Saturday, September 30, 2006

Fleshbot and Best Bisexuals

This weekend, my Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot gets naked with bloggers who drop trou to show nude photos along with their tales. Enjoy!

I’m always interested in reading more, and looking at more naked people, so if you know of others, please send them along to me. I found very few featuring men, so get those penises wagging my way.

Thanks to the kind folks at About for including One Life, Take Two among its Top Five Male Bisexual Blogs. It’s good company!

Mind you, I am number five. I wonder who you have to sleep with to get to number one?

Friday, September 29, 2006

Tristan Says

Tristan Taormino has written an account from Dark Odyssey for her column in The Village Voice. I hate to give away turns in my forthcoming tales from sex camp, but see if you can find yours truly quoted below.

Pucker Up
Objects of Desire
People explore their sexual objectification fantasies at a controversial event
by Tristan Taormino
September 28th, 2006

I just got back from sex camp (my nickname for the annual retreat I co-produce at a rural camp facility), and I've got sexual objectification on my mind. It was six days of classes, special events, parties, and rituals. One of the events is called the Garden of Carnal Delights, and it takes place in a series of connected rooms. Each one has a different erotic theme, and the Objectification Room is the most controversial of them all.

Five single beds are lined up in the middle of the small space and a large purple opaque curtain hangs from the ceiling dividing the beds in half, so that when people (called objects) lie on them, only the bottom halves of their bodies are visible to spectators.

The majority of the objects are women, though there have been a few men, and some of the participants don't offer their genitals up for play (one guy offered his mouth for oral service and wore a hood to mask his identity). Objects sign up in advance and fill out a form indicating their sexual limits. The limitations are then posted on a sign hanging from the curtain above each bed under the headings Yes and No. "Yes: vaginal penetration only," "No: fisting," "Yes: spanking, anal penetration with toys," and "No: playing with my pussy" are just a few. Once the objects (identified on the sign by number) are placed behind the curtain the Garden opens to attendees.

Participants are free to sexually use any of the objects as long as they follow the rules. Safe sex is mandatory, and there is no verbal communication between object and user—the exchanges are completely anonymous. There are monitors on either side of the curtain just to make sure everyone behaves. If an object needs to get the attention of the monitor, he or she rings a bell.

The Garden was created by Vlad and Cindy, a married couple who live on the Upper West Side and are active in the BDSM scene. "We came up with the Objectification Room because we saw this dirty French movie that had this scene in it that really turned us on," says Cindy. "We would watch it over and over. The scene had people divided at their midsections on beds, and people would sexually use people regardless of who they were or what they looked like. It was a hot idea for us." The couple believed that other people would be turned on by this fantasy, and that it might be something folks would get off on. They built it, and people came.

Now in its third year, the Objectification Room has gained popularity, and people sign up well in advance to play the role of an object. Vlad and Cindy teach a class about the Garden for newcomers, and it helps that attendees from previous events know what to expect. Based on participants' feedback, the objectification fantasy touches a nerve in a lot of folks. "When people thank us, it's very sincere, and you can see that it meant a lot to them to be able to explore this," says Cindy. Vlad adds, "One guy came up to me at breakfast the next day and said his experience was amazing. He said he got laid four times. Judging by the way he looked, I'd guess that's probably more sex than he's had all year."

The concept of giving people permission and space to treat others as objects for their sexual gratification sounds like a feminist's worst nightmare. But to hear the creators describe it, it sounds like a space for people to have sexual experiences regardless of physical appearance: it strips away the judgments we all make about one another, letting us exist in a space where there's no flirting, small talk, seduction, or even eye contact.

One woman, who has been an object two years in a row, says the experience is transformative. "I like being used and I like not knowing what's going to happen. It's about the challenge and pushing myself to do whatever they wanted. I like being scared, although I know I am safe. The curtain allows freedom for the other person and allows me the freedom to not have to look at them while they are there." She got a note from someone who used her, sent via one of the moderators who knew her identity. The writer thanked her for allowing him or her to experience things he or she had never done before. "The first time I was an object, it was spiritual. I didn't expect that. I had risen up, endured for others, sustained the humiliation of being probed and used."

A bi male attendee who had sex with an object said at first he was hesitant, "I was raised a feminist. I am guided by consent in sex. I host orgies. I talk to people about negotiating limits. Here, the limits were printed on a page to read. There were no opportunities to seek clarification." In the end, he liked the experience, but found that it made him vulnerable: "I know how glory holes operate, and this was something like that, so that became my first framework of reference. . . . I like anonymous sex, though I have experienced it either in private or in a group setting. Here, I was kind of . . . exposed as liking it."

Another object, who did it for the first time, told me, "I've had a long-standing fantasy about being a hole. I'm a submissive and part of my kink is being used. I like the idea of having no say. . . . I've felt like that before, being a hole there for someone's use, but it's been as part of a larger relationship and there was trust, and it's always been a huge turn-on for me. I think that's what made me think I'd like it on a larger scale and in a more anonymous way." As it turned out, it wasn't what she expected. "The experience was very interesting. Not a sexual turn-on at all, which was a surprise. I don't get off on being a dirty little whore; I get off on being someone's dirty little whore, if that makes sense. I don't think I realized that before this experience."

"This year more than ever, I realized how much it was a form of edge play," reveals Vlad. "Edge play" is a BDSM term usually used to describe activities that are considered especially risky, like cutting, piercing, or playing with guns. "This was not about intricate techniques or complicated accoutrements. It was mental edge play. I know this because there were lots of people who signed up to be an object then backed out at the last minute. It was like they were standing on the edge of the cliff, but they just couldn't jump."

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Fleshbot and Station Breaks

Please pardon this interruption in my series on sex camp. I hate to leave you in suspense—pun intended, I’m afraid—but I have a few announcements.

First, check out my most recent Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot, where we get behind the blogs devoted to spanking. Bend over and take it until you just can’t take no more.

Second, spin over to visit Meg at Tales of a Teacher and Slut to help her win a basket of sex toys. All you need to do is vote for her selections, which you can also do here. You know, we all benefit if that storyteller gets some more sex toys.

(If so inclined, you can purchase her basket for yourself to make up stories of your own.)

Meg says that if she wins, the Liquid Silk is all mine.

And, uh, you know she has to deliver it in person.

Thanks to all the readers who have sent condoms coming my way. More are always welcome!

But for now, let’s focus on bourbon. This weekend, I am entertaining a blogger who takes her drink as she takes her sex—strong, deep and frequent. I won’t give away much by revealing that her name starts with the letter “mmmm” and her blog can be found beyond a certain looking glass.

If you want to grease the weekend by sending us a bottle or two (or three, or more), contact me and I’ll tell you how to go about it.

Trust me, friends, you will reap the benefits by keeping our glasses full. We will return the favor by giving up that mighty fine sex writing that keeps you reaching for your own favorite sex toy.

Again, sorry for the interruption. Next, we return to sex camp for a lesson in strap-ons, some tricks with ropes, and a Bloody Mary you won’t soon forget.

Sunday, September 24, 2006


“I never eat like this,” Selina said, closing the bun on her hamburger. “Thank God for the salad bar.”

“Yeah, it’s camp food,” Lolita said. “About which, the less said, the better.”

“It’s not so bad,” Barry disagreed, pouring ketchup on two cheeseburgers. “No worse than the Marines, anyway.”

“You’re a regular recruiting poster, you are,” I said, taking a large bite of raw spinach greens.

A young woman with short brown hair tapped on Lolita’s shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Lolita turned. “Oh, hi, delicious. I was wondering when you would find me.” Lolita sat back and patted her lap. The woman sat on her knee, wrapping an arm around Lolita’s shoulder.

I recognized her as the artist with whom I had corresponded before coming to Dark Odyssey. I had sent her a Cupid note when we arrived the day before, but I had heard nothing in response.

I had seen her photograph. She was even cuter in person.

Lolita introduced us. I nodded, reminding the artist of our email exchanges.

“I remember,” she smiled. “Nice to meet you, Jefferson.” She turned back to Lolita. “So, Lolita, are you going to have time to spank me? You are the very best there is.”

“Thanks, but I really doubt it. I’m sorry, I’m just booked solid this weekend.”

The woman pouted. “Not at all?”

“I can’t promise anything, but try me at the Garden of Carnal Delights tonight. I’ll be there with my friends,” she said, nodding to us.

“Oh, you’re a friend of Lolita’s?” she asked me.

I nodded. “We go way back.”

“Hmmm, okay, I’ll look for you there, Lolita.” She stood from Lolita’s lap and bent to kiss her. “Thanks!”

Lolita swatted the artist’s ass as she walked away. She squealed.

“Too bad you may miss out on spanking her,” I said, peppering my potato salad. “She’s a doll.”

“You want to spank her?” Lolita asked.

“I’d happily do her, yes.”

“I’ll make it happen,” she said.

“Really? You’d do that?”

Lolita smiled. “I make things happen. That’s what I do.”

I grinned, amused by the seemingly limitless abilities of my new best friend.

Marcus had moved to the end of the table to take names from men who wanted to participate in that evening’s wrestling match. Barry moved his plate to sit closer, offering advice on the best way to organize wrestlers.

“You and Marcus seem to have a very special relationship,” Lolita said, nodding toward him.

“I’ve known him most of my life. I love him,” I said, chewing more spinach. “He’s a bitch, but he’s my bitch.”

Viviane laughed.

“It’s very clear you two love each other very much,” Selina said. “I’m impressed that you are so warm and caring with each other.”

“You even let him top you,” Viviane interjected.

I rolled my eyes. “I let him fuck me sometimes, if that’s what you mean. But really, it’s not like anyone can stop him from doing what he wants. He’s pure id.”

“No, it’s not just that,” Selina said. “I mean, you relax around him. You trust him. It isn’t like you have to be in the one in control when you are around him. You are more, I don’t know . . . free.”

I nodded and speared a chickpea with my fork. “He’s my boyfriend, and the only one I’ve got,” I said, popping the pea in my mouth. “He’ll just have to do.”

“I don’t know if you understand what I’m saying . . . ,” Selina began.

“I think it would be fun to top Jefferson,” Lolita said casually, as though the thought had just occurred to her. I doubted it had.

“Ha! I’d like to see that,” Viviane said. “I’d pay three hundred in Kundalini Kash to see that.”

“No, now it’s you who doesn’t understand,” Selina began, patting Lolita’s hand. “Let me explain Jefferson to you.”

I took a bite of potato salad and listened.

“See, Lolita, Jefferson always has to be in control,” Selina went on. “I totally understand why. He was married to a control freak. That didn’t work out, so he’s reluctant to let anyone else be in charge. He always has to be the boss.”

“Yeah, he’s a total dom,” Viviane nodded. “One hundred percent.”

Lolita kept her eyes on me.

“That’s why he’s so arrogant about it,” Selina nodded. “He needs to assert himself in this totally arrogant fashion, which . . . well, it’s not for me, I don’t go for it, but I understand where he’s coming from.” She turned to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I mean, I think you are great as you are, Jefferson, but, you know, the dominance, the arrogance, is something of a . . . I don’t know, a defense mechanism.”

“Why, Selina Fire,” I drawled. “I do believe you are falling in love with me!”

She looked surprised, then laughed. “Huh, well, let’s just say I understand you. And I think Lolita has to understand that you would never surrender control to anyone.”

I sipped my coffee. “I would let Lolita tie me up.”

Selina looked at me.

“Five hundred,” Viviane said quietly.

“It’s yours,” Lolita said.

“On one condition,” I added, picking up my cheeseburger. “I want the good stuff. Top shelf. I want to be suspended.”

“Done.” Lolita smiled.

“I thought you were booked solid this weekend,” I said.

“I am. But I will open a space for this.”

“Then we have a deal,” I said, extending a hand. We shook on it.

“Six hundred,” Viviane said.

“You don’t need to bid, honey,” I said, biting into my cheeseburger. “It’s done. We shook on it.”

“I can watch?”

“Sure, you can both watch, if Jefferson’s cool with it,” Lolita said. “Just remember, it’s a session, not a demo. You have to be a good audience.”

“Jefferson, I’m surprised,” Selina said. “I mean, truly surprised. You would submit to Lolita? That’s . . . well, that’s brave.”

“I may be a dom, but I’m not stupid,” I said, swallowing my bite. “The opportunity to be suspended by someone so skilled as Lolita is not to be passed. I mean, anyone who would let that go because he’s so stuck on his identity as a ‘dom’ would be an idiot.”

“True, true, I can see that,” Selina nodded. “But still, very brave.”

“Thanks, Selina. I appreciate that.”

I sipped my coffee.

Later that evening, as I waited in line for dinner, a man approached me. I recognized him as Elvon, Lord of Vampires.

“You Jefferson?”


“I’m Cupid. Message.” He took a crumbled pink note from his pocket, read it, and passed it to me.

It was from Lolita. She wrote that she looked forward to meeting me sometime at camp. She checked off that she was “intrigued,” and added a box by hand to say she thought I was “smart.”

“Thanks,” I said to Elvon. “But I think I already got this message.”

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing a bare-breasted girl who was passing by. “I’ve been busy.”

She giggled and squirmed as he buried his face in her neck.

Saturday, September 23, 2006


“Okay, so if you have any more questions about that, just look for me, or the Manager on Duty, and we’ll take care of it,” Tristan said. “Now, let’s move on to tonight.”

Tristan sat on edge of a stage in the gymnasium-cum-dungeon, facing a dozen or so people on folding chairs. She spoke extemporaneously as she helped us to anticipate what we might expect from Dark Odyssey.

We had arrived too late for the orientation on Friday, so Viviane, Selina and I wanted to hear it from Tristan just after breakfast on Saturday.

We had done pretty well on our first night, flying by the seat of pants that weren’t always on. Still, we wanted to be prepared for the big doings to come.

I thought of Lolita, who was just then teaching a morning session on flogging. I was flying high from our tumble in the grass and about three hours sleep. I hoped she was holding out.

“Now, tonight’s main event is the Garden of Carnal Delights. That takes place at the Sex-o-Rama cabin, which—if you haven’t found it yet—is just out the dungeon and to the . . .” Tristan looked at her hands, “. . . right. Left if you are walking up from the barn.

“Okay, so: the Garden is divided into four rooms. The first is a make-out room. It’s purely for kissing and light sensual play. There’s no sex in this room.

“The next room is the brothel. This is where you can buy sexual favors and other erotic encounters with the Kundalini Kash you earned at the Cirkus last night. If you want more Kash, you can always earn it by offering favors.

“Then comes the orgy room. That is pretty self-explanatory.” Tristan held out her hands and shrugged. “It’s an orgy.”

We laughed.

“I’ll go over the rules for that in a moment, but let me finish talking about the rooms. The next is our most controversial—the objectification room.”

A hand went up.

“Hang on a sec,” she nodded. “Let me explain and then we can take questions.”

The hand went down.

“Okay, so in the objectification room, there are five cots, and on each cot, you can see the lower half of someone’s body. The top half is hidden by a black curtain. Above each body is posted a chart of things you can do to the body, and things you can’t do to the body. The whole thing is monitored by a facilitator, so ask if you have questions.

“Now, this is controversial, of course, because we are taught not to objectify people, but . . . yes? You have a question?”

“I can see how this would offend anyone with a modicum of exposure to feminism,” Selina said, lowering her hand. “That’s one of the key points of feminism: that women are not just bodies, but sentient beings. Society is still dealing with that.”

“That’s true, of course,” Tristan nodded. “Thank you for stating that objection so clearly. But the thing is, as that translates to sex, and to BDSM, there are many women—and men, and many submissives and doms—who are drawn to just that idea of the body as an object to be used for the pleasure of others. In fact, there is a class on objectification today, taught by Phantom and Femcar, so if you are interested in this, or have questions I can’t answer, you should attend that class.”

Selina nodded. I made a mental note.

“Now, the thing to remember about the Garden, as everywhere in camp, is: use good manners. As always, ask before you touch. I can’t stress enough the importance of good manners. I meet people who worry that they aren’t so hot, that they don’t have so much experience, or whatever. And I tell them: the people who are the most polite get laid like crazy here. It doesn’t matter if you are the best looking guy in the world, if you have bad manners . . .”

She looked over our heads and smiled. “And speaking of good looking guys with bad manners—good morning, Marcus.”

We all turned in our chairs. Marcus sauntered into the dungeon, grinning for having been called out as tardy to class.

“Good morning, Tristan,” he replied.

“Yes, dear Marcus could use a lesson in good manners,” I sneered, my voice as queen bitch as I could manage for so early an hour.

Marcus took his time crossing the room. He popped me on the back of the head, and then sat next to Viviane. She leaned over to fill him in.

Tristan looked us over. She adjusted her glasses. “Okay, so are there any questions at this point?”

Marcus raised his hand.

“Yes, Marcus?” Tristan said warily.

“Yes, I have a question,” Marcus said. “Who did Jefferson have sex with last night?”

There were nervous titters.

“It’s with whom I didn’t have sex, he should be asking,” I stage whispered to Selina.

“Boys, if this is a cat fight, it needs to go outside,” Tristan warned.

I looked at Marcus and smiled. He smiled back. We had a truce.

Not that he deserved it, the motherfucking whore ass selfish bitch.

After rolling in the grass with Lolita the night before, I had felt high and very horny. I had to let her go to her snuggle date, thinking it was probably best to let our first time together end as it had.

First impressions being what they are, this one was as good as they get.

But as I walked back to my cabin, I was itching to just please fuck someone before I went to sleep.

Since arriving at sex camp that late afternoon, I had made out with one woman and fingered three others to orgasm before rolling around with Lolita. That time with her was so intense, and we were so aroused, that we each went home with blue balls.

I had no idea what time it was, but it was approaching dawn. About twenty-four hours earlier, I had awoken to get the kids to school. I had made tuna salad sandwiches for their lunches.

I had dropped them off and kissed them goodbye before heading over to Viviane’s to fuck and pack for sex camp.

I had chased so many orgasms during that long day. But my own was still left waiting in the starting gate.

As I walked to my cabin, I saw Barry by the hot tub. Maybe, I thought, I would get off after all.

Like me, Barry was nude, as he had been all day. He had already presented himself as fair game, having hit on Marcus and me, as he had hit on everyone. Barry was outgoing to a fault, and very easy on the eyes—muscled, tan and in his early twenties, a recent veteran of the war in Afghanistan.

Man, I thought, if we could just swap blowjobs with no muss, I’d go to bed a happy camper.

I joined Barry only to find he was hours into the seduction of a woman who seemed, as daylight approached, all but willing to fuck him if only to shut him up.

I decided to steer clear of that, cash in my chips, and go to sleep.

I brushed my teeth and snuggled close to Viviane. On the way to bed, I noticed Marcus’s cot was empty. I supposed that my boyfriend was somewhere getting some, the lucky cunt.

I couldn’t sleep.

I lay in bed, cozying under the covers and ignoring my erection. I wondered if it would be too pathetic to jerk off at sex camp.

The cabin door swung open and slammed shut. Marcus walked in, followed by someone else. As they passed my bed, I could see that his companion was Felix, the boy that Viviane had found for me earlier that night.

I stayed under my covers, feigning sleep.

Soon, I heard Marcus’s body pounding rapidly against flesh. He was giving the boy a jackhammer fucking. I looked to see Felix on his back, his legs in the air.

This was perfect. Marcus had wound up with a boy who already seemed interested in me. I was keyed up for anything, and here was something very hot, delivered to my bedside.

The thought of tossing Felix back and forth with Marcus fit the bill nicely.

I peeled back my blanket and strolled to Marcus’s bunk.

“Hey boys,” I whispered, slipping my arm around Marcus. “We’re up late.”

I made no effort to disguise my hard on.

“Hey, Jefferson,” Felix smiled.

“Nice of you to remember my name, Felix.” I caressed his leg, my hand arriving at his balls. I felt Marcus’s cock in him. “You guys looked so hot, I thought I would come say hello.”

“Thanks for saying hello,” Marcus said.

“Yes, sure,” I smiled.

Marcus said nothing more. I picked up the conversation.

“So, it’s kind of crowded in here, with so many people sleeping. Why don’t we go someplace else so we don’t wake them?”

“Like where, Jefferson?” Marcus asked, a little too loud.

“I don’t know, there are so many options,” I whispered. “We could head over to the barn, or down to the pavilion. We could walk to the dungeon, or Sex-o-Rama. Or heck, we could just go to it on the lawn.”

“I don’t know, Jefferson,” Marcus said. “It’s pretty cold out there.” He adjusted his cock in Felix’s ass. Felix groaned. “You okay?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Felix said. “I just haven’t been fucked in, like, six years, since that one time in high school.”

My cock bounced.

“The barn is closest,” I said. “And it has all those risers.”

“They didn’t look all that comfortable, really,” Marcus said, rubbing Felix’s slender hips.

“I’ve got a picnic blanket, and some pillows,” I said. I smiled at Felix. He smiled back, tossing the hair from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Marcus said. “I think we are fine here, don’t you, Felix?”

“This is great, but whatever you want.”

“This is great, but for the fact that ten other people are asleep in the room, and ten more just over that wall,” I whispered. “If we just crossed the path to the barn, we’d be all alone, in a big open space. We could make as much noise as we wanted.”

“It’s cold, Jefferson,” Marcus said.

“Please,” I said. “I was just rolling in the grass naked with someone for an hour or more. You’ve been outside all night. It’s not that bad.”

Marcus looked in my eyes. “Who were you with?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “Can we please go fuck this boy, please?”

Felix looked on amused as my boyfriend and I bickered.

“I’d like to know who you fucked,” Marcus said, pressing his hips in and out of Felix.

I sat back. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “Look, Felix and I are having a special time. If you want to join us, great. But I don’t want to go outside.”

“Yeah. Don’t risk crossing the path. Don’t walk twenty fucking feet—you’ll fucking freeze to death. Fine.” I sat forward to kiss Felix’s forehead. I thumped Marcus on the ear, hard.


“Enjoy your ‘special time,’” I said.

I went back to bed and listened as Marcus fucked Felix. The boy was quiet. Marcus moaned and groaned.

When I woke in the morning, Viviane was already up and dressed. The cabin was full of activity. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said. “We have about an hour until breakfast is over.”

“Thanks, dear,” I said. “I’ll be up in a few.” I closed my eyes.

A moment later, Marcus crawled into bed with me. I curled up in his arms, resting my face on his chest.

“What happened to your boy?” I asked sweetly.

“I don’t know, he’s gone,” Marcus replied.

“Maybe he went to get the justice of the peace, you were having such a special time,” I yawned.

“He was all right,” Marcus yawned in reply. “I like more experience in a bottom.”

“He might have had more experience if you had unplugged his ass for a moment to give me a go.” My finger toyed with his nipple. ‘You selfish prick.” I pinched his tit.

“Ow! Wait, wait, wait,” Marcus winced. “Now, hang on. This is really your fault.”

“My fault? Why is it my fault you didn’t share a boy?”

“Remember that time Madeline was visiting me, and you came, and you fucked her for like, five straight hours, and I couldn’t get at her?”

I laughed and punched him. “Yes, I remember that time last year when you had been fucking my girlfriend for two days before I joined you for a few hours. Why do you ask?”

Marcus grabbed my wrists. “Well, this was your payback.”

I laughed. “You sorry sack of shit!” I pushed back on his grasp. He held me firm.

He twisted his body to jump on my shoulders. I was pinned between his knees, his balls on my chin.

“Boys!” Viviane admonished.

Our cabin mates hooted.

“Submit! Submit!” Marcus demanded.

“Fuck you,” I grimaced. I twisted and turned, kicking my feet up to his head. He feinted and dodged my kicks so I couldn’t connect.

“Submit!” Marcus demanded.

“Will you please submit so we can get to breakfast before the bacon is gone?” Viviane intervened.

“Fine, fine,” I sighed. “Submit.”

Marcus leaped from me, gloating. I kicked his ass as he pranced across my bed.

Our cabin mates cheered his victory lap to the shower. Marcus grinned that everyone saw this and thought it was so funny.

I threw back the covers and reached for my pants.

“Every damn morning,” I muttered. “The same damn routine.”

Our mates laughed.

Later that morning, as orientation drew to a close, we were joined by the dungeon master. He gave us a quick tour of the equipment.

Tristan climbed onto the dungeon furniture to show how bodies should be properly situated.

I admired the Saint Andrew’s crosses and the scaffolding with winches and support bars.

Marcus was drawn to the mats. He pulled me over to ask a few questions. I nodded and made suggestions.

During lunch, Marcus wrote notes to give to Tristan as she prepared her midday announcements.

“Okay, and finally,” she said, speaking into a microphone. “Tonight, at seven thirty, after dinner but before the Sex Idol Contest—this is before the Garden of Carnal Delights, remember—join us in the dungeon for our first ever Bi Male Wrestling Competition!”

The diners cheered.

“We can expect lots of sweaty male-on-male action, I am told, by our organizer, Marcus! You should go to Marcus with questions and to sign up. Can you stand, Marcus, so everyone knows who you are?”

Marcus stood next to me and raised his arm.

I jumped up and wrapped my elbow around his neck, pulling him down in a stranglehold.

“Fight!” someone shouted.

“Your ass is going down tonight,” I scowled.

“You are too pathetic,” Marcus scoffed.

“All right boys, all right,” Viviane said. “Save it for the match.”

Lolita watched me kiss Marcus before releasing him. Her mind was racing.


This story was also blogged by Lolita.

I adjusted the towel around my waist as we walked. A golf cart full of campers whirred past.

“Hey, Lolita!” a woman's voice called. “Oink, oink!”

Lolita looked back and oinked in response, explaining that this greeting referred to her all-female cabin's affiliation as self-annointed "pigs." This aside barely interrupted the stream-of-consciousness conversation in which I was more audience than participant.

She was obviously nervous. I took her hand.

“So, what was so taxing about your play date earlier?” I asked.

“Oh, he was mean! Mean, mean, mean,” she said. She stopped and lifted her skirt slightly. “I’m sure you can’t see it in the dark, but I know my thighs will be bruised tomorrow.”

“Ouch,” I said, looking at her legs glowing pale in the moonless night.

“The price I pay, huh? For being nice to a friend.” She lowered her skirt and continued to walk.

“You were pummeled for being nice?”

“Yeah, see, Bratboy is pretty new to ropes, so I let him tie me up. He wanted to do impact too, and I said that was fine . . .”


“You know, a beating. With toys. So anyway, he wailed on me, but good. I was in tears from the get go. That was fine by me, really, ‘cause I needed to release those toxins, those emotional toxins. Just too much . . . you know, stuff lately.”

“I can understand that.” I took her hand again.

Lolita talked about some of the things going on her life. After a bit, I stopped in the path and looked around. It was a dark area, and we were alone.

“Keep talking,” I said over my shoulder, stepping onto the grass. “I just need to pee.”

“Oh! Mind if I watch?” she asked, following me.

“No, that’s fine. Here, hold my towel.”

I set my feet apart and aimed my stream high into a bush.

“It’s too dark!” she complained. “I can’t see.”

“Come closer. You can at least hear my urine.”

She stood next to me. My free hand went around her waist.

We kissed.

We kissed like we had been waiting much too long for this moment. We had first seen one another about nine hours earlier.

My bladder empty, I gave it a good shake and turned to press myself against Lolita. My hands held her cheeks as our tongues found one another.

“Okay,” she said, pulling back. “Wow. Okay, so, I guess I should tell you a few things.”

“Tell me things,” I murmured into her ear.

“It’s just that . . . let’s just say I have issues.”

“Tell me about your issues,” I growled, licking my way down her neck.

She enumerated her issues. I unbuttoned her shirt.

I dropped her shirt to the path. She had a few more issues to go, so I unfastened her bra as I listened.

She reached the end of her list as I pinched her bare nipples.

“Is that it?” I asked, lowering my mouth to her cleavage. “Because ain’t nothing in that I can’t handle.”

“Well, sure, I mean, that’s it.” She wriggled under my tongue. “Pretty much. I mean, other than that, I have some issues with my body image.”

I stopped. I stood to look at her eyes.

“Your what?”

“My body image. You know, I find it hard to believe that anyone would find me attractive.”

I squinted at her.

She shifted from side to side, nervously, lifting her hands to her neck. “You know,” she said, looking away before finally dropping her hands in resignation. “Because I’m fat.”

She looked back to me. My face was impassive.

I leaned to kiss her, my hand gently caressing the back her head. “Poor fat girl,” I whispered.

I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled down, hard. She yelped and bent over.

“We need to have a little talk,” I said, calmly. “Come with me.”

I tugged on her hair and lead her off the path toward a tree. I walked at a casual pace, just faster than she could manage, bent and stumbling by my side.

I pushed past the low hanging branches to reach the grassy field at the campus center. I walked in long strides now; she struggled to keep pace.

Distant lamplight gleamed on the early morning dew.

My towel remained in a clump on the path, beside her shirt and bra.

Several yards into the field I let go of her hair. She stood up and shook out her hair. I unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the ground.

She was reduced to black leather boots.

“Huh, no panties,” I noted. I took her hair in hand again, forcing her to her knees. I brought her face to my cock and put my thumb on her lips. She opened her mouth, instinctively. I gave her my cock.

She began to suck it, fast, as I grew in her mouth. My hand kept a firm grip on her hair.

When I was fully erect, I gave a few deep thrusts to her throat, waiting for her gag. I heard a gurgle. I pulled out and pushed her head down. Lolita tumbled into the grass.

She rolled on her back, panting and looking up at me.

“Poor fat girl,” I said, looking down as I stepped to stand over her torso, my legs apart at either side of her. “No one would find her attractive.” I squatted down over her ribcage. I took her cheeks in my hand and leaned to kiss her, hard.

I sat back and grabbed her hair. I slapped her. Hard.

She gasped. I smiled and leaned forward. “Lolita, why the fuck should I be concerned with your ‘body image?’” I said with utter disdain. “What the hell do you take me for?”

She looked up at me, choking back sobs. “It’s just . . .” she swallowed. “I, you know, I read your blog . . .”

“Yes, Lolita, we’ve talked about my blog.”

“And . . . ,” she panted. “And the way you write about that big girl, Bridget . . .”

“What about Bridget, Lolita?” I asked, cocking my head to one side.

“Well . . . ,” she drew a breath and exhaled. “You just really like her.”

I leaned forward. “No, Lolita, I don’t ‘like’ Bridget. I love Bridget.”

I slapped her again. She cried out and turned with the blow. I moved my hand to hold her face in place. Her tears wet my palm.

“I love her because she is smart.” I slapped her.

“I love her because she is funny.” Slap.

“I love her because she is kind.” Slap.

“I love her because she is sexy.” Slap.

I leaned closer. Lolita winced in anticipation, sobbing out loud.

“And you know what else is true about Bridget, that big girl I love?” I caressed Lolita’s cheek as she looked at me, her eyes wet, her cheeks streaked. “Bridget, whom I love, sucks dick like a motherfucker.”

I pulled myself up Lolita’s body and lowered my cock into her mouth. She gasped for a breath as she took it. I leaned forward to rest my palms on the grass, and raised my legs on the balls of my feet.

I did pushups into Lolita’s face, forcing my cock in and out of her throat.

She gurgled and moaned.

She gagged and I pulled back. She burst into laughter. I stood over her, looking down.

“You have an absolutely gorgeous laugh,” I said, sweetly. “It really makes me happy to hear it.”

Lolita convulsed in giggles. I leaned down to roll her over. Her back was flecked with freshly mown grass. I put my foot on the side of her face, pushing her cheek into the earth. “You are making me very happy,” I repeated.

I crouched and slapped her ass. Lolita howled. I began to spank her, hard and fast.

“I’m so sorry I missed your spanking class today,” I apologized, rubbing her flesh to feel it warm to my beating. “I really am such an amateur.”

Lolita gasped in laughter as I rolled her again. I pushed her legs apart and fingered her slit to feel her wetness. Her laughter broke into forced breathing as I fingered the piercing on her clit.

Our conversation was over for now.

I leaned to bury my face in her skin, biting marks into her shoulders, her breasts, her belly.

After so much foreplay during the evening, my teeth ached to taste flesh.

I moved to kneel between her legs, taking her piercing between my teeth. I flicked rapidly with my tongue. Lolita moaned, giggling lightly, as two of my fingers entered her.

I curved my fingers up inside her until I heard the moan I wanted. She was no longer giggling.

My palm grew wet, her juices joining her tears in my hand.

As her body went limp, I pulled out and lay over her, kissing her neck and face. My body thrust against hers.

She put her hands on my hips.

“You’re not fucking me without a condom,” Lolita said, admonishment at the edges of her tone.

“Of course I’m not fucking you without a condom,” I said. I lifted myself to look at her. “What do you take me for?”

“I know, I know, I just . . . ,” She laughed, then whispered. “I don’t suppose you have one?”

I furrowed my brow, “Baby, did you not just see me get out of a hot tub and walk here naked? I ain’t hiding nothing.” I leaned into kiss her again. “Anyway, don’t you have date?”

Lolita looked back to the path. “I do. I mean, it’s a snuggle date. I mean, I guess I can be late to that . . .”

“You’re already late,” I said. “It’s got to be way past three. Anyway, we don’t have to do everything tonight. We just met, after all.” I looked away. “I don’t want you to think I’m . . . easy.”

She roared, her body shuddering under mine.

I stood and offered her my hand. We walked hand in hand back to her clothes on the path. I brushed the grass from her body as she dressed.

“I don’t know why I bother dressing,” she said, buttoning her shirt. “I’m only walking a short way to my cabin.”

I shook out my towel and wrapped it around my shoulder. “Maybe because you’re cold. I just realized: it’s fucking freezing out here.”

“Aw, and you’re naked,” she smiled, rubbing her palms on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” I looked in her eyes. “I’ll just crawl under the blankets.”

“Okay. Well . . . um, nice to meet you, Jefferson.”

We laughed. I held out my hand. “Yes, likewise. Let’s do lunch.”

“Lunch,” she moaned, looking at cloudy sky. “Ugh, I have to teach a class in a few hours. I’ll be a wreck.”

“Good night. Lolita.”

“Good night, Jefferson.”

We kissed, our tongues already fast friends.

I waved as she walked up the path.

I turned back in the opposite direction, walking under the sky, nude and swinging my towel.

I was very worked up.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Hot Tub

“Jefferson, have you had a chance to meet Windsor?” Selina asked.

“Yes, we spoke at the Cirkus Erotikus,” I said, extending my hand to Windsor. “Actually, we met just after we arrived. He was looking for you at our cabin while you were out for a bit.”

“Oh right, you did mention that,” Selina said. “And Windsor, this is Marcus.”

Marcus took the cigar from his mouth and exhaled. “Nice to meet you, Windsor.”

“Thank you,” Windsor said, quietly.

“Windsor has confessed a very specific fantasy I think we can help him with,” Selina said. “But it would require you both to fulfill it perfectly.”

“Oh yeah?” I looked at Windsor. “What do you have for us?”

“Well,” he began. “I’m, uh . . .”

“Go ahead, it’s okay,” Selina encouraged.

“Yeah, spit it out, man.”

“Okay. Well, I would like . . . my fantasy is, well, okay.” He took a breath. “I would like to be dominated by two women. I want them to force me to dress like a woman, and then force me to be dominated by two men.”

Marcus flicked an ash and walked off.

“Oh, is that all?” I laughed. “Pal, that little fantasy would take all four of our gang to fulfill. We just met you, man! It’s good to dream large, but you may need to dial that back a few pegs.”

“Now, it might work if we make it . . . manageable,” Selina said, patting Windsor’s shoulder. “It is a pretty big goal for one weekend.”

“I guess so,” Windsor said. “It’s just a fantasy I’ve had for a long, long time.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” I said. “But all four of us working on you? That’s a lot to ask.”

“Thanks for thinking about it, though,” Windsor said. He turned to Selina. “Would you like me to walk with you to your cabin?”

“No,” she said. “It’s right across the path. Anyway, it’s late and I want to be with my friends. I’ll find you tomorrow.” She kissed his cheek. “Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Selina. Good night, Jefferson.” He called ahead. “Good night, Marcus.”

I turned to Selina. “Please take me away from the vampires.”

We walked away from the barn toward our cabin.

“Selina’s got a project, Selina’s got a project,” I teased.

“I know, I know. But Windsor seems nice, and, I don’t know, I’m feeling dominant. It might be fun to have an adoring submissive.”

I put my arm in hers. “I’m just giving you shit. But look, if you turn this into something you want to do, I’m in it for you. Otherwise, he’s nothing to me.”

“He might like being your nothing,” she smiled.

We walked a bit. “’Oh, I’m a straight boy,’” I mocked. “’And I’ve always fantasized about two women and two men forcing me to be a girl. And looky, looky, here come two women and two men now! How’s my hair?’”

Selina laughed. “Be nice, Jefferson.”

We found Marcus at the hot tub outside our cabin, talking with JoAnn. She was nude in the steaming water with Pete and Ellie, a blonde couple whose bed was near ours.

The hot tub was a portable rig that JoAnn had set up that afternoon. It was above ground and made of a soft, heavy-duty plastic. A nearby generator kept the water warm and frothy.

It was set up just off the main path under a canopy lined with bright hanging lights. As we talked, people wandered by, on their way from the role-playing game in the barn or midnight snack in the dining hall.

One thirty in the morning seemed just as active as one thirty in the afternoon.

“Looks like you've got it running well!” I admired.

“Only took half the damn day,” JoAnn laughed.

“Shame you missed the vampires,” I said. “They were spo-oo-oky. Hey, do you mind if we join you?”

JoAnn looked at the couple. They shrugged and slid over to make room.

“Great, thanks!” Marcus said, putting out his cigar. He began to strip. Selina and I followed suit.

“Oh, this is soooo good,” Selina sighed, easing herself into the water.

Six naked people in a hot tub. Finally, sex camp was beginning to feel a bit more like a sex party.

Above water, our eyes peered over our conversation as our arms overlapped one another’s shoulders. Underwater, our thighs pressed close and our feet floated toward other feet, calves meeting in the middle. Water jets undulated our flesh, caressing us against one another with no effort on our parts.

In this small space, each of us touched the other in some way. We were strangers to one another, many of us, but we had all been in this hot tub at some point in our lives. We knew the touching would only remain random for so long.

JoAnn took my cock in her left hand, stroking me. I knew, without needing to look, that her right hand held Pete’s cock.

JoAnn’s breasts floated between Pete and me as she talked to Ellie. His mouth took one nipple. Mine took the other.

I looked over. Marcus was kissing Ellie, grasping her breast. Selina’s hand found my thigh. Her other hand, no doubt, was on Marcus’s thigh.

Some passers by stopped to watch.

The fingers of my left hand floated to JoAnn’s pussy, adjusting her clit until she began to make noises. I turned up the volume by sliding two fingers into her, joined by two fingers from my right hand in her ass.

My fingers felt one another inside her body. Pete kissed her neck.

Marcus stood as Ellie sucked his cock. His eyes were closed, as were hers. They retreated to that place where his cock was every cock she desired, her mouth every hole he wanted.

Selina’s touch was light on me.

JoAnn grunted before cumming hard on my hand, her pussy and ass clenching my fingers.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “Man. Okay, I need a cig. Be right back.”

She stood and turned, stepping from the tub onto the lawn.

“Got a good one, did you, JoAnn?” called one of her friends with an Australian accent.

“I’ve never had a bad one!” she laughed. “Hand me a beer, will you?”

“That looked very, very nice,” Selina said.

I looked over. “One seat, no waiting.” Pete held out his hand. She took it, and floated to the space JoAnn had vacated.

Pete’s wife groaned as she blew my boyfriend.

Selina settled between us. Pete and I divided ourselves between tits, as before. This time, he joined me in fingering the woman between us. My free hand felt the small of Selina’s back, trying to be as light as the water.

Marcus reached forward to finger Ellie as she blew him.

The crowd around the tub moved closer. I realized Viviane and Lolita were watching. I smiled to them before closing my eyes and returning to Selina’s flesh.

I could feel her slickness moist in the water.

I slid closer to hold her as she came.

“Oh, well!” Selina sighed, and then laughed. She kissed Pete’s cheek, then mine. We laughed too.

We sank into the water. Marcus and Ellie also slowed, slipping back under the steam.

I looked over to Viviane, then to the people around her. “Next show: Five o’clock. Please use all available exits.”

The crowd laughed, and then began to disperse.

“That was . . . amazing,” Selina sighed.

“Very nice,” Pete agreed. “What was your name again?”

Selina made introductions with Pete and Ellie. I leaned over to talk to Viviane and Lolita.

“Hey, where’ve y’all been?”

“I was just at midnight snack . . . ,” Lolita began.

“Yeah, Lolita just had a very intense session with a total dom,” Viviane said. “She’s wiped out.”

“Is that so?” I smiled.

“Yeah,” Lolita said, jumping from foot to foot. “It was pretty intense all right. It was the only bottom session I scheduled this weekend, and it was . . . intense.”

“Sounds like.” I gathered my hands in one another.

“Yeah. I know, I’m not saying anything, am I?”

“She’s fucked stupid!” Viviane laughed. “Fuckstruck.”

“Well, we don’t fuck, but . . . yeah.”

“Right,” Viviane said. “He was a guy and you like girls.”

“Oh, no, men are hot. I mean, hot men are hot. I mean, not that he wasn't hot, he was, he is, but we didn't fuck. That's what I'm saying."

Viviane looked at me. “I thought you thought she was only into women?”

I shrugged and sank back into the water. “She’s got the haircut. What do I know?”

“Well, I like girls, who doesn’t?” Lolita explained, twirling her long sweep of curly hair. “In fact, that reminds me, I have a snuggle date at three.”

“A snuggle date?” Viviane asked.

“Yeah, this hot girl. She’s coming over to snuggle with me tonight.”

“You make dates for three in the morning?” I laughed. “You are the most overscheduled person I know.”

Lolita grinned. “I’m very, very good with schedules.”

“Word is, you’re very, very good at a few things,” I said. “But I begin to despair of getting face time with you.” I stood. Water rained down my body. “May I escort you to your snuggle date with your hot girl?”

“Hang on, I’ll get you a towel,” Viviane said.

I offered my hand to Lolita. She took it, helping me from the tub.

I stood close to her—naked, wet and steaming in the night air—my face in hers.

“Thank you, Lolita.”

She gave me her smile. “You’re very welcome.”

Viviane returned with a towel. I wrapped it around my waist without drying off. Viviane and Lolita talked. I stood silent, my eyes on Lolita’s profile. Waiting.

She looked over at me a few times as she talked.

“Okay, well . . . you want to go?” she asked.

“When you’re ready,” I said. “It’s your date who is waiting.”

Lolita turned away, keeping her eyes on me. “Okay, well, good night everyone. See you in the morning.”

“Yes, see you at breakfast,” Viviane smiled.

I held out my hand. Lolita took it.

We walked away from lights and people into the darkness.

Thursday, September 21, 2006


Selina and Viviane pressed behind me as we worked our way through a line into the barn. It was just after midnight.

“It looks like we have to register at that table or something,” I said. “But no one is moving.”

Viviane looked past me. “I think they are choosing personas,” she said, craning her neck.

“They need to pick it up,” I said. “I can’t be waiting in line for no persona.”

Up ahead, the organizer raised his hand.

“Everyone, please, can I have your attention? Quiet, please!”

“Quiet!” someone hollered.

The hubbub in the barn fell silent.

“Thank you. And thank you all for joining us for Midnight Seduction!”

There was a smattering of applause that grew louder.

The organizer raised his hand again. He stepped up onto a wooden coffin in the center of the barn, using it as a stage. His chain mail vest reflected the colored lights.

“My name is Anon . . . “ he began, interrupted by more applause. “Thank you. And we are here to play Midnight Seduction, a role-playing game that will introduce you to others here at Dark Odyssey. Now, the rules are very simple . . . ”

“That’s the guy Marcus was flirting with at dinner,” Viviane whispered.

“He goes for the pretty ones first,” I explained. “Then moves on down the line.”

“I can’t hear,” Selina complained.

“Do you need anything?” Windsor asked. Windsor was one of several men trailing in Selina’s wake.

“No, I’m fine, thanks, I just can’t hear,” Selina smiled.

“Okay,” Anon continued. “Each of you has taken on a new persona, which is indicated on your name badges. You also have a seduction card. Can everyone please hold these up these two items?”

“We don’t have that,” Viviane worried.

“I think we get them at the table, if the line ever moves.”

“Now, on the seduction card, there are two seductions. When you greet someone, you will ask, ‘May I offer you a seduction?’ If the answer is yes, you ask, ‘One or two?’ If the answer is one, then you role play the first seduction. If the answer is two, you role play the second. Is everyone clear on that?”

A chorus of “yes, Anon” lifted to the rafters.

“Two seductions? Do we do both, or just one?” I asked Selina.

“I can’t hear anything,” she replied.

“I can try to get closer for you,” Windsor offered.

“Okay, great,” Anon continued. “Now, this is where it gets interesting. For in your midst, there are vampires . . . “

“Ohhhh!” someone moaned. The crowd laughed.

“ . . . and this creature is Elvon, Lord of the Vampires!” Anon pointed to a man who raised his arms and bared his teeth.

“Shit, I don’t get this,” I groused. I reached for my flask.

“Now, Elvon and his minions may attempt to seduce you, so beware! You may be seduced by one of the undead.”

To emphasis the danger of this, Elvon crossed the barn to a large chain web suspended between two posts. A nearly nude woman was restrained into the web. Her body writhed and she screamed helplessly as Elvon grabbed her cunt and dug his teeth into her neck.

The crowd cheered.

Up ahead, I saw Marcus talking to Felix.

My friends and I had all walked to the barn from another icebreaker, a Hawaiian-themed party at the Sex-o-Rama cabin. There had also been a game there, but with much easier rules.

The goal of the luau was simply to get laid as often as possible.

A bikini-clad woman carried a bag filled with slips of paper, each assigning a task to be fulfilled during a brief duration of time. Once the task was completed, she would give the player a lei and a new task. The player who accumulated the most leis was designated the person who got “laid” more than anyone.

In keeping with the theme, some players wore sarongs or floral print shirts. Many others played nude.

Marcus took to this game like a Parrotfish to coral. He ditched his shirt and kept returning for more and more tasks. He spanked bottoms, kissed boys, licked feet, and counted as the leis accumulated around his neck.

Viviane and I bypassed the game, working the room like a cocktail party. We shook hands and engaged people in conversations, always talking up the blogs.

I was sitting with a couple who taught Tantric sex when Viviane deposited a boy with me.

“This is Felix,” she said. “He’s a camp virgin, like us, and he hopes to have some bi experiences. Maybe you can play with him.”

Only in this life does that serve as an introduction, I thought.

“Nice to meet you, Felix,” I said. I introduced him to the Tantra instructors. They fell into conversation with one another, leaving me to talk with Felix.

Viviane stayed with us long enough to be polite before melting back into the crowd.

“So, what brings you to sex camp?” I asked.

“Um, nothing, really.” He tossed the hair from his eyes. “I just heard about it and thought it would be a beast way to, you know, try things.” He paused. “I haven’t done so much, so . . .”

“Yeah, I hear you. I hope to try new things, too.”

He smiled.

Viviane had done well in procuring Felix. He was just my flavor—young, cute and inexperienced, but eager to learn.

I eat that mix for breakfast.

Felix and I sat on a day bed, getting acquainted in dim light as, all around us, people did their best to get laid in the party’s allotted time.

As we talked, a woman sat next to me. She was wearing black body stockings, a tight lace web top and high heels. Her short hair was cut into stylish bangs.

She was easily in her seventies.

She bent a young woman over her knees, lowered her panties, and spanked her bare ass pink in a few swift strokes.

Felix and I watched, surprised by the old lady’s ferocity.

The woman who taught Tantra leaned over. “That’s Eliza,” she said, her voice low and reverent. “She’s the very best. She was a fetish model in the sixties and seventies.”

“Awesome,” Felix said.

“No shit,” I nodded. That was a story I wanted to hear.

Eliza administered her spanking. The woman on her lap stood and bent to offer a kiss before leaving to collect her lei.

“Excuse me, Eliza?” I asked. “Would you mind sitting with me for a moment?”

She looked back. “No, not at all. What’s your name?”

I introduced myself, saying I was from New York. I explained that I wrote a sex blog, then explained what a sex blog was. I mentioned that I edited sex blogs for Fleshbot, applying special emphasis to the word “edit,” as I had to “New York,” in case “Fleshbot” meant nothing to her.

She nodded, apparently glad to meet a sex-something editor from New York.

I introduced Felix, who said hello, and indicated the Tantra teachers, who waved hello.

I was pulling out my credentials and recommendations. Eliza smiled, no doubt impressed that I was trying to impress her.

She then sat, waiting.

I realized that I was fingering an opportunity to get to know her a bit. “Anyway,” I said, glancing at my slip of paper. “I have this task to accomplish to get a lei . . . can you help me?”

“I can try,” she smiled.

I read the assignment. “’Massage someone for three minutes.’ Eliza, would you mind if I massaged you?”

“No, of course not.” She wriggled in her seat. “You want my top on or off?”

“Oh, I think off is best.”

Eliza slowly pulled her top over her head. She wore nothing underneath.

Her breasts were small, pale and firm on her petite frame.

“Would you prefer me on my back, or on my stomach?” she smiled.

I forgot about Felix. I forgot about the Tantra couple. This old lady got my juices going.

“On your back, I think,” I said. “You’ve got a great smile, and I want to see it as I touch you.”

She parted her ruby lips and smiled, easing herself back.

I lightly touched my fingers over her shoulders, moving past her breasts to her ribcage. I stroked her tight belly, gingerly tracing the waistband of her hose.

Eliza closed her eyes, her head rolling to one side. She moaned lightly.

“Your body is so responsive, Eliza.” I leaned forward to touch my lips to her flesh, detecting a faint perfume. She touched my hand in response.

My lips roamed her torso, my tongue flicking slightly. My mouth reached a nipple. I took it, rolling a finger around its opposite.

Eliza moaned her pleasure. I was getting pretty worked up myself.

My kisses traced up her neck to her ear.

“I think my three minutes are up, Eliza. I don’t want to monopolize you. Thank you so much for this—I’ll hope for more.”

“Hmmm, thank you, Jefferson,” she smiled, kissing my cheek.

Eliza sat up and put on her top. She smiled as someone took her hand, pulling her to another task.

I collected my lei.

When time was called, the three finalists were assembled before a judge. Each wore leis up past their ears.

Marcus was among the finalists. Once the leis were counted, he had come in third, beat out only by two very alluring naked women.

Marcus thrives on competition. In a sexual contest with that boy, even naked ladies get a run for their money.

Now, in this vampire role-playing scenario, he was collecting seductions as readily as he had collected leis. He had already moved past Felix as I finally acquired a persona.

“I think I’m Lord Something.” I said to Selina, reading my new name tag. “I have to power to do blah blah blah.”

“I’m a Seductress, in tune with the Earth Mother,” Selina laughed.

“Type casting,” I nodded. “Well, I’m in.”

I walked around a bit, hoping someone would seduce me, as I had no idea what I was expected to do. Around me, people were embracing, kissing, touching and evading vampires.

I gravitated to the wallflowers.

“Do you get this game?” I asked a red-haired woman.

“Not so much,” she said. “But I enjoy watching.”

“Ah, one of those. A watcher. Well, mind if I join you?”

She didn’t mind. We talked about where we were from, what brought us to camp, and pointed out our friends in the crowd.

Marcus joined us. “Who’s your friend?” he asked me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I said.

“Susan.” She looked at her name tag. “Or Argon, take your pick.”

“Hi Susan, I’m Marcus. Mind if I seduce you?”

Susan smiled. “Sure, why not?”

“Okay, would you prefer one or two?”

“Two seductions?” I asked.

“No, level one or level two,” Marcus said. “Pay attention to the rules, Jefferson.”

“One, please,” Susan replied.

“Okay.” Marcus looked at his card. “Will you please sit on my lap?”

“Of course!”

Marcus took Susan’s hand and led her to the coffin in the center of the party. She sat on his lap.

“Okay,” he said. “Now I have to lean back to keep my hands from touching you, ‘cause that would be level two.”

“Oh, you can touch me,” Susan said. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, I can? Great.” Marcus leaned into Susan’s back, caressing her arms and shoulders. “Your hair smells great, Susan. What do you use?”

“Really? Thanks. Herbal Essence.”

“My God, I used to use that too!” Marcus exclaimed, as though they had discovered a friend in common. She laughed as his hands cupped her breasts.

“Mind if I join in this touching thing?” I asked. “I really need to figure out this game.”

“Yes, please, don’t be left out,” Susan grinned.

I crouched before her, touching her bare calves and thighs. I took her heels and rested them on my own thighs.

Susan leaned back into Marcus as he hands slid under her skirt and into her panties.

“This is so nice,” she said. I licked her inner thigh as Marcus toyed with her clit.

My face moved forward to her pussy.

Susan bent forward to whisper into my ear. “I’m on meds for a yeast infection,” she said. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll have to take your mouth instead.”

Susan leaned into my kiss.

“Okay, well let me up,” Marcus said. “I better get back into the game.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Susan said, standing.

“Nice to meet you,” Marcus said curtly. He picked up his seduction card and left. He quickly introduced himself to Eliza.

“I guess he’s serious about the game,” Susan said.

“I guess. But I’m serious about kissing you. Shall we resume?”

“Sure!” she said. We sat on the coffin. I wrapped my arm around her waist and took her mouth in mine. My hand followed the path blazed by Marcus, under her skirt and to her clit.

She was wet from my kisses and his touch.

I fingered her clit gently until I found her sweet spot. She spread her legs and began to sigh into my mouth.

“Give it to me, Susan,” I whispered.

There, on a coffin in the center of a crowded barn, Susan came for me. Her body shook in my arm.

As her orgasm subsided, I kissed her cheek and neck. “That was really lovely,” I said. “Thank you for that.”

“Sure,” she breathed. “I mean, thank you.” Susan leaned forward and tousled her hair. She sat back rapidly, shaking her hair over her shoulders. She turned to look across the room. “Wow. Well, thanks . . . uh, Jefferson. I guess I should go back to my friends.”

“Okay, sure.” I held out a hand. “Nice to have met you.”

“You too,” she smiled. Susan stood, leaving me with my fingers still damp from her cunt.

Marcus rejoined me. “Susan’s gone? Whatever. She didn’t like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she whispered for you to get rid of me.”

“That’s not what she said. But I guess that explains why you left.”

He looked around. “She wasn’t doing it for me anyway.”

“This vampire mumbo-jumbo doesn’t do it for me,” I said. “Let’s skeedaddle.”

It was after one.

I was less than eight hours into “sex camp.” I had been bullwhipped and set on fire. I had blown a clown and made out with a seventysomething fetish model.

When it came to camp, this was about as camp as it gets.

I had also finger fucked a stranger to orgasm. I would never see her again.

When it came to sex, I had better odds back home.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Down on a Clown

This story was also blogged by Lolita.

“Ladies and Gentlemen—and everyone who self-identifies somewhere in between or beyond assigned genders—welcome to Cirkus Erotikus!”

We applauded, moving closer to the stage.

“Hot ringmaster,” I whispered.

“Very nice,” Viviane agreed.

“Tonight, we bring you the very finest in erotic performances,” the ringmaster bellowed, adjusting his top hat. “We offer you the opportunity to participate and earn heaps of Kundalini Kash to be spent tomorrow night. You can take part in each and every of tonight’s stupendous acts! Be daring and be rich! Be cowardly and remain impoverished, in cash and in experience.”

“What’s that?” Marcus asked me.

“It’s like Monopoly money,” I whispered. “You get to exchange it at a brothel tomorrow, for sexual favors and such like.”

“Huh, I’ll need lots of that.”

“Yeah,” Viviane said. “Though you are just as likely to sell sexual favors as buy them.”

“Shh, come on. I really want to keep that quiet.” Marcus had asked us all to be circumspect about his work as a whore. He wasn’t sure how it would go over with the people we would meet. “I don’t want them to think I’m diseased or whatever,” he had explained. “It’s complicated.”

“Our Cirkus Erotikus features astounding talents,” the ringmaster continued. “Be amazed by the long whip of Boymeat—and let balloons beware!”

In one corner, a caped man took a bow and turned to face a woman with red balloons fixed to her breasts. Boymeat cracked his whip, bursting one balloon. He cracked it again, bursting the other.

We applauded.

“What, we’re supposed to volunteer to be whipped?” Viviane said. “No thanks!”

“Feel the thrashes of the whirling dervishes under the command of BillySir!”

At another corner, a woman in leather bowed, and then turned to flog a bare-backed woman tied to a wooden cross. BillySir smiled as her wrists gracefully alternated strikes from two identical flogs.

“Wow,” I marveled. “I can’t even see her hands move.”

“I’m doing that,” Selina said.

“Feel your flesh singe under the fires commanded by PyroSadist!”

A flame burst from another corner.

“Shit! What was that?” Viviane asked.

“It looked like he set that woman on fire,” Selina said. “But she’s not burning?”

“I missed it,” Marcus said, craning his neck.

“Beware, the ferocious talons of the bad, bad Kitty!”

A woman in black tights purred from a cage in the center of the crowd. She wore a headband with black cat ears.

“She may look tamed, but beware, beware: she is fresh from the wilds! Only the most brave—or most foolish!—would dare to enter the confines of her cage!”

The bad kitty reached from her cage to strike at her keeper, who yelped and beat her back.

The ringmaster led us through other acts, including someone who used a Tazer to zap participants with electricity (“No, thanks,” Marcus grimaced), a man who treated victims like a human punching bag (“Too violent,” Selina winced), and a couple who tingled flesh with knifes and metal fingernails (“Oh, that looks nice,” Viviane smiled).

“And now, not for the faint of heart. Those who dare to do so are invited to—go down on the clown!”

A clown sat back on a chair, waving arms and legs in the air. She lifted her billowy costume to reveal a large strap-on dildo. A woman came forward on her knees, rolled a condom on the cock, and began to swallow it deep.

The clown smiled and nodded happily.

“Okay, I’m hot for the clown,” I said, taking a swig from my flask.

“She’s great,” Viviane agreed. “I wonder who it is?”

“Look at her smile,” I said. “And think about who makes me hot.”

Viviane watched the clown’s face move through rubbery contortions.

“Oh my God, that’s Lolita!” Viviane laughed, her hand covering her mouth.

“I dunno, but I can’t see Lolita anywhere else in the room.”

“Be safe, be sane, and let the festivities begin!” the ringmaster exhorted.

Selina rushed to the flogging. We followed to watch. She spoke to BillySir as she removed her bodice before settling onto the cross.

The flogs flew across Selina’s back. BillySir smiled, her face focused on her task.

“Fuck,” Viviane said. She settled on a bench to watch.

“I’m going to tackle that cat,” Marcus said, heading to the cage.

I looked at the que already forming for knife play and decided to stay put for Selina’s flogging.

“That was . . . incredible,” Selina said afterwards, pulling her bodice into place. She tucked the three hundred Kundalini she had earned into her cleavage.

“Your back doesn’t have a scratch on it,” Viviane admired.

“It was very soothing, very relaxing,” Selina said. “You have to try it.”

I looked up and realized the clown was beckoning me.

The clown pointed to the woman blowing her, then to me. I pointed to my chest, then to the woman. The clown nodded enthusiastically.

“Excuse me,” I said to my friends. “I think I need to go suck some clown cock.”

The clown bent to pat the woman on the head. She rose and held out her palm. The clown reached into a watering can and surrendered three bills to the cocksucker. She curtsied and left.

I walked up to the clown. I looked into her eyes, just past her blinking nose.

“I hear you need your dick sucked.”

The clown nodded happily.

“Show me what you’re packing, clown.”

The clown lifted her costume and pushed her hips forward, thrusting an eight-inch cock my way.

“Not much,” I sighed. “But it will have to do.”

With great exaggeration, the clown presented me with a fresh condom. I bent to my knees and rolled it onto her dick.

I looked up to her eyes as I lolled it on my tongue. I left it there, shallow and waiting at the edge of my lips.

I let her soak in that pretty picture.

Then I took her cock whole.

I rested my hands on her thighs as I bobbed her cock deep to my throat. I sucked back and forth, realizing, with laugh to myself, that I was wasting my tongue’s gentle flicks on her shaft.

I also realized that the clown was keeping her hips still as I worked her over.

I pulled the cock from my mouth and stood. I looked into her eyes and held out my palm.

“You may as well pay me now if you don’t want it sucked.”

The clown nodded, grinning, and pushed out her hips. Her cock flopped in the air. She waved it from side to side.

“Look, I’ll suck your dick, clown, but maybe you could fuck my face like you give a rat’s ass.”

The clown nodded. I got back on my knees. I put my hands on her hips and looked up.

She gave it to me, just as I asked.

I had shot my mouth off. She showed me what that hole was for.

That clown knew how to get her cock sucked.

“All right,” I pulled back. “You proved you are a bigger man than me. Now pay me off.”

The clown clapped and reached into her watering can. She greased my palm with one bill, then another, and a third.

“That’s what you pay girls,” I said. “I want a man’s wages.”

She slipped me another bill.

“Gratuities are not included.”

She gave me another.

I looked into my palm, then up at her. She shrugged.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Fucking cheap ass mime motherfucker.”

She kicked me as I left the stage.

Marcus was right behind me.

He bowed before the clown and removed his shirt. He rolled a condom on her cock and began to suck.

His body undulated with the movement of his head.

The clown’s eyes rolled back with pleasure.

A crowd gathered and began to cheer.

Viviane nudged me. “He’s good.”

“Huh, bitch is moving in on my clown,” I sneered. “I’ll fucking scratch out that whore’s eyes.”

The clown rained bills on Marcus’s head.

I took Marcus’s arm and led him to the bullwhip. The clown waved goodbye, pointing to an imaginary tear on her cheek.

“Thank God, some boys, at last,” Boymeat said. “The other boys are all chicken.”

“Yeah, well, boys are pussies,” Marcus said.

I looked down as Boymeat’s lovely assistant affixed balloons to our groins. I pulled off my shirt and wrapped my arms around Marcus’s shoulder.

“All right,” Boymeat cautioned. “Be very still.”

He cracked the whip above his head. It came down to my dick, knocking the balloon to the floor.

“Whoa,” I said.

Boymeat pulled the whip back. It cracked to Marcus’s groin, knocking the balloon to the ground.

“Sorry they didn’t pop,” Boymeat said, crushing the balloons under his boot. “But the Kundalini are yours.”

“You’re awesome, Boymeat,” I said.

“And you two are hot,” he smiled. “Thanks.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” I kissed Marcus.

I found Viviane. “Well, I’ve been at the end of a bullwhip,” I said. “I think I’m ready to be set on fire.”

“Oh shit, I want to do that,” she said.

We got in line for PyroSadist, pulling Selina and Marcus with us.

We watched as the PyroSadist—a stocky man with a thick moustache—worked over a woman. He swabbed lines of alcohol over her nude torso, then set flames to the fluid. The fire burned blue before expiring within a moment.

Viviane was up. She removed her shirt and bra, presenting her tits to the PyroSadist.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” she asked me.

“Of course not,” I assured her. “Here, let me do you one better.” I took her elbows behind her back, holding them in place with my forearms. I nuzzled my mouth to the back of her neck. “I’m here,” I murmured, taking a muscle in my teeth.

Viviane nodded as a man she had never before met assured her and then, gently, sent her body up in flames.

“Unh-oh!” she moaned, watching the flames lick over her. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Was it okay?” I asked when it was over.

“Yes,” she said, dazed. “My God, though. I was on fire! Did you see?”

“I did, sweet.” I pulled off my shirt to prepare for my turn.

“Honey, you should be careful with the hair on your belly,” Viviane fretted.

I turned to the PyroSadist. “Is it all the same if I give you my back?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s all the same,” he nodded.

“Okay.” I turned and lowered my pants. I wrapped my arms around Viviane’s shoulders, hugging her close. “Don’t go anywhere,” I whispered, then turned to the man holding a burning swab. “All right, I’m ready,” I said.

I felt the cold burn of alcohol against my skin. It was swiftly replaced by intense heat. “Hunh!” I flinched.

“Are you all right?” Warm hands caressed my back.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “That was just . . . gee!”

The PyroSadist laughed. “Here’s more then.”

I rested my head on Viviane’s shoulder as my back burst into flame again and again. My ass burned. The fine hairs on the back of my thighs singed, as fire burned my testicles.

I heard Viviane talking to Selina.

“Shut up,” I flicked Viviane’s ear. “This is about me.”

“Sorry, baby,” she whispered, holding me close.

When it ended, I turned to shake hands with the PyroSadist. “You done me right, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

His wife laughed. “I’m in the dungeon when you want more,” he smiled.

I pulled up my pants and buckled my belt. I pulled on my shirt. “Where’s Marcus?” I asked. “It’s his turn.”

“He’s over there,” Viviane pointed, “Going down on the clown.”

The clown had removed her cock and lowered her pants. Marcus’s mouth was buried in her pussy.

I walked to her side.

“How much did that cost you?” I asked her.

“I charged him six hundred!” she laughed. “So he got it subsidized by a voyeur.” She pointed at a man smiling nearby.

“Fucking whore,” I said, kicking his leg.

“Mmph!” Marcus muttered into the clown’s cunt.

“Ain’t nobody got to talk if you make it evident,” I retorted.

“Come on, kids, break it up,” Viviane said, holding her schedule. “Now we are off to the icebreakers,” she said.

Now we go to the icebreakers?” I laughed. “We just melted a fucking glacier!”

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


“It’s really great that you came down from New York,” Tristan said, pushing her glasses back on her nose. “It’s super to have sex bloggers here. And frankly, we need bisexual men to be a presence.”

When we entered the dining hall for supper, Viviane spotted Tristan Taormino looking over schedules with a group of presenters. Viviane brought us over to make introductions.

Tristan, one of the four co-producers of Dark Odyssey, is its most recognizable face. She gives presentations at national and international conferences, directs porn films, writes columns and has published three books, including the celebrated Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women. She’s young and looks even younger, exuding a brainy enthusiasm that has led her to be regarded, particularly among twentysomething women, as a leader of the sex positive movement.

She also has a gift for making the person she is talking to feel like the most important person in the room.

“Why are you so interested in bisexual men?” Marcus asked.

“Well, that’s been a challenging demographic to recruit,” Tristan explained. “We do a lot of outreach to make Dark Odyssey a very inclusive event. That’s what makes it unique—we have swingers mixing with BDSM, mixing with nudists, mixing with transgendered and queer communities . . . I go to many, many events, and believe me, that doesn’t happen anywhere else.”

“It really is a beautiful, beautiful thing,” Selina nodded.

“It is, right?” Tristan nodded. “And we really, really try to bring in gay men’s organizations. But they resist. You know, they say they are more interested in their own events and aren’t interested in those with women or heterosexuals. They are understandably concerned about judgment and ridicule.”

“Sure, that’s understandable,” Selina agreed.

“It is, and there’s nothing wrong with gender exclusive events per se. They serve a very important function. But we are all about inclusion. Hopefully, an increased bisexual presence will encourage gay participation. It's a challenge, though; while female bisexuality is accepted among our communities, male bisexuality is still very taboo.”

“I hear that,” I nodded.

“It’s sad, because there are so many bi curious men here,” Tristan went on. “But they are locked into other identities. Like, a male swinger is expected to put aside desire for other men, for example, and dominants in BDSM might consider it submissive to please a man sexually.”

“Those labels,” Viviane nodded.

“Pathetic, really,” I said, putting an arm around Marcus. “Well, we’ll do our part. Anywhere you want us to fuck, just say the word. We put on a hot show.”

Tristan laughed.

“Yes, Jefferson is so generous like that,” Marcus added.

“Oh, you’re Jefferson?” said a woman opposite Tristan. “I’m Lolita Wolf. We’ve corresponded on the community message board.”

“Of course!” I smiled. I leaned to kiss her cheek. “I am very happy to meet you, Lolita. I’m a fan.”

Lolita laughed. She had a broad, open smile. “Well, thanks. I’m a fan too. I really enjoy your blog.”

“Oh, you read me? I’m honored.”

“We all read you. Jefferson,” Tristan said, feigning exasperation. “Well, look, we need to finish this meeting so we can make announcements during dinner, so . . . “

“Of course,” Viviane said. “We just wanted to say hello. It’s great to be here.”

“It’s great to have you,” Tristan nodded.

I kissed Lolita again. “We’ll talk,” I said. “I’m your new best friend.”

Lolita laughed.

“Everybody complains about the food,” Tristan said, pointing her pen toward the buffet. “But it’s not that bad. If you hate it, it’s not my fault. The camp cooks it, not me!”

We walked to the buffet line.

“That’s the woman you have a crush on, right?” Viviane asked, looking back to Lolita.

“Uh huh,” I nodded, looking at all the people. “Too bad for me that she prefers the ladies.”

We had only been at camp a few hours, but we were beginning to get into its rhythms.

Viviane, Selina and I had driven down from the city in a rented car filled with suitcases, bedding, decorations, and booze. Selina and I sang along to Sweet and Foghat as Viviane focused on the road.

As we checked in at the camp entrance, we were flashed by a woman who looked a little like Susan Sarandon; underneath her trench coat, she wore only a strap-on with a large dildo.

“Nice view,” I nudged Viviane.

We were outfitted with wristbands saying we were not to be photographed. The only camera allowed at Dark Odyssey is that of Barbara Nitke, a much admired and trusted photographer who has been documenting sex communities for over two decades. Much as we supported Barbara’s work, the three of us couldn’t risk exposure of the real identities behind our pseudonyms.

We unpacked at our cabin, which would be shared with about eight other people we had never met. We had signed up to be included in a cluster of cabins that identified as “polymorphously perverse.” It seemed as good a label as any for our gang.

As we unloaded our stuff, we met some of our cabin mates and neighbors. Several were nude and drinking beer. A few were assembling a portable hot tub.

“Do you have any messages?” I was asked by a cute young woman sporting pigtails, wings and a wand.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I’m a Cupid,” she said, showing me her clipboard holding folded pink notes. “You can give me messages to deliver to anyone in the camp. It’s easy! See, there are even boxes to check off. You don’t have to be clever or anything!”

“Well, clever I’ve got, but no one to send a note. Thanks.” I turned, then remembered a name. “Wait, Cupid, maybe I do.”

I had traded emails with a few people listed in the community message board. Many were presenters, so I figured I would meet them easily enough. But one was, like me, just a camper. She was an artist and seemed nice. I checked off a box indicating that I was “intrigued,” and gave her my cabin number.

Cupid waved her wand over my head as I wrote.

“Here you go!” I said, handing the note to Cupid.

She looked at the recipient’s name. “I don’t know her. What does she look like?”

“Short brown hair. That’s about all I know.”

Cupid put the note in her clipboard. “I’ll do my best then. See you at dinner!” As she skipped away, I saw that Cupid was nude under her tutu.

Viviane called me back inside. Marcus had arrived before us and reserved four adjacent beds. Viviane and I pushed our bunks together to form a full-sized bed. Selina draped fabric from the beams over her bunk.

Marcus had left a note saying was attending Lolita’s class on “Spanking for Pleasure,” and would meet up with us before dinner. We had about twenty minutes before his class ended, so Viviane and I toured the camp.

Rows of cabins lined paved walkways, where golf carts served as a taxi service between the camp buildings. Across from our cabin was a barn, where many of the sessions would be held. Down the hill were the dining hall, pool, and pavilion. Beyond was a lake, the location of the nightly bonfire.

In the other direction, beyond a wide lawn, were more cabins, tennis courts, and a gymnasium converted into a dungeon. Nearby was Sex-o-Rama, a cabin reserved for orgies. The dungeon and Sex-o-Rama were to be open around the clock.

“Some set up, huh?” I asked, putting my hand in Viviane’s.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she said, as an older nude couple walked by. They smiled and greeted us.

I saw Marcus crossing the lawn, waving as he walked toward us.

“Hey, baby,” he called. “Hi, Viviane.”

“Marcus!” she shouted.

I walked over to my boyfriend and embraced him. I kissed his neck.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he said.

“Hmmm, I’ve missed you,” I echoed, holding him close. I looked up to kiss him. He took my mouth in his.

“All right, all right, boys,” Viviane said. “Save it for the orgy. Let’s get to dinner. We have a lot to do tonight.”

We picked up Selina, introducing her to Marcus. As we strolled to the dining hall, I took Marcus’s hand in mine.

“You ready, baby?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m ready,” he said, waving at a naked man by the hot tub.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Fleshbot and Silver Linings

Sometimes things don’t go your way. This week, my Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot highlights tales of times when the shit hits the fan.

But you know, it’s worth keeping out an eye for silver linings.

Thanks to those of you who have already responded to my Naked Appeal. My friends at Condomania offered to send a bright shiny box of a dozen condoms for the cause. I’m ever grateful, of course. Twelve condoms should get us through a lazy afternoon around these parts.

What we need are buckets of condoms. Cartloads. Truckloads.

You can help to keep it all safe by making your own contributions via the Condomania link at the bottom of this page, or the Intimate Gifts link at left. They know how to get your gifts to us. Remember, you support One Life, Take Two every time you make a purchase from affiliates via this site.

My pockets were stuffed with condoms as Viviane, Selina and I returned from Dark Odyssey last night, even as the remaining campers were settling into the final night of carousing. It was hard to leave our new friends, but, you know, real life called.

Or rather, it called most of us. We left Marcus behind.

I waved goodbye to my boyfriend as he stood near the hot tub, wearing only skimpy underwear and a bright award ribbon. His naked attendants waved back to me before helping Marcus away on his crutches.

Award? Crutches?

Oh, that’s a long story.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Sex Camp

First aid kit, flashlight, matches, towel, toiletries, pajama bottoms, sheets, pillow, flask, notebook, pens.

Flogger, paddle, cane, cat o’nine tails, rope, vibrator, condoms, assorted dildos.

I’m packing for sex camp.

Dark Odyssey is this weekend, and I will be there with my friends Viviane, Selina and Marcus.

Viviane has been pouring over the schedule of classes, suggesting those we should attend in the front row. Selina asked if we would object to her continuous nudity and offered to bring harem pillows and a disco ball to enliven our cabin.

Marcus asked if he should bring his restraint. I told him I wasn’t aware he had any restraint. Then I realized he was referring to “restraints,” as in bondage gear.

I haven’t seen Marcus all summer.

Now I will see him for a weekend devoted to, we are told, “Tantra, Polyamory, Intimate Communications, BDSM, Alternative Lifestyles and more.”

With Marcus along, it’s the “more” that should prove most interesting. He always likes more.

Frankly, I’m a little grumpy to be leaving sex in the city, even for sex in the wilds. I’ll miss out on all the fucking I might be doing in my comfortable bed in favor of deep-woodsing it with dungeon masters, pyromaniacs and mosquitoes.

But, you know me. I keep an open mind.

I’ve already been in touch with some of the friendly folks I’ll soon meet.

I was asked to join a finger-painting class. I’m told it will be “unconventional.”

A woman asked me to lend my cock to a morning gangbang where she hopes to outdo her personal best of twenty-five men. I asked if any low numbers were still available.

I’ve developed a crush on a dyke who’s handy with the ropes. I’ll just melt if she asks for my help in lassoing a filly to hoist to the branches.

I get around, folks. But this is all new to me. I’ll be a babe in the woods.

Still, this little lamb will be in the warm company of the doyenne, the hippie and the whore. We’ve packed bourbon. We won’t get into too much trouble—will we?