Training of O

The Training of O

HNT

In search of beer, Meg and I wandered Folsom Street East until we found ourselves in venerable gay leather redoubt The Eagle. We drank Stellas on the roof, where she snapped this picture of my foot being inserted into men.

Blake Mason

Dean and Will

Fleshbot and Pride Weekend

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot gleams with the sweat of summer lovers, those flings and obsessions who may or may not be kicking your leaves come autumn.

My colleague Jonno at Fleshbot added his own contribution with the trailer to the soft-core treat Summer Lovers. When this film came out, I had just graduated high school and worked as an usher in a movie theater. I quickly timed all the right moments to pop in for views of Peter Gallagher, Daryl Hannah and Valérie Quennessen sunning naked and “making love” (a once-popular phrase for sex). This pop-culture primer on polyamory taught me that triads are peachy so long as everyone is gorgeous and at least one partner is French.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me listed and bruising.

Mariella takes markers to mirror to document her first hickey.

Jocasta surveys a busy month and inventories me among things recently done.

If you prefer stalking me in the flesh, you’re in luck, as this is a busy weekend for New York City perverts. Today finds me at Coney Island for the Mermaid Parade, ever a supporter of the public display of naked painted breasts. Tonight, I’m volunteering at Leather Pride Night, moving among the bears and daddys, looking like a vegan at a luau. Tomorrow finds me at Folsom Street East.

Planning ahead, you can stalk me in August at Floating World, where I am teaching three classes, described below. I am recruiting female and male volunteers to bite or be bitten and/or to be poked in public. I don’t require demo bottoms for the class on male bisexuality, but if you are a bisexualish bottom, hell, it can’t hurt to drop a line.

Well, it might hurt a little.

Jefferson’s Floating World Classes

G-Spot and P-Spot, Thrills and Spills
Some deny its existence. Others swear by it. In recent years, the female G Spot has ignited storms of controversy-even as it has been stimulated to countless orgasms. Stimulating the P Spot, or prostate, can bring many men to extreme arousal. This hands-on (or rather, hands-in) session cuts past the verbiage to get down to business. Learn how to locate your own spot and that of your partner, as well as techniques to make the most of this erogenous zone. Please note that this session will include nudity and sexual activity, as well as opportunities for audience participation.

Odd Man In: Male Bisexuality on the Scene
In the sexually open scenes that overlap within the Floating World community, there remain conflicting and contradictory attitudes concerning male bisexuality, as a form of self-identification and in sexual practice. These attitudes particularly affect anyone who identifies as male, or is in a relationship with someone who identifies as male. This open and frank session addresses prevalent notions and offers strategies to bring male bisexuality into play, within scenes, within relationships, and within personal lives. The session draws on academic studies, personal experience and world travel. This workshop is open to all.

Chewtoy: Erotic Biting
If a nibble on the neck sends shivers down your spine, you’re already aware of the sensuous appeal of being bitten. Likewise, if kissing leads you to nip and tug on your lover’s lips, you may be ready to unleash your inner gnasher. Erotic biting brings a primal urge into play that can be directed to a variety of controlled sensations, and even into decorative temporary body modifications through determined marks and bruises. Learn how to safely and effective bite and/or be bitten and discuss how erotic biting can be applied to your favorite activities.

Sex and Submission

Lorelei

Fleshbot and Father's Day

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot chases the superstitions from a Friday the thirteenth weekend by dropping in on those who get lucky. Apparently all it takes is planning, perseverance and, well, luck.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me sharing and being shared, as you do.

The deflowering of Mariella continues with her first public display of affection and her first threesome with the first woman she ever touched, kissed, tasted, and all those fine ways one says howdy to a new friend.

If Janie has anything to say about it, this is the launch of a mutual admiration society—and to think it all began with the passing of notes and cock.

I’m enjoying a fine Father’s Day weekend with the kids. Today we are all hungover from a day at Six Flags with Bridget. She organized the day–long outing and proposed that we attack the park in two groups: she would mind Collie and Lillie, leaving Jason and me to focus on the roller coasters. We would regroup for lunch and rides we could all enjoy together.

Now, as a single dad, I really appreciated the genius of her plan. Without Bridget, the alternative plan might have been to allow Jason to bring a friend so that he could ride the coasters. We would’ve parted company in the morning and regrouped when the park closed. That’s what solo parents do as their kids grow up.

Instead, we big boys were set loose on the park. Jason determined that we should not only ride the coasters, but also ride them in the front seat. This gave us the shared experience of screaming in terror repeatedly, and hours of talking as we stood in lines. Time with a child is my kind of Father’s Day gift.

Even if I wonder what one does when a dreamy teenager jokes about his mother’s pot smoking.

Bridget also had her share of spills and chills with “our” kids.

I’d tell you more now, but Father’s Day calls for a special brunch. And since the kids are calling for food, I’m off to the kitchen.

Abby Winters

Isla

Fleshbot and Hydrants

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot goes calling on committed couples, finding that for some, company is always welcome.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find my parts left to those in need,. The aged and lurid Lynsey gets dibs. Her blog is now open by invitation only; you can request access at sticksy@mac.com. Tell her an organ donor sent you.

Mariella is introduced to her second cock and finds that while she may be a neophyte, she’s already a marathon runner.

It’s ninety-four degrees in New York today. Firefighters have opened the hydrant at the corner, and children are stripped to their underwear to play in the stream. Salsa music wafts through my open window, where I sit, naked and waiting for breezes.

Sometimes, New York is so much like itself.

Training of O

Maya Mathews

Volunteers

I have an idea for which I'm going to need about two hundred volunteers. Some Japanese required.

Abby Winters

Tamika

Fleshbotless

Sorry folks, no Sex Blog Roundup this week. I was running late and Fleshbot headquarters closed early. I must get accustomed to sex’s summer schedule. Please pass my white loafers.

Still, those of you who enjoy stalking me will find plenty to read.

Mariella ponders the new reality of sucking her first real live dick, trying to navigate the boundaries between “just right” and “lap full of puke.”

Bianca, craving romance within a relationship, puts aside other opportunities for sex—although she does grandfather Tilda and me into her contract.

Wendy runs into me at a party as she contemplates anal sex and brass balls.

Alice flunks a test I insisted she take, to her confused relief.

Bridget tells us more about daily life with her fine husband, wondering at his friendship with me.

While in Chicago for Shibaricon, I met a long-time reader of our blogs. We wound up taking Mariel back to our hotel room for tits—in the flesh, not on the radio—and lacings.

In other stalking news, my experiment with Twitter goes much as expected. I’ve been chided for Twittering when I had not first answered email, seen my cock blogged in real time, and read along with Rachel Kramer Bussel’s every cupcake. Next: live webcam feeds as I brush my teeth, twice daily.

This week, I read Bridget Jones’s Diary, which I found collecting dust as I was packing for my recent move. I had never read it, nor have I seen the movie, much less the sequels. Not my cuppa, really, but still, v.g. for riding the tube. Durr!

Putting the book away, I squeezed it into place on my fiction shelves, which are arranged alphabetically by author. Just as Bridget bounces between Daniel Cleaver and Mark Darcy, perhaps Helen Fielding will keep things light between William Faulkner and Jonathan Franzan. Sort of like Abby Lee and Stan Lee are cutting it up in the middle of nonfiction.

Male Bisexuality on the Scene

Male bisexuality faces a double standard within kink communities. Whereas female bisexuality is encouraged—indeed, presumed—male bisexuality is often denied or suppressed.

A couple of years ago, I started teaching a class on the place of male bisexuality within alternative sex cultures. Next Tuesday, June 3, I’m teaching it in New York for the first time, at TES. Expect an open and wide-ranging discussion as participants speak from their experiences.

Find out more at the TES website. The class is open to all. Drop me a line if you plan to attend.

Hogtied

Hogtied

I could do this. I think I could do this. But I need to practice . . . any volunteers?

Fleshbot and Ropes

This week's Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot asks the question that dogs all: what if?

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find Mariella comparing me favorably to carnage, Tilda examining the carnage my belt did to her thighs, and Wendy enjoying the carnal delights of fisting the new boy at my orgy.

Those you who truly can't get enough of stalking me will find I've made it dirt simple by signing on to Twitter. You can sign up to follow me by subscribing. Now you can read what I am doing (or least, what I'll tell you I'm doing), just when I tell it, one hundred and forty characters at a time.

Just another sliver of my privacy, tweeted to you, dear readers.

Meanwhile, in that spirit, I'll tell you exactly where I am at this moment. I am in Chicago for Shibaricon, where I am learning to be more awesome with ropes. The classes are going well, and darned if I'm not teachable. I'm making good use of my Venus Ropes.

Training of O

Adrianna Nicole

Abby Winters

Natasha M.

Fleshbot and Catching Up

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot breaks a sweat by working out with the sex bloggers who keep us panting.

Last week’s Sex Blog Roundup—in case you missed it, as I missed you—rode the thrills, chills and spills of sex on the adventurous side.

The previous week’s Sex Blog Roundup—did I mention that I missed you? You got the flowers, right?—takes solace when the best laid plans go awry, though not without someone getting laid.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me have some catching up to do, as I catch up with friends when not moving or settling in.

Jocasta finds alien panties and wonders from whence they came. Welcome to my world, sister.

Kansas puts me in the good company of her favorite “boy blog crushes.” I can’t speak for her other boys, but for this one at least, the road to reciprocity is well mapped.

Lynsey discovers the hazards of serving biscuits and sees a grown man cry over spilled bourbon.

Meanwhile, Janie ends an experiment with abstinence and sees a grown man slumber after the administration of much bourbon, barbeque and blowjobs. (Warning: this post may elicit marriage proposals for our late bloomer. Don’t share with those seeking green cards or stationed in lonely outposts.)

Newlywed Bridget takes us on a honeymoon, leaving my family well-danced.

And just as Bridget goes bridal comes a new knock on my door. Mariella arrived bearing daisies. She left without her daisies, her panties or her virginity.

Those of you who prefer to stalk in person will find me joining my rope pals at ShabiriCon next weekend. This is a great learning opportunity for me, the perverted perpetual student still challenged by tying his shoes.

More to come. For now, I’m back to unpacking and pondering: how can a man own so many books and so few matching socks?

Sex and Submission

Sex and Submission

The pose, the expression, the perilous situation: this is classic John Willie.

HNT

By Tuesday of this week, I had made great progress in settling into my new apartment. As a reward for my efforts, I ventured downtown to celebrate the release of Tristan Taormino’s new book on polyamory, Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships. She interviewed me for the book, so I thought I should show up and get a copy if only to, you know, flip through the pages to see if I’m in it.

Never mind that Tristan is to sex writing as Hannah Montana is to backless gowns. Which is to say, a bigger deal than we remember to remember.

I was uncharacteristically early, and found a long line waiting to get into the event. Gift bags were promised to the first two hundred attendees. The event was so well attended that even by queuing for a nice long while, I didn’t score freebies—no surprise, I guess, for a party celebrating a poly book. Everyone who came was sure to bring a few dates.

I settled into a banquette with friends. Not long afterwards, a burlesque performer danced until she was well past naked. I gave her a dollar and she shoved her discarded panties under my nose. They smelled like lavender. I didn’t get her name more than once or twice. I remember asking and being grateful each time she said it.

I caught up with friends. The bar, Happy Endings Lounge, was established on the site of a former massage parlor. A sauna was converted into a sitting area. As the evening went on and rounds were exchanged, Tilda decided she really, really liked my leather belt. Lynsey liked how much Tilda liked my belt. So as Lynsey perched on a tile bench to watch, I removed my belt to beat Tilda. A crowd formed, as might happen when you thrash someone in public as a stick artist grows googly eyes.

Tilda took a solid whooping. Lynsey took a solid eyeful.

I wouldn’t know beans about beating if Lolita didn’t take care in educating me. That night, Lolita took this photo of my foot out in public. Ace of Hearts likes to tickle, so here, he gives my sole a soulful wiggle. Not so much into the boys, our Ace, but as you see, soul brothers is soul brothers.