become a more inventive and a greedier lover, and what is masturbation but fucking oneself? Joani Blank wrote I Am My Lover: Women Pleasure Themselves in 1997. It was revolutionary at the time, and remains a radical statement about self-pleasure twenty years later. I’ve developed a deeper appreciation for the handsomeness of my body; I love my soft belly, the smooth wet inside of my asshole, my tufts of underarm hair, my freckled breasts with their greedy sensitive nipples. I continue to evolve with how I fuck myself, trying new methods, new toys. I’ve acquired more sex toys, and I acknowledge the importance of pleasure in my life by purchasing higher quality toys and more frequently. If I think well enough of myself to eat organic vegetables, then surely I should spring for the hefty njoy Eleven, a collection of fine silicone dildos, a rubber slapper, a stainless steel butt plug, adjustable nipple clamps. I try out new toys with abandon.

I’m trying to say that I have experience negotiating with myself, but I’m reexamining my hierarchy of lust and love with lovers.  If my choice was a vanilla butch or a kinky femme, I’d go with the kinky femme, even though I’m much more attracted to butches. For me, kink trumps gender presentation.

I realized that kink was a necessity when I was in my early 30s; I was fucking a wonderful man. He was an artist, smart, quirky, a feminist, kind, and an ardent lover. An extremely ardent vanilla lover. We started seeing one another in the summer and continued until winter started. We fucked almost exclusively outdoors, and that was kinky enough to keep me interested until it got cold and snowy, and we moved into the bedroom by necessity. He tried valiantly to hit me and boss me around, but he wasn’t a sadist or particularly domineering so it didn’t quite gel. A tepid sadist is not an effective sadist. I hated breaking up with him, but that was the moment when I knew that I could not compromise around kink. I’d started out kinky at age 12, and I needed kink to be part of my sex life with any future long term lover…and with myself.

I then pushed myself further with the hierarchy of lust and love, what if the choice was a kinky male and a vanilla woman? I got bogged down. Is this one of those questions that remain unanswered until an actual person asks it?  It’s been over 10 years since I’ve fucked a man; in general, I’ve never found men as aesthetically, emotionally, or romantically compelling as women. This feels like a thorny discussion and a little undecided, however I like the fact that changes continue as I get older.

What does your hierarchy of lust and love look like? Has it changed over the years? Have any of those changes surprised you? Have you acted upon those changes? If not, why not? At 62, lust and love continues to delight and surprise me.

 

 

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Butches, Inking, and David Bowie

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It’s a gorgeous Sunday spring afternoon in San Francisco; sunny, 58 degrees and breezy. The trees beneath my window are covered in pink blossoms, and I have a salmon fillet marinating in mustard, balsamic vinegar, and maple syrup ready to cook for dinner. I have the window open, David Bowie is cranked up, and I’m finishing inking Jackie Bross and her lover Catherine Barscz (circa 1943) for the Butch Lesbians of the 20s, 30s, and 40s Coloring Book (Stacked Deck Press – release date June 2017). 

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Perverts Put Out! Mayday Edition

Perverts Put Out! Mayday Edition
Come dance around the Maypole! Join us for a spirited, smutty response to the state of emergency we all find ourselves in. Just days before the traditional worker’s holiday and a national day of resistance, Avery Cassell, Jen Cross, Gina de Vries, Juba Kalamka, Cherry Terror, Na’amen Tilahun, and special musical guest Princess Cream Pie, will mash-up porn, politics, and spring, co-hosted by Dr. Carol Queen and Simon Sheppard.
Saturday, April 29, 2017
Center for Sex & Culture
1369 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA.
Doors open at 7:00 and show at 8:00 pm

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Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink

Coming November 14, 2017, Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink, edited by DL King. Contributors to this anthology include the talented and sexy J. Belle Lamb, Pascal Scott, Tamsin Flowers, Sonni de Soto, Annabeth Leong, Rose P. Lethe, Meghan O’Brien, Kiki DeLovely, B.D. Swain, Cecilia Duvalle, Janelle Reston, Sacchi Green, Emily Bingham, Sir Manther, Kathleen Tudor, Brey Willows, Mary Tintagel, Elinor Zimmerman, Robyn Nyx, and myself!

“My fingers surreptitiously part the Kelly green knit cotton opening of my jockeys, and move sneakily over my belly bit by bit; I’m diligently working my way towards my cunt. It is Thursday, and tonight’s Blue Plate special is Rose’s old-fashioned spaghetti with meatballs. I have a weakness for round food, so we brave the approaching dank fog to go to the comforting and ubiquitous Chow for dinner.

It is the fourth day of your two week visit, and we’ve been living on expensive chocolate, strong coffee, sharp mouse cheese, and rye crackers. The nightstand’s top drawer is crammed with chocolate, and the bottom drawer with extra large condoms and evil little binder clips. The metal waste paper basket is overflowing with used black nitrile gloves, spent condoms, and gold foil candy wrappers. We’ve already gone through two bottles of lube, beating our personal best from last April. We’ve broken one dick clean at the base, and the bed has started to creak and shift in the lower right corner. My chest, the back of my thighs and the crease of my ass are covered in crop marks, bruises and bites, while you have a dazed smile on your face, along with several bruises on your left wrist and the top of your hand. We’re ready to leave the apartment in search of protein. We want sexy waitpersons serving us hot food and a meander through the streets of San Francisco.” – from “Blue Plate Special: Your Boot on my Cunt.”

“Blue Plate Special: Your Boot on my Cunt” is a romantic bit of frippery about two butches/MOC who can’t keep their hands off one another for longer than 60 minutes, resulting in deliciously surreptitious boot play under the table during a spaghetti dinner at Chows. Read the rest in Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink!

 

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Erotica Pet Peeve: Thrum

editing-markupIf I was the Grand Poobah Editor of Smut, I’d immediately toss out any erotic fiction that used the word ‘thrum.’ Reading ‘thrum’ will cause me to close the book on an otherwise dandy piece of writing. Within the context of smut, ‘thrum’ sticks in my craw.

I’ve never seen ‘thrum’ used in any fiction except for smut. Erotica, like any other fiction, needs to use a common and natural vocabulary. Can you imagine turning to a lover and murmuring, “Baby, you make me thrum!” Once we set erotica fiction aside with special words, we open the doorway for it to become the other, a subcategory that is worth less than the so-called more authentic non-erotic fiction. This delegitimizes the genre of smut. We need to hold erotic fiction to the same literary standards as non-erotic fiction, and the creation and usage of an exclusive vocabulary keeps erotica segregated

Hideous for real examples:
Marc leaned forward to kiss his breastbone and felt it thrum against his lips.

Her erotic vibrations were back and thrumming at the speed of sound.

His body seemed to thrum with tension.

I felt his answer thrum in my bones…

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