Episode 2 - Erotic Open Mic Night at Brainwash #2

Erotic Open Mic Night at Brainwash #2

Marcie Prohofsky: My name is Marcie Prohofsky and welcome to A Taste of Sex erotic poetry readings.  OneTaste™ Urban Retreat Center in San Francisco is a place of freedom.  It’s where people come together to explore their desires on a physical level, on an emotional level, on just a raw, raw, raw sensation level.  We don’t just write it, we live it.  And we’re here on A Taste of Sex erotic poetry readings to tell you all about it.  So stay tuned in because we’re gonna turn you on.

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Suzanne: I pull out the condom in the yellow wrapper and my face is flushed, my cheeks are pink.  “No,” he says.  “Three dates.”  I love a challenge.  [laughter]  “Let’s never have three dates,” I say, as I gently place the heel of my black pump in the crook of his crotch.

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Marcie Prohofsky: My name is Marcie Prohofsky and I am the host of A Taste of Sex.  [cheering and applause]  So we have a hot night in store tonight.  So this is a collaboration tonight with Brainwash, OneTaste™, and Personal Life Media.  All right, now we’re got George Lunton [sp].  George, where are you?  There he is.  This is called “Deliberate Fucking.”  And he’s gonna tell us how he goes for what he really wants.

George: She said, “I wanna fuck you today.”  I didn’t believe her.  I didn’t disbelieve her, it’s just she stood me up twice before.  And then, there was this moment when I was running late to something.  I always seem to be running late to something.  I’ll probably be late to my own funeral.  When she grabs my hand and she walks me, pulls me, drags me back to the bed.  And there we are, sitting there.  “Oh, do you want it?”  She said, “Yes, I want it now.”  I take my clothes off.  She sits there with her clothes on kind of looking at me like, uh-huh.  And I said, “You want it, right?”  And she pulls her shirt off, her pants, and she’s laying there, not sure if she wants it.  If she wants it now, if she wants it next week, or if she wants it sometime when she’s never going to have it.  [sigh]  My cock gets hard.  I lay on top of her and I just watch her face, I’m not in a hurry.  This isn’t a show and there was this compulsion in me.  I wanted to be the rabbit, the Energizer bunny, feeling her up with my high paced energy.  Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go down?  And today, today was different.  Today I just wanted to feel her, feel her feeling me.  I look into her eyes and there’s this look of terror.  Eyes wide open, I don’t know if I can handle this or not.  And I put my hand on her forehead, and brush her eye, and her face softens.  And I’m just feeling her feeling me, just laying there.  Not moving, not trying to go anywhere, I’m not in a hurry.  I’m just taking her all in.  And then flash, like a bolt of lightening, I feel this movement through my body, pulsing through her that just keeps going and going, and filling, and pounding.  An explosion.  And she looks up at me, her eyes soft, and she says, “I like you more now.”

[cheering and applause]

Marcie Prohofsky: Thank you.  Oh, we now have Suzanne [cheering] sharing some erotic moments in a piece called “Compilation.”

Suzanne: The first one is “Peppermint Patty.”  She sprays the drops on her tongue as she swings the braids away her face, the drops fly loose.  My heart feels as though it’s had too much coffee, beating in my chest.  Her tongue glides down on my clit.  A cool breeze emanates as her breath passes over the tiny moist parts.  Light touch, flicker of her tongue.  She lifts her head, her dimples deep and wide.  Hydration, cool burning on my lips.  Second one, called “Crossing Boundaries.”  My leg is quaking beneath his leg as we lay entangled.  My breath is pounding in my chest as I look at him and my belly explodes and my pussy is as I think of him.  I hate that it does, but it does, I cannot fight the trembling.  My finger touches down on the keys.  I type in, “I want to see you.”  I am shaking as I press send.  Then Catholic guilt takes over me and I want to take it all back.  Return text.  My body trembles on the verge of tears.  Rejection.  Warmth from her emanates from her body as it follows the curve of my back.  I snuggle in deeper and she flows into me.  Last one.  I pull out the condom in the yellow wrapper and my face is flushed, my cheeks are pink.  “No,” he says.  “Three dates.”  I love a challenge.  [laughter]  “Let’s never have three dates,” I say, as I gently place the heel of my black pump in the crook of his crotch. 

[laughter and applause]

Marcie Prohofsky: Every good Catholic girl needs some really good pumps.  Ok, Bob tell us what you’re gonna talk about.

Bob: It’s a poem called, “Coming into Being.”  Everything comes down to one point.  And in an instant, the whole universe comes into being.  Gas clouds condense, stars form, planets cool, and some matter turns against entropy.  Amino acids into cells, into spines, into consciousness.  Each change driven by one energy, one mind, one love.  This orgasm flows through each of us and everything comes down to one point.  And in each instant, the whole universe comes into being.

Marcie Prohofsky: All right, Isaac.  “Screw you” piece is called “screw you.”

Isaac: Screw you.  I want to screw you.  I want to reach down, pull out my big hard tool and just start screwing you.  In and out, stripping you bare.  Feeling it go in hard at first cause it’s such a tight fit.  Then when I pull it out the hole is so loose, it comes out so easy.  [laughter]  I’m gonna have to find a nut, one that will slide right out when the time comes.  A nice, smooth nut.  A nut for when all the screwing in and out is done [sigh] that’s when the nut comes.  Sometimes you just need the nut.  All that screwing in and out, drilling through sometimes to deeper and deeper places.  You just have to bolt it down so it won’t squirm around when it’s being pulled in and out, pumped in so deep that you just have to have a nut or all that work could just be for nothing, leaving you blue.  And I mean blue.  [laughter]  If you know what I mean.  That’s when you just nail them down on the floor or against the wall.  It doesn’t matter as long as the job gets done.  [laughter]  I’ll pull out my long, hard hammer and bang that head in deeper and deeper until it’s buried in there so deep you can’t tell where one stops and the other one starts.  After that, I’m gonna fill you with caulk.  [laughter]  I’m gonna open up that long, round tube and pump out all that white, gooey stuff and spread it all around.  I’m gonna find all the places that need caulk.  The places that just can’t go without a good, healthy amount of caulk.  The places that just have to have some caulk.  Those places that just have to have some caulk because they’re leaking, dripping wet, damp.  And it won’t stop until they get some caulk.  Sometimes there’s just nothing else that will do the job like caulk.  There are varying degrees to how much caulk is needed.  There are times you need a lot of caulk, over and over again until it’s full.  And there are times when you just fill them with caulk once and they’re done.  But what’s important is that all the places that need caulk get it because we just can’t neglect some places that need caulk.  If we don’t give a caulk, the next thing we know it’s just dripping all over the place.  So just have to make sure that all the holes, cracks, crevices, wherever it is are filled with enough caulk.  Enough caulk so they won’t need any for a while cause if you really know how to work your caulk; you put it in all the right places in all the right ways, then you’ve done your job.  And a job well done is all the satisfaction that I need.

[cheering and applause]

Unknown: This radio show is brought to you by OneTaste™ Urban Retreat Center in San Francisco and Personal Life Media.

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Marcie Prohofsky: Welcome back to A Taste of Sex, I’m Marcie Prohofsky, your host.  And this is a collaboration with Personal Life Media and OneTaste™ SF.  You can go to our website onetastesf.com to find out more about One Taste.  There will also be a link there to hear these podcasts, or you can go directly to see all the program information at personallifemedia.com.  And thank you to Brainwash for hosting here us tonight.  And first off we’ve got Alan doing a piece called “Passing Through” and it’s about a long-distance affair.

Alan: I hear the anxiously awaited ring of the cell phone.  And I hear a voice saying, “It’s me, room 1124.”  When I arrive, she grabs me by the elbow and pushes me towards the direction of the hotel elevator.  And she gives me the hint of a kiss, arching up on her feet and putting her hands around my neck.  I can feel her warm hands on the back of my neck as we descend.  And I wish the elevator ride would just go on and on forever as we embrace.  Once [inaudible] at the hotel bar, our eyes locked and I’m entranced.  We lock fingers and she shares with me the ongoing drama of her life as a stewardess: the travels, the adventures, the excitement, the things she’s seen.  As she speaks, she slips effortlessly back and forth between French and her British accented English, sometimes in mid-sentence.  Her words bathe me in the warmth of that connection of that beauty, of that poetry, and I’m captivated.  It always seems like we never have enough time to talk.  Back in the hotel room, I offer her a massage and she accepts.  She plays the corpse pose on the bed and I obediently help her off with her clothes, our turn-on growing.  As I bear down on her neck and her shoulders, I feel the tension flowing out of her and into my hands, and she sighs.  I excuse myself for a moment to go to the bathroom.  When I return, she is truly a corpse.  She is dead to the world.  Her jetlag has hit her like a ton of bricks, and in fact, she’s snoring loudly.  I glance at the clock, it’s 9 PM.  That means it’s 6 AM her time in Paris.  I spoon up against her, glad to be beside her, and yet frustrated.  Will this be just another one of those times when she’s so jetlagged, she flies back without us having made love?  Hours later, I fitfully fall asleep, and then I dream, and I dream, and I dream.  I feel a warmth in my cock, I breathe a little faster and my heart starts to pound.  I feel a warmth in my thigh like some woman is rubbing her pussy up against me.  And then I hear the words whispered in my ear, the warm breath, the words I long to hear, “[French].”  I open my eyes and I see her giggling at me, and she’s still caressing my cock.  She climbs on top of me, and she slips back into her UK English.  “It’s wake up time!”  A few minutes later she’s exploding into orgasm, and in a few moments I follow her.  We dissolve into laughter and fall into each other’s arms.  The next morning we repeat our ritual of hot yoga at the studio where we met for the first time.  Our version of, they’re playing our song again.  As a sweat drops off her body, a 44 year-old body she keeps muscled and toned with yoga in four continents, I’m turned on all over again.  As they walk her down to the cabin crew bus that will take her back to the airport, I try my best to be attentive but my mind slips into the defaults of reflecting and analyzing.  This woman is heroin to me, I can never, never get enough of her.  I still don’t know her truly intimately, but I know her essence.  She never, ever wants to get hurt again so she uses the constant travel and the never really having a real home as a way to dodge intimacy.  I know she could get more flights to San Francisco if she wanted, but she doesn’t.  And I’m left with my once a month, my 13 hours with her.  I can touch her, I can feel her, I can hold her close, and I can even make love to her.  But I can never, ever really have her.  Thank you.

[applause]

Marcie: It’s called “Life is like a movie.”  This is my good girl-bad girl conflict.  The sun is out, the sky is blue, we’re having a heat wave, and I’m putting shit into boxes all week.  Shit into boxes, boxing shit, boxes and shit, box shit, shit box, shit hole.  I’m moving, packing my past up into boxes.  25 years into 180 cardboard boxes.  I’m down in the basement packing up my mother’s collection canned goods, cleaning agents, and other excess.  It’s a verifiable supermarket.  It’s a mini-mall.  My mom appears standing in front of me with an arm-load full of clothes.  “Mars, are you interested in these clothes I found tucked away in the garage?”  I tell her, “No, thanks, I’m really trying to consolidate.”  “Well what about this?”  She holds up an Izod jumper.  “Mom,” I explain.  “It’s not me, don’t you have any idea what my style is yet?”  “But Mars, it’ll look so cute on you.  Come on, just be a good girl and try it on for me.  Make me happy.”  “Fine, ok, just leave it there and I’ll try it on when I’m finished this box.”  Cake mix, laundry detergent, gefilte fish, zip-lock bags, top ramen, seasoning salts, salad dressing.  Why does she store so much salad dressing?  We’ve got like twelve rows of salad dressing.  Hidden Valley Ranch, Kraft Fancy French, Newman’s Own Italian.  I can see it now, “Local Girl Drowns in Salad Dressing Found Buried Beneath Moving Boxes.”  Cut.  The stage is my whore, so deliver them their fantasized southern pie.  Hi, I’m Casey.  My film name is Christy Coming.  I’m a Vivid girl.  You know, adult video.  Sometimes I do a show at O’Farrell’s in San Francisco.  You know O’Farrell’s, where the girls take it all off, where you can pay us to have sex with dildos, or do twosomes right in front of your face.  Come on, don’t you want to take a look?  Aren’t you curious?  I always was.  Cut.  [humming]  That’s what I say, “Cut.”  Lust is gnawing at me, and I’ve waited for this a long time.  I’m twenty-one and I’m laying in the dark at the school playground.  It’s a warm autumn night.  His soft lips are kissing me tenderly.  I put my arm underneath him.  My other hand is touching his face.  I can hear the wind move through the evening sky.  Cut.  “Mom, do you hear me?  I’m gonna throw out these cans of air freshener.  Come on, they’re ten years old and they’re empty.  Yes, I’m sure they’re empty.”  She’s impossible.  Why doesn’t she trust me?  Get this, every time we go on a road trip, she doesn’t fail to ask, “Mars, did you fart?”  “No,” I tell her.  “Are you sure?” she responds.  “Yes, I’m sure.”  It’s no doubt I’m plagued with indecision.  I grew up with a fucking mother who reinforces that I have no clue how to keep track of my own flatulents.  Mom, listen.  Do you hear me?  I’m a woman now, let me live.  Are you listening?  I’m important.  Cut.  When I was little, my mom took me Sears to buy a new swimsuit.  She’d only let me get a one-piece.  She said I didn’t have the stomach for a two-piece.  “Besides,” she said, “good girls didn’t wear bikinis.”  I was seven then, when I first found one of my daddy’s erotic magazines.  I remember a black man, his penis covered with long, pulsing veins and this white stuff.  It must’ve been soon after that that I started thinking about showing my body naked and spreading my legs for the camera.  Cut.  The breeze mixes with my lust, with his coupling, gnawing.  His hand becomes a pillow for my cheek.  He pushes his hand firmly into my waist and down over my hips as he caresses my thigh.  Cut.  Strange, I could remember doing a nudy dance in the Taylor’s backyard for all the kids on the block.  They had this small cement platform encircled with petrified rock chips on the backside of the garage next to a big rubber tree.  I take my clothes off and walk onto the platform and move around in front of everyone.  I could remember someone older there, it could’ve been an older kid or maybe the housekeeper – they made me do it.  But I guess I really didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to.  I guess I must’ve kinda wanted to do it, so they’d like me and I wouldn’t have to play alone.  Now lookin’ back, I think it had something to do with gettin’ approval of my body, of getting affection and attention, of saying okay to the sexy feelin’ I had but was told not to have.  You know, I never told anyone this before, especially not my mom.  She thought I was so good.  Cut.  He raises up my shirt, he touches my breast and whispers, “Come home with me.  You turn me on.”  [sirens]  Good girl, good girl, it’s flashing in front of my eyes.  Red lights, neon, Vegas, Times Square, Amsterdam.  Come on, take a look.  See me dance for you.  I’m bending over for you now.  See.  Can you smell me?  [sniff]  Mmm, but don’t touch.  That’s not allowed here.  [sirens]  Good girl, good girl, good, good, the force grabs hold of my knees, pushing them closed and forces me to respond, “Let’s go slow.  I mean, I just met you tonight.”  What do you think, huh?  What do you think?  You like them?  I used to be an A, it seems to have helped my career already.  And my boyfriend, he says he loves me more now. Mmhm.  You should meet him.  Actually, he’s really kind of an asshole.  You should hear the way he talks to me.  I can’t even eat a decent meal without him scrutinizing and bitching at me.  And man, he knows how much I love McDonald’s.  It’s like, yes, I know I’m supposed to be dieting, and yes, I will be able to fit into my dancing outfit tonight, ok?  Gnawing, coupling, now I’m frozen on the hard concrete, and his hand is reaching down into my jeans beneath my panties.  Once again, he says softly, “Come spend the night, I like you and we’re having such a good time.  We’re having such a good time, I hear it is Herman Munster.  We’ve having such a good time.  Good girl, go for it.  Good girl, go for it.  Come on, come closer, fuck me hard from behind.  Good girl, good girl, prude, slut, prude, slut, I’m like a yo-yo, what do I do?  Did I just fart?  I’m not sure.  Prude, slut, did you hear me say no?  Did she hear what I said?  Did she hear what I said, that I said no?  Mother, I said no.  For you, mother.  Mother, mother may I?  May I leave these boxes, this shit?  Mother, may I?  May I fart, smell bad, bad smell, bad breath, bad air, bad vibe, be bad, bad girl? [pause]  You gotta listen to this one.  You shoulda seen him last night.  [laughs]  My boyfriend looked like such a fool.  He was throwing a stupid ass tantrum.  Mmhm.  Well, I made the mistake of going to SeaWorld.  And I bought everything Shamu.  Shamu the killer whale.  And now he’s pissed off.  What can I say?  I went crazy, I love Shamu.  Shamu scissors, Shamu slippers, postcards, two stuffed Shamu animals, a tote bag, Shamu sheets.  I saw the show three times in one day.  So I spent over $300 on Shamu.  Big, fucking deal.  Now he’s bitching at me, telling me that I’m fat and ugly.  Like one thing has to do with the other.  Mmhm.  I shouldn’t have to ask him how I spend my own money anyhow.  I don’t have to ask him how I spend my own money.  My own money, my money, my body, my life.  Fuck this shit.  I mean, who does he think he is?  My mother?  There you go.  Thank you.

[cheering and applause]

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 OneTaste™ 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.

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