Write Me Sexy

Orgasmitivity Part I

Posted by on Jan 2, 2013

One of my favorite essays from my erotic memoir is a yogic self pleasuring piece, the one I had the privilege of reading at last year’s Seattle Erotic Arts Festival.  But two friends who have read and critiqued my manuscript, have questioned its authenticity, namely the number of orgasms. Really? reads a comment from a friend in the Pacific Northwest, Another one? This may be hard for people to believe, wrote a friend on the East Coast.  I need a power tool of a vibrator to have any hope of achieving an orgasm and you have several doing yoga naked on your deck alone?  This may be another book but I want to know more about that. And then another friend e-mailed and wanted to know more about those full-body, sensual orgasms I wrote about in this post. So let’s kick off Blog Me Sexy 2013 by talking about orgasmativity, being more orgasmic with life, shall we? I am by no means a scholar or an expert on orgasms (but wouldn’t that be a fun master’s degree?) but I can share with you my experience on becoming more orgasmic. I have to do this in a three- part series though because this is much too big and important of a topic for one blog post. And as always, I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts, comments and experiences on the topic. If you are a little shy, believe me, my Inner Catholic girl totally gets that. Give your sexy self a pen name and don’t share an e-mail address in the comments. You may be surprised at what she/he has to say. I always am. Sexy Prod: Write down your sexy intentions for 2013. Any passions you want to pursue? Sexy places you want to go?  New lovers you hope to attract?  Books you hope to publish? Share a few in the comments~that kind of boldness always boosts the mainfestation...

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Touch Of Joy

Posted by on Aug 8, 2012

Writer’s conferences are sexy. Imagine it:  Hundreds of creative, passionate people from every genre hanging out together for three days to discuss the craft.  If you want to talk to one of them, all you have to do is walk up and ask them what they are working on. It’s so easy. After three days of this you start to believe you are social gifted and charismatic because every conversation you have is so incredibly engaging. At lunch on the last  day, I looked up and found myself captivated by a fifty-something woman sitting two seats over.  She wore her hair short and red and adorned herself in green. Her chartreuse -colored shirt dazzled under the flourescent lights. I was drawn to her like a bee to a flower.  I landed in the chair beside her and “You are fabulous” spilled from my lips. I absolutely love the purity of flirting with heterosexual women. She’s smiled at me with aquamarine eyes. “That’s funny,” she  said. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.” In five minutes, we figured out that we both wrote memoir and we both studied the healing arts.  As the conference hall emptied around us for the afternoon workshops, she took one of my hands in both of hers and held it. I closed my eyes and felt her sparkling energy flowing up my forearm like a spring breeze. I stilled for the first time in three days. Her name? Joy. Sexy Prod: Any fun flirtations lately? Tell me about it in the...

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Sexy Manifesto

Posted by on Feb 9, 2012

The foreword to my memoir reads like this:  In 2001, I was with the wrong man for all the right reasons. He was a nice guy.  He loved my dog.  He made me laugh. But the passion and emotional commitment that was lacking in our relationship made me cry as well. After seven years we had never followed through on the engagement and we were no longer living together.  But neither one of us could quite let go. I sought solace in yoga and meditation and let go of my obsession of trying to figure things out. I started channeling all my longing and sexual fantasies into an erotic romance novel.  My female protagonist had not one, but two, sexy men of the West vying for her attention.  A year into the draft of that story, a ruggedly handsome adventurer walked into my yoga studio.  He was a mind-blowing manifestation of the heroic qualities of both my male leads blended into one… Pretty soon after that, I abandoned the novel and started writing erotic essays. My point? WRITE DOWN WHAT YOU WANT. I’m continually amazed by the power of a written intention. My novel manifested my man.  My erotic essays have sustained my passionate marriage. And this blog! I am always thinking about sensual topics to blog about now. I vibrate at a much sexier frequency now than I did in October. That is just the way the universe works. Energy flows where intentions goes. For example, a few weeks ago I was working on a blog post about my first erotica reading last spring at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival.  Before I even posted it, two women friends approached me and asked me to do an erotica reading for a women’s gathering. Coincidence?  I think not. The reading is this weekend.  I can hardly wait to tease, tease, tease.  I plan to leave these Northeast Oregonian women begging for more which will drive me to stay on task with researching (yawn) publishing options. So things are really starting to simmer here at the sexy manifestation blog. This week I’m inviting you to jump in the pot. What are you ready to manifest? Write it down. You can scribble it in your journal or tack it on your fridge like you’ve probably done in the past. But, The Powers That Be love and respond to boldness. Go ahead and give your empowered, sexy self a pen name and unveil your deepest desire in the comments sections. Every time you read my weekly offering, make a comment, share my website with a friend or ‘like’  it on Facebook, you are supporting my vision. I’d love to do the same for you.  Besides, I’d like to get to know you. Tell me: What makes you wet, what makes you hard, just thinking about it? And then get ready to show up when it starts happening. That’s all for this week.  I have an erotica reading to prepare. Sexy Link: The classic book on Creative Visualization from Shakti Gawain is an oldie but a goodie.  If you know of any others, please enlighten me in the comments...

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These Boots Weren’t Made For Walking

Posted by on Jan 12, 2012

In my last blog post, I mentioned my first public erotica reading at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival. I dressed for the occasion (obsessed about it all week, of course) and ended up wearing a little black dress with some knee-high black leather boots that I scored at a thrift store in Aspen.  The boots have always been a tad bit big, but nothing a pair of thick socks wouldn’t cure. I made the mistake of pulling them on over a pair of sheer black stockings as we rushed out of our hotel to catch a cab to the event. We arrived at the festival just in time for the literary arts readings. When my name was called to read, my nervousness suddenly manifested as sweaty feet, making the inside of my too-big boots feel like they were covered in olive oil.  So there I was, coming out as an erotica writer, trying to be all sexy and I could hardly walk because my feet were slipping around so much inside my high-heeled boots. I made it to the stage but as soon as I planted myself in front of the microphone, my legs started trembling like they do when I get really nervous. I’m a yoga teacher, so I took a deep breath and tried to ground my energy as if I was standing in Mountain Pose.  But there was no stopping the earthquake as my feet kept shifting like tetonic plates inside my boots. I scoured the audience for my husband for support. Being super connected energetically to my man is amazing when we are on the dance floor or in bed. It wasn’t so great when I was on stage and he was unknowingly clutching my faux-fur trimmed suede cape to his chest, mirroring my anxiety. I shifted my gaze to a cute tattooed woman in the second row and silently thanked the literary arts judges for choosing my grilled cheese erotica story, one of my shorter essays that is only three pages long. You may be wondering what could possibly be sexy about a grilled cheese sandwich. You’ll find out in detail someday soon when I publish my memoir, but in a nutshell, the story is an exploration of desire and, bless her, the tattooed woman laughed in all the right places. The pages stuck together from my sweaty palms and I ended up tossing them on the stage as I read which garnished a few more laughs. I got a round of applause and practically collapsed in my man’s arms when I got off stage without falling on my face. The elation was the equivalent of running a much-anticipated Class IV rapid at the end of a long day of paddling.  But instead of being rewarded with  a beach camp and a cold beer, we had the rest of the night to explore the festival. Now that was an adventure. A fabulously erotic urban one. Sexy Link: Check out the Seattle Erotic Arts...

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Mansilk Devotee

Posted by on Nov 13, 2011

In my last blog about sexy undies I included a link for Mansilk Boxer Briefs. I have a bit more to say about those. Because really, what could be better than wrapping your man’s package in silk? I love silk, but I’m a Sweaty Betty and can’t wear it.  If I even look at a silk shirt, I start to perspire imagining the dark pits stains that would appear as soon as I put it on. So I buy silk boxer briefs for my man. He loves them.  Besides the fact that I love to rub my face up against them, they are thin, warm and a perfect under layer for winter outdoor sports. I sound like a rep don’t I? Good. Because I have this plan, a marketing plan, that as soon as I get my erotic memoir published, I’m going to hit the road for a book tour. As I travel around to all the ski towns and do erotica readings (and ski), I’ll sell my book and Mansilk to women who want to sex up their life and their man’s top drawer. Killer idea, right? So I started doing a little research on how I could make this happen and maybe get some sponsorship to boot.  Long story short, I pulled this excerpt from my erotic memoir to prove what a Mansilk devotee I am and put it in an e-mail: He is yang, like the sun, that never burns dim. I am yin, like the moon, that waxes and wanes. Somewhere between the two of us there is a balance. I beckon him to the couch in an attempt to find it. “Give me some of that,” I say as I reach for him. He is puzzled at first, since usually it’s his food that I am after and he isn’t eating any. “Some of what?” he asks, displaying his empty hands. I pull his hips to my face and nuzzle my nose up against his MANSILK BOXER BRIEFS. “Some of this,” I say as I cup his silky package in my hands. His hands come to rest on my head as he caresses my hair. “Take,” he says as he exhales long and slow, “whatever you want.” My e-mail got forwarded around and ended up with a public relations woman in New York City.  Pretty exciting! Her reply wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was sweet nonetheless: Thanks so much for your interest in Mansilk. At this time, we’re all set with our marketing plans for 2010-2011, which are taking us in a slightly different direction than what you’re proposing. Slightly!  I loved that. She wished me luck with my project and thanked me for being a fan of the collection. She hasn’t heard the last of me...

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