[The following comes from a manuscript I was writing about my sexual fantasies and some sexual adventures and mingling them together to weave together in an attempt to understand myself sexually. I have to write a certain preface though so you can understand. I had been writing about a particular fantasy, one where a particular woman I had my eye on, came to my door and slipped a note under it to let me know that she wanted me... you know the typical guy fantasy where he doesn’t have to do a lot of work except be a lustful presence for an all too eager and non-judgmental and unconditional loving sex goddess. So with that said, you ought to be able to pick up where I left off.]


The fantasy back fired. The real woman turned out to be an arrogant twit with wealthy fantasies written all over her. I knew that would happen as soon as I allowed my judgmental mind to turn itself on, the reality of manifesting my fantasy would certainly die ... and sure enough it died.

But, as I was typing a report for my new book called Having Fun While Changing the World I heard a knock on my door but since it was a bit late and since I also assumed it was perhaps down the hall I thought nothing of it and kept on typing [I have to interject here: the place was a spiritual retreat high in the mountains in eastern San Diego run by an odd assortment of nuns and monks]. But as I finally stopped typing and prepared to head for the jacuzzi and then for the Zen meditation cloistered room, I noticed a note near my door. Someone had placed a note under my door. The note explained that she wanted to get together and that she would be delighted if I agreed. The note also explained where her room was... just down the hall. Now this was a woman who I had spoken with earlier at lunch. I had no fantasies about her, only the fantasy toward the one who was now definitely checked off my list. With the woman who knocked, sex was the furthest from my mind.

I lightly knocked on her door. It was already 10pm, where silence at the monastery is strictly enforced. She invited me in and we chit chatted a bit before trying to decipher the subtitles of her note. I passively blurted out as I was seriously looking into her eyes, “You mean are thinking about sex?” And she said yes that she had wanted to fuck me the day she met me which was just the night before. I said I was flattered “but I’m not drawn to you in that way. However, I really did enjoy talking with you this afternoon.” She was disappointed. She was the one who had the guts to put her fantasy out there. I was simply writing them down in a manuscript getting myself and perhaps readers excited. I didn’t want to leave so I kept talking about the reasons for her doing this. As if I really needed to have some reasons. I was buying some time and I wanted to be nice to her since I just told her something that could be considered an insult to many women. We laid down on individual twin beds in the glamorous retreat room.

“This is most interesting since I had a fantasy about Jennifer earlier today and have been writing about it.” She was intrigued and told me that the reason she came out to the deck earlier that day was because she wanted to fuck me. Yes she used those words. Oh my, what’s a guy to do? Here I am willing to be a whore (in my fantasy) for someone I find out later already has a boy friend and here (in real life) is someone I enjoy talking with but have the lest sexual interest in... But I’m still curious. So we keep talking... talking about pornography, about how her husband is impotent with prostate cancer and who has willingly distanced himself from her and she simply wants to fuck. She is bursting at the seems. She even went on craigslist and responded to one of those sex personal ads. She even spoke of her Filipino lineage as being very sexual even amidst patriarchy. I spoke about my interest in whores and how they can act in such a way to make men feel good about themselves. I mean what would it be like for a prostitute to make love with someone who smelled bad or who had a small dick or a penis too large or a number of things that turned her off. As I’m telling her these things my subtitled conversation is going like: What about me? Here is a woman who wants to make love and I don’t. If she was willing to pay me could I do it? Would I do it? Would I be willing to lie to my body in order to satisfy her? Could I do it?

I knew how awful it could be to make love to someone I wasn’t turned onto. I reminded myself of the time I was with the Janis Joplin look alike who we fucked in the back seat of a VW on the way back from a gay spa in northern California. The gay guys up front thought it was quite comical that we were getting it on in the tiny space in the back. The next day I was so repulsed by her odor (as well as everything else) that had deeply penetrated into my skin that no matter how many showers I took that day, no matter how many shampoos, detergents I used, the odor still remained for days. Was I up to repeat the same mistake with this Filipino woman named Patti? As all this subtitled monologue was going in my brain I was trying to focus on her stories of pornography, fantasies of being with two men. “I would really love to be sucking a cock while I’m being fucked from behind or better still having someone inside me while someone’s licking my clit!” “That can be arranged,” I found coming from my spiritual mouth in a monastery with icons of sacred people hugging the halls and the rooms, where Bibles and good books and love posters surrounded us.

When she mentioned sucking cock I spoke about my experience with certain women who don’t like it and thought perhaps there was something wrong with me, since I had been with a woman for years who would do everything to avoid it. Patti loved it plain and simple... and she told me that her friend told her that she was the second best, after his wife, at giving head. With that comment, my judgments of her body eased a bit and I felt a quiver in my penis. Perhaps I could go along with this? She must have read my mind since she said, “Just treat me as a charity case.”

I said let’s go to my room where it had a huge bed. I went ahead and tidied things up, checked out the lighting, reeling from both excitement and potential trepidation. I lay in bed and waited.

It was very awkward for me - to be on that edge of acting and not-acting, of feeling turned on and being repulsed. She was short and stocky - the total opposite of who I’m usually attracted to (even though there was that time...). She wanted me. She loved sex. She gave good head and she wanted to be with me. Could I surrender to her wanting me while surrendering to my own judgments which perpetually keeps me separate from people? Here was the test. As I touched her shoulders and hard neck she took off her negligee. I got up and took my clothes off and looked at her body - large muscled mass of a body. I moved slowly. I didn’t want to dive in with eyes wide shut. I wanted to stay alert in all of this. I nuzzled my face into her neck and kissed. I groped around her waves of skin and her belly. I kissed her breasts gently. I moved closer so she could touch my penis. It was growing - the line of judging mind was slipping away but still on the edge.

She loved everything I did. I loved everything she did. She sucked me as the shadows of the light reflected her movements to take me deeper into her throat. She had no pubic hair which was a bit strange. Of course that’s the new things these days especially within the world of porn. I was taken aback. She was wet and eager and groaned when I pressed my face, lips and tongue into her. We played and fucked and sucked and sucked and laughed and talked.

“Do you like talking dirty,” she asked. “Sure, go for it.” “Oh I love your cock inside me. Fuck me baby, fuck me. Suck me deep, damn I want to fuck you.”

She got on top and rode me fast. I told her to slow down. I thought I’d have problems coming quickly since it had been more than a year since I was with a woman... but it didn’t happen. It was great. I was pleasing and being pleased and the judgmental mind was suspended so we became desperate energies frolicking, sucking, touching and fucking all swirling and dancing about with our bodies and spirits giggling like God’s children in a monastery where Love is Supreme, where Spirit reigns, where Peace and not war is practiced. Here we were fucking our loves together in a bed of passion, in the House of the Lord.

She moved up and down on me. I grabbed her thick thighs and squeezed her breasts. I moved. “I wanna come. Can I come?” “Yea, baby, come baby; come in me baby!”

And so I did. I grabbed tight her chunky thighs and gave out a pulsating thrust to meet hers. It was fantastic. We knew we would never see each other. Abandonment with a stranger can be deliciously exquisite. She lived in Albuquerque and I was living in DeMoines at the time; like ships passing in the night we were fire flies entangled to help each other out, perhaps even a healing of some sort. I rediscovered that I’m a man with a penis who loves making love and is proud of it. And later I found out (since periodically we emailed each other) that Patti’s husband got a penile implant and she no longer has a need to check out craigslist for a temporary fling.



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