TSA porn

On wednesday, I will walk up to one end of a long line of men. Sometimes there are women, but it’s always mostly men. They are there to watch me, and I am there to be watched. I start at one end, smile at the first man I encounter, and begin. Slowly. Carefully, I take off my glasses and fold them neatly, just like my nighttime bedroom ritual. Then I lean over and unzip one long black platform boot, and then the other. I present each piece of footwear as proof — as if the sudden shortness in my height, and its message of vulnerability isn’t evidence enough. I am now smaller, more feminine, and a little more helpless. I take off my earrings, my necklace, deliberately placing the girlish silver with my glasses. I’m usually still smiling now, because it’s time to take off my belt. I know what’s going to happen. I unbuckle the metal and leather, sliding the belt through its loops around my waist, which serves to loosen my pants and move the denim to and fro as I work the belt free. The top straps of my g-string always peek out; I can’t help this. I unzip my hoodie and peel it off, revealing the light cotton tank top I always wear. And even though it makes no sense, I always take off my stripey arm warmers, because if I don’t, they *make me* take them off. So I do it in a subtly slow demonstration, one opera-length glovelet at a time. Next, and last, I unclip my hair, letting my almost waist-length black and blonde locks down over my now-bare shoulders and arms.

They all watch. Then I wait for their commands, and their approval. I do what they say, unconditionally, and this is an unspoken agreement between me and the men. Hardly a word is said, and I make sure to smile as I softly pad past all eyes, which are on me, even if just for a flicker or two. Then at the end of the line, I slowly dress — I like to take my time putting my clothes back on.

My favorite part of the security screenings at airports, while stripping for strangers in a nonsexual power-exchange context is undeniably erotic, is the fact that my laptop moves with me the entire time. On my iBook, a big sticker reads “Don’t Get Caught.” So they watch me a little more.

I’m going to Seattle on wednesday for a few days, to attend the friday night screening of HUMP! and for a long-awaited Shibari session with Twisted Monk, who will tie me up, hang me from a winch and photos will be taken. Of course I’m thinking about this Boing Boing post about the TSA vibrator prank. But what I related to you above is very much my experience when I go through security. There is no coincidence that since I’ve started editing the Best Women’s Erotica series that I regularly get erotica submissions about airport security screening search scenes. I am a post 9/11 editor of the series. It makes sense that this is even more in our erotic fantasy lexicon now as a culture than ever before. I think it’s not just because as humans we are drawn to sexualize certain experiences — but because when you think about it, the modern process of going through pre-boarding security has far more kinky sexual elements than it should. Here’s why:

* You have to undress.
* While you undress, you are being watched and sized up.
* It’s a power-exchange scenario.
* Lots of uniforms.
* You are totally vulnerable, and it is humiliating.
* You are exposing intimate details of your person and dress in front of dozens of strangers.
* Your submission is unspoken, it is a rule, and it is unconditional. Your submission is for public consumption.
* There is a constant threat that a stranger will touch you. They can touch you anywhere, and in your most intimate places if they want to.
* There is an undercurrent and tension that they will open your posessions and touch your private items, such as your underwear, clean or dirty.
* It is nonconsensual. And in garden-variety BDSM practice, even this is forbidden territory.

I’m just saying, I think people pay like $700 an hour in New York dungeons for this kind of thing. SFO is way cheaper.

So next time you see me strip at SFO, be sure to tip, because those security guys are cheapskates.

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Latex fetish, iTunes, nude contortion; another day in my inbox

ceuppens.jpgLots of cool stuff filtering through my inbox these days — while I’ve been on deadline for an an erotic anthology all weekend, it’s nice to let them build and then make a pwetty post out of it all.

Karen from Sexy Latex emailed asking me to check out her site — and while *I don’t do link exchanges and if you email asking me to link to you I probably will delete your request* holy huge lickable latex tits, Batman! The photo is via, and after cruising her archives, I think she’s got great taste in her post choices, the site is clean and they post thoughtfully (no popups, etc). Nice sex blogging, Sexy Latex.

The notion that Apple dumped the Sex is Fun podcast from iTunes is making the internets (here too) and I’ve been emailed more than one alarmist link about it. However, I seriously doubt that Sex is Fun (who are friends of mine that I support wholeheartedly) was purposely dropped as a result of any moral cleansing on Apple’s part. My Open Source Sex podcast was dropped in the first round of filtering (and resurfaced with an “explicit” lablel), but Apple very publicly made amends with me — and when my podcast got bumped again, I spoke with techs who explianed to me that it’s not a human-run system. I just poked through all my email with Apple and they told me iTunes is an automated system (one opinionated quote is that it’s a “POORLY automated system”). All episodes of Sex is Fun are still in (or back in) iTunes; it’s likely the drop and accompanying email came as a result of iTunes’ “report a concern” automation. So I really doubt there’s a conspiracy here; they certainly do censor our text with ast*risks, but truthfully, Sex is Fun is really one of the more mild sex podcasts in the iTunes directory. They wouldn’t be the first to go, is all I’m saying.

And ooomfffgg — these photos are unbelievable — reader Z sends me this must-see link to a LiveJournal post with outrageous, well-shot photos of Olympic-contortion-sports fetish themes, with gorgeous naked girls who have really incredibly puffy lips. And not the ones on their faces. Amazing.

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Judging the Vloggies

Irina Slutsky has asked me to be a judge at the upcoming Vloggies! She actually said last night, “Blog that I asked you to be a judge and that you said yes.”

This is going to be a *lot* of fun. Vloggercon 2006 was one of the best conventions I’ve ever attended for a million reasons, even when it was intense and crazy. I think vlogging is an astounding and exciting culture hack; it’s certainly the newest cornerstone in how we are all rebuilding the true democtratization of media, entertainment and journalism.

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Still life with cupcake

I’m at home today finishing up an erotic anthology that doesn’t come out until June 2007, and the stillness, arousal from reading hot stories and spreadsheet was all making me crazy so I took a photo break. The foggy light is exquisite right now. I didn’t want to rotate the photo.

I’m holding my stockings up with my sock garters today. I still haven’t eaten the cupcake.

Update: Ooooh! Fluffy smooches from Fluffy Lychees in stripes everywhere!

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Sexy and shaved

Caught myself drooling over the smoothly shaved selections in the latest free hi-res Hegre galleries to land in my inbox, so I thought I’d share. As usual, don’t buy, just enjoy the free stuff, because that’s what I do. Porn should be free anyway. My favorites this week are the South African outdoor shots with model Naomi, Yanna’s naked pseudo-contortion (I have a little contortion fetish these days), and especially the set of Vika shaving, holy fucking yumminess… Next time I shave I’ll be thinking of Vika.

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Hipsterotica

Thomas sends me hipsterotica, which is brilliant, snip:

“You take off your silk screen Bansky tee and leave it on the vintage arne jacobsen chair. You turn up brooklyn vegans sirius radio set-Cloud Cult is on. We sprawl out on the rug we bought at the Renegade Craft Fair a while back–it was my favorite part of our apartment until Urban Outfitters started making rugs exaclty like it 6 months later for their “urban” home furnishings section. The TV is on mute, but MythBusters is on the discovery channel– flickering light into the apartment. It still smells like vegan BBQ in here from the food you made last night. I love your vegan non-dairy organic style cooking. You are like the Sufjan of the culinary world–but you never give yourself any credit. I walk over to the window to try and feel a breeze because the heat in the city is unbearable. You come up behind me and trace your finger up my leg–Disco Sheets by Wolf Parade comes on. You finger fuck me as people pass by on the street below. I turn around to kiss you. I take off your diesel jeans and you bend me over, my tits hitting the window screen–we fuck while Talking Heads “Heaven” starts to play on the radio. I close my eyes and wonder if anyone is watching us..”

Substitute Renegade Craft Fair for Maker Faire and suddenly I feel skewered…

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The best little whorehouses in Second Life

kareenas01-1.jpgMy pals at YesButNoButYes email to tell me about “a new piece we have up – part gonzo journalism, part erotic fiction, as we go undercover in the online world of Second Life, and discover the pleasures of the virtual ladies of the night. The piece is called ‘The Best Little Whorehouses in Second Life‘. With graphic pictures…”

Well, except for the annoying black censor bars on the important bits… Still — awesome! I’m so glad someone finally did this. Update: Jonno reminds me there was a similar writeup specifically about SL escorts early this year.

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