Episode 28: We Can Change the World

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

First an improv by Rob about how "She's the Guy," a candid exploration of role reversal in relationships, covering everything from penetration to paying for a date.

Then a bilingual piece "Hey Women We Can Change the World" first read in English then sung in Spanish by Elizabeth. When she says that women can change the world by opening their legs, nothing is lost in translation.

Join Alutha as he journeys into the 'Desert' of his relationship and forgets for a moment how to build his wall and become permeable.

Lauren treats us to a song inspired by the one taste community called 'the games I play'. Feel her vunerability and honesty as she playfully and melodically describes the games she plays in relationships.

Transcript

Marcie Prohofsky: Welcome to A Taste of Sex: Erotic Poetry Reading. My name is Marcie Prohofsky. Today’s show was recorded live at One Taste in San Francisco. You’ll be hearing pros and poetry from people who are totally willing to share their intimate experiences with you. Anticipate turn on and even inspiration. Here’s a taste of today’s show:

Jessica: She strokes me from my fingers to my heart and around my head and my body and the energy swirls and whirls and overtakes me nearly knocking me over. I am afraid, I am lost in her and I am afraid. I remove her clothing. I am blind, she can see. I can’t see the contours of her body. I’ve been imagining them for the whole day and now she’s before me unclothed and I can see her only with my hands.

Marcie Prohofsky: This is Park with Cupcake Fudge.

Park: Hello. So visualize a woman in a kitchen with her lover. “Cupcake, fudge, toffee stuff, smudge of chocolate whipped to sludge cooled fast enough to nudge a frost of sugar crystals, icing crusts, top cracks, whiffs of yum, hungers forged, tongue in lust, please to gorge, lick, luscious, viscus, glazes, must. Eyes bulge, refulgent candied glistenings coat pan, smells swilled, impaled fingers, hand to mouth, mouthing mm’s. Mock moans make madcap giggles, groans. You reach to disentangle mess that well might mangle my mascara or my tresses in mingle but bungle. Bumpy caresses, my cheek tingle. My fudge frosted fingers find your mouth where they linger, in vaguely soft entry, your eyelids now sinking. Your eyes try to drink me. My eyelashes flicker, pharamones thicker, then tumblers click and lust the lock picker opens us both, rides us harder, and ardor, the world herder, drives us even farther. You blush, brush my breasts, look so bothered. I’ve long since surrendered, completely unguarded. Guide your hands to my belt, want my clothes so discarded, top cracks, whiffs of yum, hungers forged, tongue in lust, pleased to gorge, lick, luscious, viscus, glazes, lust, eyes bulge, refulgent candied glistenings coat pan, smells swilled, impales fingers, hand to mouth, mouthing mm’s. Moans mock all else.

Marcie Prohofsky: Alright, Stephanie. Ready mama mia? Okay. This is I Am a Lover and Eroticise Me From A to Z or A to 7? A to Z? A to Z, alright.

Stephanie: I do not like relationships, the kind where lovers become obsessive, irritate me, become possessive. They think they own me, want to monopolize my time. Can’t let me be free to experience sexually. I am a free spirit. No agenda from exclusivity, I’m exploring my sexuality, I have let go of my virginity, opening up energetic pathways for connection and perfection in the art of making love. I am a lover undercover, looking to discover your wishes and desires in between the sheets. I want to watch how your body moves to sultry beats. I want to move with you and feel the heat between our skin. Let go and let the passion begin. I am a lover. I am honest about my desires. I will not lie to you, nor will I try to deny the chemistry between you and me. Watch out for my charisma, it might entice you into a manage a tres. I like to please and tease, I like to caress and assess the curves of the female body. I am a lover of women. I like the soft kisses and nibbles on my neck, I like the sensation of the palm and fingertips caressing me from head to toe. Let our breath become a synchronous flow, we are one. But girl lets still have fun, tie me up, take control, be aggressive and expressive. I want to feel my body gripped in your hand, demand me, command me, expand my sexual horizons. Teach me your tricks and licks. I want this to be an unforgettable experience. I don’t forget my lovers, I don’t forget their touch, their embrace, their kiss. You see I want those memories in which to reminisce. I am a lover who has not stopped loving. I am an open ear to hear your feelings. I am a gentle soul and through my hands I will bring you not only pleasure, but healing. I am a lover. I am love. Love will heal and reveal the stupid ideal you conceal yourself in. Love is the real deal. I am not out to fuck you and the next day pretend I don’t know you. I want to know everything about you. I want to know how your mind works, I want to know all your silly quirks. That way I can appreciate all of your beauty. My love is unconditional, non traditional and my generosity has no end. I am here to extend and defend my love. It is sexually expressive, intellectually progressive, neither oppressive or obsessive, but definitely impressive. Please don’t attach to me just ‘cause you are a match for me. I love equally and for that I will not feel guilty. Here’s your non-poem poem. And it’s Eroticise Me From A to Z, so lets work our way through the alphabet. Analyze me, anticipate me, awaken me, adore me, admire me. Breathe me, bathe me, blindfold me, then bite me, bend me and bang me. Captivate me, charm me, console me, caress me, cuddle me all night. Desire me, date me, dream of me, dominate me and demand me. Experience me fully, explore me, enter me, eat me and enjoy it. Foreplay, feed me, finger me, feel me, fuck me all night. Grab me, grip me, grope me. Hug me, hold me, hump me, heal me. Intrigue me, impress me, imagine me, ice me up. Jiggle me, jerk me and juice me down. Kiss me, lets get kinky. Learn me, love me, lust me, lather me up with lubrication. Memorize me, master me, massage me and mind fuck me. Nudge a little, nibble a lot. Observe me, oil me up for an orgy and an orgasm. Play with me, pluck me, pinch me, please me, pet me and pull my hair. Lets have a quicky. Receive me, rub me, ride me. Seduce me, then smooch me, stroke me, spank me, saddle me and lets screw our brains out. Tie me up, touch me, tease me, tickle me and tell me your dirty little secrets. Uncover me, unzip me, undress me. Be vulnerable and versatile. Whisper in my ear that you want to whip me, wrestle me and watch me work it. Examine me and yank me into sexual zyong.

Marcie Prohofsky: Oh Jessica, with no last name. Ready? Okay. Alright, this is a piece called The Woman On The Train. Ooh. It’s been a while since you’ve been here on this stage. Everybody please put your seatbelts on. Alright, the train is about to move.

Jessica: This may be one of my more innocent pieces. I have this tendency to feel turned on by people on Bart. I’ll see them and I’ll flash in my head to making out with them. Or I’ll just feel the pull and energy of it without acting on anything. So yesterday I was going to tell two people on Bart that I was attracted to them. Was going to being the significant part. I didn’t, I was scared. Suddenly it was a stupid exercise. I saw a woman I was attracted to. She was tall, dark, long hair that was straight with little bangs brushed to the side, a wide silver band on her middle finger of her right hand. But I didn’t say anything. I failed my exercise. Today I went to the train station and she was there, standing against a pole at Civic Center Station. Shit! She got on the Bay Point train and I followed her onto the same car, sat in the seat diagonal from her. She was reading The Chronicle. The person sitting next to her got off the train at Embarkadaro, so I changed seats so that I was sitting next to her. I could see her orange Gortext jacket in my peripheral vision. She turned the pages of her paper as we rushed under the bay. My insides were swirling, waves of nausea, my heart racing. I’m too chicken, I just can’t do it, I might throw up, this is too much. The train arrives at 12th Street station and I get up to go. She folds her paper. This is her stop too. Shit! I have to say something to her. This is embarrassing. She’s behind me as I walk out of the train. Her foot catches my heel. My stomach lurches. She apologizes, I smile with a little laugh, “Um, can I tell you something?” My stomach is a tight twisted ball of fear, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, there’s not turning back now.” I can barely look at her. “I just, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re really hot.” She turns eight shades of red and smiles nervously. “I was just sitting on the bard and I just wanted to tell you.” My heart beats so hard and so loud I’m sure she can hear it. Pressure in my chest, my vision is slightly blurred. Shit! Tightness, fear. She laughs and smiles, surprised, nervous, thanks me, “Oh, that’s so flattering. Oh my god, you just made my day.” I run away, turning very quickly up the stairs, getting away quickly, and I turn the corner to the top of the stairs and she’s walking out of the station. I am high as a kite, my insides alive and buzzing and giggling and terrified, watching her walk from the gate to the stairs. And then I stop, I think to myself shit, if she gets on and off at the same stations I do and we were in the same car two days in a row, I will probably see her again. Shit! Will I talk to her? I am smiling. I am turned on. I did it. She feeds me raw, flavorful, wholesome, delicious food. Blindfolded, I don’t need to hide from her gaze. There’s no looking away because there is not sight. Her hands softly stroke my arm and my leg. “Do you trust me to do something different?” “Yes.” Her tongue grazes across my lips. I’m surprised, I’m not supposed to kiss her. She stole a little kiss while I was in darkness, did I break the rule? I didn’t mean to. I want juice. “Do you trust me to do something different?” “Yes.” And she takes the juice into her mouth and kisses it into mine, the cool sweet liquid pouring into my mouth and down my throat. My skin heats up under the coolness of her fingers delicate and soft. Her caress frightens me. The purity of her intent, the refined energy that loops between us. I’m in rapture, frightened, alive, blind. Standing in front of her I ask if she will take me on a journey. She says yes. She peels the clothing from my body one piece at a time, the hot air around me in the cold night. She strokes me from my fingers to my heart and around my head and my body and the energy swirls and whirls and overtakes me nearly knocking me over. I am afraid, I am lost in her and I am afraid. I remove her clothing. I am blind, she can see. I can’t see the contours of her body, I’ve been imagining them for the whole day and now she’s before me unclothed and I can see her only with my hands. Her breasts are perfect and heavy under my touch. I want her. She leads me over to the pillows and we lay down, her skin glides across my body, her breasts grazing me and filling me. Shivers run along my spine and around my hips into the tingling lips of my open, wet, breathing pussy. She kisses my pubic bone. Her hand grazes the hair. It never reaches inside. She holds me there and whispers that we will make it last as long as we can. She takes the blindfold off and the intimacy of seeing her, feeling her eyes piercing me is almost unbearable. I am afraid. I wish the blindfold were on. I wish I could be in a fantasy and not feel the intensity of the raw connection that is here. I want to run, I want to hide. She holds me there. She speaks and I can barely hear the words. She tells me her truth and reflects my own. She speaks and my ego dissolves.

Marcie Prohofsky: So we have Fred. Fred, A Match Made in Heaven. Ooh, what’s he got on his shirt this week? Green 960 AM. Is that coordinated with your piece? No. This man has more tee shirts with the words on them than anyone I know. Some of them are very provocative. Alright, Fred.

Fred: This is based on a true story, relatively recent true story. There’ve been some great matches in history: Romeo and Juliet, Brendan and McCartney, peanut butter and jelly, my mouth and your pussy. I know a lot of people probably wouldn’t think this way, but has there ever been a better match than my mouth and your pussy? Isn’t it great how my lips can kiss and caress your lips, how my tongue seems to have been designed with your clit in mind? My mouth brings its own lube, it’s responsive, flexible and tireless. It’s both soft and hard. I can suck you, nibble you, lick you, caress you and kiss you. My tongue can vibrate, flick and flutter. And if I throw in a finger or two, what more could your pussy want? What I really, I really love the warm up dance where I kiss you all over, I tease your pussy, licking lightly up and down your slit, exploring, lubing, massaging, caressing you with my lips, my tongue and my breath. I feel you getting wetter with each stroke and flick of my tongue. I lap up your juices while lubing you with mine. But the part I like the best is when you’re really getting close to coming, where I have to remain connected to you as you go totally out of control. Everything’s a balancing act, constant pressure, but not too much or too little. Consistent strokes, but never boring. Change up at exactly the right time. As I suck your clit into my mouth and nibble on it, I grind my face into you and lick you clit using the different texture of my tongue play you. I finger you just right, bringing your helpless clit to my hungry predatory mouth. You have no escape. Your only way out is to come. You must orgasm. You have no other choice. Orgasm or parish. I feel you start to crest, then I dance with you on your assent. My mouth and your pussy are locked in a pot of dough, everything done both alone and in synchronicity. It’s a dance worthy of Astaire and Rogers as I bring you up and climb with you. I’m both totally in my body and totally in yours. Tongues, fingers, lips, clit, everything in perfect unity as you climb both towards ecstasy and relief. You feel my hands all over you, my mouth all over you, my breath all over you, me all over you. I engulf your pussy with my mouth drawing you into me. As you start to come I push my face deeper into your pussy. I wrestle with you holding your hips to my face as you fein vain attempts to escape. I play with your clit at a 100 percent and make it play back at 100 percent. Just when it seems you’re going to explode, as you start your journey of incredible release and joy, I feel you sputter and spasm wildly with my head locked tightly between your clenching thighs. Your hips buck wildly, but in perfect synchronicization with my mouth as you feel yourself coming again and again. You come for what seems like a blissful eternity, not really sure if that was one long orgasm or lots of short ones. We both start to come down in unison. I slowly ease up in pressure and pace as you do and we both relax. As you lay back basking in the afterglow, I rest my mouth against your pussy, gingerly navigating the areas around your beleaguered clit. A lick here, a kiss or light flick there. Is there one more spasm in you? Yeah, I think there is. When you’ve let out your last shutter, when you’re drained and complete, I start to kiss and lick my way up your beautiful stomach, towards your gorgeous, now glowing face. Just before I start my journey, I stop and kiss you directly on your pussy lips one more time. Only this time I could’ve sworn that you kissed me back.

Marcie Prohofsky: Thank you for listening to A Taste of Sex: Erotic Poetry Reading. For online transcripts of this show go to personallifemedia.com. And for more information about One Taste, including our erotic open mic nights, workshops and other events, check out onetaste.us. Tune in next week for more tastes of erotica. I’m Marcie Prohofsky and thank you again for listening.