Episode 33: Reflections

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Join Marcie Prohofsky as she hosts a night of sensual storytelling in this episode of erotic Open Mic, recorded live at San Francisco's OneTaste. On this night, the players take the stage to share their intimate reflections on life, love, and of course, sex.

Judy's piece takes us on an intimate journey through her thoughts and emotions as she contemplates love and life while 'Running on the beach'. Feel her connection to nature and herself as she contemplates the world around and within her.

Patrick's piece 'Adora La Ped Feminine', French for worshipping the female foot, is a poem that describes the the best way to make love to a woman's foot. Listen as he keeps perfect rhyme and time while giving a detailed description of a foot fetishist's fantasy.

Ken's 'Birthday sex' is a humorous and passionate description of a sexual encounter on a special day. Listen as we go inside his head to hear what really happened that day.

Tune in to this episode and get a taste of a variety of experiences, from soft reflections, to humorous sensuality, to raw sex. With such a diverse group of storytellers, this show has something for all tastes.

Transcript

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

Marcie Prohofsky: Welcome to A Taste of Sex: Erotic Poetry Reading. My name is Marcie Prohofsky. Today's show is recorded live at OneTaste in San Francisco. You will be hearing prose and poetry from people who are totally willing to share their intimate experiences with you. Anticipate turn on and even inspiration.

Here's at taste from today's show.

Man: I want to pause; let the peak settle. But I am afraid she will get tired and sore. I want to cum. I won't get to cum. I get to selfish. I rush to get there. I focus on me, and I cum. "Did you cum?", she says. "Yes", I say. "Didn't' feel like much", she says. Ouch. I guess I was a little eager for my own peak there. Great feedback on why I always trying to get yours actually leaves you with far less than you anticipate.

Marcie: This is Judy.

Judy: Aprapoe for the hot summer day that it is in San Francisco. This is called "Running at the Beach".

The thoughts cycle round and round about the man who will not surrender to me. And how I feel so sad about the life I used to have. And how I do not miss it. There is a melancholy in reflecting back on what was and about what comes after. After a birthday party for a young woman, I have grown particularly fond of, otherwise I might not go. I am in my world. The one inside my head where I remember where I am. At the beach, running on the sand. I look up and see birds. Twelve or so. Wings stilled, they float in synchrony on a stream of air, rising and falling. And I feel as though I am they so that when they flap their wings once, I feel the push of air and the way it propels them forward.

I look at the ocean and I see it as the Greeks did; as one force. A god with a powerful voice. I hear its rumble in the distance and I listen for the message that is for me. I look at water as it flows in and out, wettening the sand; the waves leave their ocean's mark. And I feel as though I am they. So that when they push upon the sand, I feel the pressure in my own body and the exposure that comes when the flow back to their source.

I look at the bird walking and I have an impulse to pet it's white feathers that lie flat against its side. So that when it cranes its neck forward, I feel as though I am it. I feel the hinge that snaps it back and forth.

Which is life? The wolrd in my head or what I notice outside myself? Inside, I want to solve problems for which I have no answers, only choices that will come as I allow them to arise. My attention outside is helpless, yes, at the mercy at whatever crosses its path. But I like imaging that I can feel inside another creature and know its experience as my own.

I feel not so alone, not so empty, not so torn about the nature of life.

[clapping]

Marcie: Thank you. So this is Patrick. Let's all get up for Patrick.

Patrick: This is another original. The title of this poem is "Adora La Pied Feminin" or, "Worshipping the Feminine Foot".

Pre-requisites: one goddess with feet covered in a hard leather shell. Preferably black and Chanel. One male worshipper. A connoisseur of feet. An aficionado of fellatio who can perform the feet. A throne for the goddess. A seat worth of her status high above the man who were service her feet gratis. Mindfulness like a monk who serves his heavenly master, focus and selflessness are the traits that matter. The point is not to seek self pleasure, but to ensure the worship is one the Goddess will treasure. Be mindful of what you are being called to do. Don't let your mind wonder as you often do. Mediation and visualization for the male worshipper. With eyes closed after three deep breathes, allow your mind to conceive the juiciest, warmest blowjob you wish to receive. Imagine the sensation of her warm mouth on your cock, toes curling and fingers clutching as her tongue rubs that special spot. Listen to your groan as her hands and mouth move up and down. Her eyes locked onto yours as she sucks and licks your crown. You are afraid to go over as the pleasure reaches its top because it feels so damn good you hope it doesn't stop. Imagine giving your goddess that pleasure because doing so will reward you beyond measure. There is much similarity between her foot and a cock; both like attention in the sensitive spots. Treat her foot like the dream you imagined above and your goddess may very well fall in love. Ecstatic foot worship. Proper posture is the key to success so your tongue and mouth have full access. With your hands raising one foot in front of your face, the act of worship begins at a slow pace. Start at the heel with tongue held flat. Move up the sole with lips like a cat. Rub your tongue in the crease of the arch like her fingers would rub after a long march. Moving the tongue up in one long motion, take her toes in your mouth and cause a commotion. Slowly move your head up and down til her foot fills your mouth and ecstasy abounds. This is the point where your hands join the fray, wrapping around her foot as a forming clay. Allow your thumbs to massage inside her foot's edges, and I promise your goddess will be in 7th heaven. While your goddess will not climax to signal and end, she will feel completely relaxed as if it had been. Your tongue and lips may be soft in other places, or she just may want to feel your hands caresses. As the worship comes to its natural close, thank your goddess while in a submissive pose. And if she had deemed that you deserve a reward, congratulate yourself, for you have just scored.

[clapping]

Marcie: Man. You got some rhyming mojo! That's great. I'm actually going to play a little with an improv.

So I took a golf lesson yesterday. My very first golf lesson. And I must say, I really really like it. My body feels so good. Like I can feel every little movement. And when I hit this shot, this shot was so amazing and clean and crisp and it just felt so pure in my body. And I looked at the instructor and his eyes were practically outside of his face. And I don't know if I am on this beginner's luck streak or what, but I feel as if in some ways, all of my training, my dancing, my acting, my orgasmic training here, my yoga; it's all getting put to use to have this incredible lesson unfold about how to focus on one little spot with the real soft intention of wanting the ball to go somewhere, but not getting all uptight if it goes in a different direction. But the fun is feeling the movement and the pleasure in my body as I get into position, my feet on the ground digging in, and then just tracking that spot the whole time as my body starts to move in a different direction. And, you know, years ago, it sort of started when I was doing a lot of yoga. And I met this guy, this total hipster guy, at this party. And he talked about how he was going to be moving to become a golf pro. And I was like, he did not look like a golfer. I mean, no plaid pants, no funky colors. This dude was like cool guy; should have been in a band, like Nine Inch Nails or something like that. But we talked about the meditation of it, of golf. And I totally had this shift and this openness to golf. And I must say, I am so glad I waited til now to actually do it because the sensations I feel in my body because of the orgasmic meditation practice is so, so expanded that when I was watching the US Open the other day, and somebody was putting across the green, and it circled around the cup, I actually felt it in my pussy. Like this little rim around my lavia. And then it went in. Ahhhhhhhhh......Golf is really orgasmic, I realize! So anyhow, I'm going to the golf range, and I'm going to shoot some more strokes.

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Marcie: So we are going to finish the night with a piece by Ken. 43. And this is a lesson from his birthday.

[clapping]

Ken: Very well.

We are taking a nap in separate beds. I forgot, I need to plug in my phone. The battery life seems to be getting shorter. I walk next to the bed we share and plug in my phone. I notice her lying face down, cover to her neck, eyes closed, and a frantic pulsing where her hips are. I feel a little chuckle in my chest. "Is she masturbating?", I think. At that exact moment she opens on eye, looks at me, and smiles with a lopsided grin and says, "I'm playing with energy." I hold back a loud [xx]. She looks so cute. Innocent, but full of womanly sexual power.

I stop trying to figure out why she fascinates me. She just does. I like her face. Her hair. That turned on raw sex that she exudes. The way she pretends not to know how incredibly hot she is. She is Venus in the flesh, pretending to be Cinderella, a totally hot, cock hardening, pussy moistening Cinderella. She's porno Dorothy with her three studs on the yellow brick road fucking and sucking their way to see the wizard, hoping to catch the fuck fest he and the witches have thrown together.

Anyway. I had to let go of any desire for birthday sex. I don't want obligatory sex. I want "give me your cock, lick my pussy good, I'm going to fuck your brains out cause I want you" sex. Up to and including this moment I hadn't mustered up the seductive skill to entice her. Then she says, "I want to have sex. You want to have sex?" The words left her mouth and the honeyed womanly contralt over voice made my cock harden instantly. I could already feel her sweet juicy pussy grabbing my cock. Her gorgeous ass firmly in my hands, the perfectly full round firmness of her breasts in my mouth and hands.

I reply with barely controlled restraint, perhaps a bit to nonchalantly, "Yes. I would like to have some sex." What a dork! The true answer is, "Hell yeah! I want to work yo little pussy and take you on a ride before you go dancin! And I want to feel my thickness slidin in and out of you, feeling the hot flesh of your graspin pussy milkin me!" "Yes, I would like to have sex." Fucking dumbass. What the fuck. Jesus.

I ask her if we can go slow. I want to savor this. I haven't had sex with anyone for a week. People are walking by, but I'm oblivious. The way her hips taper in her waist around curves in all the right places. The smoldering sex imminating from her eyes and thighs. God, she is fun to fuck, just with my eyes! My heart was beating so fast, if I weren't in such good shape I would have passed out.

Does she not know the magnitude of her power? Is she truly owning this moment of complete mastery over me as a man just from her sexual presence? All she would need to do is whisper, "Fuck me good." It would take all of my strength not to melt. Entire masses of men would wilt. Why is she hiding this gift?

She climbs on top of me, I hug her firmly to me, relishing the feeling of this amazing sensual, intelligent, sweet being. Her sexual heat is dynamic and awesome and is not even fully expressed. We rub against each other gently, slowly, deliberately. This is such an unexpected surprise I'm having a hard time taking it in. It's just going to disappear any moment. But no. She stays with me. I lick her pussy. Tangy flesh, dark haired frames the source of my current joy. I want to feel her cum.

Soon she draws me up to face her. I slide my covered shaft slowly inside her. It's so beautiful to feel the muscles of her pussy yield and fight at the same time. Already she is milking my cock. Slowly, rhythmically I can feel her soul. I feel her joy and fear and desire. Her hopes and dreams are an electric bolt in my heart. I see myself in her. I see her in me. What can I give her? In this moment I can give her my pleasure.

Thrusting deeply, slowly, the surge of pleasurable electricity runs along the base, sides, and center of my cock. I don't want to stop fucking her. I want to fuck her into wealth. I want to fuck her into the next big moment in her life. I want to fuck her into loving me with complete abandon. Even if it's just for a moment, I want to fuck her into having everything that I can offer. And then I feel it. The pull deep from the depths of her pussy, her soul even. I feel the call to release my seed into her.

I want to pause; let the peak settle. But I am afraid she will get tired and sore. I want to cum. I won't get to cum. I get to selfish. I rush to get there. I focus on me, and I cum. "Did you cum?", she says. "Yes", I say. "Didn't feel like much", she says. Ouch. I guess I was a little eager for my own peak there. Great feedback on why I always trying to get yours actually leaves you with far less than you anticipated.

I wanted that moment where my orgasm, my going over, is like a match in gasoline. I've had it happen before with this one, and with others. Too contracted and me-centric I missed the mark this time. I could fuck some more but I feel obliged to take the focus off of me and take the opportunity to play. I back away and start over, touching her pussy gently and enjoying the slippery pink lips of her inner labia.

I can feel her peak building. I stay with her. My heart and my cock fully involved, but my fingers are doing the work. I feel like I'm playing a musical instrument; one that sometimes fucks me silly. The sounds come out of her reminding me of a steam organ on the female voice setting. The vibration of her moans resonant deep in my body and tell me where to steer, what buttons to press.

I gently stroke the left side of her clit, savoring the building pleasure between us. Fuck the tin man. I'm iron man. With a juicy fat cock and strong delicate fingers, I will get you off. You belong to me in this moment. And soon she gushes warm wet fluid. Her moans being pulled from deep inside her pussy up through her belly, into her spine, and out of her mouth.

Spent, she collapses a bit. "Ohhhhh.", she exclaims. "I went over!" Ha Ha. Sometimes her innocence shines through and it makes me laugh. I'd like to see it more often. Yeah, that was fun. I definitely want to fuck this hot mama again. I'm going to seduce her next time.

[clapping]

Marcie: That was hot! Thank you. Woooooo. Alright. Going once, going twice, going oveeeeeerrrrrrrrr. Ah! Ok, I guess we've gone over here. Thank you so much for joining us tonight. This is Marcie Prohofsky at Onetaste in San Francisco and this is A Taste of Sex. We don't just write it, we live it. See you next time.

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