it's official

it's sprained.
i'll be on the cane for the next two weeks.
going back in to physical therapy.
hurrumph.

grown accustomed to her face

yeah, you're not going to. at least until i leave my current job. discretion is a must. once i run away, i'll be able to open up. unless i choose north carolina over grad school. one closet to another. ironic that i'm stuck in a closet in new york city. but there will be pretty sexy pictures. all i have to do is leave my job. soon, darlings, soon. for now, use your imagination.

ouch

yesterday morning, as i was leaving dacia's home, i fell down the subway steps. twice. the same steps. well, at least the same flight. there was an inch or two of solid ice on the stairs, so i was holding the railing like a smart girl. and i fell down three, and caught myself (and my bags). stood up, and fell down another four.

not a big deal. a little embarrassing. didn't even rip my tights or fishnets (layered look, you know).

but when i tried to transfer trains, i found my knee buckling going down stairs.

three falls (as in autumns) ago, i jumped over a little foot high fence in union square. landed wrong and twisted my ankle. not a big deal. until two weeks later when my knee started buckling. i was on a cane for three months due to bursitis. canes are not functional in new york city.

so now i'm worried. i'm popping aleve and keeping it iced (ironic, as ice caused the fall). kinda puts a damper on my weekend plans. i'm recruiting neighbors to run to the corner store and sign for deliveries (as i can't go down the stairs). helpless over here.

canes are stupid. sexy. but stupid.

ho hum (aka public cervix announcement)

just your average, ordinary thursday night with jane and dacia. guess who bought two pretty new specula.



happy cervix dance.



and dacia's thumb.


*kudos to the goddess annie sprinkle for her cervical inspiration

educational images

sex educator ISO dick
since it worked so well for vulva and clits, a colleague is searching for photographs of a variety of penises (not porn penises, realistic size shape color hair style, etc) for a series of illustrations on genitalia. i've already hooked her up with femalia and http://www.the-clitoris.com/n_html/n_v_image1.htm and she has betty dodson and the clitoral truth. we are shocked (shocked i tell you) at the trouble we're having tracking down dick (and scrotum, and hairy bum holes). so if you can help us out, please comment or email me directly at the_educated_slut@yahoo.com. thanks!jane

options

today i received my first bonus for the ungodly amount of work i have been doing since early december. it is substantial and i worked my butt off for it.

originally, i had planned to pay off my remaining student loans, get a new tattoo, and put aside some change for the move to grad school.

but now that the check is in hand, i have other ideas.

i could buy a pottery wheel and move to north carolina. i found three jobs advertised in today's local small town paper working with adolescents doing supervision, health counseling, and interventions. all full time, with benefits. and i exceed the requirements. plus, you can rent a 1 to 3 bdr house for $250-500 dollars in this town.

what started out as a whim suddenly seems exceptionally feasible. scary and thrilling.

dirty girl

i left the apartment today in my city chic: black bra, black panties, black tank, black fuzzy sweater, black a-line skirt (which i wear more often than my jeans), black tights, black socks (black socks, the longer you wear them the blacker they get...), black overcoat, and black boots. i come home with smears, smudges, and clots of white, gray, and brown all over my person. i even have a solid chunk in my left braid. and i feel better than i have since i boarded the plane back in to the city (okay, three days ago, but it's been a pretty dark three days).

ceramics is back in full swing. the clay is wedging, the wheel is spinning, and the pots are throwing. although tonight was mostly a bust (only a cup and saucer) because i spent most of my time wedging (think kneading/smooshing) some too old clay with super new clay to make funky uneven temperamental clay, my body feels great. back aches, shoulders ache, wrists ache (i need to do more manual jerking off to build those muscles back up), and the skin from finger tips to elbows is dry and itchy. wonderful.

i did not enter ceramics voluntarily. a year ago, my program at the university said i had taken too many sexuality courses. now, sexuality was my major. but i had to have electives. and my electives could have nothing to do with sex. at all. so i signed up for a ceramics course because it was an evening class and sounded like fun. i had taken some sculpture classes at my first school and missed art.

and as much as i resented being forced to broaden my studies, i was getting a little worried by my monochromatic life. at the time, i was studying sex, reading about sex, teaching sex, working with sex, doing sex work (two distinct occupations), and hanging out with sex people. in my spare time, i would go to sex parties or get laid by other means. so i had a resolution of sorts to expand my horizons.

so, ceramics started as a thing separate from sex. it was for me and me alone. sex was teaching. sex was activism. sex was exhausting. clay was insulating and mind-numbing (in the stop thinking so much zen meditative sense).

ceramics was not easy for me. i slopped things together, trying to find something that felt right. when i finally centered my first ball of clay on the wheel, i turned the fist-sized lump into an egg cup (smaller than a shot glass for the unsophisticated bunch). but i decided i would figure it out. i made a double batch of clay, about 50-75lbs. i would wedge ten fist-sized balls at a time. i would throw them until there was nothing left of the piece, then scrape up the slop and set it on a plaster bat to dry. i had a dozen balls being thrown and two dozen drying at all times. by the time i was throwing the fiftieth or sixtieth ball, i suddenly made a bowl. an off center, itty bitty, warped but lovely bowl. it was magical. it was also 11:30 at night and the security guards were kicking us out of the lab.

the next day i left on spring break to go to north carolina and tennesse. i rented a car, stayed at my dead grandfather's farm, and visited aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, grandparents, and parents in various locales across the south east. i put about 1500 miles on the rental car. i fell in love with highway 64 between chattanooga and the okoee mountains. and i felt at home and at peace.

when i returned to the city, and to the ceramics lab, i could suddenly throw. i threw 20 bowls on my first saturday back. they weren't great, but they were getting better. soon i was throwing about five bowls an hour. i spent every spare moment in the ceramics lab.

during the final critique, my ceramics professor questioned the lack of social commentary in my bowls. i explained that the rest of my life was sexual activism. clay was the one place just for me. i did not feel obligated to force profound meaning upon pieces that represented comfort and peace for me.

that changed my second semester. i began working commentary into my thrown forms. i did an autobiographical series on my experiences as a sexual woman, and another series on the teenagers living with HIV i worked with over the summer. i also did a series of mugs (with slut, dyke, whore, and other fun terms cheerfully stamped on the side) on reclamation of sexually derogatory language. so by allowing it to be my escape, it integrated itself into the rest of my life.

clay is no longer separate from sex. one questions how the two experiences could have been divided. wet moist slapping pulling pushing forcing holes touch feel molding holding using the body to create.

my ceramics professor and i have many debates on feminism, sexuality, and womanhood. she has a wonderful show coming up this weekend. i recommend anyone in the new york area to check it out.

Sana Musasama
Shhhh... Secrets, Status, Society
February 24-March 22
June Kelly Gallery
http://www.junekellygallery.com/current.htm
591 Broadway
(212) 226-1660

reception Friday, Feb 25, 6-8pm

escape

i spent the weekend hauling rocks around a mountain in north carolina, filling potholes and trenches in the dirt road. it was lovely.

add the visit to the museum of the cheerokee indian and talking leaves bookstore (stocked up on wilma mankiller). couldn't get much better.

but now, courtesy of a 5am flight, i am back in this slushy city. feeling a tingly bit trapped. ick.

like this, man (waves little pinky)

i'm looking for a still image of vanessa del rio's clit. circa 1986-ish when the steroids were in full swing. teaching a friend about vulva-diversity. thank you for your help.

pretty pussy

there is an awesome nsfw (not safe for work) site up called The Vulva Revealed http://www.the-clitoris.com/n_html/n_v_image1.htm It features pictures and descriptions of easily 100 vulva (which they refer to as pussies, which makes me happy). my only gripe is the reference of the last page, which features large lips and body modification, as "extreme pussy" (a little judgemental, or maybe i'm overly sensitive).

After staring at all the pretty pussy, check out the main site www.the-clitoris.com. They have some good information. And their store is awesome. I bought a viva la vulva shirt and matching panties, as well as two speculum (never know when you need a spare), and two copies of femalia (one for a gift) and it's perfectly normal (i've given away my copy twice now, this is a fabulous book for anyone who knows kids who can read, although you should read it first and be prepared to talk).

now i am really leaving the office.

missionary (a poundcake update)

i know you all have been biting your nails to here how my date with the possibly straight girl went. well, stop now or i'll put tabasco on your nails (or that yucky tasting clear polish my friend had to wear in junior high).

don't you hate it when you have a bad date, but the other person didn't? during the date, i very quickly realized that poundcake girl and i are not compatible. however, she left a message yesterday to set up a second date. no no no no no. two years ago, or even four months ago, i would have taken on the roll of teacher and mentor for this young (20!) sex-negative/naive child. but it is not my job to help others learn about their sexuality. or rather, it is my job. so i'd like to find something more symbiotic in a personal relationship.

so what was so bad about it?

nothing in particular went horribly arye (how the hell do you spell that word?!? sounds like "uh-rye", anyway, you get my drift). we are simply not sexually compatible on a philosophical level.

she wants to be pursued, captured, adored, beloved, unattainable, and ravished. she doesn't want sex. she wants someone else to want sex with her. but she doesn't surrender. while she was busy dwelling on the vampyric parallels of sexual pursuit, i felt i eating at dojo's with an ayn rand character (you know, the chic from "the fountainhead").

part of her need to be the beloved and not the lover translates to her distaste of discussion of sex (although obviously not on this date, because it was really all we talked about). "if my lover so much as asks if i am ready, that ruins it for me." the girl is against verbal communication! ack! she connotes the type that wouldn't use condoms because
1) buying them would imply planning and desire on her behalf
2) asking someone to put on a condom would ruin the mood
3) its "unnatural"

*sidenote: on dates with guys over the last year or two, i have noticed myself switching into "sex worker mode" when i'm not attracted to the guy. leading the conversation and making sure he's having a good time and being polite and social and a good hostess but having zero personal investment in the date. on this particular date, i switched into "teacher mode". i was continually validating her views and offering other ideas and concepts to chew on, not forcing anything but providing new information. it was exhausting!*

sex is an unnatural act. this is the title of an interesting book, but a great concept all on its own. we are brought up in a conflicting sexual culture (duh!). on the one hand, consumerism is telling us we must by this that and the other in order to be satisfied sexual beings. on the other hand, we are lead to believe that sex "just happens naturally" and is a basic animal act that doesn't require effort or information. sex without information is bad sex. this doesn't have to be information learned in school or from textbooks or cosmo or the spice channel. this can be knowledge of your body and how your body feels and responds as well as knowledge of your partner's body. now, you can just figure it out by trial and error, but a independent research and communication greatly increases your chances of having an enjoyable sexual experience.

which brings me to a point i have been mulling over lately, especially in light of the sex toy debate. should the purpose of sexuality education be to prevent sex or prevent bad sex? or maybe prevention shouldn't be the goal at all.

so you're thinking, "ah, jane's just bitter cause she didn't get any. sounds like it probably wasn't even a date." well, i don't know if it was a date or not. because she doesn't kiss on the first date! (which is cute, but not really) in conclusion, there will not be a second date.

i am now going home to re-read judith levine's harmful to minors (everybody go out and buy it, or order it from half.com, or check it out from nadia). sweet dreams.

teens and toys

no, it's not a porn film. rather a discussion topic.

should sex toys be available to teens?

should there be an age limit? when is too young?

in light of the number of women who do not experience orgasm until later in life, should tools for masturbation (and outercourse and other sex play) be accessible? physiologically, there are many barriers women must address, including learning about their bodies and overcoming social stigma attached to sex and pleasure. could encouraging masturbation help? and, since many women grow tired and frustrated with masturbation that does not result in easy climax, should sex toys be incorporated in education and marketing around these issues?

many young men are satisfied with hands and lotion. although, what about appropriate butt toys, with flared bases, to prevent injury and embarrassment?

please discuss.

encino man

remember that wonderful pauli shore movie where brendan frasier was a thawed-out cave man? remember the cave man's name?

LINK! *psst... this is not a link, the links are down to the right on my sidebar*

and guess what? i figured out how to link! (i have never pretended to be tech-savy, although i did rig up dacia's cable dvd vcr tv set).

check out the humble beginnings.

over a year

Friday was spent on things I had not done in over a year.

After I saw my therapist, I went to the Met (first thing I hadn't done in over a year). I checked everything, including my cell-phone-that-acts-as-my-watch, handed over my pocket change, and got lost. The Japanese and Tibet galleries were wonderful but the low lighting was screeching in dog whistle pitch. I wandered until I began to get thirsty, then retrieved my bag. The gift shop was having a sale. I bought a Toulouse-Lautrec book, Bravehearts — Men in Skirts for a dear friend's birthday, and a postcard book of women reading for impending grad school relocation announcements.

I then met up with Seth at Bellevue Bar. The first time I went to Bellevue was to meet Seth after he responded to a craigslist casual encounters ad I had placed. He had responded to an earlier ad of Dacia's but they hadn't been able to coordinate schedules. After I got the okay for her, I headed over for a rendezvous. After two rounds for me and four for him, we went round the corner to the no-name hotel on 42nd and 9th where the short stays are $25 for two hours. There were no covers on the beds, sheets tacked over the windows, a sink and a pie pan ashtray in the room, and a bathroom at the end of the hall. It was wonderful. Seth and I made a habit of calling each other mid-work-day for "lunch breaks". I had my first legal drink in a bar with him at Bellevue. We fucked regularly for over a year. But then I became overwhelmed with work and school and sex work. The time for casual sex slipped away from me.

It had been over a year since I last saw Seth when we met up at Bellevue Friday evening. The previously hard core bar adorned with coffins now featured a hunting video game and "Luck be a Lady" was playing on the sound system. Things change. We had a drink, compared new tattoos and piercings, and headed around the corner to our sentimental hotel.

I took off my sweater and skirt to reveal the burgundy cotton thigh highs and garters with black lace panties and silky black bra. I tugged off one pair of his pants to find a second pair beneath. "It's cold" he protested. We took care of that pair as well. He selected a condom and pulled it from the wrapper. I held it between my lips, tip sucked back between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I slid it down over his growing cock, pushing the rim down with my lips. I bopped my head sucking him into the back of my throat several times to ensure there were no air bubbles in the condom.

He pushed me up as he rose from the bed. He then bent me over onto my knees. He entered me from behind, my favorite position, especially with him. Seth has one of my favorite cocks. It is a wonderful length and width. Great girth but doesn't bop my cervix. And his cock fits perfectly in my ass. He pulls my hair and lightly slaps my ass. I thrust back against him, feeling my orgasm building. He gasps that I'm going to make him come if I keep doing that. "That's okay." After he comes, he grasps the base of the condom as he pulls out.

He pulls on his pants and a t-shirt and pads down the hall to the bathroom. I roll over and reach for my bag. Rummaging around I find my new grad school applications vibrator. I unscrew the lid and switch the end battery over to complete the circuit. Then I pull back my lips and start playing around the sides of my clit. My legs are sprawled when Seth returns. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches. I slide the vibe against my clit and into my cunt. I love the way it rubs my g-spot and the wall between my cunt and ass. I tell Seth to bite my tits. He sucks and nibbles gently, every now and then chomping down on my tender bits. When I masturbate alone I usually roll over onto my stomach (this pattern actually developed after I had been doing sex work). I ask Seth if he would spank me. I roll over and grind against my vibrator as he smacks my ass. This was not a light slapping but a rather intense spanking with minimal build-up. He smacked my cheeks bright and rosy. I could feel my body flushing as my orgasm shuddered. I tapped out gasping "pause, pause" between giggles. We then got dressed and went our separate ways.

I headed down to cinema village to meet up with a friend I hadn't seen in over a year. He had moved to Boston almost two years ago and I'm not great with correspondence. We hugged for ten minutes and then went in to the premier of The Nomi Song (excellent excellent excellent). Afterwards, we hit a Japanese steak house on east 9th (where I hadn't gone in over a year). I had yummy sea weed soup and grilled skirt steak and rib eye, sipping green tea and hot saki. The mandatory green tea ice cream finished the evening.

My friend was heading to a hookah bar. I was tempted to follow, as I had not smoked hookah in over a year, but felt my obligations for one day were fulfilled. I caught the train back to my apartment and had wonderful dreams.

a bottle of wine

This Sunday, I had brunch with the wonderful lusty lady, followed by an afternoon at shore where I said goodbye to my dear friend Dina, knit her a hat, and drank a bottle of wine.

I met Dina volunteering at GMHC. After she went through training, she was a little nervous to begin presenting. So she co-facilitated with me. She was totally cool giving basic HIV info, but shied away from the blatantly sexual, while I was a well rounded sort, spouting off about perinatal vertical transmission and the importance of lube when using dental dams for eating pussy or rimming. Dina is now off to Mozambique for further work in the HIV world. The girl is making a big difference. We are proud. And I am drunk.

This is the first time I have drank (or is it drunken?) a bottle of wine. By myself in one night, anyway. Brings back memories.

When I graduated from high school, I tagged along with my father on a business trip to Belgium. He had meetings all week, so my mother and I hung out and bonded. As I had just turned 18 and was headed for college, she made it her mission to help me find a drink I enjoyed. We would have several drinks at each restaurant followed by one or two bars, each evening.

One evening we went to a restaurant she referred to as "the lobster man two" (a favorite of her and my father's). We ordered a bottle of white wine with the meal. I didn't like the first sip, so she had the bottle to herself. And she drank it. While I was leading her through the cobbled streets back to our hotel she leans over to me and says, "Janie. You know what you need? You need to find a guy… Preferably somewhere near your age… And you need to just screw around."

Sage advice. Which I followed. Though not necessarily with one guy. Not necessarily near my age. And not necessarily a guy at all. But at least I managed the screwing around part. And now I can handle the bottle of wine as well.

suddenly social

after hitting the bust party last night, i am going out again (gasp!)

i'm running off to a free screening of unscrewed (www.unscrewedthemovie.com) with my dear friend and fellow sex educator Paco. afterwards I'm seducing the poundcake girl on our pseudo-date.

tomorrow i have a date with my therapist (not an actual date, just our usual appointment, don't worry, no psyche-abuse on that front). hopefully to be followed by a little cock-therapy courtesy of seth (check out slutparade.blogspot.com for cross referencing). he used to be my favorite quickie but i've been too busy for sex for a year now. tomorrow we will remedy that (attempts were thwarted last weekend by the untimely arrival of dear aunt flo, and the first two days aren't fond of cervical abuse).

and she's off!

the new anal

in a staff meeting today, we were discussing the inclusion of anal sex in outercourse, our definition being sex play that does not involve penile vaginal penetrative intercourse. a colleague suggested we promote anal sex as birth control.

and I had to laugh.

and groan.

my earliest awareness of anal sex was in the context of catholics, Africans, and other “primitive cultures” (dude, I’m not saying they’re primitive, just the connotation of my original exposures) doing it “the back way” to avoid pregnancy and preserve virginity. this seemed and still seems absurd to me.

I love anal, but it’s not an every day of the week thing. it takes more preparation and trust and lube than vaginal or oral intercourse. although I may not be able to count the exact number of folks to whom I have granted ass-cess (hee hee), it is far fewer than overall sexual partners (probably about ten percent). I am much more comfortable shoving a plug up my ass and having a partner pounding my cunt than vice verse (meaning toy in cunt and partner in ass) or strictly partner in ass and lonely vagina play.

anal is wonderful because there are more nerves and deeper sensations. i come exceptionally strongly from butt play. it makes me happy. but it is not casual.

which is why I cocked my head when the thought of anal sex as birth control and or pre-vaginal sex play (meaning having anal sex in a hetero-relationship before having anal sex, not having anal sex then having vaginal sex immediately afterwards which has some gnarly repercussions). then I realized that this is like my mom and oral sex. when my mom came of age, oral sex is something you saved for a very special partner, often post-marriage, always post-vaginal intercourse. oral was bigger than vaginal sex. now, oral is foreplay or less-than vaginal intercourse. I was sucking cock in junior high but didn’t have penile-vaginal penetrative intercourse until a month after my high school graduation.

now that oral sex has been demystified and is no longer a taboo, anal sex has become a forbidden pleasure to strive for. it is one of the most frequent topics of questions I receive. it’s popularity is jumping. which is great, but makes me a little nervous. most likely, you will not cause pain from sucking a cock “the wrong way”. however, pain is a frequent consequence of bad anal sex.

jane’s short and sweet guide to great anal sex:

1) warm up. play with fingers, tongues, toys, etc. let your ass relax. also stimulate the rest of the body. the ass is part of the sexual response system (believe it or not) and reacts to arousal. play with clits and cocks and nipples and balls and ears and that little shallow of the collar bone. get turned on.

2) lube. lots of it. you can never have too much (on the outside of a condom, only one or two drops inside the condom, please). and you can keep adding more throughout the play. love it. yeah, lube!

3) listen to your body. start slow if it’s your first time. if it hurts, stop or at least pause. pain is not a part of anal sex (unless you like it like that). many people believe that it has to hurt. this is just plain wrong. (and as an educator, I don’t often tell people they are wrong). and don’t even think about buying some butt-number product like anal-ease or whatever. those are bad and can lead to someone getting hurt (not just a little tear hurt but ruptured rectum hurt).

4) communicate. with you partner and your self (see above). have signals or safe words or a system set up. I like the slow down, pause, stop system myself. some people use traffic lights green (go), yellow (slow down or not this), red (stop everything).

If you want to learn more about anal, check out Tristan Taormino’s The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women book and videos and Jack Morin’s Anal Pleasure and Health. The Bend-Over Boyfriend video series also has some fun butt facts. Other people please chime in with references in the comments. Thank you

PEP squad

The CDC released new guidelines for post-exposure prophylaxis (PEP) for HIV. Previously the PEP regimen was limited to occupational exposure (ex. needle sticks for hospital workers or blood contact for EMS employees) and sexual assault survivors (depending on your state). Now, if you have access and can afford it, the CDC has approved PEP for non-occupational exposure.

PEP is a medication regimen. Some folks compare it to emergency contraception aka "the morning after pill" which is actually two pills taken twelve hours apart or together or a whole bunch of birth control pills or IUD insertion and all the pill options are effective up to 120 hours (5 days) after unprotected vaginal intercourse and IUD insertion is good up to seven days later so it's hardly a "morning after pill" but that's another discourse. However, the discourse is similar.

PEP is hardly a morning after solution. It is a full anti-retroviral medication regimen. It must be started within 72 hours (3 days) after exposure and continued for 28 days. And, depending on the medication, can come with quite a load of side effects. Not exactly popping a pill and forgetting about that little indiscretion.

Here's an article
http://www.planetout.com/health/hiv/?sernum=3090
and here's the CDC release
http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/
mmwrhtml/rr5402a1.htm

it's about time.

passive aggressive blogging

so i have two dates with two beautiful women this week. the possibly straight co-ed i lured with poundcake like a stranger in a panel van with a lollipop. and the beautiful lusty lady, whom i haven't seen since our night of passion and bliss. why not? 'cause we're psycho busy sexy bitches. we're getting t-shirts. or at least stationery.

last night my roommate came home (gasp!). i told her about my double-header (i don't know sports so it's quite possible this is an inappropriate metaphor).

she said, "but i thought you had a girlfriend?!?"

well, i think we're officially "dating" at this point (what with three dates and all) but we're not technically "girlfriends". yet. plus, even if we were to become girlfriends, it would be an open relationship. i think.

so instead of talking to her or emailing or sending an adorable card (as she so often does), i'm blogging about it. you know, 'cause i'm a passive aggressive dork.