Ride The Lightning

       The mutually negotiated sexual landscape between two intimate partners is not a static environment, but a dynamic one. Sometimes that landscape looks and feels like a beautiful walk through a mountain meadow. And sometimes it’s a a virtual reality thrill ride. And everything in between.
       All too often, couples' sex lives are not all they could be because time and space are not created to explore it. It’s taken as a given. But I see each partner’s sexuality, and thus the sexual universe created by their unique relationship, as a beautiful realm that positively begs discovery.
       When you’re pushing the envelope of mutual sexual exploration, you will come to wonderful places together that work for both of you. And you may come to places that won’t. That doesn’t mean you can’t keep exploring; it doesn’t mean that the sex will hit a dead end. The erotic world is vast. And most people’s erotic worlds are indeed far vaster than they even know. If you both stay open and dare to keep digging and exploring together, you may just find plenty of beautiful, fun, hot, sexy places to meet.  
       Figuring out what really turns you on, finding new places that drive you wild, and places you won’t go, is a process. It’s mutually negotiated. It’s not an ultimatum based dynamic. The very act of discussing and sharing and figuring it out builds intimacy and trust and excitement. No matter where it ends up. And if there are things that make either one uncomfortable, then you move away from that and go somewhere else with it. It’s a process. Again, it’s not static, but very dynamic.  
       There are few discussions I would rather have with my lover than one where you share sexual fantasies, open up about deep desires, and just explore your own and each other’s sexuality. Just like anything else, the deeper you dig, the more you are going to find. And sometimes what you find scares you. Or your partner.
       Fine. Bring it on. What would you rather talk about? The weather? The economy? Not me. Give me a juicy discussion about what you want to do to me, what I want to do to you, and how we can make that happen, any day of the week and twice on Saturdays and Sundays.
       Such discussions, however, require that each partner has a certain degree of self knowledge. Not everyone has done the work to know themselves like that. And even if you are in touch with your own hearts’s sexual desires, you also have to be able to risk sharing that. Again, most people have big trouble with that.
       I’m not saying it’s easy to get to that place. But I assure you, it’s worth it. It is so worth it. Self knowledge, and being able to risk exposing yourself, are in fact the building blocks of true sexual intimacy.
       Just like our hearts, I believe our sexuality is a treasure of riches that you usually have to dig for to get to. Life has thrown so much dirt and shit on our sexual desires, on sex itself, telling us what is right, what is wrong, what is “normal” and what isn’t, that we develop crippling inhibitions that block us from getting to that which truly makes our blood boil.
       Sometimes we get to a place where we discover something we like, or love, and tell ourselves that there is something wrong with us for liking it. So we don’t allow ourselves to like it too much, lest we believe we’re fucked up. That’s very real, and I’ve been there. But now I know that line of thinking is bullshit. If whatever you like or love is completely consensual by both parties, and does not harm another living soul, then there’s nothing wrong with it. And there’s nothing wrong with you for liking it.
       Human sexuality is unfortunately a poorly understood, indescribably vast universe that is still grossly under-explored by most. Our sex lives would serve us better if they were more like the rest of our lives - an adventure. Intimate relationships are the most beautiful arenas, and the most fertile grounds, for self exploration that we have. Can you think of anything more charged than sex? The word itself, and certainly the act, are literally a fucking bastion of electricity. It’s a world on fire. It’s made to be plugged into. It’s designed to set us ablaze. So plug into it. Feel the heat. Ride the lightning.
        Many prefer the darkness. It’s easier to hide there. It’s safer there. And I have a lot of empathy and understanding for that sentiment. But my life, across the board, is all about coming out of the darkness and into the light. I’m talking metaphorically here, not whether you use a 10 watt bulb or a 100 watt bulb. But sexuality proves to be a wonderful metaphor. Sex is electric, and that electricity begs us to use it to shed light. To illuminate. To enlighten. And to burn hot and bright.
        I’ll put my money where my mouth is and share something very personal. And relevant to this discussion. I have never been a fan of having sex in complete darkness. I like a little mood lighting, like the soft glow from a candle or a colored bulb. But when I'm co-creating sexual intimacy with my lover, I rarely close my eyes. Even when I kiss. And that’s not because I’m not into it. I don’t need to close my eyes to be into kissing, or fucking. I’m into it. Period. It is s giant turn on to look at my partner when we’re kissing; I love to see what she looks like. It’s even better when we look into each other’s eyes when we kiss. And the creme de la creme is to look onto each other’s eyes whilst making love. That’s magic, baby. That is in fact nerve rattling intimacy. And intimacy can be incredibly scary. But so are roller coasters.
        I have come to value intimacy in all of my special relationships, as a sacred thing. It’s vital to me. For those closest to me, from my best friends to my lover, it becomes the air I breathe. And with each person, that intimacy looks and feels different. And sometimes it scares the crap out of me. But it’s worth the risks.    

©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and an Intimate and Naughty Amount of Wrongs) Reserved.   

The Politics of Bondage (part 2)

       So you’re in control. I mean total control. Of another person. They are helpless. You are omnipotent.
       Sounds terribly exciting, does it not?. From both sides. In the playful world of mutually consensual sexual power exchange, being either a “top” or a “bottom” can super charge excitement, desire, fun, self discovery, intimacy. All sorts of good stuff.
       I suggest you read, or re-read, my first post on this (The Politics of Bondage) if you want some context or set up for this writing.
       The psychology of control is fascinating. And very dichotomous. We are often polarized by the concept of control. We strive to be in control of our lives so that we get what we want. Being in control gives us the experience of safety and comfort. Basically, we are taught that the more in control we are, the happier we will be because getting what we want, by western standards anyway, means happiness.
       The experience of being out of control, on the other hand, is frightening. For you and for those around you. By definition, you are completely unpredictable, which is scary. And dangerous. You don’t have influence over what you want because you can not govern your behavior or responses.
       And yet, we are drawn to people who exhibit a devil may care attitude, or a freedom of spirit that makes them appear, at times anyway, just a little out of control. A Little Dangerous, A Little Unpredictable. So a little “out of controllness” is appealing to most. Those who exhibit this trait in proper doses can be exciting, fun, and magnetic. Being around them can make us feel that way too.
       On the contrary, people who are too “in control”, or “Control Freaks”, as we often call them, are exhausting to be around. They suck all the energy out of every life circumstance in order to feed their need for control. Spontaneity and inspiration are stifled and choked out of existence. People like that can be damn boring.
       Thus, an ungovernable need to control everything is just as distasteful to most of us as the ungovernable inability to control anything.
       I realize that most of us do not fall under either of these two extremes. I highlight both ends of the spectrum simply to illustrate my point: We have a love hate thing with control.We strive for a balance between control and letting go. And this balance is notoriously difficult to strike at any one moment.
       Which is why it is so delicious when we choose to either be in complete control of a sexual situation or turn that control over to someone else. For a little while, we don’t have to worry at all about balance. We consciously choose imbalance. We go all the way over to one extreme. Thee’s a wonderful freedom in that. It’s a lot of fun.
       Having power over someone else in this context feeds our need to be in control without all the baggage that comes with being a total control freak. For this short time, we get to be control freaks, all the way, 100%, and not only is it okay, but the more in control we are, the more power we exert over the other person, the more exciting it is for both involved. Our desire to have all the power is rewarded, with no stigma attached. We get to live out this fantasy that, if we did so in the rest of our lives, would not endear us to many people. And might even get us arrested.
       In part three, I’ll go even further. Maybe I’ll even get completely out of control.....

©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and an out of control amount of wrongs) Reserved   

The Politics of Bondage

       This post will “offend some, and titillate others.” That’s in quotations because I stole it from a Kiss video.
       We all have a shadow self. A “dark side”, if you will. Although there are common elements, each shadow self is as different as each of us are. For some, this part of us is in conflict with our higher self. Others are more at peace with it. And some of us go back and forth, hopefully aspiring for more peace than conflict.
       I will focus on the element of the shadow self that wants to control people. Punish people for transgressions. Dominate those less powerful than ourselves. To a degree, this trait is in most of us. Most of us keep it in check. Others do not. Those people are called sociopaths. I’m not writing to you. Go get some therapy. Or a personality transplant.
       For those of us who keep our darker nature in check, I offer you a place, and a context, to let this self out. Let’s call this part that wants to control, dominate, and punish, the Bad Boy. Or The Bad Girl. That doesn’t sound so threatening. And for what I’m about to offer, it does not have to be threatening at all. In fact, it can be fun, exhilarating, exciting, passionate, intimate, and even highly beneficial. And sexy. Very, very sexy.
       The place I’m talking about is the bedroom. And the context I’m talking about is sex. Some of you saw this coming. And got excited. And some of you saw it coming, and experienced an “Oh No”. And still others have no idea what the hell I’m talking about.
       In the vernacular of sex, what I’m talking about is referred to as “D&S”, or “Dominance and Submission”. This may or may not include what’s known as “B&D”, or “Bondage and Discipline”, and or “S&M”, or "SadoMasichism”. Okay. Enough with the cryptic acronyms. Let’s get down to business.
       Our need to dominate and control can be exercised in the bedroom with wonderful results. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty of it (that would be a whole ‘nother post). I will instead share my insights on the psychology of it, and how it can bring individuals a sense of freedom, expression, and joy. And how it can bring couples new levels of intimacy, closeness, excitement, pleasure, and yes, love.
       Preposterous you say? Not at all.
       I will use the following analogy. Many of us indulge in this shadow self when we compete in sports. If you want to win, and even if you don’t care that much about winning, you experience a certain element of wanting to control or dominate your opponent. It’s t the nature of competition. It feels kinda good. Many of us experience it in business. Even if you are an ethical and socially responsible business person, you would like, to varying degrees, the ability to control your market, your competition, your customers, your vendors.....right down the line. Because it would mean you would always get what you want. When you want it. And that’s a part of human nature. Maybe not a terribly evolved part of human nature, but there nonetheless.
       In the bedroom, we can play out this shadow self safely and erotically. If we can indulge this in a controlled, fun, safe environment, many things can and often do happen. We get to be The Bad Boy or The Bad Girl without actually hurting anyone, or causing harmful consequences. We exercise a piece of ourselves in acts of self expression. And self expression is very important, critical I would say, to our development as full human beings.
       I said I was not going to get into the nitty gritty, but I realize that some nitty gritty is necessary to understand the bigger picture. So let’s say one partner wants to be tied up, and the other partner agrees. What the person who wants to be tied up (known as a “Sub” for “submissive”, or “Bottom”) is doing is giving up a vast degree of control to their partner. And the partner is accepting the responsibility of that control. The mere consent by both parties alone involves a great deal of trust. And increasing trust between partners is an important element in deepening the relationship. So already, we’re off to a good start.
       Many people have to exert a lot of control in their lives outside the bedroom. Through a job where they are responsible for consequential decisions. Or in parenthood where they are responsible, literally, for lives. Or perhaps it is just one’s nature to want to be “in control” of things, to varying degrees. There are the Hyper-Responsible types. There are the Planners. Many people shoulder a lot of responsibility. I offer that, in the bedroom, for them to be able to give up control to another trusted person is not only a welcome relief, but highly stimulating and pleasurable. Just for a while, they let somebody else take charge.
       You don’t even have to have a lot of responsibility in your life to crave the desire to let somebody else take over for a while. Any stress one has in their life, whether self imposed or environmentally imposed, can reek havoc on one’s nervous system. Letting go of that, even if just for a while, gives the mechanisms that literally run your body a little vacation.
       But it goes much deeper than just a break for your central nervous system. The eroticism of it touches something deep inside of us that wants someone else to take care of us. If you are lying on a bed, helpless, then ipso facto, somebody else has to take care of you. Most of us have a desire to be cared for. This is just another way to experience that.
       But wait! There’s more! There is something very taboo and naughty about surrendering yourself to another. Even if just for a while. And taboo and naughty are usually big red hot erotic turn ons. The forbidden fruit always tastes good.
       Stay tuned for part two, where I delve into this more. And where I talk about the person in control. The “Dom” (for “Dominant”) or “Top”. That’s where the Bad Boy or the Bad Girl really has the chance to get the lead out. Literally.

©2012 Clint Piatelli/ All Rights (and  very sexy amount of Wrongs) Reserved.



    

Touch

       Touch. Vital, from birth, for human development. Essential for bonding throughout life. People who are not touched, and do not touch others, physically or emotionally, suffer a great deal. Touch is the oxygen of our emotional heart. Without it, we die. Literally.  
       Sometimes, I look at people and wonder how often they are touched. Or even if they are touched. There is a guy who works at the CVS near me. He is mentally challenged, and physical appearance wise, not gifted in the traditional sense. I know I am projecting, and in fact I could be completely wrong. But I would wager that he does not have many people in his life who touch him physically. I would wager he has probably never even had sex. That he has never had the intimate tender caress and touch of a woman (or man) who cares about him. And those thoughts break my heart. Every time I see him.
       Whether I am right or wrong about him, I am aware of all the people on this planet who do not get touched enough. Who long for the physicalness of another person so bad that their bones ache. I feel that loneliness from not enough physical contact as acutely as I feel my own limbs. For people who suffer from lack of touch, it is that tactile. And I have been there. And I can go back there just by looking at someone who’s body and face tell me that they yearn for human touch. They wear that hurt across their face like a mask. Across their whole being like an aura.
       The Bottom Line is that touch is an act of love. It is in fact the purest and strongest physical act of love we can commit. Therein lies it’s intense power.
       A good hug can save someone’s life. And enough good hugs can restore a person’s body, mind, heart, and soul  as much as proper nutrition, exercise, a spiritual practice, and a healthy lifestyle.
       Why are we so afraid to touch? Partly because touching is an intimate act. And intimacy, we are told, has to be earned. At a young and tender age, intimacy, with anyone, has huge consequences. We learn early the power of touch. We absorb it’s potency on a level that we often don’t understand until many years later. If we are touched properly, and often, we learn to receive human touch, and to give. We learn physical intimacy. And we are comfortable with it. We also learn how and when to protect that intimacy against others who would use touch to hurt us and violate us.
       Those who are violated by touch, or who are not touched enough, learn different lessons. Those are the people who’s hearts are broken. And who’s pain I feel most deeply.
       I know both worlds. My dad was a toucher. My mom was not. I spent the first three weeks of my life in an incubator, where I was not touched at all. I am an extremely affectionate person. To lovers. To friends. To strangers. I am always touching the woman I love. If she is next to me, I want to be touching her. I hug and kiss my friends. All of them. And if I shake a strangers hand, it is a firm, warm handshake, looking them straight in the eye. I often use both hands, sometimes firmly patting them on the shoulder as I shake. Increase the touch. Increase the connection.
       I want to touch. I want to be touched. I need it. It's one way I connect. The act of touching another person is connection. Literal Physical Connection. It can signify an Emotional Connection as well. It varies depending on who you are touching, how you are touching them, and how receptive or admonishing both of you are. The emotional and physical significance of the touch can be powerful and affirming beyond words. You communicate so much with touch. More than many realize.
       What makes a person an exceptional lover? One critical element is how they touch. A person who knows how to touch another, who pays attention to it, who values it and does it often, is virtually always a great lover. And I’m not just talking about touching with the hands. You touch another with other body parts as well. With your whole body, in fact. You also touch them with your words. With your feelings. With your actions. This gets communicated, in and out of the bedroom, constantly. And it gets picked up on, consciously and subconsciously, all the time too.
       If you want to be a better lover, learn touch. Don’t worry about dick size. Or breast size. Or how much hair you have. Or how much money you have. All that may make you more attractive. But it will never make you a great lover. Instead, focus on, open yourself up to, learn about, become available to, and become actively more demonstrative with touch.
       Believe me. It's true.  


©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and A Touching Amount of Wrongs) Reserved

Jane

        When I was eighteen, there was a lifeguard at our association beach named Jane. I had just graduated high school, and I think she was in her second or third year of college. Although just a couple of years older than me, she was much more worldly. More mature. She was a woman, while I was, in many ways, still a boy. I hadn’t had sex yet, and I’m sure she had. That alone put her in a different league.
        Despite this gap between us, we liked each other. We even flirted. She would tell me that she dug my “long, curly rock ‘n’ roll hair”, my “beautiful green eyes”, and my “nice physique”. I in turn spent plenty of time ogling her lengthy blonde mane, her pretty face, and her smokin’, athletic, bikini-clad body. She was a singer in a band, and I was a drummer, so we would occasionally talk music. She was a lifeguard at our beach for two summers. And then I never saw her again.
        At eighteen, I was just coming into my own. My senior year of high school had seen me explode out of my shell and onto the world in a blaze of adolescent glory. I hadn’t even kissed a girl, I mean really kissed a girl, until I was seventeen, just a year before. But between then and my eighteenth summer, I had been on lots of dates, kissed my share of girls, been to three proms, and even made it to third base quite a few times. Sex still eluded me, but frankly, I was in no hurry. Because I was still scared of it.
        At that point in my life, sex didn’t seem like just the next step after putting my hands down a girl’s pants; it seemed like a quantum leap into the unknown. The progression from kissing to heavy petting didn’t intimidate me. Maybe because it all felt so natural. Kissing, fondling, groping, and using my hands and mouth to explore the wonderfulness of a woman was always fun for me. I was eager to do it as often as I could. After all, I had been using my mouth and my hands my whole life, and I was pretty good at it. I could do lots of neat things with my hands and mouth; speak, eat, whistle, drum, punch, make things. Using them to love a woman seemed like just another artful skill that I could master.
        But using my dick? I had never used that on anything. Or anybody. Sure, I had learned how to pleasure myself when I was six, and, like most red blooded boys, had been practicing that art ever since. I knew exactly what I liked. But having to use my member on a woman to make her feel good (and achieve my own lift off) was a whole different story.
        So here I was, having exploded out of my shell not too long before, and I’m flirting with this older, worldly, totally hot blonde lifeguard. Even though I was still pretty naive, I could tell she liked me. But there were two things that stood in my way of ever getting it on with her; the fact that I had a girlfriend who lived next door to me, in the same association as where the lifeguard was; and, more importantly, the fact that I didn’t have a clue how to make a move on this woman who intimidated me.
        Even though I had come out of my shell, I certainly didn’t yet have a lot of confidence with women. This was all still pretty new to me. I blossomed rather late. I had wanted to hug and kiss and fondle and squeeze girls since I was probably twelve or so, but I had been denied that pleasure until I was seventeen. And even then, until about the time I turned eighteen that February, it had only been with one girl.
        In the spring of my senior year of high school, though, I was hooking up all the time. And here’s where years of frustration, years of wanting but not having, helped me. Because I had yearned but been denied female company for so long, when I got it, I had a different attitude than most boys my age. While most dudes were rushing to get the girl’s pants off, I was very happy just to kiss, touch, rub, grind, explore, and generally take whatever was being offered. I wasn’t overly aggressive, and girls liked that. So our encounters were generally wonderful and rarely awkward. They were fun, erotic, tender, steamy, passionate, relatively innocent; not simply a race to get inside of her.
        I’ve carried that attitude of acceptance and genuine appreciation for female companionship with me ever since, and its served me well. Even today, I’m never in a rush to have sex. I love foreplay. All those years of not having sex and instead spending my time exploring the female form have made me a better lover. When I finally got with someone, I paid attention. I was present. In the moment. Fully engaged in what I was doing. Like working for something for a long time, delaying the gratification for years, when it finally starts happening, your attitude is different than if it came easy and right away.
        This is a great example of how pain and frustration and a certain amount of suffering can shape one’s character for the better. It certainly did for me. I honestly love just being next to a woman I like. Rubbing against her. Feeling her soft skin against mine. Hearing her breathe heavier and heavier. Inhaling her unique scent with every breath I take. Exploring the delicious lines of her body and face. Trying different things and seeing what and how she responds. Whispering in her ear. Listening to what her voice sounds like when she slightly gasps or lightly moans. Letting her get to know me and what I like, and vise-versa. It’s all good. It’s all beautiful. And I could do it for hours at a time or weeks on end without worrying about when we’re going to “do it”. That’s what not getting it for years did for me.
        I wouldn’t change any of that. But I can still say, man, it would have been a gas to be with Jane. I could tell she was wild. There were all sorts of rumors around the beach about what a party girl she was. Lots of the older women who hung out at the beach all day didn’t like her. Back then, I couldn’t figure out why. She was nice to everybody. Years later, I knew it was just jealousy. I would have loved to have been part of a scandal back then.
        This is one of those scenarios that would definitely qualify as a “Do Over” if science ever allows us to reconstruct reality to our whims and relive an experience through virtual reality or some other mind boggling technology with no consequences to the present. There’s still a piece of me that would love to go back and have the experience of having sweet Jane lead me to manhood by schooling me in the ways of sex like a teacher does a prized pupil. She could have showed me the ropes. Literally. Actually, if I grew up quick enough and truly expressed what I liked, maybe I would have showed the ropes to her first. Literally.
        Of course, that’s the fantasy. She could just as easily have used me and broken my heart into a million pieces. Or maybe she was really kinky, and....wait, I can’t think of anything bad about that. Anyway, the point is who knows? As a “What If” game to play in my own head, it’s fun to do. Anything further than that, and I’m spinning into places I don’t want to go.
        Around this same time, the tune “Jane” by Jefferson Starship was very popular. It was, and remains, one of my favorite songs. Whenever I heard it, I would think of her. Even today, almost thirty years later, that song brings up images of the blonde lifeguard on my beach who almost became “my first”. There’s something sweet and innocent about that, and it will never leave me. So the song will always have a special place inside. And so will she.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a naughty bikini wearing blonde full of Wrongs) Reserved.