Sex And Magick

Hello dear reader(s)!

Let’s start with a warning for those who freak out of over the concept of sex…

WARNING:  This post talks about sex baby.  It talks about you and me.  It talks about all the good things and the bad things that can be.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  

That’s protected by parody laws, FYI.

If you’ve been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, I feel very bad for you.  But that’s not the point here.  If you have been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, you know that I am someone who is proudly sex-positive.

Being sex-positive, I view sex positively.  It’s right there in the words.  You’d know that if you paid attention in class.  I think nothing is inherently wrong between consenting adults with full knowledge of everything involved.

What is really cool (besides me), is that in my spiritual path, sex is viewed positively.  In fact, Beltaine is coming.  And Beltaine, is a very sexual Sabbat.  Sure it is the halfway point of the year, but in marking the changes that are taking place at that time, sex is certainly a huge a part of it all.  The bees are pollinating.  Taking away the flowers by taking their pollen and fertilizing the plants that will bear fruit.  If that doesn’t bring sex to mind, then you are a far cleaner thinker than I and I feel bad for your partner(s).

In my path, you can even practice magick using sex, called…wait for it, sex magick.  (I know, right?  Who would’ve thought magick during sex would be called sex magick?  That’s just totally unrelated!)  Anyway, I am not going to go into the practice of sex magick.  I am not an instruction manual, unless someone specific wanted a lesson, and called me “teacher”.  Maybe just showed up one day, like today.  And said, “Teacher, can you teach me sex magick, pleeeeeease?”  Maybe then.  Maybe.  If she was lucky.

But you don’t have to practice sex magick or be pagan to know sex is a kind of magic in and of itself.   (Notice the change to just magic, without the K.  That was intentional.  See, things can be magical but not magick.  It’s an interesting distinction.  Like a square is always a rectangle, but a rectangle isn’t always square.  I am getting off topic here.  Shapes get me all worked up.  Mmmm.  Quadrilaterals…..)

Sex bonds most people.  (Better than duct tape, even.)  It can keep connections strong.  It can allow people to feel safe and comfortable.  It can allow people to explore what is inside of themselves.  (How did that get in there?!?!)  It can lead to a deeper understanding of your partner(s) and yourself.  (Nice and deep…)  It can be an outlet for your deepest emotions and desires.  (Butter pecan ice cream?!?)

And sex can hurt.  If used improperly, it is capable of great harm.  Sex is powerful, and must be treated with respect.  “With great power, comes great responsibility.” – The rice guy.

Anything so powerful is magical.

In witchcraft, the acts you do, the spells you do, matter far less to the determination of whether it is light or dark magick than your intent.   (Which isn’t to say that anything you do in the name of magick is acceptable.  Like, no playing Nickelback during a spell or something equally horrific like live sacrifice.)

The same could be said for sex.  The acts, while they can be wonderful, (very, very wonderful, if you’re with me, baby…), matter far less than your intent.

You don’t have to be a follower of my path or a believer in magic to know that sex is powerful.  Even if you are a member of a more puritanical system of beliefs, you know that much of trying to control sex is based on the power it can have over someone.  Or the power it can give them.

But it’s my opinion that there is nothing wrong with power if you use it properly.  Whether it is magical power, sexual power, political power (can we please get someone to use that properly?), or any other kind of power.

Taking power over our lives, our bodies, and our desires is our right.  It can lift us up and remind us that we are feeling, passionate human beings.  It can remind us of what is within us that makes up a huge part of who we are.  It can also make us feel really fucking good.

For as much as sex is shied away from in our society, it is important to remember that we are only here because of the magic of sex.  Just because the sex you have isn’t intended to reproduce, it is not accident that in the right combination it is literally why we are here.  Fortunately, not every type of sex or every sex act is intended to cause reproduction.  The world is overpopulated enough as it is, and not everyone is intended to reproduce.  That is magic.

Straight sex, gay sex, self sex, monogamous sex, poly sex… if it is something between consenting adults who are fully aware of the factors at play, you are feeling the magic.  (If you are not totally selfish, your partner(s) is/are too.)  If your intentions are good, rough sex, vanilla sex, whatever you like, is good, positive magic and you should be proud to be living a magical life.

I hope this season is very magical for all of you.   😉

I leave you with a little mood music.

Featured Image By Yoninah – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10216975

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Where I Begin

Grab my head
Hold me down
Take my breath
Make me drown

Tie me up
Turn me red
Make me yours
In this bed

Take this life from me
Make me born again
I want you to blur me
I want to forget where I begin

Grab my face
Bite my skin
Make me beg
To get in

Bind my wrist
Take my heart
Tear my soul
All apart

Take this life from me
Make me born again
I want you to blur me
I want to forget where I begin

I want to live in you
I want to leave this world behind
I want to let you know
The darkest corners of my mind

Lay down now
It’s my turn
You don’t know
You will learn

Take this life from you
Make you born again
I want to blur you
Make you forget where you begin

Take this life from me
Make me born again
I want you to blur me
I want to forget where I begin

©Joshua Wrenn, 2017

Sexually Active

Hello dear reader(s)!

Hello family!  If you are family (blood family), you may want to stop reading here.  Why?  Because I am going to be talking about sex.  And unfortunately, that means you will be having knowledge about the sex life of someone in your family and nobody wants that.  I don’t want to know what gets you off, and I can’t imagine you want to know what does for me, so you might want to go away now.  I love you, though.  This post just isn’t for you.

Okay, are they gone?  Good!  Let’s get dirty!

Also, if you are under 18 or 21 depending on your locality, you should probably go away.  Not that I am going to get crazy explicit, (the dirty thing was mostly a joke), but I have to cover my ass.  So don’t tell anyone that I didn’t tell you not to read further when you get caught.  

Okay, are they gone too?  Good!  Let’s get nasty!

Okay, not really.  I don’t want to make this a porn blog-type-thing (yet) because then I would have to charge and that means building a pay-wall, and having to report income generated, and that would be working, and would require actual work to be put into it which I am still pretty unable to do given the frequency of bad days still from all the cancer treatment damage.  Besides, my man-boobs are not quite supple enough to grace the internet yet.  However, since sex acts and lots of them are a few of my favorite things (way better than raindrops on roses), and I hate censoring, I do want to write about it.

Also, on a societal level, I think our failure to talk openly about sex leads to a lot of problems.  So are you ready?  Good!  Let’s get sexy!

23 years ago yesterday, I lost my virginity.  (Yes, I remember the date.)  I am one of the few people I know who does not regret my first time, and knows that the woman I was with doesn’t either.  Pretty cool stuff.  Of course, the sex wasn’t all that great, but it was special and I loved it.  And as time went along, I learned to do it better.  And then I loved it more.  The more sex I have, the more I want.  I am a greedy slut.

I noticed I have recently been followed by a few blogs that exist solely for kinky reasons.  And that’s awesome!  I am all for people expressing the many, many ways sex can be and how as long as it is between consenting adults, we shouldn’t judge.  I understand why they have followed.  I occasionally mention consensual non-consent and vague BDSM and D/s type themes.  I am sex-positive and have no issues with saying so.  The only worry I have, is that they will get bored.  I am not in any 24/7 lifestyle, and rarely go explicit, even in fiction.

Not that there is anything wrong with doing so.  In fact, if someone’s words can help someone find something within themselves to make their sex lives more enjoyable?  Describe your fucking in as much detail as you can.  As well, because of the old Puritanical influence that causes many people to lie about sex and what they like, it is good to occasionally throw your sex in somebody’s face to prevent someone from being marginalized because they buy a riding crop and nipple clamps.

I’m pretty kinky.  I have always felt that if someone likes what you are doing, or what they are doing to you, and you and your partner(s) are happy with it, then you should do what makes you happy.  There are things I like that some people don’t, and things some like that I wouldn’t ever want to try, but as long as it is between consenting adults, none of us should ever feel ashamed for it.  And none of us should ever have what we like legislated against us either.

If in 23 years my sex consisted solely of missionary, I would fucking hate sex.  And I don’t want to hate sex.  Sex is better (for me) than pretty much anything else with the exception of love.  Sex should be fun.  So why should I feel bad for having fun with sex?  When that not-so-discreet discreet package shows up at my door, why should I be ashamed?

Just the same as if sex isn’t fun for you.  Why should you feel bad for not wanting it?

Do I care that you can only get off if someone spreads butter on you and calls you their little butterball?  Nope.  Am I going to make fun of you because you have a thing for being whipped with banana peels?  Nope.  I might not want to play with you that way, but there is no judgment for you.  But if you force yourself on someone (for real) or try something with a life unable to consent, you are a piece of shit and should probably kill yourself.  Take one for the team.

In my fiction, I tend to write about women who are the aggressors.  If you are reading in and think this means I like to be dominated, well, you are half-right.  I like playing all the ways but dominant women are a little more rare and therefore more fun to write about.  Sometimes I don’t like to play at all.  Sometimes, I just want to make love to someone.  The point here, is to quit reading in.  I do enjoy sex.  I do like to play, but because I write about something, does not make it real.

I like to write.  I like to fuck.  Occasionally the two will collide.  23 years of activity and counting, and I simply do not give a shit if anyone has a problem with that.

For featured image see page for author [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Sexy Consent

Hello dear reader(s)!

If you are a regular reader of this here blog-type-thing, you probably have guessed that I think sex is pretty cool.  And by pretty cool, I of course mean that I love it like I love air.  I’ve mentioned before how sex is better with love than without.  But do you know what is even better than that?  Sex, in love, given freely and enthusiastically.

Have you ever been on the receiving end of less than enthusiastic sex?

What about sex where you are practically consumed by the lust of your partner(s)?

Which did you like better?

I’ll take getting consumed by lust everytime, thank you.

I’ve been guilty of giving less than enthusiastic sex.  And I have been on the receiving end of it too.  It sucks, in my humble opinion.  I was married twice.  You all know about Hannah.  But I don’t talk much about my first wife.  I have mentioned her, but I didn’t go into detail and won’t use her name.  I will not trash her on this blog-type-thing, no matter how things turned out.  But the one thing that I can say, is that more than once we both had sex with each other out of nothing more than feeling obligated because the other person wanted it and we were married.

And after the divorce, I swore I would never do that again.  With Hannah, we actually talked about it, early on in our relationship.  We were on the same page.  So if something was wrong, or one of us simply wasn’t in the mood, we agreed we would go without.  Sometimes we would take matters into our own hands, sometimes we would just allow the frustration to make the next experience a little more vigorous.  What we would never do, is pout, or get angry, or blame each other on the surprisingly rare days (given my cancer treatment) that sex just wasn’t in the cards.  And not having those hurt feelings, those feelings of coercion?  Well, that just led to more desire for sex.

Because if I can’t have sex with you, or don’t want to for whatever reason, and you pout about it or attempt to make me feel bad, guess what that does to my desire for you the next time?

Consent doesn’t end because you are in a relationship.  It doesn’t end at marriage.  Your vows do not include marital rape and if they do, your vows are fucked up.

Now this doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to express a little disappointment in wanting to have sex with your love and it not being in the cards.  But you really shouldn’t make the other person feel guilty about it if you want sex with that person again any time soon.  There are ways to show that you wish you were having sex with that person without making them feel bad about that person not being up for it that particular time.  With Hannah, on the very rare times I was up for it and she was not, I would say something like, “Damn.  You’re just so sexy.  When you’re up for it next time?  Look out!”  And then I’d move on with life.

That’s just an example, and of course you should not use it word for word, but it actually accomplished three things.  The first, is that it let her know I found her incredibly desirable.  The second, is that it let her know that my desire for her was not tempered by the fact she wasn’t up for it that particular time for whatever reason.  And the third, is that it set up asking permission to ravish her the next time she was down, and let her know that I was waiting until she let me know she was down and gave me consent.

Consent doesn’t have to be boring with “May I” and “Please?”  Sometimes that fits, like after a particularly sweet moment where affection rules out over the lustful feelings.  But for those lustful times?  Consent doesn’t have to ruin anything.  You can obtain consent without slowing desire.

“I’m about to ____ you right in your ____ until you can’t see straight!” is getting consent.  It gives your partner the opportunity to say, “No, you are fucking not!”  Or preferably, “Ooooooh!”

“I can’t wait to kiss those sexy lips of yours!”

“I can’t wait to kiss that beautiful _____ of yours!”

Of course, this isn’t a good way of obtaining consent from the person you just met at the grocery store.  You actually have to use this thing called “good judgment” to figure out when that is appropriate.  You do not want to pick up on that cute bank teller by telling her all the dirty things you are going to do to her.  Trust me on this one.  Security just doesn’t get that you are simply trying to obtain consent.  (If you don’t know that is a joke, you should stop reading this because you obviously can’t understand everything else I have been saying.)

What gets lost on so many people, is that getting consent is a simple exercise in common sense.  If someone wants you, they are going to make it better for you when they let you have them.  Even in cases of consensual non-consent, with all the acting and the pretending, there is still that moment where you realize the greatest thing about it all is that they completely gave themselves to you.  Gave.  Consented.  They allowed you to take them.  (Not that I have any experience with that, or anything.)  Regardless of whatever non-consent fantasy you are acting out, real rapists do not get that satisfaction.

The bottom line is that consent is fucking sexy.  It leads to more sex.  Coercion is not sexy, and is also very wrong.

This post has been brought to you by the letters B,D,S,and M, and the number 69.

When You Are Mine

When I say I want you
I am asking permission

When I tell you to kiss me
I am showing your choice

When you tell me No
I respect your decision

When still you move in
You’re using your voice

When I hold you to me
I do not restrain you

When I restrain you
It is for your thrill

When I call you Good Girl
It is not to train you

When you are a good girl
You do what you will

When you turn me down
I never get mad

When you need the safe word
There is no shame

When you want to cuddle
I am just as glad

When you are happy
I feel it the same

When I grab at you
And tell you you’re mine

When I make you beg
As I kneel above

When I say you’re mine
I don’t mean a possession

When I say you’re mine
I mean you’re my love

Featured Image By Yoninah – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10216975

Heat Beating

Hello dear reader(s)!

You’re welcome.  If you live in my tone zone, or the ones around it, it is currently Friday.  I have decreed it so, and the universe has acquiesced to my will.  You may praise my name if you so desire and wish for your lands and family to be protected from my wrath.

However, it seems the universe has demanded something in exchange for me generously bestowing you all with the day of Fri.  It seems that the price people must pay is unusual heat or “RECORD-BREAKING HEAT” (Panic for ratings!!!!!!) for my area.  Now, the heat actually isn’t that hot.  In fact, I just got back from a place that made this heat look like, well, less hot than there.  But there is one major difference.  Where it was hotter, those people were intelligent enough to have these magical devices known as air conditioners.  Here, well, not so much.

As such, because I am a kind and loving Josh, I have decided to share with you, my dear reader(s), my tips on beating the shit out of the heat without conditioning the air despite the fact that not using conditioner can cause the air to have a dull and lifeless appearance, along with more fly aways.  So, without further delay with the exception of the delay it takes me to let you know that I will not delay these tips further along with the introduction of said tips and some language designed to build anticipation and get you kind of annoyed so you will just wonder why I don’t just get on with them already, for your entertainment, education, and enlightenment…I present to you…my tips for beating the heat without air conditioning!!!!  (Hold for applause.)

  1. Be naked.  Inside.  Be naked inside.  Clothes prevent proper air circulation over your sweat glands, thus blocking your body’s natural ability to cool itself.  Besides, you just look better naked.  Not you.  You.  That’s right.  Ahhhh yeah.
  2. Beat the heat, not your meat.  All this nakedness can lead to sexy feelings.  But actual sex generates heat if you do it even close to right.  Masturbation also takes a bit of effort.  Fortunately, you do not have to suffer these sexy feelings without release.  Try oral, or at least try to do it in the shower.  I’m thinking both.  That’s right.  Ahhhh yeah.
  3. Use a fan to help circulate the air.  The air will be warm, but it will still be better than no moving of the air at all.  Especially with sweat, the air will help it to evaporate, producing a cooling effect much like an air conditioner would do.  I suggest using steps 1-3 in combination.  Ahhhh yeah.
  4. Try a wet t-shit.  I know this flies in the face of tip #1, but you can still be half-naked, and the fan hitting the water of the wet t-shirt will help to produce the evaporative cooling effect much more efficiently than sweat alone.  Maybe you could make it a white t-shirt, so that when it is wet it becomes see-through.  You can do this still while adding steps 1-3.  At least half of step #1.  Ahhhh yeah.
  5. Put ice packs behind your neck.  Lie down with an ice pack behind your neck.  You could do this while engaging in steps 1-4, although maybe not in the shower, until it is your turn to reciprocate.  Ahhhh yeah.
  6. Hydrate.  This step is critical.  Take breaks from the oral to take in fluids other than those of your partner.  Ahhhh yeah.
  7. Turn off lights and other appliances.  These things generate heat and can distract you from enjoying the previous steps.  Let your hands/mouth do the seeing.  Ahhhh yeah.
  8. Close your blinds and drapes.  You do not want your neighbors to see you engaging in your heat beating.  Unless you do, in which case ask them over.  Ahhhh whatever floats your boat.
  9. Close doors to the rooms you will not be using.  This will help prevent the cooler air from being dissipated to the areas of the house you don’t need to go in.  Like the rooms that are not the bedroom or shower.  Ahhhh yeah.
  10. Turn on your bathroom and oven exhaust fans.  This will help to pull out the hot air from your house and add to the circulation of your regular fan.  Additionally, it will help mask the noise you will be making from the other steps.  Ahhhh yeah.

BONUS TIP Get your sheets wet.  Not that you will have a choice if you follow the rest of these tips.  Ahhhh yeah.

These tips should help keep you nice and cool in the heat without sacrificing your happiness.  So, what do you say?  Wanna come over and cool off?

Do you have any tips to beat the living fuck out of the heat that you would like to add?  Feel free to add to this list in the comments.  Just the tip, though.

The Gay Kid Who Wasn’t

Hello dear reader(s)!

Since the shooting at Pulse in Orlando, my Facebook has been pretty much a non-stop series of status updates by yours truly about my thoughts, fears, shock, sadness, and anger about every aspect of this hateful attack.  I’m sure some of my friends are shocked by how affected by it I am.  Most have been very respectful.

However, some well-meaning people are posting some things that leave me cold.  Specifically, they are posting that talking about the gun control side of the debate invalidates the hate towards LGBTQ people in this society.  I don’t think discussing immediate concerns about how to possibly mitigate the attacks that do happen by limiting the deadliness available to those who will attack takes away from the fact that we all need to be working toward a society where people are not attacked for not fitting what someone else thinks is right.  This to me would be the equivalent of saying it is not okay to talk about seat belts as long as people are still getting in car accidents.

You may disagree with that, and you have that right, but you do not have the right to attempt to prevent me from speaking on it.

But there is something even worse to me that I have encountered.  I know it is from people who mean well, but the effects it has on me are anything but good.  Some people have adopted the positions of some of the self-appointed LGBTQ “community” spokespeople that at its base point essentially asks who the hell I think I am as a straight person who considers myself an ally to speak about it at all, instead of just listening to those in the “community”.  This assumes two very incorrect things.  The first, is that there exists one homogeneous group of people in a community that includes everyone that is not all the way to the spectrum of the most masculine male and the most feminine female as defined by society.  The second issue is that these people assume that because I am straight I do not identify with and have no knowledge of the struggle of anyone in this “community”.

When I was growing up, it was in a pretty redneck town.  Ask me why I hate Reno.  Ask me why I hated it so much I had a blog called “Reno Failure” before this one until I got tired of bitching about that place all the time.  Ask me why I kept that as my user name for quite a while.  There was no gay community.  Not for a long time.  The one or two kids in high school (who were my friends) that were brave enough to be out were hunted.  Hunted.  That meant there were plenty of closeted gays.  And to the hyper-masculine, redneck dipshits, anyone who was different or not as masculine as them was gay.  If you think I don’t know what it is like to be the victim of male hate violence, you don’t know my story.  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t gay, to them I was.  I didn’t always talk about it, and still don’t, but I know what it is like to be at the bottom of a pile-on of hateful bullies calling you a “fag” as they’re throwing punches.  I know what it is like to worry about hanging out with just one of my other guy friends too much to avoid the attacks or names from their assumptions that was quite frankly none of their fucking business anyway.  I know what it is like to be harassed over and over again just for going to my drama class.

I know what it is like to have to develop a false persona to avoid the violence.  To take an interest in football so you can be as manly as your brother and cousin who were adored for their athletic ability.  I eventually learned to like football, but did not when I was a kid.  Playing was an act of attempting to be loved.  You could say the same things about working with my hands or trying to build up muscle.  All things I enjoy a little now, but at the time I did not have those interests it was a matter of trying to be loved and also a matter of self-preservation.

I deliberately suppressed emotion and my interest in art and literature.  I wouldn’t play D&D or with computers because those kids got beat up.  I had to pretend I was less interested in learning than I was.

There was no internet.  No Tumblr.  The people around me believed gays went to San Francisco when they grew up to live in a modern day Gomorrah.  Bisexual people didn’t exist and were just obviously confused or gay who hadn’t fully accepted it yet.  Transexual people were mentally ill and to be made fun of.  They were trannies.  Forget terms like pansexual and gender-fluid.  There may have been many of those people around me, but if the terms existed, those terms sure as hell didn’t exist around me.

I went to Pride for the first time with my first wife in 2005 after we moved to Seattle.  It was the last year the parade was exclusively on Capitol Hill.  I didn’t just go as an ally, I went for me.  I felt at home there.  People who were unashamed to be themselves, and love however they chose.  I envied their bravery.  We spent a long time there, and had fun.  We would have gone to one of the gay bars after, but my wife was tired.  So when a gay bar gets shot up during that city’s Pride week, please don’t presume to tell me how this isn’t personal to me.  And it gets even more personal to me than even being the kid who was picked on by those who thought I was gay, and that I could have just as easily been there as anyone speaking from the internet on behalf of some imagined “community”.  It gets more personal because even though I have always been straight in practice, I suspect that is more due to my fear of male sexuality for reasons I will not even get into than for strict preference alone.  I feel attraction to people, not parts.  I have always felt safer with women and so the attraction has been deeper and is therefore the only attractions I have felt strong enough to act on, but I’d probably be pansexual if someone was ever able to make me feel safe enough to deepen that attraction who wasn’t a woman.  Sorry everyone I know, it is what it is.

So as you’re railing about how awful it is to be targeted because you do not fit a certain notion society has of who you are, please make sure you are not excluding those affected using the same prejudicial notions.

Featured Image By Ludovic Bertron from New York City, Usa [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons