Let me set the scene: It’s late on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Hyperbius and I are sitting in the car, stuck in rush-hour traffic. I’m behind the wheel, he’s in the passenger seat with all his various work detritus at his feet. Music is playing, conversation is flowing. Kisses are happening occasionally when the car is stopped – because, yum.
Then, waiting at the traffic lights, he leans down and gets something out of a box. I have no idea what it is. He tosses it into my lap – and it’s round and soft and green and nobbly.
A friend who wishes to remain anonymous is dead curious about dental dams:
So what are these dental dam things anyway, and what’s the point of them? I know that you’ve used them before, Dee, so tell me what you think about them please!
That I can definitely do, anonymous friend. My first introduction to dental dams was when I started to do presentations about sex toys for work – in the lube and safer sex section there were dental dams (in addition to condoms), and they were a lot of fun to talk about and to show off. They always got a lot of attention too, as very few people in New Zealand know what they are (most assume it’s something to do with dental work. The name is not an endearing one!).
After my Staying Safe post a few weeks ago, the lovely Hannah, editor of express magazine, asked if I could expand upon it for the next issue. (You may recall I had an article in express last year about Pansexuality. Apparently when I write about Buck Angel it’s a popular thing…)
The latest issue (09/02/11 – 22/02/11) came out last week, and as promised, here is a scan of the article – and the full text of the revised post.
I don’t often talk about what killed my brother. While I don’t shy away from talk of suicide (my mother’s death) or bowel cancer (my father’s), somehow – despite my job and my blog – I don’t often talk about AIDS.
My brother caught HIV, six years ago. He died from Kaposi’s Sarcoma, a cancer many AIDS patients get. He sucked the health lemon, getting sick fast, and dying in under a decade. And I should probably talk about it.
On Sunday morning I went to the pharmacy to get the morning-after pill. It’s only the second time I’ve ever needed to ask for one (the last time was eight years ago). Once again, it was a reasonably easy process, and I count myself lucky to live where I do.
Why did I need it? The night before the condom had come off.
I wasn’t particularly freaked out about it. In fact, I was a little amused (at the situation), and a little annoyed (at myself, for not holding onto the base of the condom as I went to pull myself off Hylas and collapse). I wasn’t concerned about STD’s – he and I had both been tested a few months earlier, and our other partners also get tested regularly. No, I was most concerned about possible pregnancy.
There’s nothing quite like a new experience. But I don’t think I like this one – I have a UTI. For those who don’t get the acronym: a Urinary Tract Infection.
Not so sexy.
On the bright side, I don’t have the burning sensation when peeing, or the peeing of blood. (I feel so lucky.) No, I just have the strong desire to pee, all the time. Like there’s something pressing on my bladder. Gah.
When did you last get an STI check? Have you ever had one?
I’ve been getting mine on an annual basis for the last seven or so years. Generally that meant taking the easy route and getting tested when I saw my gynaecologist for my yearly check-up.
Over those last seven years I’ve had sexual interactions with approximately a dozen people, eight of whom have been (or become) longer-term partners. In all cases (bar the first threesome I ever had, when I was horny and dumb) I’ve practiced safer sex. And in all cases, when it came to a partnership that I wanted to be longer-term, I’ve made sure we’ve both been checked out.
What you’ve been waiting to read, of course, is how Sunday’s orgy was. And the short answer is: it was fantastic!
The medium answer is: Why in the hell haven’t I done that before? Because I’m sure as hell doing that again.
And the long answer? Well, you’ll have to keep reading to get to that. But there are photos, so that might keep your attention a while longer. Or at least get you using your scroll button!
I am very excited about today’s orgy. Being excited isn’t unusual for me – the closer I get to something I’ve anticipated, the more hyper I get. Some people get nervous and start to over-think (and that used to be me, once upon a time), but I’m confident that all the planning and prep has been done, and all we have to do now is wait for folks to show up!
It’s 10:30am as I write this, and we are getting going from midday. Pizza dough has been made (that’s for dinner), minestrone is bubbling on the stove and foccacia is being pounded into creation. I’m clean, with shaved legs and trimmed toenails and a general air of pretty and edible.
I’ve done a number of new things this month (and that gets to be a post all of it’s own at some point), but right now I am deeply involved in preparing to hold an orgy. And to participate in said orgy.
It’s all really rather very exciting!
It’s a small orgy, so far as such things go – only five people (which really is about the minimum you can get away with and still call it an orgy). But it’s four people whom I find astonishingly attractive (and me); whom I’ve had sexy loving nekkid fun time with; who’ve all had hawt sexings with me, but not all of them have had with each other.keep looking »