Safer sex is sexy!

September 30, 2004

Lookie - my newly acquired, super-pretty gloves! And some skin, for good measure.

Thanks for all your comments and emails about condoms and safer sex stuff. It makes me happy when folks think and talk about such things.

I bit my tongue really hard tonight. I’ll write all about how come in the morning, right now I’m just too tired.

Posted by Dacia at 01:55 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Condom connoisseurship

September 29, 2004

This morning, I did an inventory of my safer sex materials, and I’ve got ample supplies of female condoms and dental dams, but I’m down to less than ten male condoms. Its nearly unfathomable that I’ve finally come to the end of my seemingly infinite supply of condoms, which for the last few years I’ve acquired in bulk, hundreds at a time. Anyway, this morning on the way into work, I decided to stop at the local drug store a pick up some condoms. They’re expensive when they aren’t free! But, that’s nothing to complain about, as dealing with STIs, pregnancy and other nasties is infinitely more expensive. But anyway - the one drawback to getting free condoms is that there is rarely any choice when it comes to the particulars - my condom supply has been mostly Durex and Planned Parenthood condoms. Neither are the most sensation-inducing little bits of latex - on some occassions, I’ve had guys complain that they weren’t fancy-schmancy ultrathin condoms and deaden the sensation. Hey wait, did you bring your preferred condoms? No? Well, shut up and wear mine, jackass. Today I purchased a package of Avanti polyurethane condoms - made out of the same stuff that female condoms are made out of. I’ve used the female version before, but never the Avanti male condoms, so I’m excited to give those a whirl. The advantage is that the polyurethane is a marvelous heat conducter, plus they can be used by folks who have latex allergies. In thinking about the whole latex allergy thing - I don’t doubt that some people are allergic to latex, but I wonder if it isn’t the lube that causes a reaction more often than the latex? For instance - the lube that’s mixed in with Trojan condoms does a number on my vagina. I suspect that the Trojans have a water-based lube that has glycerin in it, which is known to cause yeast infections and generally make my vag cranky. I also bought a package of Kimonos, which I used once in a group sex situation and recall liking - though its possible that I was distracted. Of course both types of condoms will undergo the tests for sensation in some good old fashioned penis-vagina contact, but one of the true tests for me is in taste. I tend to not really like flavored condoms or flavored lube - plus they usually have glycerin, which means undertaking the annoying and unsexy task of changing condoms before any other kind of penetration. The taste of latex on its own or with the prepackaged lube is usually less than appealing, though the smell of latex turns my crank. Next on my list of safer sex to-dos is the purchase of new latex gloves for my adventures in butt-fucking clients. I have these boring white latex gloves - sure they make that snapping noise but they’re so clinical (unless you’re into that kind of thing). This afternoon I’ll be strolling over to my local tattoo supply shop to get pretty colored gloves… I think I’ll go with black, but could be convinced otherwise. What kind of condoms do you all prefer?

Posted by Dacia at 10:36 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Head to toe

September 28, 2004

I could stand to be in better shape, though I have taken up the habit of bike riding, and Dirck is teaching me how to box (look out!). These things make my muscles sore sometimes, but the exertion of sex makes me more sore than anything else.

Its not as though I get sore from a fifteen minute roll in the hay - please, that’s for amateurs. We’re talking serious, sweaty, multiple orgasm craziness here.

This past weekend, Dirck and I had one of our typically acrobatic sexcapades - though in some respects this one was a little unusual because we were pretty much all business. Usually we take time out to high five each other and make jokes about muppets, but not this round. Perhaps inspired by my Thursday strap-on date, I was keen on being fucked in the ass, something which doesn’t happen often enough. Ass fucking usually inspires major filthiness and fantasy spewing between us: we get fixated on stuffing me with lots of toys (and cock!), which then of course gets us talking about double penetration, gang bangs and the like.

Anyway, when I’m stuffed full of cock (silicone and otherwise), I have some fierce orgasms that are just on a different level entirely. It’s that feeling of being stretched, plus the extra pressure put on my g-spot and the combined different sensations of pussy and ass fucking that just drives me wild. This has the unfortunate side effect of foot cramps. I come so hard and my muscles contract so fiercely that the muscles in the arches of my feet contract as to be seriously distracting.

After the session with Dirck this weekend (footcramps and all) when I crawled out of bed in the morning, I felt the usual shoulder and ab soreness, but my fucking feet! At first I thought it was from shoes I’d been wearing, but then I realized the shoes weren’t that trying, but the foot cramping sex was.

My soreness went away today. Which clearly means that its time to get going all over again.

Posted by Dacia at 09:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

The fruits of my porn reviewing labor

September 27, 2004

I’ve recently started writing porn reviews for the SexHerald, which is a pretty nifty, sex positive online publication about everyone’s favorite topic.

Two of my reviews are up now, both on DVDs featuring women with ample mammaries. So, check ‘em out: Double Decker Sandwich 3 Rack Em Up

FYI, I’m using this post to shame myself into catching up on the stack of porn vids in my room that I am supposed to be reviewing but haven’t gotten around to. To be sure, its not that I haven’t gotten around to watching them - its just that I haven’t yet turned the critical eye on them. Must… be… professional… keep… hands.. in… full.. view.

Posted by Dacia at 02:21 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Fascist follow through

September 23, 2004

The fun never stops. This morning I got a follow up email from last night’s date from hell: Are all your most precious possessions lost? Did your roomate’s better stuff protect your own, robberman having only brought one pillowcase to fill? what’s the word? Was it all just a clever ploy to break it off once I mentioned my desire to be ‘a better Hitler’? I guess, if nothing else, its good blog fodder. Though recently I’ve made a resolution to end things quickly and clearly when they get weird, sometimes I slip into my old ways of passive aggressive avoidance. I think that this is an instance in which I can just ignore the boy and hope he goes away. If he does just a mite of soul-searching, I think he can figure out what went wrong. When I relayed this story to Dirck last night, he laughed really hard and said, “You’re so much better at paid dates. When you aren’t being paid, all your awkwardness comes out. Its cute.”

Posted by Dacia at 11:38 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Date with a fascist

September 22, 2004

I have never reported here on a date during which I did not get laid. There are three reasons for this : 1. that’s not a date, 2. that’s wretchedly boring and not good for storytelling, 3. it rarely happens (because I’m slutty).

But! Today there is fuel for storytelling in my not getting laid.

I met up with a boy who I’ve been corresponding with since Sunday. He seemed a very nice boy, if a little quirky. I like them quirky though. But. But.

So: boy shows up at appointed meeting place. Instant not attraction. He is scruffy, not in that cute rough-around-the-edges way, but in the way that makes me question his hygiene habits. He is also short. Mind you, I actually really like men who are shorter than me, and often I wear heels around them, just cuz. However, he lied about his height, saying he was 5’ 10”. I am 5’6” and he was at least an inch or two shorter than me. I find lying about appearance appalling and sort of dumb - if we are going to meet up, I am going to find out, and I’m going to wonder about the sanity of the insecure person behind the lie.

So we decide to get sandwiches, both of us claiming poverty. I made the decision that we should go to Tiny’s Giant Sandwich Shop, which is a fabulous place in the Lower East Side. Its on Rivington Street, which is one of my favorite streets in the city because it features Tiny’s, Welcome to the Johnson’s ($3 Maker’s Mark), Toys in Babeland (sex toys, duh) and Teany (yummy vegan chocolate-peanut butter cake), all favorites of mine. But I digress.

Immediately after we order our sandwiches and sit down, I realize that the boy is a loud talker. Tiny’s is, well, tiny - there are three 2-person tables, two of which are pushed together - so this was a little embarrassing. We talk about his career as an illustrator, his time in art school, etc. Ok, he is making up for the weird first impression a bit. He amuses me because he seems to be the kind of person who doesn’t swallow rhetoric from either left or right without a fight. But then, the red flags:

He hasn’t read a book in more than a year.
The last book he read was about Hilter, who he thinks was “brilliant in his own way.”
He thinks that Ronald Reagan was a “tactical genius.”
He is seeking to produce an ideology that is both general and specific (like astrology) and usher in a new age of global imperialism through making people believe they have free will when they really don’t.

At this point, I am thinking that I need to end the date, and quickly.

I say, “Listen, I just don’t feel a lot of chemistry between us. I’ve had a nice time but I have to get going now.”

Well, in the ideal world of me not being ridiculous, that’s what I would have said. On a date for hire that’s what I would have said. But not on this date. No.

My phone begins to ring (salvation!) so I tell him I have to take the call, and I step outside (remember, Tiny’s is small, the front door is open, he is less than 10 feet from me). Its my mom, who I talk to briefly, and then tell her I have to get going. She hangs up and then I say loudly into the dead phone, “What?!? You’re fucking kidding me!” and then talk more quietly but in a frenzied voice.

When I go back into Tiny’s, he asks “Is there something wrong?” And I say, “My roommate just called and our apartment got broken into! She’s really freaked out. I should go home and do an inventory of my stuff to see if anything is gone.”

He offers to walk me to the subway. As we are standing near the subway stairs, my roommate walks up. She’s been visiting a friend in the neighborhood. I say to her, “I’ll catch up with you downstairs,” and she gives me a quizzical look.

He asks who she is, to which I respond, “She’s, uh, my neighbor.” And dart down the stairs.

Smooth, real smooth.

Posted by Dacia at 10:01 PM

Some plugs (but not butt plugs!)

I don’t ordinarily do this (ok, I haven’t done it yet) but I wanted to plug two blogs I’m reading.

The Educated Slut: This is the new blog of my esteemed colleague, Ms. Jane Vincent. She’s been writing about her adventures in sex on her livejournal for a while now, but I’ve lured her to Blogger with my cunning ways. Watch for exciting cross-over moments, as she is my favorite real live naked whore friend in addition to being one of my on-line ones.

It Never Hurts the Second Time: Henry is a boy whore. He is a damn good writer too, and he just started writing about his adventures last week. He may just charm your pants off with his tales of being basted in come, pissed on, etc. He also writes lovingly about his fellow whore-in-crime Josie. I’m looking forward to hearing more of their stories.

I’m hopefully having a non-paid date tonight with a neat boy. Unless he is a flake, which means I’ll just go home and masturbate furiously. I’m more than happy to do that. Masturbation isn’t second best, its just a different kind of lovin’…

Posted by Dacia at 05:42 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Predictable me

September 21, 2004

So, for the first time in a year, I have a schedule that I can predict week-to-week. Weird stuff.

Monday/Tuesday: camp out at school. Talk smart in class. Read and take copious notes. Wear white cotton underwear that’s seen better days. Leave safer sex supplies at home (erase temptation). Carry Manhattan Portage bag for books and canvas sidekick for lunch and miscellany.

Wednesday/Thursday morning: Run around like a crazy person at porn central, do damage control and play catch up. Wear newer cotton underwear, maybe with fraggles on them. Pack slutty underwear, heels, stockings, safer sex kit - just in case. Carry discreet Liz Claiborne over the shoulder grown up bag (in case of whoring).

Thursday afternoon/Friday: Whore myself. Do homework in between gigs. Wear slutty underwear - these days I’m a fan of black lace tangas, which show a nice bit of my ass but don’t give it all away. Plus, lace breathes nicely and keeps my muffin happy. Carry aforementioned discreet bag, packed with goodies.

Saturday/Sunday: Its a free for all! Which could mean: more whoring! hot marathon sex! But, the looks of my workload spell - pajamas and homework. A little bit of sex in the midst of this (often of the ever-refeshing solo variety).

I know that this schedule is nothing like having a 9-5 job, but it still kinda makes me feel like a working stiff, because I can think ahead to some random date in October and say, “On that day, I’ll be…”

Posted by Dacia at 02:11 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Understanding My Open Relationship 101

September 20, 2004

Believe it or not, I am insane enough to think that I may have spare time enough to date, in between school, jobs, friends, boyfriend and whoring. This might be, um insane? I think is the word. In a moment of perhaps ill judgment, I placed two CL ads yesterday in places I don’t usually post them - the suspiciously amorphous categories of Women Seeking Men and Women Seeking Women.

This is interesting and slightly new territory for me, because usually I’m just on the prowl for sex. But, as previously noted, I’m pretty bored with “just” sex - unless I’m getting paid or its a big orgiastic fuckfest (mmm… fuckfest). In my posts, I state straight up that I am in an open relationship, he knows, its not cheating, etc.

Okay, hang on kids, its Ranty McRant time.

In response to my post for the boys, I got the following responses (in multiples):

hmm, u sounded like a person i totally would like to know, until u said u were in an “open” relationship. if he allows u to date other guys, wouldnt that suggest that he really doesnt love u to that extent? u really sounded awesome, and i wouldnt want to share. Dirck loves me, but he doesn’t OWN me. As far as the “extent” of our relationship, I know you’re implying that if we were serious about each other we wouldn’t keep “partying” in the language of another responder. Don’t apply your narrowminded standards of monogamy to me. Its outdated and plain lame. Dirck cannot allow or disallow my behaviors or desires - thats fucking stupid. You wouldn’t want to share? Well, thats okay, because I don’t want to share myself with you.

and this:

I am also looking for something NSA. I like that you’re in an open relationship because then you won’t fall in love with me! LOL I’m just coming out of a ltr and want to have some fun while I’m looking for the right girl.

I didn’t say I was looking for something no strings attached. I said I was looking to date someone casually but with potential, understanding and respect. But I guess the fact that I’m already involved with someone reads as “My emotions are all used up.” Not true for me, but an imposed assumption. I’m not interested in tiding someone over until they find the next big thing, that’s what my whore persona is for.

and this:

it turns me on that your in an open relationship. i would want you to tell me about how your man fucks you when we make love. Oh, right. I am totally into being with someone who fetishizes my situation. And he doesn’t even know the half of it! As if I exist and conduct my affairs merely for the titillation of others (well, okay, I guess that is what blogging is about). I just hate it when one aspect of me: open relationship. bisexual slut. whore. porn promoter. or whatever is the one thing a person hones in on about me.

That said, I am in conversation with a nice boy and a nice girl, hopefully something will happen there.

Posted by Dacia at 01:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Handjob fans representin'

September 19, 2004

I am amused by and proud of the fact that about 40% of the hits that come my way via Google searches are from searches about handjobs.

This is awesome, because as the Handjob Evangelist, I feel that people need a greater appreciation for handjobs. My all time top 5 reasons for loving handjobs:

Its safer sex!
No jaw or tongue cramping as with oral sex.
Better visuals than oral sex: its easier to check out your partner’s expressions, plus you get to see their genitals in their entirety.
Freedom of mouth for things like kissing and talking dirty.
And from the receiving end - my partner’s hands can be utilized in my goal of having four hands: one left hand for spreading my cuntlips, another left hand for fucking myself with a dildo, one right hand for wielding my Hitachi and another right hand for stimulating my ass. Ultimately I’d like these arms to be grafted onto my body and fully functional, but until that becomes technologically possible I’ll have to settle for handjobs.

Oh, handjobs! You are my most treasured friend! Eat that up Google.

Posted by Dacia at 04:32 PM | Comments (1)

I know it when I see it

September 16, 2004

Except I don’t anymore.

I need to provide CineKink with some images that are “street legal” for their festival program, which is way harder than it looks. As I was working on it, I realized that I’m not so sure I know what that is anymore. I look at too many dirty pictures to remember what is and is not “appropriate.”

These lines of appropriate in visual media are so blurred these days anyway, but the ridiculous thing is that while you can certainly use sex to sell meatballs or lampshades, its much more scandalous to use sex to sell sex itself.

I think this is silly. But then, I don’t make the rules, I just try to pretend I understand them and play along if I absolutely have to. Or I stomp my feet and throw a temper tantrum because I don’t wanna play nice.

Posted by Dacia at 02:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Lubed and lost

September 15, 2004

Dearest Slippery Stuff,

How many years we’ve spent together, how many bottles of you I’ve slathered on and in my girl parts and up my bottom. How many times have I introduced you to new lovers and sung your praises? I’ve shared you lovingly, as only a proud and rarely jealous lover could do. But I think we’ve started to grow apart. Things just aren’t like they were when I was 18.

You will forever hold a place in my heart, for you were my first lube love and you were my most long-term relationship. I’ll always treasure the time we spent together, but all good things come to an end.

sweet memories, Dacia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Sliquid,

I never thought that one night with someone could make me turn my back on a long-time lover. But I should know by now that I should never say never. After all, that’s what I said about genital piercing and traveling alone in Europe, and look where that got me?

Anyway, I have a new lust - its too premature to call this love - and its all for you, baby. You’re so thin and lithe, your caresses like kisses trickling out of a soft fountain.

You make me hot, and my cunt throbs thinking about the time we’ll spend together this evening.

xxx, o Dacia

Posted by Dacia at 02:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

My porn debut

Last winter, Dirck and I participated as extras engaged in lewd acts in a foot fetish fantasy piece for the porn company I work for. It was a fun shoot, with hot people and general mayhem all around.

Its taken months to edit this piece, which is our longest to date at about 50 minutes. Last month we hurried to get a rough cut together for submission to CineKink, a kinky film festival celebrating year two of its multi-day dirty movie festivities. And: our film made the cut. So my porn debut will not be a grainy amateur video or a web cam show. Oh no, it will be my naked ass on a big screen at Anthology Film Archives.

All will be revealed: the sound my ass makes when Dirck expertly slaps it, my well-lubed handjob technique and less-practiced footjob technique, and how both of us look in colonial era wigs. Coming soon, to a theater near you!

Posted by Dacia at 02:09 AM | Comments (15) | TrackBack

In praise of famous vibrators

September 14, 2004

Last night, in a conversation with Dirck’s friend from out of town, I asked the obligatory “How are you enjoying New York?” question. She kind of sighed and said, “Yeah, New York’s pretty awesome.” But then in a lower, more conspiratorial tone, “But I miss my Hitachi Magic Wand.” When Dirck caught wind of this conversation, he said “I don’t think I’d be able to date a girl who didn’t own a Hitachi. It would make me suspicious.” And they say most men are jealous of a girl’s best friend (and I really DON’T mean diamonds).

This morning, upon arriving at school I checked my voice messages and chuckled through an utterly panicked call from Jane: her Hitachi is on the fritz, it goes on high power every time she plugs it in and it gets extremely hot extremely quickly. She proposed two ways to deal with this dilemma: check it again this evening to see if its misbehavior this morning was a fluke, or buy a new one this afternoon. She knows that buying a new one seems a bit rash, but she isn’t sure she can cope without the ecstatic hum of her Hitachi tonight.

As for me, well, my initial acquaintance with the Hitachi was when I borrowed my roommate’s a while (and a few roommates) back. Befor she went away for a week long vacation, she said I was welcome to wear her clothes and shoes (we’re the same size). I gave her a sly look and told her that what I really wanted was to give her Hitachi a whirl.

Posted by Dacia at 02:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Saturday night at St. Mark's

September 12, 2004

Not the hot sheet hotel, the glorious bookshop! I mean sure, the St. Mark’s Hotel has short stays and a lot of sex worker and perv lore attached to it, but the St. Mark’s Bookshop has an anarchist section.

Last night after a sushi dinner with my friend Jane, we got immersed in bookshop-land. Our original plans for the evening had involved doing a two girl show for a dude, but he cancelled because he had in-laws in town. Whatever, we entertained ourselves with books, her new hula hoop and also a trip to Toys in Babeland, where I purchased a toy that may be instrumental in some new business ventures.

Though I usually spend most of my time in said bookshop in the cultural criticism section, I’ve recently sworn that stuff off. Well, to be fair, I’ve just stopped reading the obsessively footnoted stuff recreationally. See, I have this habit of reading a lot, the denser the stuff the better: I have a penchant for theory on history and memory, the act of looking and of course history of sexuality stuff. Although I’m now in grad school, I’m still occupying my free time with reading, which I’ll admit seems like a poor choice. I should probably fill more of my free time with masturbation.

Anyway, over the last few weeks I’ve developed a thing for fiction. This is a big deal for me, because I’m usually all over the non-fiction and could care less about anything else. My new kick involves Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled detective stuff, some Bukowski, some Kosinski, and a bunch of Latin American authors from the 1960s. The Latin American authors have really got me in their clutches right now; its all Reinaldo Arenas’ fault.

And that, my dears, is an account of how this particular whore spent her Saturday night. And now… back to the homework. Oh, glorious homework…

Posted by Dacia at 04:27 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Female condoms and a good laugh among safer sex educators

September 09, 2004

Tonight I attended the monthly educator meeting for the AIDS service organization I volunteer for. We had a lively time discussing the future projects we want to work on and collaborations we want to do. In an effort to attract more educators to these monthly meetings, there are two incentives: snacks and skill-building presentations.

Today we talked about the insertion of the female condom - or since we like to be respectful of different sex acts, the “internal condom” (it can also be used for anal sex): Due to there being several Europeans in the group, I found out that people over the big blue refer to female condoms as fem dommies - not to be confused with female dominatrices.

We talked a lot about insertion techniques, especially the logistics of inserting one of these polyurethane lubed up babies for anal sex. We quickly moved away from the hypothetical, professional tone of sex educators and into our personal experiences, which led to a lot of laughter and coy remarks. We all agreed that we need to conduct some more field work on using female condoms for anal sex. Several of us volunteered our asses for science. Its research, I swear.

Posted by Dacia at 09:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

My evolving feminism

In my sophomore year of high school, I was assigned to write an argumentative paper. I can�t remember the nuances of my argument (probably because it didn�t have any) but the paper was basically a teenage feminist rant against the media, advertising in particular. It was part essay, part collage. I remember one particular piece of it very well. I cut out a bunch of pictures from shoe ads and pasted them together on a sheet of paper. In the middle of the page, I wrote: �Are these ads for shoes or whores?�

I was very against the sexual objectification of women. Period. Magazines, TV, movies, and especially porn were things I considered evil tools of the patriarchy. And whoring? Don’t even get me started.

Something has changed over the past lump of years, in which I�ve begun to appreciate media that once would have made my stomach churn. In an email exchange with Kinky Librarian, we touched on feminism and sex work, and she said that more and more, porn has been striking her as overly derogatory towards women. And, while she�s right, I have to admit that sometimes I like to watch some rough sex where the girl gets thrown around and maybe even gets a scarcely lubed cock up her ass. Increasingly I find myself frustrated and bored with the softcore stuff on a lot of alternaporn sites even though I like the models and politics on them better. Is it okay if I support the concept of alternaporn intellectually but not with the response of my vulva?

I�m not sure what to do with this self-knowledge. It�s sort of unsettling, and difficult to think and write about. I feel like I�m being a traitor to feminist pornography by getting off to the stuff that feminist pornographers are trying to work against by creating alternative images and appreciations of different bodies/acts/etc. But at the same time, I know better than many people that erotic responses aren�t always logical and certainly aren�t controllable (though erotic actions are controllable, let�s not get away from that). So, on one hand, I could unpack the meaning of this erotic development until I�m blue in the face and maybe or maybe not get anywhere with that. On the other hand, I could just be self-aware about my desires and remember to separate fantasy from reality � ie: I won�t forcible be putting unlubed objects up girls� asses. Well lubed silicone objects with a flared base are a different story altogether.

Posted by Dacia at 01:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Good filmmaking is not always good pornmaking

September 08, 2004

We’ve been having a debate in the office today about editing. The piece in question features a solo girl masturbation scene coupled with a boy/girl scene that depicts a fantasy the girl is having while she masturbates. My boss, who has worked in mainstream film for many years, maintains that there should be a lot of intercutting between the two scenes, for effect. As a porn watcher who likes to concentrate on one scene at a time, I know that intercutting breaks up the masturbatory rhythm of things. So we’re arguing about this point. I know I am right, but I also acknowledge that playing out a scene or vignette does not usually a good film make. The thing is - porn is not film like that, it must speak to base desires, capture and enhance them. Kinda like slapstick comedy or gory horror.* *To be fair, I’ll footnote this idea - it comes from Linda Williams’ seminal book “Hard Core.”

Posted by Dacia at 01:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack