Go-To Girl

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“Betty” has become my latest “go-to girl.” I’ve seen her several times during the past few months. I found her on Backpage before it was shut down. She’s tall and well-built, with long hair dyed blonde. (As a brunette, she very much resembles Kristen Stewart.) She hosts in a small, drab apartment about an hour away, which makes seeing her inconvenient. (I have to drive across two state lines.) But she’s friendly in a low-key manner and very attentive.

(During our first appointment, she confessed to being nervous when meeting a new client. She apologetically checked the envelope that contained my “donation”; someone the week before had attempted to rip her off. She then invited me to tell her something interesting about myself. I gamely tried to respond, but it led to a pleasant conversation.)

Today I was stressed and frankly needed a sexual release. The virtue of a go-to girl is that she’s easy to connect with and will reliably perform. (Sara was one such provider.) A text to Betty was promptly responded to, and we arranged a mid-day appointment. She met me at her place in a blue sundress. The apartment was lit only by candlelight. After some small talk, she unbuttoned my shirt. I was already hard. She leaned into me and gave me a wet kiss. I reciprocated.

“What do you want to do?”

I motioned to the bed. She pulled off her dress and revealed that she hadn’t been wearing any underwear. Her perky tits and neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair captured my attention. We moved to the bed. Spying my erection, she said she was impressed that it didn’t require any action on her part. I complimented her on how pretty she looked. She wrapped her hand around my cock and gently stroked me. Then she took me into her mouth. I ran my fingers through her blonde hair as she pleasured me.

Betty straddled me. She started riding me, up and down on my cock. My hands grasped her waist. She swiveled her hips. My hips rocked against hers. We got into a rhythm. She leaned in toward me. I grabbed her luscious breasts. I sucked on her nipples as she continued to ride me.

Then I got on top of her. I felt her legs clasp around me. Driving myself deep inside her, I issued a series of beastly grunts. Having succumbed to passion, I fucked her with wild abandon. I strained to reach orgasm, but I finally exploded.

We talked for a short while afterwards. She said a benefit of her work was getting to “meet the opposite sex.” (Her other job as a home health care worker provides little opportunity for that.) Then the alarm on her phone went off. It was time, so we got dressed. She saw me out with a hug and kiss.

Briefest of Relationships

My holiness cannot compete with my horniness.

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Sarah the flight attendant e-mailed me this week that she was in town, making for an excellent way to release the stress from finals. She promised the briefest of relationships, no strings attached.

Sarah greeted me in her upscale hotel room with a hug and a kiss. Her voluptuous body was clad in only a blue bra and a pair of blue panties. Her red hair, green eyes and 36DDD breasts beckoned the prospect of intense pleasure. Our conversation was pleasant, but mischievous fun awaited us.

Ooh!

Yes!

Don’t stop, baby!

Sarah got on all fours. I positioned myself behind her and continued my exertions. It was sex, raw and unadulterated. I marveled at the graceful curve of her back and her deliciously plump ass. I reached underneath and fondled her breast. Mid-thrust, she turned her head back and threw me a sultry glance.

Then I lost it.

“Some things don’t change”

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“Did you hear about Backpage?” Stephanie asked me as we lay naked in bed.

I told her I had read that the feds had seized the online classifieds notorious for advertising “adult services.”

Stephanie had never utilized Backpage. Many of her clients did use it as a source for providers. She didn’t understand why they didn’t stick to the more reputable local board. Some were searching for “the diamond in the rough.” On Backpage, there was a lot of rough.

I didn’t tell her that I saw a number of women on Backpage. I tread carefully on there. Amidst the flotsam, if a lady appealed to me, I’d search her reviews on The Erotic Review (TER) to see if she was legit. I managed to meet several attractive, talented professionals that way. They were probably the exceptions, though.

Now TER no longer operates in the U.S. due to SESTA/FOSTA, federal legislation recently signed into law by President Trump, who Stormy Daniels says once tried to pay her for sex. The law seeks to stop sex trafficking online by holding websites accountable for hosting solicitations for illegal sexual commerce. Of course no distinction is made between consensual activity and genuine exploitation. Some in law enforcement have expressed concern about the predictable effect of driving sex trafficking underground onto platforms that are harder to monitor.

Stephanie had just come back from visiting New Orleans for the first time. She toured Storyville, the notorious early 20th century red light district, where she saw a few of the handbills the ladies distributed. They contained offers of services remarkably similar to online ads. “Some things don’t change,” she mused.

Feminists who think they can abolish the sex trade are in a state of massive delusion. Only a ruthless, fascist regime of vast scale could eradicate the rogue sex impulse that is indistinguishable from the life force.

Camille Paglia

Steph has an established clientele and a modest online presence, so she won’t be affected much. For other providers things will become more difficult. As a client, it disrupts established ways of seeking out companions. Hopefully this dumb law will be overturned in the courts. I regret that my position in the church restrains me from publicly protesting it.

Flight from the Self

“Thus the climax of sexual union is also a climax of creativity and sinfulness…. [T]he instincts of sex are particularly effective tools for both the assertion of the self and the flight from the self. This is what gives man’s sex life the quality of uneasiness.”

Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man

Over spring break, I took a brief road trip to another city. Staying overnight, I decided to sample some of the local “talent.” I made an appointment with “McKenzie” a few days in advance.

She arrived at my hotel room wearing a sweater and a miniskirt. Her black heels elevated her a few inches. Her long brown hair was accentuated by a few blonde highlights. She was quite cute and looked very much like the girl next door. I offered her a glass of Zinfandel, which she accepted. She sat right next to me on the short couch. In a heavy New England accent, she talked about a hockey game she had attended the night before. I peeked at her shapely legs. She must have sensed my interest, because she put her hand on my leg and sweetly suggested we head to the bed.

“The ego…may use the passion of sex, without reference to the self and the other, as a form of escape from the tension of life. The most corrupt forms of sensuality, as for instance in commercialized vice, have exactly this characteristic, that personal considerations are excluded from the satisfaction of the sexual impulse. It is a flight not to a false god but to nothingness.”

Reinhold Niebuhr

What followed was a blur of flesh and sweat, of thrusting and bouncing, of physical passion unadulterated by emotional entanglement. I ended up behind her, standing at the edge of the bed, my hands on her buttocks, our bodies jerking back and forth. Groans I couldn’t suppress escaped my mouth. I felt my face contort in tension as I pounded her. My fucking took on a desperate quality. Oblivious to everything but the slender female body bent in front of me and the surging pleasure in my loins, I strained toward that apogee when, if only for the briefest of moments, I would annihilate myself and plunge into unconsciousness.

“We fuck in order to escape and stifle the excess of the dream that would otherwise overwhelm us.”

Slavoj Zizek

“Sex Always Wins”

Can religiosity lead to sexual obsession?

Perhaps religion and sex aren’t quite that antithetical. Sexologist Dr. Susan Block observes, “Sex and God are quite often at odds, but sexuality and spirituality actually have certain key factors in common. The mystical and the erotic experience are the most intense in human life; both connect desire with awe, love, anguish, ecstasy, terror, pain and extreme logic–defying pleasure.” No wonder during the throes of erotic passion, we cry out the divine name.

The God of monotheistic religion, however, is markedly sex negative. “[T]he Bible contains far too many rules against way too many kinds of sex.” The doctrine of original sin, Dr. Block avers, links sex with sin, historically condemning sexual pleasure as literally damnable. (She predictably attributes this to the sexual dysfunctions of St. Paul and St. Augustine.) Fueled by shame, adherents of traditional religion are taught to abhor their desires.

The irony is that repression can breed obsession. Religions emphasize the restraint of primal impulses, writes psychologist Nigel Barber. Sexual modesty is stressed. Sex outside the parameters of heterosexual marriage is condemned. Sexual expression nevertheless eludes restriction. “If a devout person wants to eliminate all sexual thoughts as potentially sinful, this is much easier said than done.” It’s a basic psychological insight. If you’re told to not think about, let’s say, baseball, you’ll most likely to think about baseball. When told not to think about sex, you’ll think about sex. (This might explain the lure of pornography for sexually frustrated religious believers. Porn star Angela White says a lot of the subscribers to her website come from Utah and the Bible Belt.) “So the research evidence suggests,” Barber continues, “that, contrary to their principles, religious people are unusually bad at restraining their sexual impulses…. Perhaps religious people are poorly equipped to deal with the reality of their own sexuality.”

Excessive religiosity, especially when married to extreme sex negativity, can lead to sexual obsession and a fascination with illicit sex. Religious repression of sex feeds sexual curiosity and breeds taboos. Dr. Block writes, “Of course, the irony of creating a taboo is that, once something is forbidden, it becomes very exciting, kinky and very, very sexy. Everyone knows that naughty sex is hot sex!… So, if, according to your religion, sex is bad (and it usually is), then ‘bad’ becomes very sexy.” The French philosopher Georges Bataille believed that transgression is at the heart of eroticism. Or to put it another way, sex has to be bad to be good. Convinced that sex is bad and dirty, the religious sexual obsessive can only experience arousal if sex is experienced as sinful. The taboo thrill and the guilt, the dread and the desire, the insatiable urge — all are wrapped up in what Hawthorne called “lawless passion.” An example was given of a woman whose attendance at Bible studies and church services coexisted with sexually provocative dress and promiscuity. (Even those who have left intense religious environments report being still marked by those attitudes. An escort brought up as a Pentecostal said, “Religion made me the dirty girl I am!”)

“The secret passion of the erotic is that it puts us in touch with our animal nature,” Block writes. “So, Sex and God are pretty much at odds. An ongoing struggle between organized religion and natural human sexuality pervades civilized history. And though religion is powerful, sometimes seemingly all-powerful, somehow sex always wins.”

Doppelganger

I once fucked Britney Spears.

OK, it was actually a Britney doppelganger. I was in Chicago during a frigid January for a churchwide convocation. The desire to sample some local talent impressed itself upon me late one evening, so I browsed escort sites on my laptop. One particular lady seemed promising, and I made contact and quickly set up an appointment. Her face was obscured on her ad; I wasn’t sure what to expect. I prepared for her arrival and waited.

When she arrived, I opened the door and….

She looked like she was Britney Spears.

Some history: I entered puberty when Britney was at her Lolita-esque prime, suggestively writhing on stage with a python between her legs. Her naughty schoolgirl performance mesmerized me and probably triggered a fetish. As Kevin Smith put it at the time, “People are into Britney Spears because they want to fuck Britney Spears.”

I tried to take those thoughts captive. But I wanted to fuck Britney Spears.

Now several years later, a more mature version of my pubescent wet dream stood before me. I must have looked pretty harmless in my gray sweater because she didn’t bother to check my ID.

I had fantasized that Britney was a little freak in the sheets. I eagerly anticipated what her double would do. We undressed and got on the bed and….

She just laid there.

Talk about a letdown. We briefly conversed afterwards, then she put on her clothes and left.

So much for my fantasies.

Magic and Mystery

I love the female form. Soft. Round. Juicy. Hypnotizing. The lusciousness of her breasts. The curvature of her waist. The fullness of her hips. The suppleness of her skin. Her intoxicating fragrance. Her breath. Her creamy thighs. I sense the nectar in her womb. This erotic creature. This primal temptress. Both light and shadow. The Goddess emerges from within her. Her body is an exquisite temple of the Divine Feminine. Her legs spread. The temple gates open. I desire to worship Aphrodite. Warm. Wet. Receptive. Her sanctuary. A garden of unspeakable delights. Source of fertility. Embracing my masculine essence. Maker of sexual alchemy. She is Magic. She is Mystery.

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Darkness of Eros

Of the ancient gods, Eros was the most powerful and most elusive. Not even Zeus could resist Eros. The ancient Greeks believed Eros is a dark, amoral, dangerous power that undermines human volition. The arrows shot from Eros’ bow tear into the righteous flesh and obliterate rules, propriety, and conventions, compelling us to yield to the exigency of raw desire.

“Eros is the tragic god.”

Georges Bataille, The Tears of Eros

Augustine associated original sin and the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden with sexuality. Sexual desire — concupiscence, the “lust of the flesh — was the proof of and penalty for Eve’s inability to resist temptation. “The sexual desire [libido] of our disobedient members arose in those first human beings as a result of the sin of disobedience,” Augustine wrote, “…and because a shameless movement [impudens motus] resisted the rule of their will, they covered their shameful members.” All eros became dark.

For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is in my flesh. (Rom 7:18)

The sexual impulse, erupting from the depths of the human psyche and more powerful than other sensual temptations, eludes the control of reason and the will. Any sex that was driven by passion was the foul, unclean and wicked manifestation of disobedience to God’s will. “Sex, Augustine believed, was a shameful, sordid business,” writes James A. Brundage, as attested to by the very private nature of the sexual act. Even brothels, Augustine observed, preserved secluded spaces for whores to ply their trade. Sex is encased in darkness. “The shame of sex resulted from the ritual pollution that accompanied all sexual activity,” Brundage notes, finding its physical source in the genitals themselves. The intrinsic sinfulness of carnal desire in a fallen world, according to Augustine, makes life a perpetual struggle against the lusts of the flesh. This is reflected in the Calvinist doctrine of ”total depravity” in which sex can never escape the taint of sin.

If Augustine was the theologian of sexual pessimism, Kant was its metaphysician. Sexual desire was by its nature objectifying, reducing a person to a means of satisfying one’s sexual appetite. “Sexual love makes of the loved person an object of appetite; as soon as the other person is possessed, and the appetite sated, they are thrown away as one throws away a lemon that is sucked dry” (Lectures on Ethics 27: 384). To yield to sexual desire is to objectify oneself, sinking to the level of animals. Kant concludes, “In this act a human being makes himself into a thing.” Bernard Baumrim observes that “sexual interaction is essentially manipulative—physically, psychologically, emotionally, and even intellectually.”

Ayn Rand saw sex (as she saw everything else) as devoid of any altruistic impulses whatsoever: “[S]ex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment — just try to think of performing it as an act of selfless charity!” (So much for the “mercy fuck.”) It is an act of “self-exaltation” that exposes our sentimental illusions. “Only the man who extols the purity of a love devoid of desire is capable of the depravity of a desire devoid of love.”

“Cruelty is natural.”

Marquis de Sade, Philosophy in the Bedroom

Feminist critic Camille Paglia finds that eroticism is dark and irrational, fraught with anxiety, aggression and violence. “Eroticism is a realm stalked by ghosts.” Sexual liberation is a “modern delusion.” She agrees with Freud that the sexual instinct is amoral and egotistical. Sadomasochism is not an aberration but instead makes explicit what is implicit in sexuality. “The sizzle of sex comes from the danger of sex.” Sexuality is neither nurturing nor affectionate but comprised of “hostility and aggression.” It finds its preeminent literary expression in the works of the Marquis de Sade. “For Sade, sex is violence.” Nature in its chthonic depths inescapably emerges in sexual passion. In sex, we surrender to “the blind grinding of subterranean force, the long slow suck, the murk and ooze.” It escapes logical analysis. “Sex cannot be understood.” Love is no more than a “perverse fascination.” Sexuality in its “dark, unconsoling mysteries” overwhelms reason and volition so that “the element of free will in sex and emotion is slight.” Sexual freedom is an oxymoron. “In sex, compulsion and ancient Necessity rule.” We are captives to the barbarism of lust. When it comes to sex, guilt is inescapable. “[S]ex has always been girt round with taboo, irrespective of culture.” Paglia concludes that “a perfectly humane eroticism may be impossible” for sex “is a descent to the nether realms.” Doggy style may be the paradigmatic sexual position since it “represents the animality and impersonality of sex-experience.” Sex ultimately evades attempts to establish moral boundaries around it. “Prostitution testifies to the amoral power struggle of sex, which religion has never been able to stop.” She applauds pornography for its unsentimental portrait of sex. “Far from poisoning the mind, pornography shows the deepest truth about sexuality stripped of its romantic veneer.”

The sexual act itself is violent. Some radical feminists have interpreted the act of penetration as an inherent act of dominance. Luce Irigarary defines heterosexual intercourse as a “violation.” When the penis forces apart the labia, a woman’s bodily integrity is compromised. They’re on to something. The phallus indeed penetrates, conquers, dominates, takes possession of the woman. Andrea Dworkin flatly declared, “Fucking is the means by which the male colonizes the female.” Freud noted that the act of sexual intercourse bears a striking resemblance to violent struggle, marked by raw physicality, sweating, grunting, vigorous thrusting, bodily penetration. The aggression in sex is part of its thrill. Women have internalized this dynamic, as evidenced by female erotic literature and women’s sexual fantasies which prominently feature the theme of being taken by force. Richard Tristman concurs, saying, “All sexual relations involve relations of dominance.” Orgasm itself can be understood as a burst of violence, “a kind of fury” in Sade’s words.

Schopenhauer believed the sexual urge was a manifestation of the Will-to-live, a futile drive to ensure immortality through procreation. “The sexual impulse is the most vehement of all craving, the desire of desires, the concentration of all our willing.” In denying this, we delude ourselves. The illusion of pleasure dissipates when confronted with mortality, bringing misery. Eros cannot exist without Thanatos, according to Freud. Sex brings death in that the other person is possessed or annihilated in the sexual act. Death casts its shadow over sex because sexual pleasure is tinged with the knowledge that such pleasure will permanently cease at death. La petite mort. 

Does the fact that most sexual activity transpires at night have any significance? “Throughout the whole world it is at night, above all, that men and women unite,” Julius Evola observed. We copulate under the cover of darkness, as if to hide our transgressions.

And transgression, according to the Gnostic, is our only option. As identified by Murray S. Davis, the Gnostic concurs that sex is dirty and dangerous, so our only recourse is to succumb to the depravity. Prohibition only heightens the allure of sex. Resistance is futile. In this respect, Sade is a prophet.

Pangs of Guilt

“The proof that sex is a very crucial point in the spirituality of sinful man is that shame is so universally attached to the performance of the sexual function.”

Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man

Sometimes I feel guilty about not feeling guilty enough.

Growing up in a conservative religious environment, sex became associated with sin. I was taught about the “dark side” of sex. Anything outside of the biblically defined parameters of marriage (fornication, sodomy, pornography, masturbation, immodesty, lust) was sinful. Sexual sins were different. Sexual sins were committed against our own bodies, which were not our own, but temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:18-20). Sexual sin corrupted body, mind and soul. I inferred that my sexuality was inherently sinful and that my desires must be overcome.

I was condemned by my own sex drive.

When I could no longer conform my behavior to my beliefs, I felt guilt and deep shame. I suspect that guilt and shame, to some degree, will always be inseparable from sex for me.

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths.

Genesis 3:7

Augustine linked the Fall to sexual sin. Modern biblical scholars and theologians dismiss this, but what if he was on to something? Reinhold Niebuhr concedes that puritanism and Christian asceticism have contributed to this sense of shame. He also discounts the Freudian analysis that the sense of guilt surrounding sex is due to the repressiveness of civilization’s conventions. Shame, according to Niebuhr, antedates these conventions. It’s primordial, inherent in the act itself. “Man, granted his ‘fallen’ nature, sins in his sex life.”

Think about the sexual act itself. We use those parts of our anatomy we keep most hidden, commit acts we usually use euphemisms or vulgarities to describe, abandon our rational selves to flights of senseless passion, all in a process designed to propagate the species but rarely engaged in to do so. I can see why shame arises.

Sex is explosive. It blows up our moral imagination and leaves our prudential judgment in tatters. When I do experience pangs of guilt, memories of her scent or the curvature of her body banish them from my mind.

Pastoral Matters

ninfomani-cristiane

“Don’t do the pew,” we’ve been admonished at seminary. That’s one boundary I haven’t crossed…yet.

“Maggie” is an active parishioner at our church. She teaches Sunday school. Married with two small children, she’s a curvy lady in her late 30’s with short blonde hair. She teaches at a local elementary school. Maggie is a gracious Southern belle with a sweet accent who’s friendliness is intertwined with an air of propriety. She’s a Republican who passionately adores Coca-Cola, Margaret Mitchell and her favorite college football team. She’s a devout Christian, raised Southern Baptist before she found her way into Lutheranism. (Our parish’s liturgy appeals to her.) Her Facebook page is filled with pictures of her family and Bible verses. She’s fond of pearl necklaces and low-cut blouses that reveal a bit of cleavage. She radiates sexual energy.

Our paths cross occasionally at church. Maggie is a bit flirtatious (although I admit I’m not very good at recognizing such signals). I recall her staring at me with her blue eyes, playfully running her fingers across her necklace. Was she sending me a signal? I decided to find out. Last Sunday, I took her aside and asked if she wanted to discuss some “pastoral matters” over coffee at Barnes & Noble. I was busy this week, so I couldn’t meet with her until Friday afternoon.

I arrived at the bookstore and sat down in the café. She texted me that she would be a few minutes late. I anxiously waited her arrival.

Maggie walked in wearing a low-cut pink dress and a white shawl sweater. She gave me a wide smile when she spotted me. Unexpectedly, she reached out and gave me a big hug, then told me she was going to order some tea. The enchanting scent of her perfume stayed with me.

After she returned with her beverage, I asked her how her Sunday school class was going and how I could be of help. She replied that she appreciated my offer of assistance, but her class was going well. Our discussion of church-related matters wasn’t going to last very long.

I had to be careful. I wanted to signal my interest in her, yet not so overtly as to provide grounds for sexual misconduct.

I asked her how things were at home. Perhaps her marriage was troubled.

Maggie responded with a long monologue about her kids and school and their many extracurricular activities and the vacation they took to Washington, DC and the relatives who were going to visit at Christmas and yada yada yada.

I sensed my seduction of Maggie was stillborn. If she had any real interest in me, she would have signaled it by then.

We continued our conversation for another half-hour before she had to go pick up her kid at something or other. As we said goodbye, she gave me another big (but chaste) hug. Any fantasies about a torrid fling with Maggie remain just that — fantasies.