Episode 22 - Licking Each Moment

Transcript

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

[musical interlude]

Marcie Prohofsky: Welcome to "A Taste of Sex: Erotic Poetry Reading”. My name is Marcie Prohofsky and I'm your host. Today’s show, although hosted by Rob Kandell because I was on holiday, was recorded live at One Taste in San Francisco, a retreat center where you can explore true connection including one to your sex and to your sensuality. You'll be hearing pros and poetry from people who are totally willing to share their intimate experiences with you and dissipate turn on and inspiration.

Rob Kandell: Welcome, everyone. My name is Rob Kandell, sitting in for the lovely and absent Marcie Prohofsky here at "A Taste of Sex" at One Taste Urban Retreat Center in downtown San Francisco. “A Taste of Sex” is one of our three audio podcasts you can find at the Personal Life Media Network of amazing shows. That’s PersonalLifeMedia.com where we do podcasts, one is on our audio reality show on all of the inner workings and dramas and loves and lives and topics of the One Taste community here in San Francisco.

We also have an amazing guest lecturer series, that’s not our show, and this is your Erotic Open Mic Night.

[musical interlude]

Jessica: Her strong body heavy breasts against my back as her finger is pushed right through me into places I haven’t been touched in months, maybe years.

Rob Kandell: Next up straight from New York City, flying in only for Erotic Mic Night, a special engagement by the lovely, talented Keren M. One moment for Keren M.

Keren M: A heated [xx] thighs touching, eyes flitting back and forth, mischievously anticipating the night to come. It all happens so fast, the three of us circling each other and then sweeping in for the kill. Then, it's me and her and him sprawled across the soft mattress, our legs tingled in a braided knot. The furnace warmed our naked bodies and goosebumps give way to smooth, supple flesh. He mounts us, squeezing his body between us, droplets of sweats falling and splattering on heated skin. She turns and joins him above me and they both descend onto my breasts and tongues flicker and lips purse and teeth nibble.

Chills run up and down my spine. Blood pumps through my frame, fingers searching into crevices and running through damp hair. Backs arching and pressing, heaving bellies together. His large frame envelops me and he slowly moves down, down, down towards my pussy taking my penis between his fingers and moving them aside revealing pink and quivering flesh, his hot mouth wrapping around my clit and his tongue pushing in to me as deep as a finger but hot and moist and soft.

Streams of electric, pulsating energy shoot through my torso up to my abdomen and to my breasts, expanding my lungs and sending me into deep rumbling convulsions.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: Braided knots. I can imagine that one on braiding and unbraiding and going and going and going. That was New York City, correct? Ah, she brought old New York City to us tonight. Great.

Next up is Yia, a crowd favorite, with her “Triple Decker”. Come on up, Yia.

Yia: OK, so this is a once in a lifetime reading for three pieces. The first one is called “Comfort”. Comfort is keeping myself locked in my box and I peer outside through this new hole. I decide what and who comes in and what and who I pluck out. As long as I don’t rock any boats, I'm right, protected, nice.

Ironically, however, I'm not seeing nor do I allow others to be who they are. Comfort is rigid rocks. My throat tight and constricted, voices and thoughts run a million miles but none makes it way out to the world. My cheekbones feel tight and my jaws stuck. My furled eyes see darkness around.

Comfort is moving through thick, black molasses and my breathing comes out shallow and short. [xx] now making its way down to my pussy. My body is still, the thoughts are loud and everyone looks nice and glassy, slow motion. Eerie, comfortable mirrors, nice and appropriate. See? Someone likes me, someone thinks I'm cool. I'm such a hardworker.

Then the sugar starts to feel sticky and thick. My body becomes fat with sticky, sugar strokes, then I start to feel trapped and boxed. And damn it, no one sees me. It starts to look like everyone is after me for something. I want to get out of this box. Every little thing starts to annoy me and looks like a lie. I can't breathe and I want to break out. This box is too small for me.

Then the first sign of life hits me, I'm triggered. My body flares, jarred awake, the voices burning loud and out of me and I'm angry and pissed. How dare you wake me from my slumber, yank me out of my box? How dare you, tell me, show me, I'm being comfortable, asleep. Energy coursing through my body, burning. Damn, I feel so much I can kill you. I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing you woke me up. Damn! Damn you, thank you for waking me up.

And the second piece is a Three Snapshots of a Day. Morning, short light strokes right on the spot, going, going, going up, a tiny little string coming out of my clit starts to spread wider and wider over my clit and then my pussy. A warm light connecting from my core to my clit spreads over my body. We ride on a thin edge, body feeling open up and over, it pops and water ripples throughout my pussy.

Afternoon. His cock warms in my hand, hardens and the veins feel thick. The head of his cock turns from a peachy light red to passionate wine. My stomach undulates, the orgasm flowing in from my stomach down to my pussy. My pussy contracts, a thick ring of heat and ripples flow on the inside and she yearns to be filled.

Evening. Her lips touches mine gently, soft, cool silk. My lips part and I taste mint, sleek and fresh. I reach forward, she presses down, her tongue darts out into my mouth, smooth and wet, playing, toying with mine, swirling around and around in a dance. My stomach starts to quiver, my breathing stills, time stops. Heat spreads across my chest and down to my pussy, her supple lips between mine begging to be sucked. My tongue traces her bottom lip and I nibble on the inside of a lush ripe strawberry.

OK, here's the last one. So this piece is called “Madam Mylee” [sp]. Madam Mylee, she walks out of nowhere. Saturday night, I ride back to One Taste after a visit home. I look through my bin of costumes and outfits I've collected after [xx] and tried on a few outfits. I pick up the long, black Chinese dress with Mandarin color. The sheer fabric with patches of black, threaded flowers seduces me to wear it.

My heart pounce fast and my mouth feels dry as piece by piece, I put the outfit together. I stand in front of the mirror, my heart pounding fast and my stomach is warm and buzzing. Someone else stares back at me. Her slick black hair hits just below the shoulders, slightly curled up, her bangs brushed very neatly to the left side and covers her left eye in a mysterious mask. Her cheeks are flushed with rogue and eyes are carefully lined and painted to bring out their almond-shape features.

Dark great lips smiled back at me, the black dress flows seductively along her body, following her curves in the right places. From beneath the black, sheer fabric, her black with white pinstripe bra and thong peeks through. Who is this woman? I walk into the center and looks and screeches of surprise turn my way. I am Madam Mylee. Her thick Asian accent, a combination of Mrs. Wong [sp] from “Saturday Night Live” and my Mom’s flows out of my mouth, surprising me.

For [xx], Madam Mylee flows out of me gracefully and comically. Her thick accent felt my lips in a surprisingly familiar way. It's a voice I've only used with my sisters when we're making fun of other Asian women who didn’t speak English well or of our Mom or when we want to get entertainment and laugh with ourselves. I used to cringe when I hear other non-Asians make ching chong [sp] sounds to imitate and tease Asians. I cringe at the character portrayed in “Sixteen Candles”, Long Duk Dong, with his broken English, cargo glasses, and high waist pants.

And here I am with my dark, sleek hair; almond-shaped eyes; dark red lipstick; and dagger strapped to my thigh, [xx] my black feather fan. Three boys attending to my needs, two of them massaging my feet and third, fetching me grapes and juice. There's a sense of freedom embodying Madam Mylee and having her take over my body and mind and having her desires and thick accent roll off my tongue. I play with her and let her play me and play others. Recovering a lost part of myself has a new meaning, a new face. I am Madam Mylee, welcome to my parlor. Come to see Madam and I'll make it that you happy! Thank you.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: And you can find Madam Mylee and many others here at One Taste in South Market in 1074 Folsom Street. She has a very sharp dagger, if you know what I mean.

We're going to take a quick break and come back with some more readings. Again, this is Rob Kandell, sitting in for Marcie Prohofsky here for "A Taste of Sex: Erotic Mic Night" here at One Taste in San Francisco from the PersonalLifeMedia.com network.

Thank you. We'll be right back.

[radio break]

Rob Kandell: Welcome back, everyone, to “Erotic Open Mic Night” here at San Francisco One Taste. OK, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have just to come up next in say her poem called “Inside Me”. For those of you who are standing or driving, we want you to pull over to the exit lane and put the car into park and lean back and enjoy this turn on and hot version of “Inside Me” by Jessica.

Jessica: Her dark skin is enveloped by my creamy legs around her. Her soft skin rubbing across my thighs. I feel her tongue as it kisses my full, wet lips. We are underwater, tossed upon hot stormy seas, screaming out louder than I have in months, uncontrolled vibrations of sound rumble through my body as her fingers thrust violently inside me. on my knees crawling away, she grabs my shirt moves me to the other side of the bed. The soft fabric beneath me are sinking trap. Her strong body, heavy breasts against my back as her fingers pushed right through me into places I haven’t been touched in months, maybe years.

Looking down at her face, her browse moving together toward my pussy and her face buried into my scent. Her slow, deliberate swirling motions and dizzy swirls into my head. I want to shut down here. Oh, God, you're getting in. oh, God, this is what I want and I want to disconnect from the dizzy, swirling, steaming whirlpool I'm flooding in because it feel so out of control. And her face is filled with passion and desire and my pussy kisses her back and I'm lost in it, lost in the slow deliberateness, lost in the whirring rivulets of energy that flow from her mouth into my body and find its way to my swimming head.

Oh, God, she's going to leave, I can't let her in. And the voices are drowned out by the uncontrolled sound escaping me and I'm soaring and swimming and falling and expanding forever outward. Terror, joy, orgasm, life. I am a quaking mass of feeling, she's getting in. her black locks fly out of her head like a plant growing from between my legs, uncontrolled, wild, rubbing against my thighs, rough next to her well conditioned skin. Oh, God, she's getting in.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: Well then, [xx] he's up in the air, parked car in the side of the 101 freeway. I'm glad you, guys, are parked now. Next up today is BB, very French, doing “Foi Gras”. Do not ask me to spell that, that’s “Foi Gras” by BB. Here she comes.

BB: We put our name on the waiting list at the restaurant and stroll across the street to a wine bar. We sip sweet white wine and order foi gras. It reminds me of my time in France. Memories of sun dapple countryside and farmhouse restaurants. It is served. I take my first bite. It has the sweet earthy, pungent taste burst out from the most tender melting flesh against my tongue. My body jolts into orgasmic convulsions.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: Merci beaucoup. Thank you very much, BB. That was hot. Next up. Straight from West Marin, the lovely and talented and bearded Sean P. Come on up.

Sean P: opening words inspired by the San Francisco opening Novermber 10th, 2007. Lightness in chest, cool warmth from belly to throat, let me know that One Taste is still with me. These days, when I savor sensations of breath, of steps, I intend to her. I know, I know. It sounds like a schoolboy crush, I know. Maybe it's because I'm a boy who’s fallen in love with school again. Can I be blamed when the curriculum is nothing less than touching life itself?

The tangy taste of neck, the arresting scent of a gentle brunette, and a shared smile when I tell her so. And then, 15 minutes between 8,001 nerve endings. No, shit, I can concentrate when the focus of meditation is a clit. And there, inside all those layers of flesh, sweat, shame, and pride. It's a place that most all of us hide.

I'm humbled to say that I've touched it before. It's a place, scary to see but too big to ignore. Loving hugs on Sunday morn. Hot seats on team retreats, and here again, I feel at home. Feel like all of me can reached out and be met or so it seems. Thank you.

[applause]
Rob Kandell: Sean, I think they're screwed. You've shown your talents so we will remember this for a long long time. Good job, good show. Next up, the handsome and debonair Craig.

Man: Give it up! Give it up to Craig! Come on! Give it up to Craig!

[applause]

Craig: This is from a collection of my memories. Baby’s washing her hair today, bent over under the water, the curve of her hips and her hair soaking wet, I can't think of anything hotter. Up behind her, gently grind her, hands on her hips, dance with my fingertips. She looks up in the mirror, it's clear. The gig is up, baby wants to fuck.

Turn around, legs wrapping, hands grabbing, feet left the ground. We're walking around, ass on the dresser, building pressure, buttons popping, undress her and start to press her. Clothes flying, feet keep rising, drawers sliding, knick knacks rattling, scattering, jumping to the rhythm of the humping [sp]. No stopping at now, deeper I plow, fall to the bed, roll to the floor, flip her around, harder I pound.

[xx] get longer, screaming stronger, we ain’t quit net, I'm in the midst of it. Ready to pop, breaking through the top, juices flowing, mixing magic potions, riding that wave across the ocean, collapse, midmotion. Baby is washing her hair today, bent over under the water, the curve of her hips and her hair soaking wet, I can't think of anything hotter.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: You had just never…you would never think that one will come from that mild-mannered gentleman over there. He’s now has Jessica [xx] lap. That’s what you get when it comes to Erotic Mic Night and open up. All right, to finish the show up, the lovely Justine reading “Substitute Boyfriend”. Here she comes.

Justine: “Substitute Boyfriend.” “You make a great substitute boyfriend,” I say as we exit the Gap and cross Market Street. We'd spent the afternoon expanding his wardrobe, me combing the racks and handing him fall colors to try out. Anyone would have thought we were a couple and we were having fun playing it out in the world.

Earlier in the day, I'd found him in the media room and cried about my cancelled lunch date. My partner, my RP, having been called into a meeting once again at the last minute. How many times would I find myself here having counted on plans with him only to discover a sudden expanse of free time before me.

I could feel that it was the beginning of a long training. “You’re kind of like JFK’s wife,” he said. His comment layered with so many meanings. “Why don’t we go out?” Our day ends with an impromptu fashion show. He looked scared, we've had fun, I feel full. He goes up to visit family and friends and I don’t see him again until the day before he leaves.

That night, he bounce up the stairs to say goodbye. RP and I are lying in bed talking about the day. The minute I see him, I can feel the energy. “Were you playing on [xx]?” ask RP. “Oh, no, it's way too late,” I say. It's 11:30 and we're just getting ready to go to sleep. But no matter how many times I swallow, I can't deny the tug in my belly. If I don’t say anything here, where would this energy go?

He lingers, we smile. He hugs RP and I and finally leaves. I'm stuck, that little know remains tied. RP rolls over and looks in my eyes. I think he wanted to make out with you,” he said. “Oh,” I breathe in, “I think, I wanted to make out with him.” “I think I have some work to do,” he says, getting up. “How long do you need?” “Twenty-five minutes.” Off he goes, bounding down the stairs, “I'll send him up.”

A few seconds later, I hear substitute boyfriend’s feet on the stairs and there he is, in front of me. “RP said there was something else you needed to say?” Oh, my God, suddenly I'm back in junior high. Josh [xx] meeting me in the stairwell between classes, cornering me with, “I hear you have something to tell me.” I'm sure my eyes grew twice in size as I try to back away pulling down on the hem of my blue sweater dress. I had a crush on him for months! But you know what that means in junior high.

I've avoided him completely, looking away when we pass each other on the sweaty hallways. Now, there he was, baiting me for an answer. I start to laugh, looking up at substitute boyfriend, “He felt the energy,” I say. He comes closer, leaning in and we start kissing. It's hot, fast, ripping at first, pulling clothes off and mutually pushing into the curves of bone and muscle. Then coming up on to his knees, he looks down with clear eyes and asks, “Do you want to fuck?” “Yes, yes, we're in it.”

Then suddenly, something happens. Our lips meet softly and quietly, slowly running the length of wet smoothness, tongues tracing rounded edges. We're dropping to another level. Oh, we're being intimate. I get it, this is how it is, the clear, clean place of meeting energy in the moment, nothing else, just here. Fifteen minutes late, he's gone. I lie in bed feeling the resonance in my body. Then I hear another set of strong feet on the stairs. RP is back. The minute I see him, I pull him in. I want him more than ever.

[applause]

Rob Kandell: Well, I'm glad we have no one else because I don’t know how he's going to top that one. Here at One Taste Urban Retreat Center, this has been Erotic Open Mic Night, a part of the “A Taste of Sex” series on PersonalLifeMedia.com.

Come visit us as well here in San Francisco or New York City on the edge of Chinatown and Little Italy. You can also find us at OneTaste.us. We've got a new website coming or perhaps you may hear this, the new website is launched. We've got a lot of fun courses and events in both places so please come visit us as well.

My name is Rob Kandell, it's been my absolute throw-in pleasure to be your host. Here at One Taste, we don’t just write it, we live it. See you next time. Thank you.

Woman: Find more great shows like this on PersonalLifeMedia.com.