“Your cum mirror is especially disgusting today,” Simone said with a sly smile, holding it as I photographed it in her hands. “You’ve been a nasty boy.”

We had, in our relationship, the ability to talk about this openly. And we had a tradition, following many sessions, of me stripping, spilling onto the mirror, and licking myself back as she held it in front of me. And when I was naked, horny and horny for her, she sometimes asked me to confess my desires. Often this was something about my desire for her.

She had offered me any kind of sex I wanted. She reminded me that my option to fuck her or lick her out was always open. Early in our friendship, many months earlier I asked her to help me hold the space of no pussy; to help train me in chastity. She looked me with her seductive warmth and said, “I understand.”

Simone was about everyone’s pleasure. Some of the models were repelled at the thought of men masturbating to them. Simone nourished herself on the idea. I knew she fucked a lot of men, and also her best friend, with whom she had been casual lovers since childhood. For me, she was happy to hold my cum mirrors, be photographed with them, and feel my longing for her which we agreed was my own creation by denying myself the privilege of fucking her Pisces beauty.

On this particular afternoon, I stripped and knelt before her. She reached for her purse, took out a joint and a book of matches, struck one with a burst of sulfury smoke, and lit it up. She didn’t like lighters. She took a drag and passed it to me, sitting naked before her, knowing what it would do to me.

“Look at this mess you’ve made,” she said with a casual tone that was soul crushing. “You’ll need to clean this up.” As the weed took hold, I was gazing into my spattered, partly licked-back mirror that was the only thing between me and her pretty pussy, which she had just been spreading for me. “I think you should confess.”

I told her about another Blue girl, Star, a mutual friend, and how I had masturbated today thinking of she and her boyfriend fucking.

“I get to see that,” she said. “I watched them fuck this morning.”

I was now openly masturbating and very high. “What else,” she asked.

“I want to smell and suck your twat.”

“Poor boy. I know all about it. You’ve asked me to deny you. I’m your friend and I’ll do what you asked.”

“May I lick your ass?”

“You know the answer that.”

But she leaned in and let me suck her thick, pierced nipple for a few moments. I was spinning in the most delicious agony. She held my mirror to my face to lick. And I did. Then she pulled it away, parted her knees her and spread her pussy, which was soaked.

“You could have my wet snatch to yourself, but instead you lick your dry, crusty cum mirror.” She held her fingers to my upper lip to sniff. I did, taking a little whiff of her cunty delight. Then she put my mirror back in front of me.

I was edging closer to my release. I wanted her to watch my face. She always did. She looked at me in the eyes and I said, “I want to do this with other men. I want to be with other men who thirst for themselves and drink.”

“Ohh, that’s pretty. Of course you do. I bet I can make that happen.”

I groaned. “Star and her boyfriend might be into that. And I know two pervy bisexual boys who will try almost anything.” She was staring deep into my eyes. Then she held my cum mirror right up to me, where I could see my streaked and spattered reflection.

“Watch yourself as you cum, your face. I’ll catch your semen.”

And that was it. I gazed at my face in the streaks and crusts and tongue marks, trying to keep my eyes open as orgasm rocked through me and my body began to pulse. I could feel her thumb aiming the tip of my penis catching a profound gush of my seed in her palm. I gasped with release with each pulse as she collected my cum.

Then she set the mirror down on the bed and hand fed myself to me as I licked her sweaty, cummy, pussy-scented hand, hungrily, helpless, loving her in my state of gorgeous submission. Then she picked up the dry mirror.

“Spit,” she said, and I dropped what was left of my load fro my mouth onto the spattered surface. Then she said, “Now lick.” As I licked up the mixture of saliva and cum and swallowed, she said, “You’re so dirty. Especially because you want this more than my pussy.”

The big day was the following Sunday. Simone arrived early, with coffee and a little flask that I knew contained rum and ice. “We should do this on the bed between the mirrors,” she decided — where she had masturbated to herself so many times as I photographed her.

The young guys she described as her pervy bisexual friends showed up and she introduced them as Kai and Benjamin. They had the look of skate rats and seemed friendly and polite. They seemed about 20 or 21. Last, Star and her boyfriend Morgan arrived.

We all squeezed into the area with two queen futons surrounded by mirrors. There was not going to be any therapy session or teased out situation. “Eric wants to drink his cum with other men and wants to watch them do it, too.”

Star spoke. “Morgan always wants to do that but he chickens out. When I blow him I try to kiss him into his mouth but he always seems disgusted. So I swallow him, um, I swallow you. This time we’re doing it,” she added with sidelong glance.

Simone said to Kai and Benjamin: “You guys jerk off together all the time but do you ever drink yourself?” They were a young and a bit shy for this kind of direct talk. They both shook no. “But I’ve seen you suck off one another,” Simone said. “That was good. Drinking yourself will be fun. I feed Eric his cum after every time he photographs me naked. He thinks he’s giving up pussy, starting with me.”

It was shocking how embarrassing this was, coming from the mouth of a pretty young woman who had, after our first photo session a year ago, offered me anything I wanted. As she said this, she wriggled out of her clothes. She glanced at the men. “Get naked,” she said. “Let’s do this now.”

My heart and neck were thumping. Star stared at me, pinning me to myself. She was the kind of model who was all sexual and no sex — though we had an interesting first session, a story for another time.

She elbowed her boyfriend gently and he slipped out of his jeans and tee shirt. I undressed as did Kai and Ben. The large futon was a cascade of clothing and naked bodies, reflected infinitely between two large sheets of mirror. Star was, as always, dressed to make you want to eat her pussy without an invitation, in tiny shorts, ripped up leggings and a wife beater worn thin from a hundred washings that revealed her plump nipples.

Simone faced into the mirror and stretched her little pussy open, and then plucked her clit like a guitar string, her face snarling and relaxing until she tossed herself into a fierce, immediate orgasm...for us as much as for her. Simone lived on the brink of orgasm at all times. She leaned toward her reflection and kissed her mouth in the mirror. She looked at Kai and Ben in the reflection. She chose them to masturbate first.

“Come over and face Eric. You’re doing this for him.” They squirmed over and knelt up near me. Morgan and the two women watched. Simone had a little bowl of coconut oil from our last session. She lubed their now stiff cocks for them with it. Then she retrieved my round cum mirror from the windowsill.

“Eric licks his orgasm from here, or from my hand.” Kai looked like he was going to orgasm on the spot. “Your have your choice of Eric’s cum platter, or Eric’s hand.”

I was not expecting this but…I was happy Simone was taking charge, seeming to live out some fantasy that suited me fine. The two younger men were masturbating in my direction. My cock was stiff and tense and wanting attention. I did not touch myself for fear I would trigger an uncontrollable release. Simone snuggled up next to me. Star and her boyfriend watched this little. Kai was close to his orgasm; his breath was heavy and his face melting. Simone reached under his balls and stroked him in that sensitive spot.

“Eric,” she said, and I knew what she meant. I cupped my hands under the tip of Kai’s penis as he started to grunt and spurt a little fountain of semen that I wanted to lean in and swallow. I glanced at his face and then saw myself in front of him offering myself as a receptacle, and filled my right hands with some random cords of sperm on my wrists.

“Do it now,” she said, and I raised my hands to Kai’s mouth as he reluctantly started to lick. That is when Simone pressed his face into my hand and he had no choice. I felt his tongue drag back his fresh, slippery ejaculate and his lips sucked and he took himself in and he swallowed in one gulp and then raised his head and showed everyone his wet face.

His face was precious, the mix of raging embarrassment and delight. His friend Ben studied him, wondering what fate awaited.

“I’m gonna do that for Ben,” Star declared.

This seemed designed to get her boyfriend worked up.

She stripped off her tank top and presented her breasts to Ben. Simone lubed his penis with a thick gob of coconut oil. Star knelt face to face with him, knees apart. He was suddenly out of his mind horny looking into her intense gaze and unbearably gorgeous breasts. Everything about him begged for relief. Star provided this, saving him the indignity of masturbating himself.

She was efficient and sexually skilled; with one hand she milked him into her other. There was not going to be much holding back. She watched the facial details of his orgasm as he heaved and she collected his cum in her hand — right in front of Morgan. She then drizzled some of his semen onto one of her breasts and invited him to suck. He did. She tried to show no pleasure from this act, but I could tell her heart was hot and there was a wet spot in the crotch of her shorts.

Then she said: “Open your mouth. Lean back” He did, and she spilled his cum down his throat as he swallowed helplessly.

She then turned her attention to her boyfriend, whose naked and beautiful penis was up and at attention. She leaned in and sucked him. Deeply, almost to his hilt. What a gorgeous little slut she was.

Then she sucked the tip of his penis while she cupped his balls with one hand and stroked his belly with the other. That did it. He groaned, and snorted just a little, and I could, we all could, see his penis twitch as his semen filled her mouth. She held that position for a long time, holding his living liquid in her mouth. She then raised her head as his penis was still drooling cum.

Then she kissed him aggressively, dumping his load into his own mouth and ensuring that he had no choice but to swallow.

Then to my shock she turned around and kissed me, offering me the last of his ejaculation, mixed with her spit, slipping her tongue into my mouth for a moment. I licked the inside of my mouth to make it last longer as I drank them, now, melting, urgently needing to release myself in their presence.

Star cleaned up the spilled remnants of orgasm from Morgan’s belly, dick and balls and fed him meticulously as we all watched. “There, you’ve done it,” she said to him. “Finally.”

“Eric’s turn!” Simone said gleefully.

“Eric fantasizes about you two fucking,” she announced.

“I’m not surprised,” Star said. Morgan had that look of not knowing what to think.

“He also wants to fuck you. You should tell her that yourself.”

I looked at Star. “I want to fuck you. I want to smell your pussy.”

She shook her head. Her expression was a little disgusted.

“Eric Francis, face the mirror. Show us how you mirror masturbate. Just like you always show me.”

I did as she said. She sat down next to me as I knelt up, legs akimbo. On the window sill was the cup of coconut oil and a little purple dildo. She lubed it, lubed my ass and pushed it in aggressively. Again I submitted to having no control. With her other hand she held up my little round mirror.

“What is this?”

“It’s my cum mirror.”

“It’s your mess. Lick your mess.” She handed it to me. “He likes to beg for pussy while he does this.” I was now on full display in front of three naked men and two sex goddesses. She sat down facing the mirror and spread her pierced twat wide. She dipped her fingers deep in herself and sucked them.

Ben and Kai were both erect masturbating again. Star was stroking Morgan’s cock. I mirror masturbated with this whole scene unfolding behind me.

“Eric’s his own cumslut.” The voice was one of the men. I was too self-involved to know whose.

“Lick your mirror. Lick up your dry cum. Show us.” The voice was Simone’s.

“That’s pretty disgusting.” The voice was Star’s.

“When you’re ready, orgasm into your eyes,” Simone said, taking the spattered little mirror from my hands and letting me sniff her fingers. “Everyone, watch Eric cum watching his face.” That did it; I slipped into oblivion. I did not recognize the person I was looking at, the melting desperation and delight and agony. A voice in my mind said “forgive.” Everything went to bliss-white light-pure breath.

My orgasm threw me around the universe. I lost consciousness out for a moment and Simone steadied me. She displayed my crusted mirror covered with cords of fresh white semen for everyone to see and know about.

Then she raised it to my face and pushed the back of my head so that my mouth and nose submerged in the layer of semen. “Suck it in. Eat your humble pie,” she said. “All the other men did it today and so will you. Open your mouth before you swallow.”

Simone understood the embarrassment factor. That special urgency as the way to becoming unfettered. She did not need to read it in a book.

I dropped open my jaw and tongue, not daring to look at myself for more than a fleeting moment…but enough to have the image impressed into my consciousness forever. I can still see my face, wet and messy, my lips slick and coated. Ben and Kai were gathered close to Simone to watch this spectacle of my self-submission.

I must have drifted off. The next thing I was aware of was the sound of a man moaning. I opened my eyes and looking in the mirror could see Kai sucking off Ben, slowly bringing him to release himself. He whimpered quietly, and then all at once he was panting out his climax.

They reversed places. I watched as Ben took Kai into his mouth and, with some tease and licking under his balls — held up by Simone — sucked him to orgasm and swallowed his semen. Beyond my own experiments, I had never witnessed other men having sex.

Simone leaned into my ear and whispered, “Let’s get together with them again some time.” I knew what she meant. Simone was one person with whom it was delicious to be totally honest about my sexuality with; she was all about the pleasure of every living creature, and a true sexual instigator.

I whispered back, Mmm hmmm…

The final act in the afternoon’s drama involved Star inviting Morgan to fuck her. She was fully in her manifestation of sex in a body. Now that her boyfriend was initiated, it was time for Star to fulfill her fantasy. We gathered around them as she spread her vulva lips and Morgan’s cock slipped into her, his ass floating above her. This seemingly private act was to be collective property. We were all involved.

She relaxed and dropped her legs apart; Simone assisted in this, pushing her knees open for that delightful feeling of stretched penetration. Women love to help women enjoy sex. She guided Morgan’s hips deeper in this ritual of love and pleasure.

And a ritual it was, set in the mirror chamber where so many had made love to themselves: the conjugal couple witnessed by three men and a woman…men who had all been initiated into receiving their own semen that day…the essence of contacting our receptive feminine.

We all knew what this would be about, but not how it would play out. There was no need for long elaborate fucking; the intent was for him to deposit his semen into her body. Simone, a master of the testicles, played with Morgans balls from behind as he thrust into her. He started to lose his control.

Star said to him: “Look at my face when you come.”

He lifted his cheek from her shoulder and their eye contact spilled the cup of his passion; he panted and heaved his life force helplessly into his lover.

Simone then guided his hips away from her. Star lay back and pulled her knees up, her gorgeous flower blossoming wet and plump.

Simone guided his face to her vulva and whispered something in his ear. He was reluctant to drink himself from her and needed some guidance. Finally his mouth made contact with her and he delicately licked her labia. He was showing no sign of getting into it. Star wanted to be licked out deeply and she wanted her lover to imbibe the mixture of them.

Simone guided him to lay back onto some pillows. Star swung her leg over him and mounted his face with her pussy, facing toward his feet. He could not resist this. She pressed her yoni onto his mouth with a full genital kiss and began to masturbate onto his face. Finally — I saw this — he reached into her with his tongue, surrendering to the experience, part from necessity and part from desire.

Then Star cut loose and crushed her vagina into him and masturbated aggressively. Simone had slipped herself under Morgan’s head, replacing the pillows, and said out loud that he would be happy if he relaxed fully and let himself drink from her.

He finally began to swallow honestly, like he was truly thirsty, and then his deeper need come forth. He began to suck her into his mouth. This set Star off. She arched her back and orgasmed and ejaculated gushes of her amrita, spilling over his face and into his mouth, and onto Simone’s lap, flooding the room with her scent as Morgan swallowed his lover deeply and without compromise.

IN MY FORMER neighborhood in Kingston, there were — in the Before Times — two places to get waxed. Both were nail salons owned and staffed entirely by Asian people. By waxed, I mean my ass, for smoothness and hygiene and because it feels good. I started at a place owned by a Korean couple, both appealing people though the female half, named Thalia, was beyond hot…bathing suit model type of woman with the very prettiest of faces.

Men don’t generally do this in a girly place. Usually it’s just women tidying up their snatch and surrounds. She agreed to wax me; this was during my manicure phase, where I would create designs or have my fingers and toes polished in 20 different shades. I was there quite a lot, so she was familiar with me. For the waxing bit I had to lay down on a kind of therapy table and spread my ass. She would apply hot paste, then paper, then strip it off. It was delightful and she knew it.

This was happening in a flimsy little room with walls off to the side that didn’t touch the ceiling, with the room outside populated by a diversity of neighbors, all of them women, getting their mani/pedis, along with her husband, and a diversity of slinky nail technicians peering out above blue surgical masks.

So while I could not yelp with pleasure very loud, Thalia could feel me breathe and knew what was happening. I would relax deeply and let the experience take me. Over time, we developed an intimacy through this, an understanding that was never spoken in words and I’m not sure what it was about.

I was aware what else happened in this room — that she had the duty and privilege of grooming to perfection the twats of many pretty young women. And then me…there existed all kinds of delightful tensions strung through the space between us….as she casually stripped the hair off of my ass.

It would have been a perfect ending of a session to express my pleasure gazing into her peaceful, elegant face; and maybe fill my mouth in her presence.

I knew this would not happen. But there are times when it’s the thought that counts. She was a double Pisces and I assumed she could read my aura. Wanting her exuded from my every chacra. There was no mockery, and that is what I loved about her. After leaving her little salon, my next stop was always a mirror in Blue Studio.

One day I went down to make an appointment and they were closed for a two-week vacation. So I walked around the corner to another nail salon, much less busy, its windows overrun with thriving jade trees. I stepped up to the little podium and he got up from his station, where he was working on an older woman client.

“Do you do waxing?”

He looked at me for a second, sizing me up. “Yes.”

“I’d like to make an appointment.”

We set it for that coming Friday morning. I did not know what to expect. I got there and he ushered me into a tiny back room, told me to undress and lay down, then went out front and locked up. He worked alone, so the ‘Back Soon’ sign faced the street during our sessions.

He came back and I had done as told; laying naked on a towel-covered portable massage table. He spread my ass cheeks with his fingers, and got busy. That first session we barely exchanged a word. He refused to wax my balls because he said my skin was too soft and sensitive. Besides that, he waxed my ass cheeks right down to the rim, and outward, and my inner thighs.

Then he said to dress and meet him outside. I put myself back together and went out to meet him; I made an appointment for two weeks later — at closing time on a Friday.

He was ushering out a client, a tidy little sniffer of a brunette. I went to the back and knew what to do; he found me laying naked on his table. He had me roll over on my back and open my legs, to access my inner thighs. With one strong hand, he pulled my cock and balls to one side and held my bits down with his wrist as he applied the hot wax to my skin. This gesture was not strictly necessary; he could have had me do it, or done it through a towel for the sake of etiquette.

But this was the etiquette. I understood his intent and his invitation.

I rolled over and the waxing proceeded, as I lay flat on my belly with his fingers pulling open my ass. He worked my cheeks down to my rim, only now I was free to grunt a little as he stripped off the paper. He wet a paper towel with baby oil and wiped my ass clean of wax residue, digging in a little deeper than he had to.

I sat up and could see his cock bulging through his shorts. I knew what I wanted to do. I say that knowing I could have done anything and had one idea in mind.

“Would you take that out?” I asked, a suitable request for my submissive role. He did, slipping his shorts and undies down. I squirted some baby oil into his hands.

“Please, show me.” He masturbated, timidly, gently, and then I looked into his eyes expectantly. That melted him and then emboldened him, and he pleasured himself more deeply. I told him how beautiful I thought he was, doing this in front of me, and then said: let me do it. His hands fell to his sides. I clasped his penis with one hand and his testicles with the other, and massaged him with my clasped fist.

We understood I would bring him off that way. I teased him, sitting naked on the table, edging him along a little until I announced I would soon be helping him orgasm — stating the obvious out loud is the essence and delight of hot talk. That’s all it took; I saw his face relax, and my hand on his balls slipped to the tip of his penis and with my other hand, I stroked his ejaculation into my hands.

I’m sure he had no idea what was going to happen. His breath touched sound, modestly, as he let himself throb his cum into my palm. I studied his face as this happened; he could barely look at me and then finally did, he gave in, as the last throbs of his orgasm pulsed through him. His release was abundant. I had a lot of his liquid to play with.

Then I squatted up on the table and masturbated myself with my fist full of his semen.

Alive, slippery and hormonal, and so so warm, this is what I love to masturbate with and so rarely have. Such transcendence must happen in the donor’s presence, adding a depth of pleasure. He was now learning against the wall, still at the trailing edge of his orgasm…with a stunned look on his face. I intended to expose myself fully to him, and just my intention felt so so so so good.

This was not going to be a long dramatic tease. With two hands I massaged his semen ino my cock, my balls and my newly shaved asshole. His expression turned to disbelief. I still had plenty of his cum in my palm. I clasped my penis with both hands, now masturbating in a way most exquisite than any other. I said out loud, to his face, “I’m going to drink my semen now.”

Thanks to this affirmation, I spun wildly into my momentless, suspended release, holding his gaze through every ripple and pulse and current and joy… From deep within my ripples of orgasmic ejaculation — catching my own seed in my hand where some of his was still pooled.

And then while still cumming and shaking, I raised my hand to my mouth and sucked in the mix of us, licked some more, and then opened my mouth to prove to him what I had really done…in utter boundless freedom.

Then I swallowed, looking at his eyes. And I licked my hand — both of my hands — again. Then, I turned toward the mirror on the wall next to us and studied who I had become. A squirmy kind of shame and disbelief washed over me and then away, and I found myself breathing deeply, almost panting, into his presence.

He slipped his shorts on and stepped out of the room, closing the door, leaving me naked with my reflection. I sat on the edge of the table with my knees pulled apart and watched as I licked my hand, tasting and further liquefying us both. I studied my face for a moment, and gave myself permission to relax deeply — with just the one word, said into my eyes,

— yes —

…and I again, now alone, intending to imbibe, I spent my passion and swallowed, this time, most privately.

When I was done, I slowly dressed, leaving my face smeared with my leftovers. I walked the front, said goodbye to Vincent and walked out into the neighborhood, dreaming down the sidewalk through the muggy air of people out for Friday evening.

This version has added layers

It is sunrise. It’s your last morning here and I wake up knowing what to do. My morning dream voice has said softly, masturbate vocally. I slip out of bed and strip. I undress and sit at the edge my bed, facing into the mirror on the back of my bedroom door; the door is partly open.

You are in my guest room, which is also my ritual room. Vocally means means embrace shamelessness, which means gradually guiding myself through embarrassment each time I touch sound. It’s always there, at least a little, and I indulge it consciously and remind myself what you may be feeling. I am summoning you so I allow myself to feel and smell each wisp of sublime emotion.

You’ve been staying in the ritual room for a few days and I suspect you’re figuring out who you are. In the corner facing the bed is the True Mirror. It’s both inviting and terrifying and you have, I suspect, glanced in it briefly. It vibrates with delicate self-honesty that I know evokes your vulnerability.

On top of the mirror is another mirror, a real curiosity. You’ve read many of my stories and you know what this is about, though now you can feel it in a different way. The essence of the mirror is deeply erotic disgust. In Japanese tantra, this is considered an essential emotion, described as Yorokobi ken’o, or delight-disgust. Another is Kaihō o motarasu ken’o-kan, liberating disgust.

It’s not the mirror but the fact that it’s left where anyone can see it, complete with its ejaculatory spurts and tongue streaks and collections of dried semen, in layers and crusts, dusty, repulsive, enticing in a way that you don’t understand. Semen belongs in your body. You have taken on quarts of the stuff over the decades.

This is an odd inversion, a cum platter that you know I’ve licked myself from hundreds of times.

You recognize it from photos of my Brussels studio, where it’s appeared in photos of Iris, the celibacy goddess. The feeling that suddenly soaks through you as you experience the sight of it, laying from your bed, is how it represents my nearly 20 year journey of surrendering yoni. How did I feel at the beginning, photographing Iris, slowly accepting and understanding what she represents? How does it feel today, as I have allowed myself to stretch and embrace myself within my own inner cosmos?

Half in a dream, gazing up into the corner of the room, you allow yourself to wonder how this must feel to me when you hear me grunt, and then moan. You know I’m mirror masturbating and you know you’re being summoned to finally have the experience of direct witness or Mokugeki-sha. This is your option, your choice, your necessity to honor. You know I understand that I offer my pleasure to the dissolution of your shame, your reticence, your struggle to accept yourself. I’m going to show you what it’s like, as so many women have done for me.

It takes all of your courage to get you out of bed and walking toward the origin of the sound and the feeling. Fortunately, you feel compelled, in away, attracted too powerfully to resist; and you know this might be your only opportunity. You glance up at the celbiacy mirror one lat time, moved by the courage that it must take to leave this for anyone to see and consider.

When I hear you outside my door, I say come in. You do; I ask you to close the door so that I’m facing into the full length mirror. On the wall is Iris, gazing over the scene, presiding over my self-celibacy for nearly two decades.

My penis is half-erect, half-limp, twitching a little. I have next to me a seashell that you know has become my cum mirror. The first thing I do in your presence is pick it up and smell my dried semen looking into my eyes. I cover my mouth and nose with the dried shell. You’ve seen this object on my night desk, where I sometimes leave it. It’s crusted with millimeters thick accumulation of semen. Another astonishing object to allow another human being to see.

Today I am doing my self-celibate ritual for you; to help you melt past your inner resistance to your self-acceptance. You know that in the past, you’ve used your desirability as a kind of ruse for your affirmation. As long as someone wants you, you’re potentially beautiful and maybe interesting. Now, you don’t know. That is the source of your anger. I am here to offer the mirrorlike wisdom that transmutes rage. Its color is blue, its nature is water…

It helps to have motivation to get past your resistance. What I know to embody for you is my unquenchable self thirst — Jiko no katsubō. Emerging from my dream, I felt in my flesh that this would be the primary feeling to embody: to sow how I accept myself in a state of Jiko no katsubō.

I know to be explicit. I milk my semisoft penis from base to tip several times, collecting thin, clear liquid on my fingers. I study the clear drop, I smell myself for an unbearably long time, and then…I taste. With that gesture, I know I want to reveal to you the emotional truth of my desperation and my thirst for yoni water. I’m going to allow you to see and feel how I accept myself in a state of deep need and craving for what I know I cannot have.

I squeeze out another drop of my clear liquid. I must take this slowly, so you have time to experience your feelings. I also know that you will be carrying this scene with you in your imagination, and so I know to make myself explicit. On the floor is a black dildo and a little silver cup. I get them. I want to fuck myself but more, I want you to see me want to do so, and to accept myself as I do. Selfthirst is self love,

I lube the dildo and soak my ass in oil and then holding the dildo on the edge of the bed, I sit down on it. I want to show you my face as I am stretched from inside, and I do, and release a deep groan looking into my eyes. With this, I burst sublimely into a state of androgyny.

Seitekina koto e no shinji gata-sa

I sit down firmly into myself, and wiggle on my self penetration, my inner cosmos opening. I am going to milk myself more…to stretch this part out…milk out a drop, sniff the drop slowly, taste a drop of myself. I see you glance up at Iris and I feel you now understand why she is here; what she facilitates.

I pick up my cumshell again and now I scrape its interior with my teeth. This is almost more than you can stand, but I do it. I’m giving myself a little chunk of my ancient dry cum to suck on. Seieki no katamari. I drop into total bliss being witnessed doing this. You start to feel your part in enhancing my pleasure, which becomes your pleasure. I am here to melt into myself for you, and you may facilitate that. Sōgo yūkai — mutual melting. Only I really know what I’m feeling, though I can convey that sensation through my aura, my face, my breath and my voice.

Finally I speak to myself, uttering the truest words I can reach: I’m a mirror masturbator.

I milk my semi-flaccid penis yet again. Then I feel and enter my embarrassment: after years without yoni, smelling or licking or soaking, this is hard as my penis gets. I say out loud,

I’m a mirror masturbator,

Here is what I’m feeling without saying:

My penis no longer gets fully erect when I think of or desire women. As much as I delight in the feminine and I so so so do. My penis gets fully erect to the sound of male orgasm, to the thought and desire of drinking their semen, or allowing them to witness my release. My body understands what is happening better than I do. This is death. This is rebirth. I understand that I must sacrifice the deep fulfillment of drinking my own semen and allow other men to fulfill their thirst upon me. I accept that they control when my thirst is fulfilled.

My cock is now hard and horny.

I point to a mirror, another one spattered and smeared — even the handle — and ask you to hold it to my face. You pick it up and kneel down in front of me and show my my cum streaks and my facial expression.

We’re going to enter this now; you are coming with me as the Thresholder, as the facilitator of my self-acceptance and my arrival somewhere I did not expect to go. I say it out loud to myself, into the mirror that you’re holding for me.

I am thirsting for the semen of other men.

“Do it.”

My cock is stiff and aching. This is my true admission. I pick up my shell and smell my mix of fresh and ancient cum, delighting in the space beyond shameless. In desperation for the semen of other men, I scape more dry cum out of my shell and suck it slowly into my body as it melts, swallowing consciously. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling but I know it’s a lot and you’re not resisting.

Right now I’m a mirror celibate self semen drinker.

“Yes you are.”

Then it’s all happening, I have nothing in myself to cling to. My body melts into one purpose, which is to pulse in the rhythm of the universe. I throb out my deep private orgasm into the nearest object, which is my left hand, glancing at my face in the mirror you’re holding faithfully…daring just a look as I grunt and moanout, I glimpse into my own eyes and then I can’t stand it…with each throb of my body my voice calls out…as a large gob of my semen pools.

Then I am suddenly disgusted, which slows me down. I muster the courage to smell myself. I am feeling no thirst whatsoever…I am repulsed…my sent is fresh and grassy like a forest. I find my thirst in my disgust. I find my self love in my self disgust. I kiss my palm and suck and fill my mouth to my amazement in front of you. I open my eyes and face the mirror and drop my tongue and see that it’s soaked in white milky cum. I hold my semen in my mouth before swallowing looking at my face.

I look at you. Your expression is so soft and accepting. We hold this space in the morning light and then the ritual dissipates. You put down my mirror and step into your room. I know you’re going to masturbate, maybe even into the mirror.

I go downstairs and make breakfast for us naked, not wanting you to ever see me dressed again.

I’m a mirror celibate self semen drinker

I relax into prophecy

I intend to watch my face thirst and watch my face as my body throbs to obvious truth... and to get into the mirror requires forgiveness and here I am free…I can give myself what I want and need. My desire met with my love

I submit myself to your understanding

Naked and afraid

Polyamory is not a lifestyle choice. It is a sexual orientation. No more than a person can choose to be homosexual when they are not, someone cannot choose to be polyamorous. Nor can a partner have a ‘poly lifestyle’ when that is not innately who they are. It sounds to me that in choosing monogamy, you are choosing to be true to yourself.

What makes the distinction is usually compersion, which is a kind of erotic empathy. When one feels compersion, they love what their partner does and feels, whatever it might be. If your partner shows up in your presence fresh from being with another lover, you will love their mixed scent and consider it a privilege to be near. Your love for them includes all of their experiences and all of their desires.

This is a rare state of being; most people are jealous and often feel disgusted by the notion that their partner has been with someone else. This can even extend to their partners in the distant past. Compersion embraces the whole sexual past of your partner — and their future. Compersion honors that your lover will have other lovers. There are people who feels this way and they are rare. But a nonmonogamous situation can and probably will be living hell without compersion.

One thing to get out of the way is that in our world today, nearly no human being is monogamous. I have seen that men and women both have this strong tendency, which they can set aside for a while. But tantra teaches that we live in the world of time and transience and that the current form of all relationships eventually ends.

Monogamous means one sexual partner for life. Whether you call it cheating or not, a great many people have more than one sexual partner at the same time. But rather than be open about it, they compartmentalize, and this is character-dividing.

There are a diversity of biological qualities of human beings that indicate that both sexes have a drive for multiple sex partners, regardless of the spiritual quality of the relationship. The book Sex At Dawn by Ryan and Jetha (2010) talks about these biological qualities, including the desire for sperm competition and why women are so vocal during sex, advertising their pleasure to the household, the tribe or the village. That “men spread their seed” is only half of the story. An ovulating woman will be horny to fuck and that can include more than one person the same day.

In our time, nearly everyone in our time goes from partner to partner. This is called serial monogamy, but I call it serial nonmonogamy. It’s considered OK as long as the latest partner is thought of as “the one” no matter what has happened in the past.

Consider, though, that monogamous and polyamorous are not opposites in any way. Monogamy means one sexual partner. Polyamorous means many loves. When you study jealousy, you can often find that people who are sexually monogamous and have sexually monogamous mates are jealous of their partner’s close friends. Love interests can take many forms; a man and his longtime secretary or assistant can have a bonded love affair even if they are never sexual with one another.

The capacity to be emotionally loyal to two or several people (true polyamory) is a discipline of maturity. It honors a basic fact of an honest life. The capacity to love forever anyone that one has ever been in love with is an ability or state that some people have; I am one of them. Once I fall in love, I never really fall out of love and I am not saying that I “carry a torch.” To me love means a soul bond.

There is one other factor for today, and that is one’s relationship to oneself. All love and all sexuality are ultimately moderated by one’s inner relationship. One of the core principles of tantra is that it’s a journey of integrating the seemingly opposite other; it is the path of the wholeness of self, and understanding that very often sexual attraction of the opposite sex is a projection.

How you feel about yourself, and whether your psyche is whole or has a tropism for wholeness and being a unified person is going to be the single most important mediator of your relationships with others.

This is the basis of my proposal that the most important sex people can have is to masturbate in the presence of their partners, proposed partners and even past partners. I suggest doing this with a mirror in the space. Exploring one’s inner dimensions and one’s comfort with oneself and one’s orgasm in the presence of another is to explore both one’s own sexuality and to see where the relationship is at in terms of mutual acceptance.

Humans, like bonobos, can take great pleasure in masturbating in groups as well. Though this is not part of Western society or any traditional tantra that I know of, it is a frontier. Group masturbation has had a few moments here and there, such as early in the HIV/AIDS era (the jack and jill off). There are some sex clubs that have masturbation night, though they are rare. It’s an unusual form of loving, sexual and therapeutic expression. Last night my friend Neal described what he called co-masturbation and co-witnessing as some of the deepest and most beautiful experiences of his life, not just sexual but in any form.

I would agree. My word for people who are adepts at these skills is “thresholder.” They are those who help accompany people to the edge of their inner being and face the abyss of who they are, without emotional or sexual attachment.

I’ve written a lot about this and I will answer any questions or any request from another participant in this forum and share some of that writing, which I offer freely to anyone who may benefit.

I would love to open up the discussion of co-masturbation and co-witnessing, both same sex and mixed sex experiences.

Late 1998, these are from the first of the Luscious Photo series. They were taken in my room, a kind of enclosed brick porch in Neal’s house. I had just returned from living in Germany and was about to publish the first version of Planet Waves. Meanwhile, Neal was excellent with medium format photography, and we decided to take pictures — first, of me, by him.

My idea was to have photos of me getting my semen into my mouth.

Somehow — I do not know how — I was able to relate this to him. Just saying that and agreeing to that had me spinning. This is territory so intimate and sensitive it’s rarely ever spoken of openly, but I did. So knew what we were going for. The evening came. The sense of isolation in the solid brick house was inviting and encouraging. I was hesitating a little and he said let’s get going. I took a couple of bong hits and…entered the dream time. It was really strong weed. My ego turned to mush.

And there I was, masturbating myself, with the flash going off, Neal in jeans and bare chested, handling the camera in his strong hands. This is the moment to go for it. You know right in that spot that there’s no point going halfway. Yet I’m feeling slightly timid. This is my first time having any overt sexual experience with Neal.

I connect with the desire to feel, and feel openly. I roll over and fuck my ass with a clear plastic dildo that Betty Dodson gave me in exchange for an astrology reading. And my feeling is, wow, I’m really doing this. So I probe and play and penetrate. I sit up on the thing, leaning into it gently. I want to fuck myself rhythmically and grunt in time with the penetration. But that’s further than I can go.

Instaed, I probe softly and moan quietly as I seduce myself from inside. Moaning and being heard…mingled with the desperation not to be heard and needing to be. What’s the difference what he hears if I’m eventually going to orgasm and eat myself. In the frame on the top right, though you can’t really see it, my mouth is leaning toward the tip of my very erect penis.

From this place, I’m going to tease myself until I fill up. I’m easing out feeling out my desire to drink myself, draped over a deep need to do so. This is all exposatory. I am being witnessed and recorded in 12 or 16 shot rolls of very big film…and I want to show not just how but why.

Time is moving so slowly, it’s thick and at times I am chilled by an embarrassing self-awareness, and know to masturbate deeper into that feeling, stretch my pleasure into feeling ashamed. Melt right through layer upon layer. Masturbate into the shame.

Melt toward the inevitable, a surge of rich pleasure bubbles up urging me to release. But I cling. I want to make love into my feeling of…to transcend embarrassment is love.

At one point Neal puts down the camera and picks up a mirror, to show me what he’s seeing. He holds it steady to my face for a moment, and I can barely look but I do, I glance at my own eyes, wanting to avoid myself, and I let out a little moan, amazed that this could be happening.

Now I’m openly remembering my purpose, which is to get my yayas out and cry out and get a palm full of cum onto my tongue and…let that be shown. I’m envisioning an open mouth photo, and that implies I will be showing Neal this whole action.

One way I know I’m ready to orgasm is that I get into what I call my climax position: kneeling up high, knees spread wide. I love the full-on in the open feeling and I love orgasming with my core dependably penetrated. I’m leaning gently on the very hard, clear, sleek dildo.

At one point I’m squatting on the thing and then in another, I’m crying out. I can’t control myself any more and so I give in. I’m throbbing around my self penetration. Balanced on the perch of existence.

The center shot is my voice releasing at full phase gazing through heavy eyelids into the camera. The expression is that of my face being known. As my orgasm rises and crests, the flash goes off in hot bursts. Pushes me into deeper submission and I’m calling out the dark delight of my self thirst. Now I am throbbing warm jets into my hand, my face seen by a man doing so, loving this.

Then I can’t remember. It’s happened again. I’m a little disgusted. I can’t believe I’ve created this elaborate ritual for something so weird that I really don’t want known about me. The notion of drinking myself right now or ever is unimaginable. Under this, I know know I’m desperate. To get beyond this…to finally fulfill…

The flash bursts and I am caught right there, naked in my self-repulsion.

Neal knows what’s happened. He’s calm and reassuring, helping me hold steady. I’ve got a palm full of my semen that I don’t want. Neal photographs this and my face right then. I don’t know what to feel but I am gratified in that he’s seen what usually happens to me when I’m not with a woman.

I’m hiding ‘look at me’ behind the inevitability of being seen right then

I need this emotion, my sense of being held open with no choice. Now Neal is watching me as I kneel up with a palm full of my semen, paralyized to do anything with it, not even smell myself.

I have no idea what became of that release of my liquid life, what I did with it, and when I ask Neal, he won’t tell me.

Years later he used the term missed opportunity.

I want to be overwhelmed, by how much there is and how much I drink, because I want to and I am committed to and I am thirsty for amrita. I want to be there fully to receive her and to be changed by the experience…something in my dna and my soul. I want this to be with someone I care about and understand; someone I feel and feel for. One whose emotions, soaked into her water, I then drink and in a sense become.

— from Book of Blue, first edition

EJA SHOWED UP AT BLUE STUDIO one day and declared herself my girlfriend. She arrived by car from out west, parked outside my studio, and brought a bunch of her stuff upstairs.

Then she promptly reorganized the bathroom closet. She put in some milk crates for her clothing, hung her hangers on part of the rack, and said she would be staying a while. Thinking back, I have no concept how she found me. This was one of the great mysteries of Blue Studio, not the only time it happened.

She was a tiny woman with strong and unchallengeable views. I mean there was no crossing her. No that’s not accurate. She loved to argue, and to win. And she could get me riled up, though I understood what was beneath it.

Experiences in a faux spiritual community kept her tied up for 10 years and she had, at last, set herself free. The cult, really, had extremely strict sexual mores — a total prohibition, including on masturbation — and she felt like she had missed her best sexual years — her 20s. The implication was she wanted to make up for some lost time. And it seemed she would be getting started with me.

However, everything was to be on her terms.

She was clear about this; that meant that sex was on her terms, which seemed to be the heart of the matter, but then it extended into nearly all facets of shared existence. Nothing was negotiable; if I wanted to proceed, I would be in a submissive role.

And in the process of taking charge, she was showing up in my studio submitting herself to something that she wanted: I think, to experiment with someone willing to facilitate her, and who could possibly handle her.

She was fierce, and she could and would argue any point. As I learned with cats, I always let her win, as a conscious choice. Her physical confidence was a marvel; her body was in perfect condition and she could stretch herself into any shape. Her mind was crying out for that same flexibility.

I suspected that under her bossy demeanor she was deeply insecure. Pisces with Capricorn Moon puts that crusty personality forward first to conceal the soft watery marsh of her soul. I loved women enough to understand that she was here to explore and build some confidence. If this was to be exclusively the basis of what she wanted, so be it. I was willing to offer myself to her. I liked her and, more significantly, was curious about her.

And there was something about her I wanted. And wanted badly.

In the course of whatever discussion preceded her arrival, I learned that she was capable of full ejaculation. She could gush. And I had never taken a woman’s ejaculation into my mouth. I told her I was interested in swallowing her at full strength. She said she would consider it.

Some years earlier, someone who came for photographs, more of a friend than a model, could also do this. And though she made it clear that I would not get to taste her, she was willing to demonstrate her ability with me right next to her.

She asked for several towels to put on my bed. Then she stripped and laid back against some pillows, and masturbated herself rather easily to her first orgasm. At which she gushed a little fluid into her fingers.

Then she demonstrated how she took that liquid and massaged it against her g-spot, the area right behind her pubic bone.

This time her orgasm was deeper and her face more naked, and she spilled a little more. She glanced up at me, but only for a moment. I had spent the day photographing her, and could not believe how beautiful she was in this new incarnation of the goddess.

Her next little spurt came with some heavy breaths as she massaged again deep into her yoni, pulling her hips back against her inner hand.

The third time she came she cried out the beauty of her feelings, and spilled more, now flooding the towels a little.

Then she took a little of that liquid and again massaged it deep into her cunt, as if spinning deeper each time, pressing her hands in and up against her inner clit, fapping her outer clit aggressively, until she thrashed and gushed more fully.

Then she did it again, always massaging her new amrita deep into her vagina, and soon she was in some alternate dimension of continuous orgasm, and with each crest she cried out sweetly and spilled some more.

And I was going nuts wanting to drink her in. Every instinct in my body said put your mouth there and be nourished. But I did not. When she was done, the towels looked like they had been thrown into a swimming pool. My bedding was soaked down to the mattress, and it smelled sweet and cunty.

We settled under the covers, both of us naked. She held me and looked at my face as I let go and cried out, relieving myself. Then we slept together in the enormous wet spot she had left.

So from that experience, I had a sense of what was possible — and not from a video. I knew what I wanted, or more accurately, what I needed. My desire had been building for years.

Eja made it clear this would not happen soon, if it was to happen at all. There was also to be no fucking, and no asking to fuck. Every time I looked at her lithe little frame and her deep staring eyes, I had to get used to this.

What she was willing to do was indulge me in cunnilingus, which came with the sense that she was allowing rather than inviting.

One of my ultimate sexual fantasies is what I call a cunnilingus date — a day, an evening, a week, or a whole relationship where the core sex is cunnilingus.

And so at some point during the first week or so, she invited me to touch her, and then to put my mouth on her, in between I smelled every detail of her body. I gradually teased and awakened her desire until she was wet and craving my tongue, and until I was achingly thirsty and ready to love her with total appreciation.

We explored for a long time and then one day she announced that she wanted to orgasm.

This would not be an ejaculation orgasm; she had full control over when that happened and did not happen. She instructed me how (and how not) to lick and suck her labia, and lick her clit. When she came, she arched into a tense, taut climax, her fists clinging to my hair and pulling my face up into her. Once her inhibitions were down, she could admit her need.

And for my fulfillment and for hers, I was happy to be the vehicle of her relaxation and self-becoming.

We explored like this for days, always at her initiative. She had now accepted me has her oral servant. Her personal intensity, really, a demanding quality, made this all the more appealing. And as the days went on, she opened up, and relaxed her legs, and her breath, and we were able to enter a space where we both agreed I was here to offer myself to her pleasure. She began to trust that.

During this phase, I learned something: she was insecure about how she smelled and tasted. This had nothing to do with her physical truth; it was her deep, secret insecurity. Many women feel this.

Though she never admitted to feeling better, she trusted that I was fully accepting of her. Maybe you can imagine the psychic calculus when such an insecurity is coupled with someone’s desire to receive her. We found a mutual place of acceptance there. But I knew her secret, and I held her gently, and it made every sip of her the more delectable and the more of a sacred honor to receive.

In these days I discovered another insecurity: she did not like her asshole licked. To me this is natural and a supreme pleasure — but she was stunned that I would even do it, and did not want it to happen again. So be it.

But I could smell and lick her cunt whenever she wanted, which was becoming more frequently. I learned and grew to understand the folds of her labia, and of her emotions, which are the same thing. I experienced how deep her vagina extended into her tiny pelvis, and she allowed me to reach into her with my tongue and taste her deeper core essence.

Then one night she said she was ready. She wanted to ejaculate into my mouth.

She said she could not assure me that it would happen. And like many women, she sometimes experienced her ejaculation without orgasm, which was deeply frustrating. She wanted both, though could not promise that it would be so. She wanted a vibrator. She wanted the bed around her pelvis covered with towels. She wanted a small hand towel.

And then she would masturbate herself while I waited patiently to be told her release was imminent. Then I could lean in. I provided all those items. Then she wanted to smoke a little herb.

“Indica or sativa?”

“Doesn’t matter. Sativa.” I filled a one-hitter and handed it to her; she took a drag and handed it to me, and I did so as well. It was just enough for us to slip into a dreamy space we shared only with one another.

She then stripped below the waist, slipping out of her jeans and panties, and positioned herself with her pelvis at the edge of the futon bed. This was about 18 inches off the floor. She told me to strip and sit on the floor. I did as she asked, sitting down naked on a plush carpet.

“Move back a little,” she said. “I can’t be crowded.”

I did.

She began to massage her vulva, which seemed dry and flaccid. She parted her lips and dipped a finger in a little, teasing. I watched attentively and listened to her breathing and observed how she delicately invited herself into the surrender that she wanted. I had the sense that she was not always so gentle with herself — though this was a first time for both of us, and she was easing herself in lovingly. She had confided in me that nobody had ever asked to drink her, and it never occurred to her that someone would.

She glanced her clitoris with her finger and I heard her let out a little whimper. She said, “When I’m ready, I’m going to move my hands away. It’ll happen soon after. OK?”

Mm hmm.

She then reached for the vibrator — a Hitachi magic wand — with one hand, and for the small towel with the other. She cushioned her pubis and clitoris and turned on the power and made contact. I looked at her face and saw a gentle bliss I had never witnessed before. Seeing her relax, I became aware of my thirst, my long unfulfilled craving, and my long anticipated fulfillment.

I wanted to smell her moistening yoni, but held myself back.

She masturbated herself, generously and fully. Till then her only orgasms were with her vulva pressed against my mouth and face, and I could not see her expression from that angle. Now I could, and I was loving her, her beauty, her delicacy. And beneath that, rising up from below her or deep in her, her urgent need to let go, which now was coupled with the intended experience of offering herself to my thirst.

She paused and stripped off her blouse, nearly tearing the buttons. Then she resumed. She pulled her knees up and pitched her pelvis, rocking into her bliss. I wanted to hold her but knew not to. She wanted to be completely in her own world, a world of her solitary pleasure, even though I was right here.

Then she dropped the hand towel and then grind the magic wand into her cunt, almost fucking herself with its big white bulb. Her breath touched the sound of moaning. She pulled her knees apart and her breath heaved. Suddenly in that moment it occurred to me I might not like how her water tasted. My inner voice responded: this is going to be good.

“Now,” she said, and pulled her hands away and let out a gorgeous little groan of surrender.

I had my mouth positioned exactly correctly. I quickly pressed my lips, spread wide, into the flesh of her vulva, and the moment we made contact, her water rushed out, hot and fast — flooding my open mouth, and I swallowed, and another gush, and I swallowed, and another…as she emptied herself into me…and she was bitter, with a clean yet acrid flavor, and when I connected with exactly what that was, I was spun into bliss like I had never imagined.

I gently embraced her heaving cunt with my mouth swallowing deeply over and over, and took in the few last pulses of her delight.

Then I sucked her labia but it was too much. She pulled away.

I sat there throbbing and breathing and soaked in a wild kind of freedom. I sucked my mouth with my tongue and swallowed and licked my lips and wanted more. Whatever that flavor of her was nourished some deep and specific need I did not know I had.

I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed. I wondered what she was thinking and what she was feeling. I wanted her to see my wet and delighted face. Finally she opened her eyes. Gazing at me, they were questioning and uncertain.

I said softly across the space, “Thank you.”

And she mouthed back to me silently, “Thank you.”

My soul sang: our exchange was complete. And then my body was calling me, in this, my first moment of total satiation of my thirst.

My inner pelvis was full and my cock was hard and I wanted to let go. I knew I could do whatever I wanted — to myself. What I really wanted to do was fuck her beautifully and release myself deep into her as her face studied mine. And I knew that was not an option. Slowly I gathered the courage to just go for it.

She watched me, wondering what I would do.

I wondered for a moment and then knew. I crawled across the carpet to the floor mirror where some sex toys were kept. I retrieved one, and a cum mirror, and a little cup of coconut oil. She knew about my cum mirrors but had not seen me play with one.

I knew what I wanted. I lubed the dildo and then my ass and squatted up and sat on the thing, as we stared at one another’s faces. Now I was fucked. If I could not press into her and fill her up, I could do so myself and show her my face as I did. I looked at her through the slits of my eyes, holding to her curious gaze.

Then I picked up my spattered mirror and licked it and then smelled the mixture of my dry cum and my spit and her water, delighting in the embarrassment of doing so. I learned over and thrust the dildo into myself a few times, grunting out my need. Every cell in my body wanted to grab her and plunge into her soul and roar out my pleasure to her and to the universe.

This desire was laced with the understanding that she too wanted to fuck, and did not want to fuck me. Or maybe she did and had decided to save herself for someone else. I had my role. And here I was, fucking myself, for her, but really for myself, taking the opportunity to cast off any inhibition. I wanted to show her everything. I wanted her to know everything. That’s all that was left.

The intensely curious expression of her eyes encouraged me. I picked up the streaked mirror again and looked at my face amidst the smears and tongue streaks.

I licked again and a flake of dry semen came off and melted onto my tongue exploding with its strange flavor. I was amazed at myself, and at the same time this seemed so natural and so necessary.

I glanced at her again for approval and only saw deeper curiosity. Then I smelled my mirror again, soaking in my cunty scent mixed with hers, and set the thing down. I had no more tease left in me.

I planted myself firmly into the floor accentuating my sensation of being fucked and rooted to the ground. And then licked my hand with the mix of she and me. I wanted to be fully naked, more naked than I ever have been, so I dropped any remaining trace of pretext.

I massaged my penis, needing to burst, needing my soul to burst into hers, aching to penetrate her body and release myself into her, and she knew this. I understood that to hold me at bay was important for her and delightful for me. I looked at her face longingly with the feeling of passion and rage and want, and before I knew what was happening, existence threw my body into orgasm and then pulsing fully I was spurting into my left hand, flooding my palm.

As my climax crested I looked up at Eja and saw the same inquiring look in her eyes — no movement, no admission — and as this expression melted into softness, I met her with my gaze as I licked my palm and licked again and filled my mouth. I reminded myself I could do anything I wanted and I looked at her and dropped my tongue and revealed my semen filled mouth, ashamed and delighted with myself and revealing my truth to her.

And then I wiped my remaining semen on my face with my hands and swallowed myself into her eyes as the cool sensation washed over my cheeks and lips.

We stayed this way for a while, looking at one another across the space, and listening to the building creak — I don’t know for how long. Finally she invited me to crawl into bed with her and we slept deeply, holding one another into the night.

In the early morning silence with the sky turning orange outside the windows, we laid together in bed and masturbated ourselves together, our bodies touching, each of us calling out to the world or to ourselves or to one another, surrendering to existence, and drifting off to sleep again in one another’s arms.

The most poignant inner spaces to share are those infused with the conscious agreement to surrender yoni back to the goddess.

I can say and feel my agreed desperation with all of you...the ultimate slingshot is to gaze into yoni and dance in that scent and even be offered and wind up naked on the toilet set masturbating into a mirror she is holding for me…

The universal gesture, anasyrma, and in my context it is: you may have the privilege of wanting to sniff and taste, the privilege of admitting your thirst, the privilege of wanting to impregnate. Feel that and let it take you within yourself where you will go.

i’m working my way up to an article describing negotiated desperation. on that theme, the audio above is soothing.

Dear Friend and Reader:

Over the years, in a wide diversity of projects — from the horoscope to my spiritual presentations to Planet Waves FM — I’ve mentioned a project called Book of Blue. Often the reference is in photo credits. New readers may not have noticed this yet. Blue Studio was active from about 2005 through 2017 in Canada, Paris, Brussels, and London; then as a steady location in New York for nine years, with visits to a few other places in the United States.

My catalogue includes photos of people looking into mirrors, holding mirrors for one another and of the mirrors themselves. There’s a lot behind the images, though they’re designed to work subliminally and without explanation. However, now seems like a good time to say more and to share some of the work in its original context.

Introduction

The extreme emphasis on power and politics in our time has, at its roots, the denial of honest sexuality and intimacy. That is its purpose; that denial is the object of the game. Yet the basic human needs of contact and acknowledgment exist no matter how vehemently they are denied.

The digital environment puts people in a desperate and alienated state, and many are in love with it. We live amidst a constant emphasis on the marketplace, news of trauma and alleged or real transgression, plus seemingly endless agitation over what the Supreme Court thinks — yet with no discernible discussion of actual sharing.

Here in our supposedly awake times, sex is freely distributed with the No Fun certification. It’s a little like monks putting ashes in their food so they don’t enjoy it.

There seems to be no easy way out of the chaos and into honesty and sincere communication about desire and sharing. This is emphasized by those poorly-lit, badly-acted five-minute digital movies hijacking the erotic imagination. We might ask why they appear to be so addictive; perhaps because there is so little else available. That would not persist if we were willing to make it available.

Enter: Book of Blue.

Compersion Means Erotic Empathy

The idea for Book of Blue came out of my work as a facilitator on the Tantra, Polyamory and Swing conference circuit starting in the mid-1990s. As a presenter at a diversity of events, I took up two topics that I didn’t notice anyone focusing on.

One was compersion, which is an idea that covers a broad spectrum of forms of erotic empathy. Essentially, compersion means experiencing a positive response to your partner’s sexual pleasure — in whatever form it takes — including their desires and imagination. Yep, they would take pleasure in knowing what lurks in the back of your dirty little mind, and you would get lusty telling them.

Part of understanding compersion calls for being in contact with the nature of jealousy, which is not what it seems (more details on that for another discussion).

In sum, though, jealousy is an inner crisis connected to the fear of death, triggered by one’s sense of self dissolving in the face of a jealous episode. If someone is strongly identified with a relationship, if the relationship is threatened, they will feel their whole identity is threatened and their whole life is collapsing.

Envy, a different feeling, is related to competition (and is often thought of incorrectly as jealousy). Envy is about wanting what someone else has. That’s running through the streets and racking up cash on monetized videos: the envy economy. You will pay me to want to be like me.

Exploring compersion can get complicated when people outside the primary relationship are involved (such as in polyamorous situations). Typically, that is the only time the idea of compersion comes up, if it does. Usually this is in concept only. If you’re struggling in your poly situations, dive into compersion. It’s learnable though mostly takes either a sense of daring or natural appreciation for life.

I take an additional approach to the topic. Compersion can be explored within couples who are devoted to their own and one another’s truth. No third parties or extracurricular activities are necessary. The easiest way to demonstrate and experience erotic empathy is by witnessing your partner do themselves while you tell them how beautiful they are.

And there is self-compersion, where you would explore pleasure-gifting and verbal appreciation for yourself…with the resonance of empathy as you observe yourself. This invokes the inner witness.

Selfsex as a Primary Loving, Relational and Cosmic Experience

Speaking of compersion: the other topic I presented on was selfsex as a primary loving, erotic and relational experience, both with oneself and with others. ‘With others’ potentially includes with relationship partners, friends or whoever is appropriate in that circumstance.

I have conducted group sessions at a diversity of conferences with a wide age range of adults (20s to 70s), including both men and women demonstrating their selfsex for the group in front of a large mirror. You would be amazed how natural this is, how easily it happened, and how good it was. I discovered how curious people are about one another’s selfsex.

I think we have the sexual equation all backwards, in assuming that partnersex is the real thing and selfsex is some kind of substitute. Partnersex is often a placeholder for masturbation, or a form of masturbation using another person’s body. (That’s often the concept of a hookup these days.) Few would dare to admit it.

We may agree that one is capable of loving others to the degree that one loves oneself, and it’s the same with erotic love. For most people, selfsex is their most fulfilling and most honest form of erotic experience. In our time, for many, it is their only one. Usually it’s your first sex, your last sex and most of what happens in between.

Is it true that your best orgasms are the ones you give yourself, alone? I’m proposing that those are the orgasms we would benefit from sharing with others, and that doing so would open a new frontier of intimacy and healing. Oh, and did I mention fun?

If you’re coupled and have noticed that the quality of your sexual exchange is stuck or nonexistent, try masturbating together, touching only yourselves, not one another. Keep a mirror handy; in this ritual, holding the mirror for the other takes the place of touching. If the mirror feels too intimate, start without it; just leave it handy for when you want it. Yes, this is a daring, but ultimately a safe activity.

An Open Field of Exploration and Self-Discovery

While I was still a presenter, I did some early photo experiments with my friends Keiko, Maria and Tia in 1998 and 1999, with Neal McDonough as the principal photographer using medium format film cameras. That was called Luscious Photo.

Then in 2005, I got a digital camera and began to guide my experiences from workshops into the photo studio. I started in Montreal and Toronto, and then created photo sessions in Paris, Brussels, London, Amsterdam, New York and on the West Coast. World Mirror Tour, powered by Craig’s List!

Book of Blue in its various locations provided me and the participants with many experiences of learning about ourselves and one another — and making art in the process. I think it’s interesting that the project started outside of the U.S. and once I had developed it, I imported the concept into American culture.

Creating and reviewing the photos, I discovered that I was on a search for the nature of my inner feminine, which mysteriously came with the ongoing discovery and emergence of my inner masculine. My photo subjects were on a quest for self-understanding and affirmation (and many knew they were modeling an aspect of myself for me). Even if they came in for a hundred bucks and some pictures for their portfolio, each session was a kind of ritual, in its own way extraordinary.

For me, a personal exploration of left/right integration emerged as I accepted each of the women as an expression of my inner goddess, and many an expression my my mother.

My journey includes longterm and potentially lifetime experiments in ecstatic celibacy. (Such an approach is sometimes known as White Tantra.) This is an underlying theme of Book of Blue, so we might say Blue Tantra.

Reducing the Projection Content of My Relationships

Personally, I have found abstaining from penetrative sex helpful at reducing the projection content of my intimate relationships. At the same time, this leaves space for sexual feelings, experiences and understanding. Said another way, I’ve taken possession of my inner feminine. And said yet another, the basis of my relationships is honoring everyone’s relationship to themselves.

Through these experiences, partners in any form serve as witnesses and mirror-holders (including the use of the True Mirror, which shows you a non-mirror-image of yourself; highly recommended).

The camera is also a mirror. Both give the person reflected an experience of being seen and felt, perhaps the deepest need we have in relationships and often a missing experience. Unlike most photographers, I spent considerable time on both sides of the camera.

It’s fair to say that this exploration process is the ground that all my other work emerges from, whether astrological, spiritual, journalistic, musical, visual, or whatever. If your sexual energy is flowing in a focused way, so too is your creativity.

The Digital Hall of Mirrors — and a Real Mirrorspace

The relational and sexual environment we now exist in is a largely disembodied space that is induced, magnified and conditioned by overexposure to digital technology. It is in effect a massive hall of projection and electronic mirrors. It is a cold and aggressive state of mind and of existence, detached from human reality.

Another thing missing in this space is curiosity, which is much of what motivates wholesome relationships and healthy sexual encounters. Sex without sensuality, curiosity or affection is immensely boring.

In the digital world, money and meager attention ‘substitute’ for love, trust, friendship and acknowledgement. Transaction with a receipt for cash paid ‘substitutes’ for exchange. Aggression ‘substitutes’ for self-actualization. The more people are asleep to themselves, the more they will tend to attack others. The more awake we are to ourselves, the less we will do this.

Digital communication has also given rise to an environment of extreme mendacity, where people serve as their own nonstop 24/7 multimedia publicists, and can create any image of themselves, or their past, that they want.

Living in this condition has pushed many people into a dissociated state verging on hallucination or a psychotic break. Many are terribly lonely and starving for touch; many are angry and don’t know why. The hyper-reactive and impersonal digital environment eliminates the experience of sex (there is no male or female in electronic space; our bodies are not here).

It has also given rise to services/disservices like Chaturbate, OnlyFans, PornHub and #metoo (a form of porn, and notably with the name in digital code, a hashtag) — all of which exist in a near-total vacuum of trust, truth and empathy, and would not be possible without the digital environment.

In this environment, under these strange conditions, fully embodied orgasm may be our best resource for staying present on Earth and remembering who and what we are. Sharing this experience with those we trust may be our best resource for reminding ourselves and one another something essential about being human.

This goes far beyond ‘sex’. It’s about being fully present in our lives, our bodies and our senses, and experiencing unconditional sincerity. I think we would let off a lot of pressure and begin to find a new kind of peace with one another. This is more fun than worrying about Trump all day, but only if you say so.

No Room for Pretext. Only Truth is Erotic.

When you reveal yourself to your partner or friend in front of a mirror naked with all your mixed emotions — and all that you might say to yourself, and say to them — you’re taking a step in a new direction of not just intimacy, but existence.

There is no room for pretext or pretense. Only truth is erotic. The purpose that deception serves is to extinguish erotic feelings and isolate people from one another. That is the likely source of its appeal and popularity.

Sexual experiences with a mirror and a witness can reach a depth of communion and communication that few have imagined possible. Central to the experience is engaging and working with shame and embarrassment consciously (rather than hiding them), and using these emotions as a means of opening up to intimacy rather than avoiding it.

If you have followed this branch of my work (for example, through my Tantra Studio and Shri Yantra programs on Planet Waves FM), you may have heard me say that deeper pleasure, sharing and healing are accessed by going toward shame and embarrassment rather than away from them.

This translates to toward ourselves rather than away from ourselves. Embarrassment surrounds the restricted areas within us.

Imagine if the people in your life had the role of helping you forgive yourself rather than participating in your self-condemnation. Imagine if you could truly be who you are, which must extend into sexuality within sexual relationships. Imagine if your healing came first in your relationships, rather than your personal gratification.

What We Call Love is a Quest for Selflove and Approval

It is my observation that many people — without admitting it — enter relationships seeking approval and acknowledgement of who they are, or who they want to be. It’s not about loving the other. It’s about being affirmed by the other.

We want to be seen, known and acknowledged for our beauty, and our seeming flaws. Very often ‘loving another’ is a kind of glorified way of attempting to love yourself or prove that you’re lovable because you have this person in your life. These are often relationships based on guilt and not on love (and what A Course in Miracles refers to as the Special Relationship).

Another purpose many relationships serve is to ‘complete’ our personalities and fill in for a sense of feeling incomplete and insecure. This is of course dangerous territory. Such scenarios often descend into an environment of extreme projection where people lose track of who they are, or feel unloveable when they believe they are no longer loved. Such relationships usually end in bitter disillusionment, and sometimes in court.

Then there are the people who enter relationships under totally false pretexts — they know who they are.

Gestalt Therapy co-founder Fritz Perls perhaps 50 or so years ago described relationships as the primary means of attaining self-knowledge. There is an idea in there, though I think Fritz missed an important point.

Maybe it was more relevant then — but if so, it has not really panned out very well. People seem to get lost in one another a lot more than they get found, and it’s usually not easy to get out of the maze. I think the discovery experience was more available when there was far less electronic distraction and when we had to talk to one another if we wanted to say something.

As a friend wrote to me recently, commenting on a draft of this article, “Makes me see just how much I’ve hidden myself through sex, instead of the opposite, and then wondered why relationships feel so not intimate, why I’ve felt disconnected — from the other, and from myself.”

Mm hmm.

Starting Relationships on an Honest Basis

I propose starting relationships with an affirmation of selflove and the necessity of learning how to love ourselves.

This reversal would be on a fully conscious basis; an agreement and an understanding, inherent in the the nature of any commitment. It would feel like, ‘I am here to help you love and forgive yourself, and you are here to help me love and forgive myself’.

In a sexual context, participants in this idea would masturbate together before ever having penetrative sex. Yes you are now in my fantasy world!

This would be followed by a conversation (when fully dressed). If that goes well, they might try again; and if that goes really well, they might consider getting mixed up in one another’s root chakras. This mix-up usually happens way too fast for anyone’s sanity or happiness. Fast, like a hit and run. Sharing masturbation is more like, “So how do you take your tea?”

In my view, a total rethinking of the purpose of relationships is called for. I propose that your role in the lives of others is to help them love (and confront) themselves; their role is to help you love (and confront) yourself. By ‘help’ I mean taking as a primary purpose of the relationship the cultivation of mutual independence, self-awareness and inner experience. By ‘confront’ I mean gently face ourselves, like in the picture below.

While this is a long way from where many people are today, there are some who are ready to embrace this as a kind of relating; many for whom these words and ideas will bring a sense of relief.

Your Secret Inner Space

We all feel that we have an inner sanctuary. There is that deep-in place where it is only possible for you to feel yourself and there’s nowhere else left to go. To invite people into your masturbation brings them close to you. Yet deep in, it’s just you. That’s where you go when you’re fucked so deeply and beautifully you forget anything but you exists.

Mutual Independent Relationship

These ideas are drifting in the direction of selfsex based relationships. That is to say, sexual pairing where the sex is masturbation, alone and/or together.

These relationships exist. Housemates who are not lovers may be aware of one another’s masturbation. With that knowledge, a special empathy forms…maybe even active appreciation or compersion. Friends occasionally discover the simple pleasure of masturbating together and its enhanced closeness. There are couples who hold themselves as lovers who only masturbate; that is their only sex, potentially alone.

Imagine an couple or ‘partner’ type relationship based from the outset on selfsex and selflove as the modes of sharing affection. Touching might be included though the theme is solo rather than penetrative sex. There might be tremendous and delightful sexual tension between the partners that is then expressed into the mirror, as mutual support for the other’s selfaffirmation. Orgasmic selfgifting…

Implicit in this pattern is enhanced emotional independence. If the couple has never fucked, the root-chakra cord may not exist…and attachment can be formed on another basis. Aikonomirā kōsan (eye contact mirror orgasm) can fill that space joyfully. The outer world may hold the people as couples, knowing nothing about their erotic practice. It’s easy to envision a few others with whom they are intimate about their exploration.

Mutual independent relationship is a descriptive term for this form of sharing. I imagine there are many approaches to this, all with the underlying theme of mutually supported independence.

Self Betrothal

Imagine if one’s relationship life could begin with a commitment to oneself, supported by the community. Then after a time of maturing into that relationship, commitments to others could be considered. Currently go the other direction: commitments to others are supposed to teach us about our relationship to ourselves. I propose this is why our relationships tend to be so messy.

[continued as written below]

april 14…sodus…addendum…

I’ve been glossing over this phase of my experience. By “abstaining from penetrative sex” I mean weaning off of yoni. This has been quite the delectable drama the past 20 years…and the theme infusing bOb…as the women intentionally held the space of no as a gift to me.

My lovers have done this as well, helping me explore a place of no or choosing not, deep in my sexual attachment to them. As we consciously held the space of transforming my thirst for She into my thirst for Me.

Right now I’m listening to a mantra by eryca where she is saying,

Look in the mirror, eric, look in the mirror, You are never going to suck cunt again. Look in the mirror. look in the mirror, eric.

This began with me saying to her, i will never suck your cunt, eryca.

And she said, that’s right…and expanded the field to all women. all cunts.

++

The most embarrassing of these situations to reveal is arranging a situation where where i beg for yoni and I am refused.

And then there’s beth bee saying, you can fuck me if you want. It’s up to you. and then this scene morphs into me sitting naked on the toilet with her on the floor, dressed, in front of me, saying, It seems like you’ve chosen to masturbate.

Now I’m pleading. But I want to fuck you. I want to cum into you.

She is firm. You’ve made your choice. you can’t go back.

She holds the mirror faithfully, to my face, knowing I’ll slowly melt. You are a mirror masturbator.

before i can’t hold back my love…i embody the truth…that she offered me fucking and licking her cunt and I’m sitting here moaning into my face. with her, for myself, for her, for myself…for myself as she witnesses and she holds the mirror as i eat my spirm from its surface. i show Lakshmi my full mouth.

in realtime the audio is still playing, ery over and over. Look in the mirror, eric, look in the mirror, You are never going to suck cunt again. Look in the mirror. look in the mirror, eric. you will never suck cunt again…

[continued]

The Narcissism of the Digital Environment

Regarding narcissism, I speak not in the classical psychiatric (pathological or abusive) sense of extreme grandiosity and self-importance, or being dominated by your parents, but rather in the colloquial sense of self-absorption, solipsism and vanity.

And for sure, lots and lots of people think this is cute.

The problem of the mythological Narcissus was not that he was a cunning manipulator, dominator or thought he was better than others.

Rather, the problem Narcissus had was that he did not know the person he was seeing in the reflection was himself. He thought it was someone else. And at the same time, he lost interest in the real women who were around him and who were aware of him, and there, he languished and died.

This is our situation in the digital age; we think that all that stuff around us, all those images we see, are something other than us. It’s not obvious that it’s all a projection or extension. Therefore, to work with what is known consciously to be a reflection will be helpful and provide a way through the maze.

Masturbation in Dom/Sub Relationships

A dom/sub relationship is one where there’s an agreed upon top and bottom: a dominant and a submissive. One might propose that every relationship is organized this way, or that one party is a top and the other is a sub in different aspects of life.

As the Mistress Paige once said on an early version of my radio show (live on the air on Radio Woodstock), ‘Whoever has the pussy has the power’. Most women know this is true but are afraid to claim themselves, as the rewards of feigned victimhood seem more appealing and require less responsibility. This is called topping from the bottom.

In the situation of unrequited desire — the subject of plenty of masturbation — we have the ultimate dom/sub situation. The entirety of pornography is getting off on not having. (Porn also reveals an aspect of compersion in ordinary life; someone gets off to other people having an experience.)

However, for the purposes of this discussion, let’s focus on intentional dom/sub play. This is far more popular territory than most people realize, though it’s not often talked about, and probably not the kind of thing you would discuss with the average therapist or astrologer (though the dynamics will be evident).

Masturbation is inherently submissive. Even if you ‘top yourself’, the self that you’re topping is the sub part of your psyche. This is interesting to explore in masturbation that involves self-penetration, since the same person is the penetrator and the penetratee. Ultimately, with masturbation, you submit to yourself, or to the idea of something larger than yourself (which is your idea).

Even if your fantasy content involves domination, the whole thing is going on in your mind, and ultimately you let go to something about you or your own thoughts.

In dom/sub situations, one form of play is the sub masturbating for the dom. There is plenty of mutual gratification here; ‘reciprocity’ is not necessary (i.e., both parties masturbating together or taking turns, as the setup of dom/sub is not about being on equal terms).

To give a few examples of dom/sub (sometimes called top/bottom) masturbation play: The top instructs the bottom to masturbate. This can come with various shades of humiliation, from mild degradation to setting up a scene where the sub masturbates in front of everyone at an otherwise ordinary party or gathering.

Or, the top, being the object of desire of the bottom, and the bottom is permitted to display their desire and/or beg without getting to touch. This can be reversed: the top masturbates for the bottom, but no touching or tasting is allowed. The bottom gets to see what they cannot have. The fun for both parties is in the tease; there is plenty of having involved. What most people seek from their sexual encounters is some form of acknowledgement and complete communication.

Notes for Couples With a Desire Differential

There are many couples where there seems to be a desire differential: one partner wants sex more than the other. Without speaking at length to both partners, it’s not possible to tell what is going on. Usually, though, a deep and honest conversation can help. Write it on your mirror: Only truth is erotic.

And I’ve found — as have many sex educators — that there’s nothing like masturbating together to spark things up. Remember that this is as much about intimacy and emotional sharing as it is about sex.

However, there’s an alternative to that, which is (for lack of better wording) the horny partner masturbates and the not-so-horny partner keeps them company. It’s a lovely way for one partner to show their devotion and caring, and for the other to relax and be affirmed in the experience of taking care of themselves.

Nothing quite says “I love you the way you are” than inviting someone to masturbate in front of you, and bestowing your attention on them.

The amount of touching is up to those involved; you might hold your partner, or be right nearby. You might speak to one another, or maintain silence. You might make eye contact, or use a mirror for the selflover to focus on themselves.

The effect will be to take the pressure off of the less-sexually interested partner, and also offer some relief and emotional attention to the more desirous partner. Said another way, sharing this experience will keep your energy moving, ease off on the frustration and perhaps facilitate a conversation.

It’s Not About Them, It’s About You

Essential to the theme of mirror play is the recognition that you are looking at yourself. One role of the witness or thresholder is to remind you of this. The presence of a witness makes it more difficult to hide from yourself. So both parties must be able to handle the vulnerability gently. This is the time to check judgment at the door.

Reflection also implies the idea of projection. One of the original starting questions of Book of Blue went something like this: is all this beauty I see in women really there, or is it me projecting my inner feminine onto them and seeing an aspect of myself in some other form, or seeing what I want to see?

This turned out to be an evocative and revealing question for all involved. And it does not have an easy answer. These photographs are all collaborations, and require a mutually supported environment of trust. Yet over time, I took more and more responsibility for what I saw and what I felt.

The photos are based on my perception and my vision. You are seeing how I feel about the women I depict, and also how they respond to my feelings. I would add that trust and appreciation of this kind are barely imaginable today, when we often pretend everyone and everything is a threat.

Anyway, here we all are, seemingly lost in the hall of mirrors of a vast digital dream (or paranoid nightmare), where the imagination and senses have been externalized, and where most allegedly erotic experiences are head trips that lack any exchange of empathy, gratitude or warmth. Yes there are exceptions — though they are rare.

There is a better way.

The Power Question: Disarming Sexuality

One of the most significant challenges we face today is the constant association of sex with power, which is an aspect of politicization. We know very little about sex and often confuse the shrill discourse around ‘rights’, categories and sexual politics with sex itself. These are the very opposite of sex, deadly to trust, pleasure, curiosity and friendly desire.

Facing into a mirror, one’s sexuality can have no power over. It is the true submission to oneself, which is the only submission there is. Facing one another masturbating, people are as equal as they can ever be. That is their sexual orientation — the one that all the others have in common. Men and/or women exploring together in this way must respect the individuality, self-expression and beauty of each person in the space. To be better than someone else is a farce.

Our society seems to think it has a problem with ‘consent’. This is a legalistic term, descriptive of a supposed undocumented contract that can be revoked after the fact. Most sex does not happen by this elusive thing we call consent. Most people just do what they do, especially when drunk — consequences be damned.

To create the experience of sharing masturbation requires a sensitive discussion, where the parties have little choice but to talk about how they feel entering this unusual and rarely-explored intimate territory.

The conversation that would have to happen prior to sharing masturbation is the same discussion that rightly would occur before any form of sexual sharing. Therefore, it can serve as an example of how to establish mutual desire and appropriateness of the experience as a standard. To put a point on this: Consent is a useless concept in intimate relationships. But some people think the new way to ask someone out on a date is, “Do you consent to having dinner with me?”

As for consent, we are fast approaching the time when the only thing that will count is a Venmo receipt.

Solitary Sex Within Relationships

There exists a vast number of people for whom selfsex is their only sex. Generally, there are those who are happy about this; there are those who are angry about it; and there are those who just accept it as a fact of existence. Some are in partner relationships and some are not.

We never hear any discussion of these people in the copious tirades on sexual politics, sexual rights and sexual orientation. Selfsexuals don’t get a stripe on the flag. Rather, they should get the whole flag, since every one of those colors has one thing in common, and that is that nearly all people are to some extent selfsexual, and many are so exclusively.

It’s a sexual orientation if this concept has any meaning, though there are very few openly declared selfsexuals. It’s as if these individuals don’t exist. This is because masturbation has long been categorized as nonsex, and another prejudice — again, usually kept silent — that people without partners don’t really exist.

Then there are the people with partners where there is no sex in the relationship. Some of those wish they could get something going; others have no interest.

My observation is that masturbation is the most closeted form of sex. There are plenty of partners who masturbate separately from one another. There remains a pall of shame and embarrassment over the whole topic. In another presentation I will get into how this shame and also guilt (often a response to having been pruned back like a hedge, or having been abused) are the glue that holds together every hypocrisy we see in society. From a tantric standpoint, that is the crux of the matter.

For those in sexually stagnant relationships who want to get something going, you may find that masturbating together does something you could not have imagined. Most people have two versions of their sexuality: the one they share with others and sometimes talk about, and the one that exists within their own personal experience that they keep quiet and do not dare describe.

Often this concealment or withholding is what is choking off the sex between the partners. However, one of the reasons that selfsex is kept secret is the fantasy content that comes with it. If you’re interested in or obsessed over someone other than your partner and get off to the thought of sex with them every day, this is unlikely something you will want to share with your partner.

But sooner or later it’s going to come out, potentially right before you suffocate and decide you actually need to breathe. If you are living another life, whether in your mind or in reality, that you cannot share, that is an important situation in your relationship. It will be difficult to have a meaningful emotional or sexual exchange under these circumstances. What to do about this is outside the scope of the present essay, but maybe for another time. However, there really is no way out except for honesty.

Other people don’t share their masturbation or their fantasy life because they fear it will be embarrassing. The good news is that you can play with the embarrassment factor. It’s so much fun you’ll miss it when it’s gone. But this requires a sense of adventure. I think most people would wonder why anyone would possibly want to share this aspect of themselves; and one reason is because it might be fun or healing. You would find out when you get there.

How Deep You Are, and How Much You Can Feel

The suffocating secrecy around masturbation is an artifice induced by religion and enforced by culture. The secret being kept from you and from all of us is how deep you are, and how much you’re capable of feeling, and what cosmic information comes through this misunderstood cosmic experience we call orgasm.

Those people who come from religious backgrounds, whether sly or extreme, have been led to feel guilty about who they are, what they think about, and what they feel. Sex is merely the excuse, and selfsex is almost always the focal point of the assault.

The coverup involved is about your beauty and your depth of feelings. There are some sexual feelings and experiences you can encounter with partners; there is another set of feelings and experiences that you will mostly encounter alone and that are deeply personal. Consider how you experience orgasm alone and with others present. There are many women who do not experience orgasm with a partner; they only do so through masturbation — and this is revealing.

Notes on ‘Incel’ or Involuntary Celibacy

There’s a kind of movement of men who consider themselves incel, or ‘involuntarily celibate’. This is a strange concept, which translates to some form of ‘can’t find a partner’ or ‘can’t get laid’. There is a lot of anger in this discussion, a lot of blame being cast and not much understanding to work with. Part of the problem here is that in our society, masculinity is often measured by a man’s desirability to women.

Yet a more significant issue is that this is happening in the digital age, and the ideas and the experiences are being driven by digital conditions. In other words, incel is a digital effect. That includes both the experience as it is felt today, the category and the organizing around it. In the era of digital feminism, women are being blamed for the experience that men are having. Whether this is true or not, the blame posture is not going to solve the problem, which is not the problem that it seems to be on the surface. You might say this is the opposite of making some claim to being selfsexual.

However, it makes some sense to look at the surface level and see if any insights are available. Initiation into manhood in our culture is often viewed as sexual initiation — with a woman. And if women don’t seem to be interested, that seems to be a reflection on the man and his masculinity. It is not helpful, indeed, it’s dangerous, to think of masculinity as a locked room to which only women hold the key. For those with this situation, trying to find a woman with the key to the lock is not going to help. You have no idea what is in this hypothetical initiation chamber until you get there.

Despite what you may see in movies and on televsion programs, no woman holds the key to a man’s self-esteem or to his masculinity. However, the woman to study, if there is one, is your mother.

There many other moving parts to consider. Many men carry a wide diversity of prejudices, ungrounded expectations and ignorance about what women want and what they feel — and that leads to further disconnect. Most women don’t do too good of a job of being forthright about what they want or who they are, and too often encourage bad treatment from men.

There are a lot of reasons you’re in this situation, and it’s worth considering that one of them is missing knowledge. To get out of any stuck place, the first thing to work with is your curiosity. This at first will feel daring, because it gets results. The Pathwork teaches that sexual curiosity is the highest form of curiosity. This would apply to curiousity about your own sexuality and that of women; and potentially of other men. How much do you know about sex?

Most people have only ever read about sexual politics (i.e., pro and con feminism, pro and con trans) and have never read anything whatsoever about sex, itself (for which I suggest you rely on books, not the internet). Nor have they considered their sexuality with any real thought. Sex is the topic about which everyone is an expert and nobody knows anything.

It does not help that the Digital Internet Education Department puts out thousands of “what passes for sex” videos where people get hot and heavy in the first 45 seconds. These tell you less then nothing; they misinform and disinform you about what actually happens in intimate situations.

They reveal zilch about how men and women respond to one another, nor are they especially accurate about same-sex encounters. The deeper problem is the digital environment itself. Porn as we know it today is an effect of the digital environment.

You Need Real Life Experience

If you consider yourself an incel man and have grown up on porn, and have not had many opportunities to explore with women, your whole orientation around sex is digital. Said more directly, you have quite a bit to unlearn, which is the essential precursor to any learning process. And the main thought you have to unlearn is that sex is not digital, which is discarnate. Sex is incarnated. It is physical and emotional. To experience sex and emotional intimacy you will need to come back to the wavelength of the body…of meatspace.

And in my considerable experience, there are exceedingly few women who, in physical reality, are anywhere near as sexually confident — whether men or women — as porn actors pretend to be in those little movies.

One approach to incel is to make it voluntary. You might assume there is something you need to learn and decide you’re going to take your time and find out what it is. Maybe take three months off from being incel and do it by choice. Imagine if the foxiest little vixen offered you anything you wanted, you would refuse, in honoring your chosen independence.

You might discover opportunities for intimacy with women open up if a sexual or ‘romantic’ relationship is taken off the list of possibilities. What you’re actually doing is suspending expectations and getting to know women for who they are. This creates the space to develop communication and learn mutual trust. If you are interested in women, those are the skills you need. This is not about being in the ‘friend’ category; it’s about you gathering information and observations — mostly about yourself.

For any man who is wondering, any woman who is actually interested in you is going to let you know sooner or later. It’s much better if they take the initiative, which they will do (if interested) once they feel confident enough in you. That is a matter of trust, about which we know very little in the digital age.

If you consider yourself incel and have by some miracle found this article and read this far, I have a proposed suggestion. Watch your face orgasm 10 times. See how much love for yourself you can bring to the experience. That’s a reflection of how lovable you feel. Then the 11th time, invite someone to witness you.

Keeping Selfsex Interesting

One of the challenges for those who who have sex only with themselves is keeping it interesting. This is also the challenge for people who are in some way coupled. I have divided this off as its own section and will develop it over the next few weeks.

The first question, though, is whether your selfsex is for maintenance, or consciously part of a relationship with yourself. Is it something you do just to do, or is it a way you express yourself to yourself? There in lies a significant distinction. If you view your selfsex as part of a relationship to yourself or to existence, that relationship will guide the way; and your sexual experiences will be an expression of the relationship.

I could say that exploring in various unusual ways can be fun, such as taking mushrooms and selfsexing in the attic. Setting up a mirror altar is exciting, especially if you put it someplace where people can see it such as your living room. You can get a photo of your face at mid-orgasm and frame it on an end table. I think that the way into the deepest experiences is by inviting others into your personal journey and accompanying them for a time along theirs.

Meantime, for those looking for some fun and interesting ideas around solo play in its many configurations, I would offer two resources that might expand your horizons. One is Solotouch, a very old website that is still updated regularly. (The programmer who developed the first advanced Solotouch and also programmed the original sales system for Planet Waves using the same code base, so we are distant cousins.)

Another is Beautiful Agony, a vast (truly incredible) collection of user-provided videos studying the facial expressions and sounds of selfsex and orgasm. The contributors to the site have also added hundreds of what are described as confessions — that is, detailed discussions of the experience of masturbating on camera for an audience as well as other facets of their sexuality. I consider this a legit and excellent source for educating yourself about what real people say, do and feel.

It’s well worth a paid subscription. See the free preview reel to the left on the landing page. Gather ‘round the laptop, pass the gummies, spark up the projector and have an in-person watch party.

Yes, these are digital resources, but they are alive and fresh and portable into the real world. For example, you might read some of those Solotouch stories out loud. If you know of other resources, please let me know. When in doubt, make your own. You can, for example, write your own Solotouch story, or record a video for Beautiful Agony whether or not you send it in.

The Eew Factor of Male Masturbation

In the current sex ecosystem, the perception of female masturbation is empowering selflove-making, while male masturbation is wanking to disgusting porn. A woman basks languidly in the afterglow of her orgasm, while a man reaches for a sock.

The attacks on masturbation which still contaminate consciousness today have their roots in the early 18th century, in around 1712. The book Onania seems to be the point of origin of this campaign. It was an infomercial for some kind of product that cured the alleged medical/moral sickness of “self abuse.”

However, in our time, there is an eew factor associated with male masturbation and male sexuality generally. This is part of living in an era where maleness and masculinity are regularly degraded, and women and their needs and issues are glorified. We are all supposed to be happy about this [link to porn video], and many would be — while if the sex roles in this scene were reversed, there is no doubt most people wound think the result would be degrading to women.

However, that particular word or concept bears no relationship to having a woman ride my face (my particular favorite form of partnersex). And there are a couple of women here and there who love to have their mouth fucked. And…?

Sex is, in a sense, degrading — to the pride of the ego. And sex exalts the natural men and women we are below all that psychic baggage and latticework and pseudo morality.

But then there is the degradation of one sex at the expense of another. I’m a daily reader of The New York Times, not because it’s so well-written or because I trust it so much, but rather to get a sense of what the voice of God is telling us to believe. Nearly every day, there is some new article extolling womanhood and taking manhood down a few notches.

In the edition for Feb. 1, we have How Quitting the Patriarchy Saved My Marriage and The Manosphere is Now Mainstream. I recently read an article that I can no longer find, about how to tell your son he might be a rapist. Yes, the Times was advocating for the psychological and emotional abuse of young adult men by their mothers.

This is an Old Bias

So it’s not just an eew factor. There is a presumption that male sexuality is inherently evil and violent, while female sexuality is something natural and beautiful to celebrate. The modern-world origins of this view, so far as I can discern, are in 19th into early 20th century feminist thought in both the United States and England. On both sides of the pond, men were sold to women and the public generally as drunken, whoring, immoral beasts who gave the clap 80% of their wives.

All of this is according to a famous tome by Christabel Pankhurst (1880-1958), the most influential feminist of the early 20c, called The Great Scourge and How to End It (1913). It includes the claim that men would allegedly persuade prostitutes to conduct “unnatural acts” though it would seem from her ideas that Pankurst never set foot in a brothel in her entire life.

To those who might suspect this could be true, there were no “diagnostic tests” nor were there enough brothels to serve 80% of the male population, nor were there studies about the activities of brothels, nor could could most married men afford such a luxury as a prostitute, nor were most married men interested in such. Sex with a prostitute is typically boring, fast and routine. Specialty items, especially in that era, were extremely rare — and expensive, as they are today.

Meanwhile, in Victorian times (approx 1837-1901), the propaganda around masturbation for both men and women was horrifying — worse than that of the 1712 era. Medical assessments, for example, promised moral descent, perversion, sickness, insanity and death — this, according to the esteemed New England Journal of Medicine. It helps to know this history.

It’s also important to note that prior to the early 18th century (about 1712), posterity seemed to have had no opinion about masturbation. It is not mentioned in the Torah or the New Testament. This history is covered in the book Solitary Sex: A Cultural History of Masturbation by Thomas Lacquer. Religious prohibitions are made up with no basis in text or scripture, seemingly as part of the antisex marketing campaign that has made religion into the inhumane monster that it is.

From Greek lore we learn that it is Pan who taught humanity how to masturbate; and it is Pan whom we fear is amok in the dark forest when we hear noises at night. His name is the root of the word panic.

The Use of Entheogens

An entheogen is a newish name for substances that shift one’s awareness. In the ’60s these were called ‘mind expending drugs’, which did not include pills, cocaine or heroin. The spectrum runs from cannabis to mushrooms to ecstasy, ayahuasca, LSD and DMT. Any of these may have a place in your exploration — or not. For accurate information about any or all, see the Vaults of Erowid.

The mirror is a dimensional portal and a psychoactive tool. Substances act both ways as well. So it’s wise to handle the territory with care and proceed gradually and intentionally. By the way, the root of ‘entheogenic’ is entheos, which is Greek for contact with God. It survives in modern form as ‘enthusiasm’.

When I asked Betty Dodson why she believed that cannabis was illegal (back when it was), she said because it helped both men and women drop sexual inhibitions and fire up their libido. It also opens up the erotic imagination. Not much is necessary; it is potent sexual medicine when used well, which means lovingly.

There are many spiritual and tantric teachers who oppose the use of substances entirely. It’s worth considering what they say even if you don’t follow it. Assuming that for you their use is not precluded by some other credo (i.e., recovery), let’s consider the possibilities.

Entheogens have been used as part of ritual practice since times unknown. There are good reasons for this. They help humans shift out of rigid egocentric thought and pick up a sparkly kind of god-essence. This can include softening inhibitions and other attachments. These qualities often define a personality. So an entheogen can facilitate loosening up one’s resistance to inviting a more imaginative approach.

At times they can help induce various shades of transcendental bliss, eurythmia and surrender. One of my most profound experiences of selfmerging was using dmt personally crafted by a woman I loved and trusted…combined with the right moment, and had a wildly honest moment with myself were no ego got in the way of what I wanted and was ready to give myself. A wide open field of…myself.

Using any of a diversity of substances, it’s possible to enter unusual, beautiful and otherworldly psychic environments; these include intimate and self-intimate experiences, and out-of-body experiences. In those spaces, you can make discoveries about yourself, connect with your healing in a deeper way, and admit to feelings you might have avoided speaking about. And they can take you dark places in yourself that you may not be ready to face; but you will be doing so, if this happens. So it’s good to be prepared in advance for this potential.

Is all of this an illusion? Well, the ego itself is often said to be an illusion. I think that integrating astral experiences back into the body — and keeping them focused there throughout — is essential to the helpful use of entheogens.

Apply the Set and Setting Principle

It’s also possible to have ‘bad trip’ type experiences, therefore it’s wise to apply the set and setting principle, know something about any substance you experiment and know your sources. If you’re with another person, it’s wise to know them well enough to trust that they are loving spiritually grounded. (Whoever you’re with is part of your ‘set and setting’.)

I suggest that where tantric practice is concerned, less is more. Knowing how much of a substance will shift your consciousness enough for you to take it further on your own steam is helpful. Remember that your love and creativity are what makes any trip pleasurable and informative. So generally, microdosing would be the best approach.

How much is that? Everyone is different(and you may have this mapped out), but for example in range of under 5mg of THC via edible (5 mg is a lot for some people!), and under 100 mg of mushrooms (less than 1/10th of a gram when a ‘party dose’ is one to three grams); or one toke of good weed.

You don’t want to be burdened or constrained by being high, and you want to leave plenty of room for your emotions and your imagination to be free. Also, it’s important that you trust your feelings, which will be enhanced or exaggerated. This includes your loving responses and also shadowy emotions like guilt and shame. So you need the skill of bringing yourself back around to love if you feel any of those, which is usually about moving through them.

Dark emotions, when felt and considered honestly, can be among the best teachers and reveal things to you that otherwise remain hidden. And once you’ve explored these places within yourself for a while, you may be in a position to serve someone else through a self-encounter as a thresholder.

Assuming everything goes well, the use of entheogens has one potential drawback. That is wondering whether what you experienced was real. If you go to a deep place and discover something about yourself, when you’re back in normal waking consciousness, your ego can say, ‘that didn’t really matter, it was just the drugs’.

Does this even matter? Well, you’re exploring for a purpose, and to have an experience negated may not be helpful. That encourages being very present for any experiences you’re having while you’re there — in whatever state of mind. And you can make contact with the element of yourself that might deny what you’re feeling in that moment at some time in the future.

Another possibility is you’ll experience something exquisite that you’ll want more of, and you’ll probably give it to yourself. So it’s important to have a conscious relationship with your metes and bounds.

There are teachers who express a belief that substances delay development, block energy and can do significant harm. This may be true for some people.

Tantra at its roots is about violating taboos, not falling for them. There are ritual spaces that are not available to most people without the help of entheogens. Do you belong there? I don’t know. I can say that it’s up to you to show up for yourself, and to keep your experiences loving.

When you’re combining entheogens with ritual, remember: set and setting; easy does it; take your time; less is more. And always remember your purpose.

The Longest Standing Creation Myth: The Complete One

We learn something surprising from Egyptian mythology, where Atum, the longest standing creation god in known history, masturbated and swallowed his semen. This was so pleasurable he created the other gods and goddesses to share the experience with, thereby creating the universe. (His name means “complete one.”) Perhaps he is arising; in our time there is a major genre of porn wherein women help men drink their semen. This is called CEI — cum eating instructions.

The assistance is called for because so many men want to drink themselves and can orgasm to the desire — then once they ejaculate are often ashamed that they even had such a thought, and cannot bring themselves to do it. There is much emotion released here. And among other places this is where the thresholder’s role emerges: the person who helps another with their self-acceptance.

This is the bare essence of my journey, and many of the women in my life and some beautiful men have helped me learn how to swallow and receive my pleasure (by which I mean my living seed), whether sweetly or afraid, my love or shame, and accept myself as my destiny: who have held my mirror for me. Deep in here is a profound healing of my relationship with my mother, involving not having had her milk, and through my life, having myself. My existential thirst has made it possible for me to be a mirror celibate self semen drinker.

I would love and adore a conversation among both men and women about this practice of elegant beauty. And among men: let’s get together, talk about this, and do it. I can see it happening with women present as witnesses, and with just the men themselves.

From the Book of Blue essay, “The Spirit Molecule: 11:44” (I was alone) —

All this time fresh seed was collecting inside me. Filling up and encouraged by licking up so many other orgasms. Ready to release; wanting to; happy in the truth that….I squatted over the mirror and watched myself give up control of any ability to hold back love. I spurted in long streaks and made out with my hot liquid, melting into myself, filling my mouth swallowing and leaving fresh thick streaks.

The Delicate Work of the Thresholder

The thresholder, or ‘guardian of the threshold’, is present to guide the initiate to the edges of their consciousness. They serve as witness as well, though this is an active witness who consciously participates in the experience of the beholder — the one who encounters himself or herself in the mirror. It’s a delicate role.

Mirrors have been used in divination since at least biblical times, and in sexual ritual since the days of Karnak. Betty Dodson had a vision of Karnak that she shared with me: an open-roofed temple with a mirrored floor polished so perfectly that it reflected the stars. In this space were men and women, shaved head to toe, who maintained continuous collective orgasmic ecstasy through the days and seasons, and over the generations, reflected back to the cosmos.

Perhaps we shall create this for ourselves.

The starting place is one person learning the art of thresholding. This is not ‘orgasm coaching’, which would be relatively simple (and worth exploring). Thresholding is about assisting the beholder to fully encounter their own presence, which reaches into the spiritual realm and can truly be called a tantric role.

Mapping Interior Space, 1 | What is CEI and Why?

Another role of the thresholder is to help men map interior space. This is the essence of recovering and connecting with one’s anima. Women have tremendous freedom to do this. They are expected to and many of them want to get fucked in the mouth, ass and pussy. It’s not a legend: much of women’s sexuality is about being receptive, and that means exploring the interior space of their body and their feelings.

First a brief bit of history. The ‘sex toy’ industry was invented by women, inspired by Betty Dodson’s bodysex groups, and founded by, and Dell Williams. In 1974, Dell opened the store Eve’s Garden in Manhattan, the first of its kind. In the years that followed, woman-run Babes in Toyland in Seattle and Good Vibrations in San Francisco. Walk in and all you see, displayed on classy boutique shelves, are devices women can use to fuck themselves (and one another).

And you can see video of this on most of Onlyfans pages, and watch live on numerous cam websites like Chaturbate. So it is commonly understood and accepted — in both Eastern and Western society — that women can explore their inner space without the help of men.

And if there is one discussion point missing in the discussion of sex and the different approaches of sex by men and women, it’s the consideration of the inner space of men. I imagine that a large majority of heterosexual men would consider the topic of self-fucking to be gay territory. (Nothing goes in, it only comes out, and so forth.)

However, we now know that many couples are interested in playing “bend over boyfriend.” And we know from porn and from elsewhere that CEI — cum eating instructions — that men are interested in swallowing their own semen. I cover this in the comments at the end of my Compersion article [password ethos]. Some of these videos have hundreds of thousands of plays.

They all have one thing in common — the involvement of women assisting the men to admit their self-thirst, and then orgasm and swallow themselves. And most of these have a femdom (female domination) theme, which seems designed to get the male viewers to let go of their animus or male inner sense and to connect with their female inner sense (their anima). I don’t mean to impress you with my use of terms from Jungian psychology. These are words for inner states that I’ve explored since my earliest sexual experiences.

Why is CEI Necessary?

So why is this CEI-type assistance necessary? Let’s take it slowly.

Before orgasm, both men and women experience a kind of meltdown of inhibition. Those last few minutes before orgasm, particularly during masturbation, can contain all kinds of interesting psychic content — by which I mean totally free and wild fantasies. These are set free by the rising orgasmic energy and the melting of the fearful, repressive ego.

In this state of mind and emotion, it’s easy for men who are interested to admit to themselves that they want to drink their semen.

However, after they ejaculate, most men experience what is sometimes called libido drop. This is a sudden drop in desire that Masters and Johnson sex-therapist types say leads to the “refractory phase.” This is when, no matter what he was thinking, a handful of his own cum is not going to be appealing; and after all, he was supposed to leave it inside his woman’s vagina.

So getting the semen in his mouth can be greatly facilitated by a beautiful, caring woman encouraging him to do exactly this.

This is about resolving a Zen paradox — and it is a spiritual issue above all else, reflecting much else about the nature of existence. He wants his semen before he has it. It might be the hottest thought in the universe. Then when he has it, he doesn’t want it anymore. Imagine that this has happened hundreds of times when he’s alone. Imagine the collected and unfulfilled desire — that is often projected onto women.

He’s finally found the courage to ask for a woman’s help — not as a projection but as a conscious reflection. It might be his lover, wife or girlfriend; it might be a sexworker of some kind. Preferably it is someone in person.

What is going on here? It’s difficult to express in plain talk; it’s easier to express through revealed experience. However, it seems that there is one hemisphere of consciousness that is in contract with the desire, and another hemisphere of consciousness that is not. The exploration of anima is what’s happening when he starts to connect his desire and his fulfillment.

Here, the mirror plays many potential roles — especially in the hands of a woman who consciously directs his awareness and his desire back to himself. In the course of the conversation, she can ask him commit to swallowing himself no matter how he feels after his orgasm. She can hold him to his promise. She can ‘force’ him to do it. She can play various roles of dominatrix or mother.

In truth she is the thresholder; and one role of the thresholder is to guide him through the experience and then help him get his semen into his mouth. On the occasions when this does not happen, you might call it a missed opportunity. That means wanting semen and not having it; followed by having it and not wanting it. This may happen accompanied by a diversity of emotions, from self-shunning, regret, shame and even disgust. These are the emotions the thresholder can help him delight in, and gradually learn to follow through and receive himself.

Here is where what I’ll call The Conversation can be helpful. The Conversation is held at the begining of the session where the beholder starts by admitting his intent, which is to drink his own semen. If he’s embarrassed, that’s a point of exploration. This would occur in normal waking consciousness, such as when fully dressed. The beholder who wants to go past the shame of reluctance after he’s spilled himself can anchor this desire with the thresholder. Then this becomes a topic of the conversation — the truth of this, which can lead him easily to orgasm. Then she says, ok now do it. I’m here for you.

Mapping Interior Space, 2 —
Self Thirst, Self-Penetration and the Cum Mirror

In this little section I want to talk about the relationship between following through on self-thirst and being penetrated. I also want to talk about the cum mirror, which Thresholder Simone above is holding in her hands. They are both means of exploring self-shunning and learning to receive.

First a brief word about the orgasms of men and of women.

Many women easily experience rolling multiple orgasm, and nearly any woman can learn if she spends some time with someone who knows how to guide her into this space. The ‘orgosphere’ tends to be much more spacious in women, and while the female orgasm can seem elusive, the thing to remember is that it’s all about trust. By that I mean feeling safe.

Most men experience orgasm differently, and I have observed that many do not — they experience ejaculation, which is physical and can arrive with a sense of relief, though it’s not necessarily orgasm. It’s kind of proto, or a little orgasmish.

Most men need women to feel much sexually. Most men experience Eros through female emotions and the female body. It’s a little like the relationship between a guitar string and a guitar; you cannot hear the string vibrate without the guitar body, which incidentally is shaped like a woman.

There are a lot of ways to get sound out of a guitar body. There are not so many ways to get sound out of the string.

However, men have rather tremendous undeveloped orgasmic capacity. Tuning into this begins with feeling the difference in the experience of orgasm and ejaculation. Usually the orgasm comes first, in a wave of emotion, followed by the pulses of ejaculation. One key to the most pleasurable orgasm is to totally relax as the emotional phase of orgasm begins, breathe gently, stop moving, stop thrusting or pumping, stay perfectly still and feel the wave — not knowing when the pulses of ejaculation will begin. Let them surprise you. That’s what they’re for.

This is a good time to look into the mirror your lover’s eyes. Or to ask your lover to hold the mirror for you. And if you’re alone, know you’re the lover, the one and only.

What you experience in this kind of space is the beginning of feeling interior pleasure.

Self-Thirst as Interior Space

Another experience of interior pleasure is the desire to receive one’s own semen. This is a common experience among heterosexual men. And it seems to be expanding. I’ve noticed a number of reasons for this, though the important thing to know is that such desire comes from a deep and archetypal place. It may be something you feel often, that you notice when your inhibitions drop in your peri-orgasmic state — that is, when your mind moves out of the way and you just feel honest desire. The self honesty of that near-surrender space is its beauty.

As I described earlier, this experience can be ‘hemisphereic’ — the desire to drink oneself can be very strong and the ultimate turn-on prior to ejaculation, with the loss of desire or onrush of shame or reluctance after. However, if you can sustain your orgasm through ejaculation, you can have your semen while you’re still cumming, and then it’s much easier to find some completion. This takes practice.

Here is where the help of a thresholder can be most supportive. She has to understand what you’re experiencing, which means you have to tell her. Nearly any available woman would intuitively be able to help. By help, I mean to help you maintain your self-awareness and the resonance of your orgasm using her emotions and body. Then she helps you get your semen into your mouth, where you want it.

In one session on Vashon, Thresholder Pamela kept guiding me toward the mirror and scolded me for turning my back on myself. Avoiding speaking to myself…

If you thirst for yourself, it will feel VERY good to admit this to a woman, and even better if she shares her understanding with you. Keep talking about it. Say it over and over. She will understand. If you are into men and feel your emotional resonance there, find someone you trust and let it out. Just say the words. It could turn out that doing it is a natural follow through, if the moment is right. I think it’s good to take those opportunities when you can.

There is a submissive quality to all of this.

After all, evolution sort of dictates that you’re supposed to fuck her and leave your semen inside her and that’s all there is to it. In this situation you’re inverting that, and the woman is taking a facilitating role rather than a receptive one.

This is a whole other order of consciousness; a whole new relationship. It’s going to be much more vulnerable for you. You will really need to trust her. She is showing you something about your anima — she knows what it means to thirst for semen and to want it in her body, and she’s going to acquaint you or model for you the facet of yourself that wants to do so.

If you’re honest about this, it will be much easier. She is there so you can state your intentions and ask for her help. If you know you will need encouragement, ask her. Part of this experience is exceptional honesty. That will almost always mean going into embarrassing or shameful territory. That is what you’re looking for; that is the thing to relax into. The most exquisite pleasure is right on the other side of the embarrassment or shame.

Now, how will she respond? It depends — if this might be your thing, show her this article and talk about it. I can tell you that nearly all of the women I’ve met who have served in this way have found it beautiful, intimate and enlightening.

OK, the Cum Mirror: “If I Can Do This I Can Live My Life”

I cannot take credit for this idea; in the late 1990s during Web 1.0, I was reading various websites and bulletin boards devoted to masturbation and someone wrote about a solution to self-shunning after orgasm. He said basically, cum on anything, like a dish, and leave it there; when you’re ready you’ll come back to it and it’ll be really good. This is a workaround to “wanting your cum and not having it, having it and not wanting it.”

A mirror seemed logical; it was right there.

This is from the Book of Blue essay, “If I can do this, I can live my life,” which was originally written as an email to my epic lover Dani. Quote:

The mirrors depicted in the Book of Blue series tell the story of a journey of learning deep self-nourishment and practicing self-acceptance. The mirror is my meeting place; the place where I meet myself and the world.

One in particular, a cheap, rectangular WalMart special, has become a kind of altar of self-surrender, where I witness my own orgasm. I’ve used mirrors as cum altars before, because they were conveniently there when I was watching myself let go, or trying to. I’d never used or explored them as a place designed as a kind of sacred licking platter, or where semen could collect and dry, leaving a many-layered and infinitely complex pattern. In the process, the mirror became a kind of art piece, then the subject of many photos and self-portraits in the Book of Blue photo series.

At first my models only posed in pristine mirrors. Eventually I discovered they were willing to be depicted in marked mirrors, or to hold them up to the world for me. What I thought would repulse them became a place a number of them have been willing to look for and see themselves.

Most of the time it was the place I would look for and see myself, though often uncomfortably at first. But I could (and can) always work myself into a frenzy. Sometimes I would spill myself onto the mirror and take it back right away, dreaming into the residue of earlier orgasms that were melting into my fresh spill, traces of which would reenter my body. This would leave a layer upon the prior residue that I had left behind, since a little always remains.

Other times I would be repelled by the thought of my semen once I released it. I learned to leave it for another time, to receive while my libido was building rather than after it had dropped from the experience of ejaculation. You may know men who go through this curious experience of self-rejection after they cum. This is why receiving their semen into your body is such a loving gesture. Despite craving it, it is often challenging to do for myself, for this reason.

Along the way, spilling on this particular mirror (and a few others) many times, it occurred to me that what went onto the mirror (this one, or any one I used) would all go back into my body. I would never wash the mirrors, I would only lick them clean. I made this commitment to myself. It felt loving and like I could heal a deep inner split with the gesture. I would receive myself whether it was new warm seed or if it had been deposited hours, weeks or months earlier, or perhaps having spilled out of a condom. (That was true of the oldest, by then yellowed, crystallized mess that was on the mirror when I began.) I kind of made a masturbation rule that when I was alone, the mirror would be my place of surrender, and that all that ever make its mark there I would eventually lick it back down to glass.

This began my rhythm, a cycle. It began with a ritual of working myself up to a sufficient level of desire and erotic heat that I craved my own semen, and my tongue wanted to melt back some of that old ejaculate. Then journeying on that feeling, I would dive into ever deeper places in myself: places of admitting my erotic needs, including for men. I could talk to myself about this odd little ritual I was doing; there are moments where I face my death. After a while I decided that when I licked the mirror, I would always do so naked. The mirror became a place where I could admit anything to myself: any desire, fear, need or fact of my life.

It came to represent the place of abject honesty with myself, pushed by or drawn from my core by the imminence of orgasm. [One day I wondered what each of those markers of emotional surrender was letting go to; and I remembered that each time I let go here, it’s moaning into mirror celibacy…over and over…that emotion is what my mirrors are coated with. - 2025]

On many occasions, alone or with different witnesses, I licked the dry semen off of my mirror, stretching the thread between humiliation and humility. Many of my closest friends have seen me do this, women whose primary erotic role in my life is to support and embrace my masturbation and process of self-acceptance.

On one occasion, a kind of prayer came to me: I’ve made a mess and I’m going to clean it up. (Ejaculation often does feel like making a mess, particularly if it’s followed by guilt or shame; and for me it often was.) This became a kind of mantra for my journey, and an invocation of my erotic healing. At other times I saw the patterns not as a mess but rather as an image of my karma and the marks I have made on the world, at some moments witnessing what I had done as beautiful, and at others feeling a need to leave as clear of a mirror as possible. Other times I would slip into an overwhelming sense of how erotic this smeared, spattered mirror I was looking into really was, and invite, allow or encourage myself to meet it with my mouth. Invariably I would spill myself there again. It began to feel like the never-ending cycle of karma.

Occasionally I would explore to a depth that is transcendent as deep cunnilingus or fellatio. I would endeavor to lick back significant portions of the residue of my life that lay on the surface, which is slow, patient going; making eye contact with myself as much as possible. I chose to work on the oldest stuff, because sooner or later it would be coming back in, so I may as well do it right then. From experience alone and with witnesses present, I learned that the older the semen, the more erotic the experience of licking it off. It became a symbol of accepting my past, and being willing to accept myself no matter what. And, the older, the more embarrassing to think what I was doing.

I have learned to be present for and live with that embarrassment, even appreciating it as a gift; until gradually it becomes transparent and I am free to experience what I am doing without judgment. At other times I tune into my feelings and imagination and recognize that I am taking up a sampling of a wide diversity of my orgasms spread over many months, and be reminded of the many times I had knelt over the space and let go.

The mirror and its pattern represent a journey into self, and this often pushed deeper by loss or separation; by unfulfilled desire; by surrendering to and ultimately celebrating the unavailability of someone I want to be with. Each of those marks has a story, its feelings, its fantasies, and its intricate passion. Many of them are the story of taking my one opportunity to go beyond a feeling of loss to a space where I am the one who must fill my own need and consciously feed myself fulfillment, love and the water of life.

On a visual note, the irregular rings on the left on glass in some images are the result of leaving an ejaculation on the mirror overnight, then licking it wet in the morning. What look like brush strokes are really tongue marks that were laid down in fresh semen.

Thank you to all who have held the mirror for me. With some of your help and a lot of mine, I have learned to make love to myself, to love myself.

(July 15, 2008 (rev. July 30, 2008)

Self-Penetration and Sustained Orgasm

Another facet of inner space is self-penetration. This has not occurred to all men, but it’s surely occurred to a good few, who have nothing to do with gay. Many ‘straight’ men take deep pleasure in it, whether solo or playing some form of bend over boyfriend. This is one of a few cool things about how sex has evolved the past fifty years: people now know about this, it’s acceptable to a great many and — many women are into it.

It takes practice to learn how to be penetrated, whoever is doing it. Possibly the single biggest gap the sex gap is that women experience sex inside their bodies, while men generally use an appendage that is somewhat external to their body-core. The penis actually extends deep into the body, but most men don’t experience it that way. Yet once interior space is opened up, so too is a new world of intimacy and pleasure.

I can break down learning into a few steps, to which you can add ‘practice’ every time.

1. be ready and willing — and freshly showered, moving your bowels so you don’t have ‘a bullet in the chamber’ as anal sex pros say. however, it’s important to remember that with anal play, a little scat is inevitable

2. start small — with a buttplug and not a dildo. use products that are either stainless steel, silicone or tempered glass (which I prefer to avoid). do not use ordinary vinyl, which has a funny smell and emits toxic chemicals. silcone is perfect, and this line of anal toys is A++. or you want something like this. buy from a reputable seller! both of these are. the toys may be expensive but they last forever.

3. you cannot use too much lube, and I don’t recommend chemical blends but rather organic coconut oil assuming you’re not allergic to coconut. i realize that various sources say not to use coconut with silicone — that it degrades the silicone, etc. i have not found this to be true, and ‘water based’ lubricants have a lot of chemicals I don’t want in my body.

4. go slowly; a lot of finger massage of the anus and buttocks helps

5. relax and breathe and take the penetration very slowly — as you continue to relax and breathe

6. if you’re with a female partner, the chances are she’s done this, so let her guide you

7. use even more lube

8. take your time, share your feelings, relax and keep breathing.

I think you probably have the idea. You will, if you go slowly, and are thoughtful, and feel, notice that you have a whole new world of interior sensation. It may be centered around your prostate, which is a little like a male G-spot. The prostate is the gland that secretes much of what is in semen (there are others) and is what pulses when you ejaculate. So there is a lot of sensation there.

Then you get to explore the exerences of orgasm and ejaculation when you’re penetrated. Ejaculating penetrated and not penetrated are two different things, and if you get some experience you will map out the differences. There is one main difference, is that when you are penetrated, your core is filled and your body has something to hold onto when you let go. You will be able to feel how deep inside you orgasm reaches.

It is possible to orgasm and ejaculate just from penetration. But you have to be really relaxed and open in a way that you love when women are. That does not need to be a goal; I suggest what you may be looking for is a feeling of deep release and vulnerability. With practice, you can experience these things.

In whatever space you’re experimenting, keep a mirror or two nearby — such as hand-held and one on the wall, reaching down to the floor.

The Connection — To Myself

I have found that orgasming while penetrated sustains the experience and if I am filled, I’m less likely to experience libido drop or self-shunning — especially if I have company.

With my inner space stretched a little, my orgasm is amplified as I feel rooted to the earth and aware of my inner space. And in that space, I am ready and more willing to receive. Penetration — especially sitting or kneeing up solidly on it — is stabilizing and feels VERY good. The experience of orgasm and ejaculation are different, focused and intensified with a profound feeling of vulnerability.

I have found that sharing this in the presence of another person is an expression of intimacy beyond my imagination, which starts as self-intimacy and ripples out into the world around me.

Modeling the Suspension of Self Judgment

In tantric practice, the women are held to be the teachers. Teaching happens not by words but by example, and the example of the thresholder is self-acceptance.

Implied here is the thresholder modeling the suspension of judgment of oneself and others. With this presence, the beholder might slip into the space of self-awareness like it’s warm bath. Or they might feel a diversity of emotions, such as apprehension, shyness, embarrassment, shame or fear when facing themselves naked. The thresholder is present to make it easier; to remind them why they are doing what they are doing; and to provide a stabilizing and loving presence before, throughout and after the experience.

Their most important role is to guide the beholder back to the mirror and self eye contact. If the beholder wants to speak to the thresholder, they are guided to do this making eye contact with themselves; anything the beholder says is said to himself. This is an elementary way to call back in the projection of ‘the other’. When the thresholder speaks, their words are taken as a voice of the beholder.

The thresholder can provide the role of erotic inspiration, whether through encouragement, revealing themselves or serving as a screen for sexual fantasy (which is then guided back to the beholder, in the mirror). Sensaina roshutsu, or delicate reveal, is shown in the topmost photo. The thresholder experiences compersion for the beholder, and models the beholder’s compersion for himself.

To do this well, the thresholder must be extraordinarily comfortable with themselves. They must be soft and pliable within. Daily practice of Aikonomirā kōsan — eye-contact mirror orgasm — is essential. This is then practiced with others observing until it is wholly natural.

The vibration of the thresholder is all yin and deep trust. If someone is going to orgasm looking into their own eyes with you holding the mirror, they have to trust you deeply. Essential to that trust is your holding space for the full spectrum of emotions that the beholder may feel, no matter how negative or judgmental. The thresholder’s role is to help the beholder find a sense of their own completeness.

This calls for a form of devotion that is not usually part of sexual relationships in any conventional sense, particularly the full awareness accented by lack of attachment to the beholder, or the outcome of their experience. A thresholder must be good at honestly telling a person how beautiful they are, which means seeing and feeling that beauty. They may make direct or explicit statements to the beholder, called contact statements, under their own guidance or as requested by the beholder.

For example, as the beholder approaches Aikonomirā kōsan, the thresholder may ask: “Is there anything you want or need to say to yourself?”

Profound spaces of self-forgiveness can open up here. Thresholder as witness stabilizes the experience for the beholder, and is a reminder in the world that it actually happened.

A Strong and Gentle Spiritual Hand

The thresholder needs to have a strong and gentle spiritual hand to guide the beholder back to herself. They remind the beholder that any sexual desire experienced in the ritual is accepted as sexual desire for oneself. And they help the beholder (of either sex) state their desire to drink themselves, to get their amrita into their mouth, including potentially helping them collect it, and helping them past any shame or reluctance they may feel.

If the beholder is embarking on a path of mirror celibacy, the thresholder will be there to help them accept that truth and to explore its erotic beauty.

In these sessions, there is usually no sexual touching or penetration. There may be holding of hands or feet and perhaps light massage if there is a difficult emotion to work through. The thresholder may demonstrate Aikonomirā kōsan for the reflector. There are times when the thresholder will masturbate with the reflector, serving as a human mirror. This can be done with the participants facing one another, or facing into the mirror.

The thresholder gently guides everything into the mirror. In one poignant version, called Hitori de kyōyū suru, the thresholder goes to a certain point with the beholder, and then gently leaves them alone in the room with their reflection to experience their Aikonomirā kōsan. Given to the beholder as a gift, it’s an extraordinarily pleasurable and loving way to experience and heal ‘abandonment’.

In other experiences, Aikonomirā kōsan will be practiced with several people observing, including potentially ‘inappropriate’ ones. (This is an essential tantric factor.)

Shaping the Experience into a Private One

The ultimate art to the thresholder is shaping the beholder’s experience into a private one, over time. Toward the deeper phases, the thresholder will not look at the beholder’s face, directly or in the mirror, another gentle expression of Hitori de kyōyū suru, or self-tutoring. In truth, orgasm is always solitary.

Additional details about this ritual practice are written about elsewhere.

Where To From Here?

I’m not sure where to go from here, though sharing these thoughts with you seems to be a single step on what may be a new journey of a thousand miles.

Or perhaps in the words of A Course in Miracles, the journey is the reawakening of the knowledge of where you are always, and who you are forever. It is a journey without distance to a place that has never changed.

I’m interested in connecting with people who resonate with these ideas and want to put them to use; who are ready to drop the masquerade of sexual relationships and co-create something friendly and trustworthy. So let’s get a conversation going.

As well, I have a trove of materials that can facilitate your exploration alone and with partners. I also do custom work in any medium, and am open to new photo sessions, especially with couples and men. If you’re interested, drop a note.

I’m available to present both talks and workshops (including podcast appearances). I’m experienced working with individuals, couples and small groups. This includes as an astrologer; astrology, while not necessary, can focus on these themes as part of a consulting process. The real knowledge and need for understanding come from you.

If you want to reach me, please write to me at efc@bookofblue.com. All inquiries are of course confidential. Ideally, we would speak in person.

With love,

Your faithful astrologer,

Comments to this article are off. Email responses are welcome.

I discuss the ideas in this article in the last segment of tonight’s Planet Waves FM.

Additional Reading

Letter of Recommendation from Lorraine Hutchins

Letter of Recommendation from Betty Dodson

From Self to Self: Masturbation as the Future of Sex from the Journal of Bisexuality, by Eric Francis, October 2008. Includes ideas for ritual play.

How To Be Your Own Lover by Eric Francis, c. 2005

Planet Waves Special Edition from November 2000

Wearing Buttons is Fun

To get some “I am my lover” and “Make selflove, not selfwar” buttons, send me a SASE adorned with two stamps at PO Box 3606, Kingston, NY 12402. (U.S. only.) Thank you…

All photos in this article are Copyright ©2005-2025 by Eric Francis and Book of Blue LLC, a Nevada company. They are eagerly awaiting a gallery exhibition. (845) 481-5616.

With love and gratitude to my eternal friend, mentor and astrology client, the artist Betty Ann Dodson of Wichita and Manhattan, il miglior fabbro (1929-2020).

Blue Studio is compliant with all CFR 2257 record keeping requirements.

© 2026 Copyright by Eric Francis. Published by Book of Blue LLC. · Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice

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From Book of Blue

At long last, I found the right guy to give my first blowjob. This was fairly late in my bisexual experimentation, but most of that had involved sex toys and masturbation rather than conventional m/m sex. A lot of guys had sucked my cock, especially when I was younger. I never had to ask, and I did enjoy it.

When I wanted to suck a man all the way, I had to look around consciously. It took a while. I knew what I wanted and found an excellent partner for the occasion. I had picked someone to take my virginity. I had never had another guy’s semen in my body, and that was very much in my plans. I say excellent because we were both in experimental mode, and had the same values about health. He was the right age, that is, not too young, friendly and pretty aware.

We had three meetings, altogether, and the story takes place in Belgium, where I was living at the time. I found him on Craig’s Wish List, advertising for a guy to masturbate with. That is my erotic point of entree; if masturbating together is fun and goes well, you can keep doing that, or keep experimenting.

He was 25. I learned that I would be his second-ever sex partner; he had only done anything sexual with one girlfriend. In my view he was practically a virgin, but I was able to ask for and learn about some details of his life with a girl named Trina, so I knew he wasn’t.

We had an email correspondence that went on for maybe a month, asking one another a lot of questions…and then one day he came over. He lived in Antwerp; I was in Brussels. We had a good understanding of one another’s health history and we trusted one another confidently. I was still planning safe sex, for this visit. But I knew what I ultimately wanted.

In our first meeting, I got him off with my hand. First we masturbated on my bed. facing one another — but he really wanted me to do it to him, to do it for him.

Absolutely curious and willing, I gave that to him, teasing him out and bringing him easily to a fully conscious orgasm. I licked my palm and grabbed hold of him and, very slowly at first, fucked him with my fist till he began to breathe deeply and then it happened. He lost control, moaned softly, and I felt his strong penis throb in my hand as he covered his belly with about six long spurts of liquid as his cock shook in my hand. Each spurt was as much as my entire ejaculation.

We planned a second meeting and he knew what I wanted to do – go down on him and have him cum into my mouth or throat. This would be a first for both of us.

I knew he came a lot, and I really wondered how I was going to take it, but I needed to be in that space of not knowing. Whatever it felt like, whatever happened, I was willing to surrender to it. I wanted to feel helpless and fully willing.

Disbelieving what I was typing into the email even as I wrote, I asked him not to masturbate for a few days before arriving, and he said okay. I wanted him full-on and very horny: a hot boy with a lot of cum in his belly ready to let it out.

Getting together that day, we talked for a few minutes, but pretty much went directly to what we wanted.

I had promised to lick out his ass before I sucked him but didn’t have the courage. I could vividly in my phantasies, and several times enjoyed the emotion of that particular submission. But when it came to in-person — I didn’t. Next time I know I have to, because I know from experience there is something really amazing about having your ass licked before you let go into someone’s mouth. It builds the tension and…well, it’s the total submissiveness and then the feeling of bestowing that kind of pleasure. This has been done to me many, many times, and I want to offer it to someone. But — not that day.

Knowing I had total control over the situation, I had set up my camera out in the studio area, using a tripod and cable release. I asked of he minded if I took some photos of my face as he fucked my mouth, and that was just fine with him — there are about 12 of those photos.

When my face got near his cock, he did something that surprised me, which was gently clasped my cheeks and fucked me like I was his. It happened quickly and he took his prerogative, and from a delicate place within myself, I gave myself over. This is what I wanted: to let go of control.

His cock took to my mouth nicely, filling it tighter than I had imagined, but it was easy. I was surprised; he seemed so big, and yet he slid into my throat. Then a moment later I encouraged him to fuck my throat. He did that for some moments as I did an odd dance with my gag reflex. It was surprisingly easy to move with.

Photos created, I said, let’s go into my room, and we did.

Then I had to fuck my ass: I needed to be penetrated. So I stopped for a moment, and sat gradually down on a flat-bottomed dildo that was conveniently left nearby. This anchored me to the Earth and to the bed and into myself, and I continued slowly sucking him and explored the sensation of my throat being penetrated so warmly.

After a while, I asked him to kneel up, and wrapped my legs around him, and he resumed fucking me, only he was kneeling upright. I was sitting in front of him, kind of wrapped around him. I pushed my knees apart. My cock sprung up but it was just exposed there, and I felt my balls hang, simmering. I did not touch myself at all. My core was feeling well-penetrated as that silicone penis reached into me. I melted into existence, taken both ways.

Then a woman inside me took over.

That’s the only way I can describe it; not really a girl, definitely female, mature and emotionally present, seized my psyche. I still felt like me, though differently so. Physically, I grounded into the experience by spreading my knees apart, that stretching feeling of being totally pulled open. And at that, dropping down and allowing gravity to pull me into deeper penetration.

At the same time, I was allowing him to merge into me and to have me. And I was very happy about what I knew was going to happen. I had this moment of knowing the wait was over.

He fucked my mouth a little more aggressively, and I him. We did it to one another, but then I took over.

He said, “All I need is a little more…” and I knew what he meant. He meant he was close to orgasm, if I would be a little more aggressive. I pulled him as deep into my mouth as I could, groaning, and flicked my tongue on the bottom of the head of his cock. I moaned out how good and deep the emotion of doing this was, feeling the sound vibrate through our energy field.

Suddenly my throat started to pulse.

There was a rhythm, fairly quick and strange because I had never felt it before, and it was wholly involuntary. I was gulping, but there was nothing to swallow; my throat felt dry, but it was pulsing. It was just happening, it was pure biology, and it took over my whole consciousness and the moment hung suspended.

Somewhere in here I experienced a fleeting thought, “What if I don’t like the taste?” And some spirit inside me replied, “Even if you don’t, it’s going to feel just as good.”

Then into that dry throbbing flooded his semen, which began pulsing in the precise rhythm of my throat. It was happening all at once. There was nothing whatsoever I could to do stop it or stop him. I just submitted myself to the experience and let go. He was like drinking warm jets from a well, unlimited, gulping and swallowing effortlessly after waiting so so long.

And for a fleeting moment I didn’t like the taste, and surrendering to that the sensation went straight to ecstasy, conscious of each pulse of my throat, receiving, accepting…I felt him full and warm in my belly.

I had swallowed a man’s enormous ejaculation. I rested, and meditated, and looked at him. I wondered what it felt like for him, for that to have just happened. I waited to feel repulsed, or disgusted, or nauseous, but I felt good and satisfied, deeply sexually satisfied. I paused and breathed for a while, feeling the bed below me and sensing the cool morning air spill in the window.

Then like a fire lit, I had to masturbate. Right then, right there, my way.

I could have let him suck me off; he told me later he had wanted to. It never really occurred to me: I had to expose myself getting me off, and I did, I licked my hand, my mouth was still sticky and slippery with his seed. Semen is the very best liquid to masturbate with.

I knelt up, in my favorite climax position with my knees pushed apart, as he watched me from the short distance. Still fucked in my ass I fucked my cock with my fist and showed him my love, teasing myself to look directly into his eyes…

…until I called out my orgasm, and shook before him, grunting and cumming into my hand, and immediately lapped my semen out of my palm as he gazed across the short distance toward me. I ached to open my mouth and show him my mouthful of myself, but I could not bring myself to do it.

I swallowed, and we mixed in my belly. I spun like Dorothy. I finally landed on my bed in a trance, and that is where he left me, comingled with a white sheet on a bright morning. On my lips and hand and belly semen dried in the cool air. I dozed into light floating sleep, vaguely hearing him slip out the door.

I did not shower. Hours later, walking around alone, I felt like I had read a page from the Women’s Book of Secrets. I walked through the streets of downtown Brussels on a warm shopping afternoon, and it was something in their eyes.

we never penetrated and never tasted.

we mirror masturbated together beautifully - one at a time - and she held the mirror for me in all phases of witness and licking…years later we talked on the phone. she said: book of blue is about the goddess, isn’t it? I said…yes it is.

My sexual journey began with self sex, as does nearly everyone’s. Masturbation with and without partners has always been essential to my sexuality and my idea about it.

Then something happened...which I describe in my “three readings” post (see Book of Blue). I was prepared for both less sex and then two years of celibacy. My body and soul were calling for this and the clarity I knew it would bring. Once I acknowledged this, women began cooperating and many knew intuitively how to assist.

I cannot even describe the beauty of exploring conscious no in a relationship with a woman…but I try in Book of Blue. It is such an unusual, gorgeous frontier of intimacy and pleasure.

I embarked on that consciously at the beginning of Book of Blue. That was in about 2005. This coincided with becoming acquainted with many women in more or less intimate, more or less sexual, contexts. I also began to feel the magnetism of the need to be celibate for a period of time.

Over the next 15 years, I made many attempts, longer and longer...starting with six weeks and then another six and another six...finally up to about 1.5 years in 2016-2017 (see my essay A Year and a Day). Through this time, I opened up to the women in my life about what I was doing. This began an experiment in what I would call negotiated denial of sex. I got to experience first the boundary; and then my choice; and the women got to experience and explore the conscious power of no, where this became a deeply pleasurable exploration for both of us.

The women learned to surrender to their no, and to the deep pleasure of guiltlessly denying a man sex, and who witnessed how this pushed me deeper into my own ecstasy and self-surrender. They held a boundary that became the ecstatic bliss of ultimately getting to that spot where I went from being denied, to the pleasure of being denied, and then choosing myself. This ritual process leads to the raw power of my statement, “I am a mirror celibate self-semen drinker.” And: “I thirst for cunt and drink myself.” And: “I thirst for myself” (openly, and then privately).

The ability for me to be denied the vulva and for a woman to bring that to a fully conscious level of a gift and holding that space together goes beyond any commonly known concept of sexuality or consent. The beauty is held in the sheer honesty of the exchange.

The cum mirror is a kind of ever-present artifact of my choice and my journey. The original mantra of the cum mirror is, “I have made a mess and I will clean it up.” It is also the reflection of not just my desire but my desperation reflected back to me. In my relationships, we understand that my mirror is my cunnilingus.

When I would share my cum mirror with a lover, the sensation was one of having no choice other than declaring and accepting my mirror celibacy — or to moving in that direction. It is obvious what this mirror is, and how deep the experience goes. When you look at it, the tongue streaks are plain to see. The affirmation I have experienced from women (who have held my mirror to my face, and to my mouth), and the self-affirmation I have dared to give myself, have been unbearably beautiful. It is obvious how disgusting this is, in one sense, and in another, how necessary.

The semen left on the mirror was from times when I could not accept myself and left that for some time in the future. So my arrangement is: no guilt, lick yourself next time. The truth of the mirror is to be open about navigating this ambivalence. All semen on the mirror goes back into my body. (See the last image below for the mirror in a more licked-backs state.) Several women have of their own accord licked the mirror in front of me. I would never ask someone to do that.

I continued to have intimate relationships through this whole phase, though the relationships had the theme of deepening my mirror masturbation and the women became what I call “thresholders.” They understood what I was doing; we shared the space, and explored the boundary, that frontier. So this was a very intimate form of self-aware celibacy. Adding the fully conscious act of self-completion — the Ritual of Atum — self-semen drinking as an act of creating the universe — made it more daring and intimate.

There were lovers with whom our whole journey involved my conscious desire for them, not getting to experience them with physical contact, deeply exploring the main feature of my sexuality which is cunt thirst, and then they would hold the mirror for my gradual surrender and orgasm; sometimes naked, sometimes dressed; allowing me to beg for vagina and to deeply feel not having; and being with me while I confessed my self thirst and smelled and drank my semen.

I would then have these experiences alone; and then with a lover or sometimes a male-female couple; and occasionally with a man. One of my deepest joys is masturbating with another man’s semen. When I get to experience this, it has often felt like the most profound sex I have ever had...where he ejaculates into my hand specifically so I may pleasure myself with his cum.

Along the way there have been women who were able to lure me out of my celibacy knowing how deeply my thirst for their vulva water went. Those were acts of profound surrender where I would drink them, and drink deeply.

With them I would always be fully present for my masturbation and often for theirs in these experiences. I take deep pleasure in other people masturbating in my presence and it always makes me want to go deeper, into myself, into my self thirst, and into my intimacy with them.

My last taste of vagina or fucking was four years ago this month, in May 2022. Since then, I have masturbated in the presence of both men and women, sometimes together, sometimes just me into the mirror with them as their presence. If you look at Book of Blue in this context, the experiences I describe make much more sense.

I have more to add about drinking the semen of other men as part of this experience, though I am written out for now. However, though this process, I have become more deeply and openly honest about my need and desire to do so. This honesty comes with such a beautiful depth of pleasure and self-acceptance. I don’t know if I will ever do it again. I deeply want a woman to watch, feel and see me accept another man. I don’t know if this will ever happen, either. But it is a beautiful thought.

This photo is calling for a comment..with pleasure. Vera was a book of blue model and we shared an intimacy over several years. I considered her my artistic wife. Our understanding was grounded in the truth that this setup was my masturbation mirror and that I fucked that dildo and saw my face and licked my semen off of the mirror; she never witnessed me, nor did I see her masturbate — and she would present herself for nude photos in and around my cum mirror.

She was comfortable in accepting my longing for her, as long as I did not beg; though there was one instance where she tolerated that. We existed in the understanding that she was guiding me on my path by holding this space for me. She understood the depth of the healing and necessity of this mudra between us perhaps better than anyone. It was a line she held gently, aware of how deep into my self-ecstasy I would go acknowledging her awareness of my situation and pressing against her boundary.

In our last session she spread her vulva for me for the first time, revealing her new shri yantra tattoo on her mons pubis. i was calm with part of my psyche and boiling for her at my core level. i did beg her to at least be able to smell her. honestly I can say I could not hold back pleading. I knew that cunnilingus was not going to happen but i hoped she might allow me to smell her. but it was too intimate and she understood that i needed our situation to be this way; that was maximum healing and fulfillment. she understood her role as giver of my cosmic death.

she demurred and declined, but for a brief moment she allowed me to sniff her fingers after she had been spreading her vulva lips open, knowing I was exceeding my privilege. She understood that when she left, I would strip, masturbate into the mirror where she had spread her yoni, soaked in her presence and now alone, and eat my semen off of it crying out my love for her and seeking self acceptance.

this is the expression of her face a moment before she allowed me to see her vulva.