Episode 23: Seduction of Words

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Marcie Prohofsky hosts this hot evening of erotica at OneTaste™ Urban Retreat Center, an innovative laboratory researching connection in San Francisco’s South of Market Neighborhood.

Dawns’ seductive choice of words draws you in to listen oh so attentively. “Each time I find you inside, I only desire to be spread open wider, ravaged, devoured by the boundless again.”

Sean reads a letter of sweet sexual nothings to his long distance lover, expressing his over-the-top fantasies. He describes his raw desire for his lover, taking us through the detailed imagery of what he wants to do with her.

Beth reads a poem called ‘Blue Cream’, about a delightful experience with a French woman. She tells us what it is like to explore what a real woman looks and feels like. “No shame, just delicious connection, there is grace in my sex.”

Fred reads “Dear Orgasm.” He speaks with conviction and vehemence to the orgasm requesting that it come out and play the way it truly wants to play without ‘her’ rules.

In “Nightmare,” Armelle talks of her grueling experience waiting long hours into the morning for her lover. She articulates the pain in her body, the roller coaster of emotions, and anticipation of her lover coming home

Bob reads “The Obedience Lesson,” a five-minute experience in a collar where he completely surrenders to the direct and dominant lover whose intention is teach him how to succeed with woman.

It was yet another turned on evening at OneTaste. Join us.

Transcript

Female Announcer:  This program brought to you by personallifemedia.com is suitable for mature audiences only and may contain explicit sexual information.

[music]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Welcome to A Taste of Sex. This is the erotic open mic event and my name is Marcie Prohofsky. Welcome! Welcome to One Taste. This is a whole new format that we have, kind of doing this bistro style. Usually, the stage has been set up on the opposite side of the room so that it feels really great to be here, it’s a whole new world.

We’re entering a whole new phase at One Taste with the new year coming. We’re going to have a new website up and running shortly and our curriculum is being revamped. And so, it’s a really exciting time to have you guys here.

So, it is my birthday and I’m very excited to…

[music]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Yehey! Thank you.

[music]

Woman:  She’s trailing her long, thin fingers along my skin. Dragging, languid, voluptuous strokes… Part of me is frozen, I’m not supposed to be doing this with a woman.

[music]

Marcie Prohofsky:  All right, so we have a lot of amazing Sagittariuses in the house. One is my dear friend Ken and he just had a birthday bash the other night. That night, I heard the most exquisite poem by a woman named Dawn. I’m hoping she’s ready to read her piece…

Dawn:  [takes a deep breathe]  Why am I always surprised anew to find you pouring on me like an understated miracle, a shy autumn dusk, a hushed avalanche of innocent lust as I navigate this ever strange terrain, the dark enchanted labyrinth of my heart...

A passively rapturous hug, a playful conversation, a typical day in the life of embodiment in the ecstatic, sadistic illusion of separation… And then, when I’m alone, basking in the bittersweet, wistful wonderlandish pools of Menus, somehow you are there, an eternal sacred ache sliding in and out of me dangerously.  The devil’s molten breath, perpetual kinky sex, driving me to the edge…

That each time I find you inside, I only desire to be spread open wider… Ravaged… Devoured by the boundless again...       

[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Who feels slightly more alive in this moment? I know I do! So, we’re continuing on with Sean…

Sean:  Good evening! This is a piece that I wrote a year-and-a-half ago and I wrote it to my then partner who is living in New Mexico while I was living here in the Bay. And so, we were left to send sweet nothings like this over email across the miles.

Oh, and I want to dedicate it to the birthday girl…

I like fantasizing about you in the shower. Kissing deeply, your tongue steals into my mouth. Kneading your tits, tweaking your nipples… You stroke my cock gently as it tingles to attention…

You kissed down my chest and take me into your mouth, warm lips around soft dick. You barely breathe through flesh and running water...

Hmmm… You’re so good, you’re so fucking good…

Do you like the way that feels? Do you like to feel my cock in your mouth? Do you want me to fuck you?

You continue to stroke with your hand and his yesssss…

Then suck my cock and get me hard so I can fuck you…

Hands pressed against wet wall, steam and heat cloud vision… You reach back, grab my cock and send shivers when you rub your cunt lips. Then you grind back to me slowly, so slowly…

Every inch entered feels gripped and held... Rotation of hips, push my head against your walls. Extending hand, you grab my ass and pull me deep into you. I hang to hips, gaze your tattooed back and its newfound connection in me.

You like the way that feels? You like the way that my cock feels inside you? Hmmm…

I love it, Sean. Fuck me harder…

You like that? You like it when I fuck you?

I grip hips and pull into you. Sounds of slapping skin smack against bathroom walls…

Fuck me Sean, fuck me so good…

Words meld to moans, moans to screams… We brace bodies then hold.

And there, in that very moment, the everyday spiral of life stops…

Senses met, connection sensed…

[breathes deeply]

Sticky liquid drips as we turn to envelop each other. Fires burn beneath breasts, stoking the common flame that binds us all…

Thank you.

[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Oh, this microphone has a whole new meaning…

[laughter]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Never thought of that before have you? Yes, dedications like that are very welcome here. Very, very welcome… Would you be ready to…    Yeah? I thought you might be. So, this is a piece by Beth called “Blue Cream.”

[clapping]

Beth:  This is dedicated to a beautiful woman from France who I’m so glad is in my life…

She has curves, full breasts, creamy skin, soft, round shoulders… We’re lying in bed naked on soft blue sheets underneath a thick down comforter. It’s playtime…

Time slows down…

She’s trailing her long, thin fingers along my skin. Dragging, languid, voluptuous strokes… Part of me is frozen, I’m not supposed to be doing this with a woman. We’re naked, for God’s sake!

Her breasts roll to the side of her body and touch my arm. The emaciated little waif girl inside of me stares wide-eyed with wonder at what a real woman looks like. She has curves…
Next to her rises a him… I’d almost forgotten about him, underneath her velvet crest. I slide my arm over the side of her body and I reach for him. I feel two different kinds of warmth as my arm passes her and then rests on his broad shoulder.

Their slight surprise as I adjust from touching one body and then the other…

My hand gets curious with his shoulder, my attention hazily drifting from one soft, warm body to the next. We’re in a dreamy wash of blue and cream and there’s the orange red of two strong women tangling and exploring each other’s naked bodies for the pure pleasure of it.

Languid delight…

Then something shifts in the tempo. She locks on to me, grabs my shoulder and pins me onto the bed. His eyes register surprise and I think she beat him to the punch. She digs her nails in and begins to excavate my skin…

Then she stops, inhales and says, “Look at us, just look at that…”

Both brunette heads tilt down. Soft, bare breasts with light pink nipples meeting each other in the light. No shame, just delicious connection. There is grace in my sex…

[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Hmmm… Thank you. Fred, where are you Fred? Oh, there you are! It’s a piece called “Dear Orgasm.”

Fred:  Hey orgasm, I want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to her, I want to talk to you…

She says that you don’t come out and play with people like me, that I’m one of those big, bad men who scare you so much. She says you need protection from people like me. She tells me before you can play with me, that I have to fulfill all of her rules. You know her rules; dinners, romance, commitment, the Disney crap you tolerate as long as you’re getting what you need.

Are you getting what you need? I didn’t think so. You know what I think? I think she is the one who’s afraid and you’re not nearly as fragile as she says you are. I think you can handle me…

And if she drops some of her rules, you come out a whole lot more. Besides, what have her rules done for you? Are you happy? You’re orgasm. You’re a force of nature. You change lives. You cause wars. You change history. You are history.
Now, you’re tentative, self-conscious, elusive, apologetic… That’s not the old orgasm I recall. You were always in my face!

[laughter]
 
Fred:  You were always exactly who you were. Now, I barely recognize you. You’re orgasm, the driver of life and you’re asking for permission. Please, can I come out and play? That’s not you, you don’t ask. You tell! At least you used too…

She says you like candles, picket fences and men will be wonderful Little League coaches. And if she just says it often enough, one day it will make you hot and one day it will make you come. I know better. I know you…

You’re not about rules, you’re not about picket fences. You’re about play and you’re about intensity. You asked for a locker room gangbang and she gives you flowery meadows and soft focus…

[laughter]

Fred:  You asked to be spanked and she offers caresses. You demand lust and she brings you lukewarm lovers you wouldn’t fuck in a million years if it weren’t for her rules. You demand testosterone and she brings you estrogen.

[laughter]

Fred:  You want dick and she brings you a vibrator. Oh, it’s not her fault. It’s the good girl thing. That’s all in the manual. But I know you, I’ve touched you, I’ve freed you… I’ve kissed you, I’ve teased you, I’ve caressed you… I’ve bullied you, I’ve felt you, I’ve tasted you, I’ve challenged you, I’ve wrestled with you…
I’ve released you, I’ve shocked you…

I’ve called you every name in the book and I’ve fucked you every way you can be fucked. I’ve played you every way you can be played and I’ve been played by you every way I can be played.

You’re not fragile, you don’t break. You don’t fear, you embrace. You don’t demand protection, you crave experience. You don’t run away, you run toward. You don’t need to be rescued from danger, you need to be rescued from rules.

So just, this one night, come and play with me without her rules.

Thank you.

[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  Woo hoo! A wild land of woman’s orgasm… Rrrrrrraaaahhhhrrr! Rrrrrraaaahhhhrrrr!!! Just like a lion in the grass! Okay, all right! So, moving on…

[laughter]

Marcie Prohofsky:  So, we’re going to take a break and we’ll see you back in 10 minutes.

[commercial break]

Marcie Prohofsky:  So, we’re resuming here. This is A Taste of Sex. My name is Marcie Prohofsky. Thank you for being here. You can listen to this show, it’s recorded and made into a podcast that’s available on iTunes or also at the website personallifemedia.com. Personal Life Media co-produced this event with us. So please check out this show as well as other amazing programs that we’ve had in the past.

All right, Armelle… Hmmm… This beautiful woman is going to be leaving us to go back to Europe in a few days. Waaahhhh! Everybody, together… Waaahhhhh! But you know what? She’ll be back. I know it. All right? Take it away!

Armelle:  So this piece is called “Nightmare.”

She is late. I get up, get a glass of water, looked at the glowing numbers on the alarm clock once more. It’s 3:23 a.m.

She told me she would definitely be back after the pub. She didn’t feel like going to the nightclub. Pubs close at 12 a.m. in Ireland, she should have been back two or three hours ago.

I feel restless. A ball of energy is churning in my stomach. I feel nauseous. I go to the bathroom once more. I don’t really feel like going there, but it gives me something to do.

I wander aimlessly in the apartment into the kitchen, opening the curtains to see if I can see any car light approaching, opening the door to check if there is any engine sound nearby. But no, I can only hear the gentle sound of the wind in the trees and the background surf of the sea.

A spasm in my stomach, I think I’m going to get sick. I close the door, run to the bathroom, kneel beside the toilet bowl and instead of throwing up, start wailing…

Waves of tears come up, my throat is so tight. Every sound I manage to utter seems to squeak out of me.
I stay there; kneeling, crying into the toilet bowl. My chest is contracting as if it was trained to give birth to some kind of old, painful and encrusted secret.

After a while, I collapse on the cold bathroom tiles. I feel exhausted. My stomach hurts as if it had been punched. It takes me a lot of time and effort to finally drag myself onto the bed. I can hardly breathe.

And suddenly, here she is. Standing in the doorway, she is staggering a bit. Her eyes are half closed behind her glasses. A dreamy smile on her lips tells me she’s been drinking. She looks content and oblivious to the energy I have been filling the room with all night.

It is 6 a.m.

I don’t even have time to feel the relief of seeing her before a surge of heat comes up on my stomach. The sensation is sharp and takes my breath away for a few seconds.

I can hear myself shouting abuse at her. I feel strangely disconnected and at the same time, painfully present. My whole body is hurting. I want that pain to go away. I want her to feel it, I want to punish her.

My conscious mind wants to talk it through with her. I asked, “Why do you keep doing this when you know it hurts me so much?” “Because I know you’ll always be there when I come back.”

The answer is blunt from alcohol-induced honesty. And I stay alone with it, lost in my tears and pain while she falls asleep peacefully next to me.

Thank you.
   
[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  All right, so in the vein of pain, Bob is going to read a piece on disobedience. Right? Something like that. Bob! “The Obedience Lesson.”

Bob:  So, this is dedicated to Harmony. Or, as I’m learning to call her, “Harm.”

[laughter]

Bob:  I knelt down and crawled towards her. Not sexy or playful, just matter of fact. This was to be my first collaring, just a five minute exercise in a weekend workshop. But my heart was beginning to race.

She is tall. And even though she was sitting on a couch, she was imposing from this angle. I felt a firmness and solidity in her that I often sense but rarely get to see.

She pulled my chin up to look at her and told me what she was going to do. “This collar is for you,” she said. “And while you wear it, you will do whatever I ask.”

Her tone was soft, like she was talking to a child. And as she said the words, something inside of me unwound and relaxed. The firmness I liked. I was going to be told how to succeed with her.

All I had to do was follow instructions and I’d make a woman happy. This was something new.

[laughter]

Bob:  It began to feel surreal. I hadn’t thought of it like this before. I’d thought about whips and chains and “Oh mistress, please, no, not another!”

[laughter]

Bob:  But I never thought of direct instructions on obedience. In fact, I’m not sure the idea of willingly obeying a woman had ever really occurred to me before.

[laughter]

Bob:  Oh, I’d tried but I’d always buck to women’s power over me; their ability to withhold sex or approval or love or affection or laundry.

[laughter]

Bob:  But this was something new. I would willingly surrender my power to her for five minutes and something inside of me said a tired “Yes, thank God.”

At the next thing she said, I tightened slightly and suddenly like the involuntary clamping of a sphincter. “And while you wear this collar, you will answer truthfully any question I ask.”

Holy fuck! Surrender and truth, I am so screwed.

[laughter]

Bob:  She asked me to signify my acceptance of her terms by kissing the collar, which I did slowly and reverently. She then placed it on my neck and as the leather tightened, I felt the internal unwinding again.

I was to be hers, I was to know my place. For five minutes, I would know exactly how to succeed with a woman.

She stood up and led my by a leash, crawling beside her. She asked in the same gentle, direct tone that I keep my left hand next to her right foot as we walked around the room. The danger of her foot so close to my hand bred fear at first, but then trust as we got into the rhythm.  

We walked into the next room and she sat in a chair. My head bowed, she told me I’d been good. And I relaxed again inside, my mind unwinding something old and sweet and tender.

She asked me to stand and show her my cock. I stood, undid my pants and let them drop. She held it in her hands and told me how nice it was. And something rose up inside me that felt like a third grader with a gold star on his paper.

[laughter]

Bob:  The rest is now something of a blur. I remember sitting and being asked to share a secret with her. I remember being held, I remember being released. And I remember not wanting to be let go.

Thank you.

[clapping]

Marcie Prohofsky:  So, you’ve had a full experience, huh? Now you believe we don’t just write it, we live it. I want to thank you for tuning in. This radio show has been brought to you by One Taste urban retreat center in San Francisco and Personal Life Media.

To contact us, please send us an email at [email protected]. You can also find out more information by going to personallifemedia.com or check us out at onetastesf.com.

Thanks so much, thanks for staying tuned in and thanks, most of all, for staying turned on…

[music]

Announcer:  Find more great shows like this on personallifemedia.com.