Lusty Month of May

It’s May, it’s May, the lusty month of May! That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray.

Camelot

The month of May derives its name from Maia, a nymph in Greco-Roman religion. According to the Homeric Hymns: “Maia bare, the rich-tressed nymph, when she was joined in love with Zeus….And the purpose of great Zeus was fulfilled.”

Springtime is an aphrodisiac.

Now is the month of maying,
When merry lads are a playing,
Each with his bonny lass
Upon the greeny grass.

English Ballad by Thomas Morely (1595)

Ancient May Day festivals are said to have been orgiastic. Young men and women copulated in nature to ritually fertilize the fields (and to biologically fertilize the young women). The maypole is an obvious phallic symbol, a representation of the divine phallus plunged into Mother Earth to fertilize her womb. (It’s sexual symbolism led dour English Puritans to ban it during the Interregnum.)

Beltane was an ancient Gaelic festival which falls between the spring equinox and summer solstice which celebrated fertility. Wiccans and other neopagans mark it as an observance of the sexual union of god and goddess which fecundates nature. One self-proclaimed witch enthuses, “Celebrations include the obvious pleasures of sexual coupling!” Some engage in the “Great Rite in Truth”: the uniting of man and woman in ritual sex.

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But - we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!


—Rudyard Kipling, "A Tree Song" (1906)

Not-So Frozen Chosen

So much for the “frozen chosen….”

A British historian is researching sexual misbehavior among Presbyterians in Ireland and North America in the 18th and early 19th centuries. Her research “asks what Presbyterian women and men in past centuries got up under the sheets (or, in many cases outside in fields, barns, up against a tree or on the roadside).” She writes:

As a historian of Presbyterian sexuality, I want to assure you all that these Presbyterian folk far from deserve this prudish reputation. A scroll through the records of the Presbyterian church courts brings to light a whole range of naughty goings-on. Stolen trysts in fields and forests; heavy petting and dry-humping on the roadside; misbehaving ministers riding drunk on horseback, seducing the wives of their church members; runaway wives and bigamous husbands; and enough baby-mama drama to rival any soap opera abound in the records.

According to the Westminster Confession, one of the purposes of marriage is the “preventing of Uncleanness.” “Unmarried (and married) persons who engaged in illicit sexual activity were labelled as fornicators and subjected to discipline by Presbyterian church courts.” Discipline generally consisted of a “public rebuke,” in which the offender acknowledged his transgression before the whole congregation and without which the sacraments were withheld. Public shaming served to uphold communal standards of behavior. “Historians of Presbyterianism, in both Ulster and Scotland, have noted that the discipline of sexual misdemeanours accounted for a large proportion of church business.”

A social media feed recounts some of her findings:

Perhaps a historian will next examine licentious Lutherans.

Sin of Onan

With the Deaconess, I practiced coitus interruptus. (Her upbringing convinced her that evolution was untrue, Harry Potter contained satanic influences, and that Good Christian Girls shouldn’t be on birth control.) Once, as I was pounding her from behind, I approached orgasm and pulled out, ejaculating on one of her cute ass cheeks. (I had to strain to avoid staining her blue skirt.) As my cum glistened on her butt, I thought of Onan.

So whenever [Onan] went in to his brother’s wife he would waste the semen on the ground…. And what he did was wicked in the sight of the LORD, and he put him to death (Gen 38:9-10).

Onan’s story isn’t one you’ll see in Sunday school class enacted on flannel boards.

The Hebrew term ra’ (“evil”) is employed to describe Onan’s act. Scriptural interpretation of the passage has historically focused on the wasting of seed. Luther condemned the act as “unchastity, yes a sodomitic sin.” Calvin considered it murder: “The purposeful spilling of semen outside of intercourse between man and woman is a monstrous thing…. For this is to extinguish the hope of the human family and to kill before he is born the hoped-for offspring.” The text was used to condemn any form of birth control. “Onanism” came to describe the sin of masturbation. The consensus of modern biblical scholars is that Onan’s sin was his refusal to fulfill the levirite obligation.

With the Deaconess, I deposited my semen on her ass and her back, on her stomach and her dainty breasts. It somehow felt more sinful than ejaculating into a condom or her vagina. Raised in a tradition that still emphasized the procreative purpose of sex, Onan’s punishment weighed heavily on me. But not enough to stop fucking the Deaconess.

“Saintly in every way except when it came to women”

It’s been awhile….

During the considerable interlude since I last updated this blog, I’ve been occupied with teaching and ministry. It’s been a blur of papers and Bible studies, classes and programs. Lent and Holy Week came and went. Christmas arrived sooner than expected. Then there was another Lent and Holy Week. Progress on my dissertation remains halting. The start of another academic year means the arrival on campus of ripe flesh – coeds in sundresses, short skirts, and skimpy tank tops.

And amidst everything, I’ve chastely dated one young lady, fucked another young woman from the church, discreetly met with a self-described “good Christian wife” for adulterous sex, pursued hookups with a variety of women, while continuing to visit escorts.

It’s been busy.


Its abbot was a monk who was saintly in every way except when it came to women – and he managed those affairs so cunningly that almost no one knew about them, or even suspected anything.

Decameron, Third Day – Novel VIII

I’m painfully conscious of how often I fall short in my ministry. A word left unspoken. An initiative unfulfilled. A “ministry of presence” seems hollow. Parishioners tend to place those in ministry on a pedestal, expecting sinlessness. “But I am carnal” (Rom 7:14).

There was a young monk whose youthful vigour no fasts or vigils had been able to mortify…. As soon as he saw her, he was seized with carnal desire…. He, overcome by passion, was frisking with her rather incautiously….

Decameron, First Day – Novel IV

To be constantly tempted with this fruit, so luscious yet so forbidden, is excruciating. Yet as journalist Julia Keller observes, “Sex and subterfuge make a delicious cocktail.” Guilt is leaven by the possibilities of erotic delight.

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves.

1 John 1:18

A new parishioner. She’s in her late forties with long chestnut hair. Despite her fresh-faced, girl-next-door appearance, her hourglass curves reveal her erotic potential. I haven’t spoken to her, but I can taste her and smell her and feel her. I can already imagine the noises she makes when she comes.

She’s the edge between the sacred and profane
And means at least one other language you would never speak in polite company

Rainbow Kitten Surprise, “Polite Company”

“God’s gift to men”

After an extended absence, Audrey returned for a visit. She remembered me when I contacted her (“You’re the grad student, right?”), so setting up an appointment at her downtown hotel was simple. She asked me to bring a bottle of Moscato. When the appointed time came, I knocked on her door to her suite. The door slowly opened, and a soft, sexy voice beckoned me to come in. When I came in, Audrey met me wearing a silk black robe, black fishnet stockings, and black high heels. A pearl necklace dangled from her neck. She invited me into the room, which was a bit messy. I discreetly placed the donation on the desk.

We proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed and lightly converse for a few minutes. Chopin played on her digital music player. We shared a glass of wine. She put her hand on my leg.

“I have been told that I’m God’s gift to men,” she purred.

I admired her shapely legs, and I was eager to have her show me more. She must have intuited what I was thinking, for she got up and started posing for me in front of the window, slowly removing her robe, revealing her black lace bra, black panties, and black garter belt. She proceeded to remove her bra and moved back toward me. Her black hair contrasted with her porcelain skin. She got down on her knees and started kissing my cock through my pants. Then she unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants. Her hands reached into my boxers and caressed my cock and balls. My underwear came off. She reached for some lube, then started to stroke my cock. As she started kissing and sucking on my cock, I ran my fingers through her silky black hair. She’s quite talented with her mouth; it took some effort on my part not to erupt.

She asked if we could move to the bed. All that preoccupies me in ministry and academia faded away when I looked down on Audrey’s naked body twisting slightly in the sheets of a bed in a Sheraton Hotel.

“I’m very horny,” she said, adding that she had a vibrator. She pulled off her panties and reached for her vibrator on the nightstand. I watched as she inserted the device and pleasured herself for a few minutes.

“I want you to go down on me.”

I kissed my way across her perky breasts, down her stomach, down her inner thigh before my mouth reached her shaved mons pubis. Her legs wrapped around my head as my tongue explored her wet pussy. She moaned.

“Oh, Philip, I want you inside me.”

She wanted me on top. (“I don’t even need lube,” she said.) Her legs were positioned on my shoulders as I penetrated her. She kept pulling me closer as I fucked her. I could feel her muscles squeeze around my cock.

“Don’t stop!”

I fucked her more aggressively. Then she surprised me.

“I want to watch you come!”

She had me pull out of her and tore off the condom. She stroked my cock; I couldn’t hold out any longer – I erupted on her stomach and tits (some of my cum even landed one her neck). She caressed my dripping cock, then rubbed my cum onto her skin as she licked her lips.

I collapsed next to her onto the bed.

After our exertions, we sat in bed and talked. I noticed a Bible on the table. It wasn’t there courtesy of the Gideons. It was hers. She previously hadn’t brought it up, but suddenly she was very much into talking about religion. Even now, I still find it a strange transition to converse on religious matters with a prostitute, but I informed her on the distinctions between the canonical and the gnostic gospels as well as theories of secularization. Then she asked a question.

“Do you want to go again?”

Holy Whore

The first cool, crisp day of autumn. With the start of fall I’ve returned to the classroom to teach a class at a nearby seminary. Pumpkin spice season also brings with it an increased number of ministerial activities at the parish. (I almost singlehandedly oversaw Sunday’s Ministry Fair.) Despite my many obligations, I had arranged a tryst with “Jennifer,” a curvaceous platinum blonde visiting from the Bay Area. I made the considerable drive to her suburban hotel anticipating an erotic diversion.

When the door opened to her hotel room, I was not disappointed. A Marilyn-esque figure greeted me in a black robe with bedroom eyes. In a soft voice, she invited me in. After our initial greetings, I excused myself to the bathroom to freshen up and place the donation on the counter. When I reemerged, she invited me to sit across from her in a chair. Her robe was loosely tied; I distinctly noticed her breasts bulging over her lacy black bra.

She immediately asked me about my studies and work in ministry. She then volunteered that she participates in Bible study and is active in her church. She wasn’t the first escort I’ve encountered who professed a religious commitment. During one early encounter, the lady invited me to a revival. On Katherine’s nightstand a bottle of Holy Water sat next to a bottle of Astroglide. My last visit with Audrey included a brief discussion on biblical hermeneutics. I once glanced into the purse of another companion and saw a Bible along with a picture of the Sacred Heart.

As she sat seductively across from me, Jennifer spoke admiringly of my work in the church. She discussed her prayer life, and while her theology didn’t appear to go any deeper than a Joel Osteen sermon, her faith seemed sincere. Yet as we talked, my eyes kept returning to her breasts – her D cups runneth over. My erection grew even firmer. Then she became very flirtatious.

“What do you want to do, my darling?”

I placed my hand on her upper thigh, feeling the silky fabric of her robe. She took my hand, rose from her chair, and led me to the bed. She untied her robe, allowing it to drop to the carpet. Then she released her big breasts from her bra. Lust had already taken over me. I started to disrobe in turn. She slipped her panties off. I pulled down my boxer briefs. She caressed my balls, then then ran her fingers across that sensitive area just beneath my scrotum. She positioned herself on her knees. Her warm, wet mouth was sucking my cock. I gently held her head, her blond hair wrapped between my fingers. Her pretty and attentive face peered up at me, her red lips smeared with spit and precum.

She got up, and we moved onto the bed. She applied a condom. She lay on her back and eased her legs apart. With a slight moan, I slipped myself inside her. As I moved slowly at first, she raised her hips and wrapped her legs around me. I felt her nails dig into my shoulders. The bed rocked and creaked beneath us. I could feel her pussy tighten around my shaft as I pumped faster and harder. The more she cried out the more I wanted to drive my cock deep inside her. I groaned as my body shuddered, and I felt myself spurt into the condom.

She got up and retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom to clean me up. We conversed for a few minutes, mostly about topics that came up in her Bible study. We then abruptly transitioned to kissing and caressing one another. My erection swiftly returned. She moved on top of me, positioning her breasts in my face. I sucked on her nipples, moving from her right nipple to her left and back again. It was time for another condom. She straddled me, guiding my cock into her. My hands squeezed her waist as she vigorously rode me, her tits bouncing up and down. But I wanted more. I had her position herself on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. As I marveled at her curvy bottom, my thoughts were decidedly unholy. I moved behind her, grabbed her hips, penetrated her, and started to slowly and steadily pump into her. The slapping sound of our bodies smacking against each other mingled with our animalistic grunts. With increasingly faster thrusts I fucked her; a bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face. My cock started to twitch. My body shuddered as I grunted my orgasm.

We disengaged, and I lay on the bed, spent from my exertions. We resumed our conversation until we noticed that our allotted time was nearing its end. She allowed me to take a shower to wash off the evidence of our engagement. I briskly dressed afterward. She planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. Then I departed for the long drive home.

“They leave for pelvic reasons”

A local nondenominational church has opened a coffeehouse/bookstore near my residence. It serves a nice vanilla latte and sells a copy of the ESV Bible with Creeds and Confessions. It provides a pleasant setting to do some writing.

The comely barista is a distraction, however. She engaged me in a brief conversation. She’s a student at a local college and a worshipper at the church that operates the coffee shop. Her blond hair and noticeable bosom were appealing. As I settled in front of my laptop, my eyes were repeatedly diverted by her presence. I imagined peeling off her blouse and capris pants and exploring her nubile body.

One of the books I browsed was a book researching why young Christians leave the church. Familiar complaints from those who had departed included a wariness of ecclesiastical authority and the supposed conflict between science and religion.

And sex.

Perceived sexual repression is a major catalyst for exiting the church. One young Catholic said, “No one leaves the church because of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. They leave for pelvic reasons.”

Sociologist Mark Regnerus described young Christians as being caught in a “clash of cultures”: the “pleasure ethic” and sexual freedom extolled by secular culture collides with the conservative sexual ethic demanded by most churches. The book labels this ethic “sexual traditionalism,” which restricts the range of sexual expression and clouds it in shame. Many young Christians, according to the research, still believe in the tenets of sexual traditionalism. The crisis of faith comes when their behavior can no longer comport to this standard. One young man who was interviewed was a worship leader at his church while he indulged his obsession with pornography and engaged in numerous hookups. He said, “I just literally led a double life, between church and sex.”

As I write this, my eye still catches the figure of the barista. Unlike the days of my innocent youth in which I affirmed the verities of the purity culture, I know the pleasures her body could produce. Another law waged war in my members against my mind (cf. Rom 7:23), which made me ripe for sexual exploration. The moment I knew sin, I fucked.

As a means of combating this trend, the author advocates a more “relational” approach to sexuality which replaces a rigid adherence to rules in guiding sexual conduct. Perhaps. I’ve personally experienced sexuality as a driving, relentless force that obliterates deeply held beliefs. There’s nothing like the sight of a naked woman awaiting you in the bed she shares with her husband to weaken one’s adherence to the Sixth Commandment. The substance of sexual traditionalism, not just its presentation, has come into doubt.

Meanwhile, I continue to lust after that barista.

Season of Doubt

The instrumental introduction to Tori Amos’ Icicle features a setting of the hymn “O, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing.” It’s not what you would hear on a Sunday morning. It’s a discordant, haunting piano solo that prefaces a song about repressed sexual desire.

This is a season of doubt.

Progress on my dissertation has been halting. Parish ministry has been wearying as political polarization encroaches upon church life. “Spiritual dryness” inadequately describes my inner life. I’m parched.

I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy….

Crash Davis, Bull Durham

Faith is for me admittedly largely speculative. I, too, believe in the soul, but it’s a highly conceptualized, Platonic abstraction. A literary critic described Henry Miller as having developed a “theology of the cunt.” “What holds the world together, as I have learned from bitter experience,” Miller wrote in Tropic of Capricorn, “is sexual intercourse.” There is nothing abstract about the cock and the pussy.


Leaning against the wall, Stephanie wore a mischievous smile. And a slinky babydoll nightgown. “Religion says sex is so bad,” she teased as she unbuckled my belt.

My hand moved underneath her babydoll, caressing her soft skin. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Then I gently lowered one of the straps, revealing her lush breast and erect nipple. “But perhaps it is true after all,” I responded, quoting Buber. That was the most persuasive answer I could venture.


Formed as I was by purity culture, it’s hard to overemphasize how much my faith was inextricably connected with sexual purity as a young man. Believing that true love waits… Since holiness required reining in my sexual desires, a life of faith demanded purity. As other teenagers were losing their virginity in high school, I memorized 1 Thess 4:3-7. Overcoming fleshly desires was at the heart of my religious practice. When “Liz,” a cute blonde classmate at my Christian college, tearfully confessed to having had sex, I confess to feeling a certain pharisaical pride: “I thank you that I am not like other men” (Lk 18:11). Despite the encroaching temptations, I entered my senior year of college still a virgin. Then….

The moment I knew sin, I fucked.

I committed myself to a year of service at an urban Lutheran parish, then commenced my studies at divinity school. I entered lay ministry in the Lutheran church. As I continued to yield to the seductions of Venus, a dark shadow of doubt enveloped me. Thou shalt not commit adultery. The commandment remained unchanged. Yet Jezebel had seduced me into committing fornication (cf. Rev 2:20). When she flashed her panties in that hotel room, my faith was not strong enough to resist.

The commandment, as I have internalized it, stridently forbids me from the sexual activities I engage in. I’ve proved incapable of denying or sublimating my sexual urges, so I maintain a pious façade while secretly indulging my carnal desires. The cost to my faith, as I’ve experienced it, has been considerable. As one college pastor noted, for his students “the Bible unsurprisingly starts to become a lot more ‘doubtful’ for some of them once they’d had sex.”

I’m torn between devotion and desire. I find that I seek solace not between the covers of the Bible but between a woman’s legs.

But her hips sway a natural
Kind of faith that could give
Your lost heart a warm chapel

Tori Amos, “Abnormally Attracted to Sin”

Naked and Ashamed

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. – Genesis 3:7

My theology is decidedly Augustinian, so the Fall is crucial to my theological thinking. We are told in Genesis that Adam and Eve originally were “both naked and were not ashamed” in the Garden of Eden (2:25). Then after the man and woman ate of the fruit proffered by the serpent, they became aware of their nakedness and sought covering. Their first recorded act after being expelled from the garden was sexual intercourse (4:1). Or as one commentator memorably puts it, “The moment they knew sin, they fucked.”

A Baptist minister and sexologist recently wrote a book entitled Sinless Sex: A Challenge to Religions. The main thrust of the book is that a scientifically-based understanding of human sexuality punctures the traditional sexual doctrines of the Abrahamic religions, which must necessarily reconstruct their teachings to conform with modern sexual science. A further implication of the title, I think, is that the encrustation of sex with notions of sin should be summarily discarded by an enlightened perception of sexuality.

For those of us who have struggled to adhere to the traditional sexual ethic, this sounds like liberating news. But what if sex is not so sinless? Augustine, dour erotophobe that he was, believed that even within the divinely approved conjugal relationship, the element of sinfulness could not be entirely eliminated. The deformed passions of lust brought about by the Fall, he thought, contaminate the whole of human sexuality. The innocence of the prelapsarian Adam and Eve, particularly in the realm of sex, cannot be retrieved. Those who promote a “shameless” sexual ethic, guided by a certain romanticism, believe that if the old irrational taboos are tossed aside and our sexual desires are openly communicated, sexual dysfunction will cease. I’m not so sure. We are condemned to stand naked and ashamed.

Lilith

“Lilith,” John Collier (1889)

Stephanie hung a print of Lilith in her incall bedroom as a signal of female sexual empowerment. Lilith’s mythology is certainly saturated with sex.

According to the Alphabet of Ben Sira, a medieval Jewish text, Lilith (Hebrew לילית) was created from the dust after Adam to be his first wife. Adam wanted to have sex with her in the missionary position. Lilith refused to lie beneath him and flew away from the Garden of Eden. In Jewish mythology, Lilith was imagined as a demoness, a succubus. In the Zohar, a Kabbalistic text, Lilith was portrayed as a “harlot” who “commits fornications” with the “sons of man.” (The Babylonian Talmud had warned, “It is forbidden for a man to sleep alone in a house, lest Lilith get hold of him.”) If, as Judith Plaskow writes, “for the rabbis, a prime instance of the evil impulse was the sexual urge,” Lilith personified the depradations of untrammeled female lust.

Lilith’s defiance of patriarchy and her untamed sexuality has made her a modern feminist icon. “Lilith is the instinctual feminine, hungrily animating [female] sexual longings for the taste of primeval eroticism, seeking sex for its own pleasure without further obligations,” writes Karin E. Weiss. One feminist writes admiringly, “This is sex without love, without procreation, unpartnered, purely for the sake of pleasing the male sexual urge and not at all permitted within the Abrahamic ethos.” (Lilith is considered a patroness of prostitutes and is said to be summoned by black candles and sexual offerings.) Lilith represents the shadow feminine, symbolizing carnal desire and taboo sexuality. “With her legs open and her back arched, she writhes in orgasmic ecstasy, screaming out her pleasure, unashamed for all to hear” (Catherine Hale).

Lilith is both threatening and alluring to men. Kabbalist Ohad Pele says of Lilith:

She poses an erotic seduction that is very difficult for men to withstand. Men yearn for a woman like Lilith, a woman who is able to express the fullness of her unbridled passions, who is willing to be a sexual creature, to be active in bed, to be a woman who derives great pleasure from sexuality and is not one bit ashamed of it…. He will find her in the prostitute, in the courtesan, in the secret lover, in the dark romance….

In Lolita, Nabokov writes, “Humbert was perfectly capable of intercourse with Eve, but it was Lilith he longed for.”