So, it seems from the email I’ve been getting lately, that I’ve been on TV. It’s a very strange, sort of floating outside yourself feeling to find out that lots of people have seen the Playboy TV segment I did on oral sex instruction, and not to even have seen it myself. The mail is good, so I guess it turned out okay, at least I hope so. But I’d really like to see how it turned out, and it would have been nice to be able to tell people when it was, or will be, on. I’m not shocked or anything; this is how this stuff works. I do interviews, then if I find out if, when or where the magazine issue is, or the air date, it’s only because someone was really nice and went out of their way to tell me, like the wonderful Martin Downs (who also has a quirky, sexy short story here).
A quick search, and I found out that it’s Sexcetera’s episode #60. They don’t even link to guests’ websites, how chintzy (they told me they would). Then… aha! The calendar tells me it aired in… April, then yesterday, then today at 5pm EST. Huh. Well, if you missed it like I did, you can always check out my wacked experience during the filming, and the photos here.
I’ve been a little sidetracked while I work on Best Women’s Erotica 2006, and guest editing at Fleshbot… though mostly the book deadline has me overwhelmed. I did get a chance to go to a LGBT erotic literati party on saturday, where I knew few and drank much. Actually, I think I knew more people there than I perceived; when Mattilda and Simon Sheppard started introducing me around, I realized that I already knew (and am a fan of) Ian Phillips and Greg Wharton, and Jim Van Buskirk.
What I didn’t expect, and was giddy as a schoolgirl to hear, were tales of illicit Craigslist encounters. Some of the stories I heard were just too incredible to be true, but they were, and some even played themselves out like a movie. Like the story about the skater boy twink that had never been with a man before, and after a bottle of Jack got the courage up to troll Craigslist and meet (the storyteller) at 2am on the corner of 23rd and Valencia. He took the storyteller home, tiptoeing past his sleeping roomates. And though normally a top, the storyteller got on bended knee and had his face vigorously fucked. “You know that point you get, where it just hurts and you know the mouth wasn’t meant to take that kind of pounding?” Yes, I do! “Well, I’d think, enough — but then I’d look up at this 19-year-old pounding away, and drooling and gagging I’d think, wow, is this really happening to me? But jesus, I could really *tell* he’d never sucked a cock before.” I knew exactly what he meant. All too many times I’ve given a blowjob and wished that the guy was a better receiver, and you know, I’m really starting to think there’s really only one good way for a guy to learn how to *get* a good blowjob, and you know, what’s good for the goose and all that.
But no blowjobs for me last weekend (sigh). Actually, I’m not complaining because I worked on perfecting one of my other favorite activities: the handjob. Ah, an ode to handjobs. My hands become like these heat-seeking missles, roaming all over the crotch of his jeans, squeezing and kneading and then finally getting inside. Unwrapping the erection from the boxers is always an exquisite moment, the heat radiates from his cock in waves. I love to run my hands all over him dry, squeezing at the base, stroking beneath the tip with the flat of my thumb. Then I drown him in lube, making a wet, slurpy-sounding, sloppy mess that I rub everywhere, even his balls. I’ve been experimenting with different lubes for different handjob styles; you can buy these dry-feeling cream lubes that create a little drag, heat and friction on his cock (Eros Power Cream), or my favorite standby, really runny silicone lube that acts like oil but cleans up with soap and water (Eros Pur; doesn’t break latex). Now all I need is a female research assistant, though I doubt Craigslist has the lab bunny I’m looking for.
Bits and pieces: I’m fascinated and repulsed and filled with dread and loathing by Scientology; when I found out Beck was a glassy-eyed cult follower I deleted all his music from my iPod and iTunes. I just couldn’t listen to it anymore, to me he was no longer “everyman of the slackers” but a privleged Hollywood brat and his music lost all meaning. So it was with great glee I read the hard-hitting, revealing interview with Tom Cruise at Spiegel, where the interviewer challenges Cruise on his Scientology bullshit, we see his religious fervor — and most frightening of all, Spielberg openly admits that he made War of the Worlds to exploit viewers’ 9/11 fear and horror, which has to be one of the most socially irresponsible things I’ve ever heard of. Hollywood jackass. Soul-sucking jerk.
I’m finishing the sex robot AI — hopefully I can beta test her on you next week.
New crushes: Mark Pritchard, Blackvertising (picture above), Kama: Devadasi Escort, Sexblo.gs: Shame on Cyber Perverts. Constant crush: Xeni (who I can personally assure you is *all* girl).
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