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Erica Garza Exposes Herself
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Lola and Erica Garza’s Getting Off
We are incredibly pleased to share with you all Lola’s exclusive interview with the writer and sex-positive advocate, Erica Garza!
In case you don’t know, Erica Garza is the author of a beautiful memoir, published in 2018, about her struggle with shame, sex, and self-pleasure/self-punishment: Getting Off: One Woman’s Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction. I had heard about it and immediately recognized a soul-sister and got the book. I read it cover-to-cover in one night – a night punctuated by masturbatory intermissions. HH found it hidden in the closet (how appropriate) one day and that turned into a little story he wrote about our trip to a wedding.
Other people found our blog through Erica and Erica through our blog. Erica and I struck up a friendship and recently I interviewed her to find out some of the things that left me panting for more after putting the book down.
Erica Garza and her book, Getting Off
L – Your book starts off with the passage: “My favorite porn scene of all time involves two sweaty women, fifty horny men, a warehouse, a harness, a hair dryer, and a taxicab.” You go on to say, no matter how you imagine these elements interacting, “I bet you still can’t imagine just how revolting the scene actually is.” At the end of the book, you are talking to your boyfriend, soon to be husband (spoiler alert!), and he asks you about your favorite porn. You realize that to tell him about this “revolting” scene is dangerous. But telling him was necessary in your journey from sexual shame, guilt, and deception to self-love, acceptance, and honesty. You realize that your greatest fear is “being exposed.” Not as in being naked in front of others, even strangers, but being seen, for who you really are, as a compulsive masturbator who gets off to the revolting. I mention all this because, did you know, that when one does a Google search for “porn, two women, fifty men, warehouse, harness, hair dryer, taxicab,” you pop up as one of the top hits? (After this interview goes live, mysexlifewithlola will probably be the top hit.) Seems like your book was an exercise in “exposing yourself.” How does that make you feel now?
E – You are 100% correct. My book, essays, and interviews are all exercises in exposing myself in the same way as telling my husband about my favorite porn and baring my soul to a room full of addicts at a 12 step meeting. Every time I reveal the things about myself that I used to hate and keep secret, I’m taking the power away from those feelings and transferring that power back to me. Every time I utter a secret aloud and people nod their heads in recognition, I feel less alone, more connected, and more at peace with myself. The things I’m into and the things I’ve done are not so bad, I’ve realized. And that means I’m not so bad either.
L – Your book is dedicated to, “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed.” Isn’t that all of us at some point in our lives at least?
The author, Erica Garza
E –Totally. I’ve had a lot of different people connect with my story who come from entirely different backgrounds. I’m a 41-year-old Latina from Los Angeles who was raised in a Catholic household, but I’ve been contacted by readers ranging from 12 to 70, men and women, of all different ethnicities, religions, and income brackets. So many of them had the same story: They grew up thinking sex was bad and they hated themselves for enjoying their sexual proclivities in secret. Like me, they were desperate for self-acceptance but didn’t know how to find it. This desperation usually led to destructive and compulsive behaviors and broken relationships. Had we just been taught that there was nothing wrong with us from the start—would that have changed everything? Would we be happier people? I think yes.
L – Throughout the book you mention how you would often bring yourself to orgasm by thinking about “what a miserable slut I am.” Can you explain a bit more how this thought got you off?
E – Shame and pleasure are intricately connected for me. When I first masturbated to orgasm in the bathtub at age 12, I distinctly remember how good it felt and yet how bad I felt once it was over. Nobody had ever talked to me about sex except to say it was something dirty and wrong and so I had this heavy feeling I had discovered something I wasn’t supposed to. And I LOVED it, which made me sick and defective. The only solution to these bad feelings was to go after the pleasure again, reinforcing this intoxicating dichotomy. Later, I would seek out porn that gave me this dose of pleasure and shame, typically scenes of degradation. To be turned on, I had to be turned off, disgusted with myself. This then transferred over to my relationships. I wanted men to make me feel used in bed, demeaned, and then discarded afterward.
L – Your book is fascinating because it’s not only a personal coming-of-age story, but it also tracks the development of on-line porn. You talk about watching porn on VHS with your brother’s girlfriend and sneaking sex chats on-line right in front of your parents, then you chronicle the first porno sites on the internet right up to the proliferation of humiliation, extreme BDSM, and more. It’s like you grew up with porn and the porn industry grew up with you. Your book is also unusual as a memoir because it contains a lot of footnotes to studies and research about the effects of porn and women self-reporting about their use of porn. What is your take on porn’s popularity now and how women in particular use it. I guess, I’m thinking especially of OnlyFans and the many women during the pandemic who found ways of becoming entrepreneurs (or “entrepornors”).
OF Content Creator StrawberryWine @swtlikestrawber
E – I’m here for it. I find OnlyFans to be a fantastic addition to the porn world because it allows women to be in charge of their own content. Sure, we have many more female porn producers/directors, but I think it’s safe to say it’s still a male dominated industry when it comes to who’s operating the camera. I’m excited to see women taking initiative in making porn as long as they’re not merely perpetuating what they think men want. But I’m even more excited about women as viewers. I’m not sure about how many women are turning to OnlyFans for porn, but it would be fascinating data. If more women talked about what we like and what we want and what we’re willing to pay for, the less shame we’ll feel about our desires.
It’s funny you say I grew up with the porn industry and the porn industry grew up with me. It’s so accurate. And while I’m not anti-porn (unless the porn is made without someone’s consent of course), I do worry about what kids have access to when they’re just starting to explore their sexuality. When I was 12 and first started masturbating and looking at porn, I only had access to softcore scenes on Cinemax. They were so mild and still left a lot of room for my imagination. And when I advanced to watching porn online, scenes took so long to load so I couldn’t get caught up in a binge—endlessly searching for a harder, darker, sexier scene than the last. It was too much effort. Now the internet is at a place where a 12 year old could look up “two women, fifty men, a warehouse, a harness, hair dryer, and a taxicab,” or any other hardcore scene. And this is the new mild. Once they get bored with that, they can instantly search for something harder but they haven’t even discovered sex in real life yet. When they do start to explore with someone, their idea of what sex should look or feel like is likely to be distorted. They’ll probably end up performing; instead of naturally discovering what they like or what feels good, their desires will have been finely curated by whatever they had access to. I think this could be really damaging.
Porn Star Shannon Tweed
Dreaming of Shannon Tweed and Lola Down
L – You mention being enamored of such VHS stars as Shannon Tweed, and lusting for Tommy Lee’s long shlong, Pamela Anderson’s tits, and the power Gwyneth Paltrow’s character of Estella had over Finn in Great Expectations. Does anyone come to mind today as either a quick fap fave, a girl-crush, or a role model?
Gwyneth Paltrow
E –Besides you, Lola? 😉 I don’t watch porn much these days (which is so weird to say), but when I do I like Megan Salinas who I’m not sure even performs anymore. I think her videos are a few years old. My girl crushes are always evolving though I just finished watching White Lotus so the Italian actress Simona Tabasco (Lucia) comes to mind. I’m also inspired by Paulina Porizkova who is nearly 60 and so hot and comfortable in her skin without looking plastic.
Scene from White Lotus Season II
L – You say, “In all the movies I’d ever watched, men were the ones who made the first move. Women, it seemed, either played hard to get and were labeled dick-teasing prudes, or they quickly gave in and were called sluts and whores.” This is the old Freudian dichotomy of Virgin/Whore. For a long time, it seemed that either/or was the only choice society or culture presented for women. If you were young, you were either a virgin or a whore. If you were older, you were either matronly or a whore. Women could never be both. What do you think of the movement to reclaim the word “slut” from being a pejorative to a badge of honor?
Megan Salinas
Simona Tabasco
Paulina Porizkova is a dirty girl
Paulina Porizkova wins the solitary mud-wrestling prize
Paulina Porizkova – wash me!
Paulina Porizkova like a fine wine
E –We’re making some progress with more women being open about their sex lives but we still have a long way to go, especially in the U.S. This country is so ridiculously misogynistic. Just scroll through the comments section of any article written about a woman’s love life and the evidence is in plain view.
L – Along those same lines, one thing I’ve encountered, even with my man, HH, is people saying, “Wow, you have the libido of a man.” Isn’t that also a double-standard? I mean, men who do or did the things you did are just “guys being guys,” but a woman doing it is somehow labeled with a disorder and many of them feel guilt and shame about it. But if you were a man, would you feel that sort of shame or guilt?
E –The only solution to this is for more women to speak up. But to speak about what you want and need sexually requires self-awareness. If you’ve been taught that sex is shameful, it’s possible you ended up in a cycle of repression. You don’t even know what you like anymore and if you do, you’re keeping that to yourself. The more honest and comfortable women are about their sexuality, the more we’ll see that men and women are more alike than we think.
L – I love when you talk about the power that Gwyneth Paltrow had over Finn. Do you think that writing your book was a way of reclaiming your feminine sexual power?
Female Sexual Power
E – Absolutely. When I first suspected I had an addiction to sex and porn, I thought I had to put myself in a box to be “recovered.” I would never watch porn again, I’d go to 12 step meetings, I’d only be in a monogamous relationship. But that quickly started to feel inauthentic. It felt like an extension of my early childhood shame, like I was desperate to stop doing things that felt good. I realized that the driving force of my addiction all along was that shame. That’s when I started to explore how I could be a sexually open-minded, experimental person and not feel bad about it. This entailed not lying to myself and not lying to others, being open in my communication, and ultimately not thriving on destruction. Realizing I could be sexual without shame was an empowering revelation.
L – You talk about the sexy and nude photos and homemade porno movies you made with different boyfriends and the fear you have of those ever resurfacing. Has that happened? I mean, after the success and popularity of the book, one of your exes must have heard about it and read about you. Did any of them come forward, either privately or publicly, with “naughty” goods?
E – Surprisingly, no! And I didn’t even use a pen name. I also expected past lovers to reach out and comment on the book, ESPECIALLY if I wrote explicitly about them! But it never happened. No videos have ever resurfaced (yet!) though I would be curious to see that younger version of myself tbh.
L – You say that your “preferences were changing all the time. I loved ‘old and young’ clips. I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes at parties or get fucked by groups of men while seemingly unconscious. I’d discovered the category ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face before urging her to lick up the drips that had fallen on the carpet beneath her. I didn’t consider any of this normal.” It wouldn’t exist if people didn’t watch it. I mean, what is normal anyway?
E – Who knows. That line of thinking came from a place of deep shame and self-disgust and judgement. I felt so isolated and broken in this shame and couldn’t imagine anyone else would understand. But, like I said, if more women spoke up about what they liked and what they’re into, the less alone people like me would feel.
L – I love the passage where you combine what you learned meditating with your active imagination. You say, “Suddenly I was the girl on the shore of that river I’d imagined in meditation. I watched a boat come by with a skinny blond college girl spread-eagle on its main deck getting fucked by a whole fraternity. And then another boat where a girl on a leash was held facedown by a man’s boot while another man fucked her from behind. Each time I came, I returned to my breath.” When you’re done, you admit to yourself that you’re “out of control.” For people wondering, how would you characterize unhealthy from healthy masturbatory practices or porn viewing?
Role Models
E –That’s not up to me to say. Each person’s experience is different. For me, feeling incapable of stopping seemed to be a clue. Even when I felt sore or numb. Finding that I’d wasted hours trying to find the perfect clip, especially if it meant neglecting other plans or responsibilities was another. Failing to nurture real relationships or friendships in pursuit of another orgasm also seemed problematic.
L – At one point you talk about a guy you were with and how when you ran out of things to talk about or it got awkward, you reached for “what I’d always reached for to help me with the awkwardness. I initiated sex whenever I felt things getting weird. I was tireless with blow jobs, encouraging him to come on my face, begging him to slap me, to fuck me harder, to hurt me, to do whatever he wanted, playing the role of the perfect, pleasing porn girl.” Do you think that your exposure to hard-core porn led you to believe that this was what men wanted, or was it a thrill and a turn-on to play this role? I mean, so much in life is role playing, including sex and it can be fun. And sometimes it can be difficult to disentangle where your own desire ends and trying to meet the desire of someone else begins. Or maybe there is no clear distinction.
E –I think it’s all about balance. If your fetish is that you’re into degradation, rough sex, humiliation, role play, then why not? You do what feels good, but then at some point you leave the bedroom and life goes on. For me, that degradation leaked out of the bedroom and into real life. I didn’t just expect a guy to make me feel used and demeaned in bed as roleplay, I also expected him to ignore my calls, say abusive things, and lie to me afterward. I did not feel worthy of love and respect, so when someone tried to give those things to me I’d run away and destroy the relationship. But I desperately wanted love and respect. I felt lonely and isolated and the only company I could keep was sexual company. What was friendship? What was intimacy? What was connection? I wanted to know these things but had no idea how.
L – Was there anything that you had originally written for the book that the editor or publisher asked you to remove?
E – The footnotes were originally integrated into the text, but they were found to be distracting. They were almost cut out completely but I really wanted to keep them in. The research proved that what I was going through (and what my reader might be going through) was way more common than most people think. So many of our struggles are universal, yet we feel so alone much of the time. I hoped that the research would show readers they’re not simply “fucked up,” but that there’s likely a scientific explanation behind their feelings and actions.
L – As I mentioned, your memoir is intertwined with the historical development of internet porn. One of the positive things I see about that development is that a lot of people, especially women, trans folk, and others have been able to connect with communities out there and realize that they’re not alone, not the “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed” to whom you dedicated the book, but that they are part of humanity in all its beautifully multifarious forms. HH, because he’s older, frequently tells me that so much of what is normal human activity was totally in the closet when he was younger, especially female masturbation. One thing that the internet porn might have influenced is the normalization of women pleasuring themselves. I mean, once upon a time you never saw it, but it’s now part of so many popular shows and movies – Sex & the City, Seinfeld, Weeds, Fleabag, SMILF, New Girl, The Shape of Water, Sex Education, Broad City, just to name a few. Women are sexual beings. We can be students, moms, daughters, sisters, wives, bosses, and also get off without going to Hell. Do you think that girls growing up today are exposed to a healthier view of women’s sexuality than when you grew up?
SMILF with Frankie Shaw Look Carefully and you’ll see what gets Frankie Shaw off.
SMILF
Frankie Shaw asks, “Do you like my poster of Lola Down?”
Frankie Shaw in SMILF in a scene where she gets off to Lola Down
E – Yes, our entertainment has become more inclusive and I love seeing these realistic, multi-dimensional folks be represented. But let’s not forget that Roe v. Wade just got overturned, which has everything to do with female sexuality and bodily autonomy. Sexism still exists because the wage gap still exists, because doctors still gaslight women, because we still haven’t elected a female president…and so forth. These things may seem unrelated to women masturbating, but the personal is political. It always has been. Female pleasure is powerful and people are afraid of this power. Women and lots of marginalized folks are still socialized to believe our pleasure doesn’t matter. And d this has huge implications. I’m so inspired by pleasure activism, specifically the work by author adrienne maree brown who ways capitalism creates a “false scarcity” of pleasurable experiences for the marginalized. We’re taught that “our health, our votes, our work, our safety, our families, our lives don’t matter – not as much as those of white men.” Simply put, being denied pleasure makes us easier to control. So, yes, I get excited when I see female characters on our TV set pursuing personal pleasure just as male characters always have, but I won’t be satisfied until I see those larger equalities at play in other aspects of our lives.
L – Toward the end of the book, after you met the man who would become your husband, and after you began writing publicly about your struggles and began being honest with him and yourself about your past, you begin to find some balance or at least a temporary truce with your inner demons, for lack of a better description. If I’m not getting too personal, how much of your past plays a role in your present? Or, another way of asking that is, do you and your husband enjoy “getting off” to some of your past sexcapades? Does he find it sexy to hear about, or is it something that you two avoid?
Erica – Take me as I am
E – My husband does not like hearing about my sexual past. Not because he’s judgmental or embarrassed or possessive, it just doesn’t turn him on I guess. I’ve written about us going to a swingers resort where we we explored quite a bit and enjoyed ourselves, but he didn’t like watching me with other men. And I didn’t really watch him either, which is weird because I do sometimes fantasize about him sleeping with other women. I just haven’t felt the need to watch the real thing happen. Sometimes, the fantasy is hotter.
L – In 2015, in an article you wrote for narratively.com, you said, “Masturbating beside my husband while he sleeps is the last secret I’ve kept from him. Although I’m beginning to fear that it’s actually just the latest secret. My resistance in telling him only proves how fragile recovery is. This week it’s masturbation. But maybe next week it’s back to porn binging. Or obsessive scrolling through Craigslist personals. Or lying about my whereabouts. And so forth. Abstaining from these habits, when so readily available, without abstaining from sexual pleasure completely, or the shame I’ve long bound to it, is a challenge I face daily.” Looking back on that now, how have you fared over the past seven years?
E – It has been a rollercoaster of up and downs. Of me (and us) figuring out what we like and what we don’t, what’s right for us and what’s off limits, what feels safe and what feels dangerous or destructive. But I like the process. Humans evolve and so do our sex lives and I’m grateful to be with someone I could be 100% honest with.
L – What is your sexual life like now – I mean, with yourself and with your partner or partners? In the book you seem open to threesomes and other non-monogamous situations. Have you found a way that works for you individually and you as a couple?
E – We’re open minded but not in an open relationship. So while we do experiment with others, we only do so as a couple. Honesty is sacred to us. We always have conversations before we do anything with anyone else and then we have conversations after that about what we will or won’t do next time.
L – In some articles you wrote after the book came out, you talk about going to nudist resorts with your husband and having “soft-swaps.” You also mention “relapsing” after marriage and sneaking off to masturbate to porn – at least until you came home one day and caught him doing the same thing. Then you lifted the prohibition you had on porn in your relationship and found out something surprising – you two could integrate it into your lives together. Can you talk about that balance? I mean, unlike drug and alcohol addiction, you can’t really ever cut sex, sexuality, or sexual fantasy out of your life 100%. No one is a tee-total reformed sex addict, because we, as human beings, are sexual beings. How have you and your husband been able to navigate that?
E— Unless you’re joining a convent, you’re going to have to find a way to integrate sex (and maybe porn) back into your life in a healthy way. For me, I know the difference between when I’m watching porn to escape a difficult feeling or watching because I simply want to, because it feels good. It’s a fine line and takes a lot of self awareness but it’s possible.
L – In an article you once wrote about the difficulty of being a porn-addicted feminist. You said, “You want to stop because the hypocrisy is so intense it makes you nauseous. You call yourself a feminist, an activist, a conscious citizen, but then you watch women get walked around on leashes and your panties get soaked through. . . [and] you’ll scan over all the gangbangs and golden showers, convinced (or at least hopeful) that your sickness isn’t a sickness, but a natural fascination.” That was in 2016, three years after Belle Knox, a.k.a. Miriam Weeks, was outed as the Duke University porn star and she defended her decisions as her form of feminism. Since then many women have made names and careers for themselves in porn – both in front of the camera and behind it – and have promoted ethical porn and feminist porn. What’s your take on the possibility that porn and feminism are not mutually exclusive?
E – Bodily autonomy and consent is everything. If a woman wants to be a sex worker, she should be allowed to do that. It’s her body. If a woman is coerced into sex work and she feels she has no other choice, that is an entirely different thing.
L – Something I love about the book is your frequent literary references. In addition to porn, you clearly have an affinity for literature. Some favorite authors, books, or movies you go back to frequently?
E – I don’t often reread books, but when I do, it’s usually A Moveable Feast because I find Paris and Hemingway both sexy as hell. Otherwise I feast myself on memoirs, biographies, journals, anything confessional and real. Right now I’m reading (and adoring) I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jeanette McCurdy, who also had some familiar conflicted feelings about sex and love and her body.
L – A little self-indulgent inquiry now. You reached out to me recently and hinted that you’ve been reading the blog. Are we – HH and me – a part of your sexual fantasy life or your erotic life with your husband? Be honest.
E – For now, your blog is a solitary pleasure. I’m not ready to share you yet 😉
“Don’t be. Erica Garza says you’re just a woman with a healthy libido.”
Sore, but not Satisfied
We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore). At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue. We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.
“Sore, but not satisfied. Fuck me. I like it when it hurts.”
I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.
“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.
By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.
While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum. Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented. I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.
I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars. Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte. My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind. A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name). Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her. Sounds familiar.
“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.
I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me. “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.
I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own. She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her. If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying. But, alas, that was not the case.
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself
Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera. Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show. I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show. Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child. None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes. But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.
Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID
Lo wasn’t cumming. She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!” She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.
“Come on, Daddio! Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.
I thrust at her with all I had. I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.
Mercifully, she began to cum. I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate. Her voice was insistent. “Cum! Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.
Enjoy your erotic reading.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”
I don’t do well with cumming on command. If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem. Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day. I was near my limit.
Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF
It was already too late. The torrent had been unleashed. The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.
Frankie Shaw stars in a porno
Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.
Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience. They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.
The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.
Frankie dreams of Lola
Scene from SMILF
Not necessary, Right?
How did this get approved?
Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.
She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.
“Wow!” was all she said. And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”
Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down
“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”
“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”
She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.
“Feeling better?”
“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.
“I did, just not with you.” I knew that remark would piss her off.
She gritted her teeth and growled at me.
“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”
“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”
“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
She thought for a moment. “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”
“Talk about a control freak. I did ejaculate on command – your first command. You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”
“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”
“Oh, is that the rule? I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”
“That’s my rule. Not yours.”
“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”
“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”
“You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”
“There was that too. But now I feel so slutty.”
“You should.”
“No, Daddy. I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”
“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”
“I was corresponding with a guy online.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, well, like every day.”
“And?”
“His name is John. I call him my internet boyfriend.”
“I think you mentioned him to me.”
“And I was cheating on him with another guy. Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John. I don’t know. It all gets so confusing.”
“Let me see your other boyfriends.”
She showed me their cumtribute photos.
“Looks like I have stiff competition!”
Lola
Write the Wrongs
Fleabag
There’s a curious phenomenon that occurs when an artist gives free reign to the phantom figures animating the psyche and allows them to speak.
Freud has famously said that “Dreams are the royal road to the unconscious.” If that is so, then Art is a winding and convoluted path from it.
The phantoms that I have committed to the page as fantasy have come to life for me more than once. Sometimes the crossover from fiction to fact has taken years, sometimes decades, but it has happened often enough that it is a truism for me that my life imitates my art, or rather, my art prefigures, unconsciously, my future life.
One could explain this in psychological terms as wish-fulfilment: the written word acts as a sort of map leading me toward the conjuring of my deepest desires. A sort of vision board. Or one could understand it as the divine act of artists: literally calling into being that which previously never existed.
However you characterize it, it is something that I believe is not unique to me, but probably a common experience of artists.
As I recall, years ago, before her coup de grâce, Frankie Shaw had posted on Twitter or Instagram a photo of her on the set of SMILF with a whiteboard sketching her greatest fear. It was a chart of sorts, tracking her increasing success and then, in the future, it suddenly takes a precipitous drop into failure. Sure, this is a common anxiety among folks who gain some success at whatever it is they do, but with her it became a self-fulfilling prophesy. Not only that, but her fictional character on SMILF self-sabotaged just about as much as she self-pleasured. So, perhaps it is no surprise that in life Frankie Shaw was her own undoing.
Frankie Shaw
Maybe this tragic trajectory is what I find so damn attractive about her, both in her art and in real life.
Always late to the party, recently Lo and I have discovered a television character no less flawed than Frankie Shaw, but whom Lo can embrace as a kindred spirit: Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag.
It became apparent early on that this deeply scarred character shared many of Lo’s kinky quirks: masturbating in bed while lying next to her sleeping boyfriend; interrupting coitus in order to finish herself off solo; sleeping with every man who is deemed off-limits to her. Not to mention that Fleabag has a wicked sense of humor. The further we binged on the all-too-brief series, the more that was revealed about Fleabag’s traumatic history, the more Lo saw herself in the character.
Suffice it to say that between you, my dear reader, and me, I have kept you at arm’s length from Lo’s dark depths, but that does not mean they do not exist. The job of art is to transform the expletives of existence into sublime poetry in order that we might live in an uneasy tension with our demons. To whatever extent possible, I try to do that for you – painting a faithful portrait, but one that necessarily leaves much darkness just outside the frame.
Recently I was in an old church for a funeral. I know that sounds like a non sequitur, but stick with me. As I sat there, a bit bored and distracted, I looked up and saw the old, exposed, solid wood beams of the vaulted ceiling. They all met in the middle where the wood was at its thickest and it directed one’s view upward. I thought, “That wood, this architecture, is symbolic. It’s meaningful and is saying something in its silent language.” I think that Lo is with me because I’m like the center of those beams: I provide stability support to the rest of the structure, while simultaneously holding things together. For the most part, I do it silently and without anyone noticing. But Lo knows it on a deep level.
However, even having said that, I know that Lo also thinks that there must be something in my distant past, something buried, something beyond my conscious awareness that has scarred me as well. First, almost no one gets through this life without some sort of trauma. Second, she knows me better than anyone – perhaps even better than I know myself, in some ways. And though I’ve never identified it, she is quite confident that there is something lurking there, deep beneath the surface, far below the vaulted ceiling of my silent security that is buried in my past. Maybe she’s right.
Writers work out deep problems in the soul. That’s why they circle back again and again. And we all know that here, in these pages, I circle back again and again to certain themes, vignettes, and motifs. I’m sure there are many men who live with nymphomaniacs like Lo, but do not feel the compulsion to write about the repeated sexploits they get up to together. Yet I do – so much! What does that say about me, I wonder? Is Lo a symptom of my wounded soul or is she the balm that I need to heal? The same could be asked about my compulsive writing. Perhaps they are both. I don’t know, but in time the work that needs to be done will unfold. Trust in the process. Be open to the process. Give reign to the process and the wrongs will write themselves.
Writing the Wrongs
Caught
Lo came home from work late that night. I had already eaten dinner and was lying on the couch engaging in my favorite illicit pastime while Lo’s away, watching “SMILF.” She walked in just as Frankie Shaw was engaging in a self-pleasure solo session, which isn’t all that coincidental, given how often she does that in the show. (Since Frankie Shaw writes and directs the series, I think that she secretly wishes to be a porn star.)
Lo stood next to the couch looking down at me, judging hard.
“What?”
“You know what,” she said, accusatorily.
“I was just. . .”
“I don’t care what you were just. Turn it off. If you want to see a sexy woman engaged in sex-for-one, then get in the bedroom. I’ll be there filling my snatch full of fun.”
I shut off the episode and met Lo in the bedroom where she was on the bed, legs spread, dildos laid out next to her like a surgeon’s tray of scalpels, forceps, and clamps. She had her phone in her left hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I call it my ‘in box.’ It likes to be filled.”
I didn’t know if she meant what she was looking at on her phone or her beautiful mons pubis, which at the moment she was about to penetrate with her long, red, double-ended dildo.
I removed my clothes and sat in the bed next to her, vying for her attention. She was busy reading something. I inquired.
“I’m reading about my friend and blogger, Nero Black. His wife caught him about to masturbate.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” she said, easing the dildo into her tight taco. “His wife loves to read erotica and masturbate, but she never lets him get in on the goods.”
“How does he know her reading habits?”
“He has access to her Kindle subscription and sees what she downloads.”
“Oh.”
“And he’s hard-up as a result.”
“I bet you find that an open invitation to flirt.”
“Who wouldn’t? Anyhow, the other night he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants and boxers around his ankles, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, when she unexpectedly walked into the bedroom.”
“Uh-oh. And?”
“And she ignored him! She acted like she didn’t even see it.”
“And that gets you off?”
“No, what gets me off is imagining that the porn she reads is our blog and that the porn he was about to wank to was my photos.”
She dropped the phone and lay on her back to continue the fantasy.
“Did you ever get caught?” I asked her.
“Caught? Doing what?”
“You know, jillin’ it.”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Not by any of your previous boyfriends?”
“Look, it’s not something I hide. If they found me jillin’ off, then I kept on going. So it’s not like ‘getting caught.’ It’s more like putting on a show.”
And put on a show she did, without ever offering to provide me with any sweet relief. Punishment for my “infidelity” watching Frankie Shaw.
Best Picture (Fan Fiction)
Be sure to read “A Picture is Worth a Thousand Orgasms” first.
Lo got me up from my slumber. Well, part of me was already up since she wouldn’t let me climax earlier in the night. She had been switching off watching episodes of “Gilmore Girls” and MILF porn since I had nodded off. Now she was ready for a second helping and she had been coaxing my cock to an upright and locked position prior to my regaining consciousness.
“Daddy,” she whispered sweetly, leaning over so take my meat in her mouth.
“Yes Lo?”
“Can I tell you what I was thinking about?”
“What’s that, Lo?”
She took a few more licks and then she lay down next to me, her fingers stroking between her legs. That’s when she told me what she had been viewing.
“I imagine,” she began, “Jess and Dean arrive at Lorelai’s house at the same time, each thinking that he’s going on a date with Rory. When they meet on the porch, each carrying a bouquet of flowers, they stare each other down and then exchange some snide words. Rory hears the voices and comes to the door.” At this point, Lo began acting out the scene. A little known talent of Lo’s is that she’s a great actor, just not in front of an audience.
Rory – What is going on?!
Jess – Why don’t you tell us? I thought we had a date.
Rory – You and Dean?
Dean – This is no time for jokes, Rory. You and I had a date tonight.
Rory – Wait here.
Rory runs upstairs to Lorelai.
Rory – I’ve got a problem that makes Elizabeth Bennet look positively quaint.
Lorelai – Really Rory? I can’t find my coffee maker. And you think you got troubles.
Rory – You’re looking in your bedroom. Did you try the kitchen?
Lorelai – Of course I tried the kitchen. That’s why I’m in the bedroom.
Rory – Did you bring coffee to bed?
Lorelai – Maaaaaybeeee.
Rory – Why don’t you just go to Luke’s and get his coffee?
Lorelai
– And bring him to bed?
Rory – No! Anyway, can you help me or not?
Lorelai – Not until I have my coffee.
Rory – (Sitting down on a pile of laundry. She picks up dirty panties and a bra and discovers a coffee maker.) Here!
Lorelai – You are destined for Harvard!
They walk downstairs.
Rori – . . . and so I guess I told both of them I’d go out with them tonight.
Lorelai – Nothing wrong with a ménage à trois.
Rori – Mom!
Lorelai – What? I’m just saying, if it’s good enough for Lou Salomé, it’s good enough for you.
Rori – Her name was Lou Salomé, but you know everyone called her Loose.
Lorelai – Rory! You know I’ve taught you not to slut-shame!
Rori – Can we get back to the. . .
Suddenly they hear thuds from the porch. They run to the front door. Jess and Dean are throwing punches and wrestling. Lorelai separates them by getting between them.
Lorelai – Hey! Hey! Hey! Calm down!
Both of the boys are roughed up and Jess is bleeding from the nose and Dean has a black eye. Rori runs to get a towel and ice. She returns and gives the ice to Dean and applies to the towel to Jess’ nose.
Dean – Oh, so you take care of him and just give me a cold sack of ice?!
Rori – He’s bleeding!
Dean – And I have a black eye!
Jess – And I’ll give you another.
Dean – Oh yeah?
Lorelai holds down Dean while Rory holds down Jess.
Rory – I’ve had enough of both of you!
Rory runs off into the night.
Lorelai and the boys go inside the house and they sit in the kitchen while Lorelai brews coffee.
Lorelai – I can’t believe you two. You act like cavemen. Don’t you know how to treat a woman?
Jess – [Ashamed.] No. My mom was never around.
Lorelai – Oh yeah. I forgot sweetheart. [She puts her hands through his hair.]
Dean – I was just. . . well, I guess I just am so damn jealous.
Lorelai – It’s not jealousy, Dean, it’s hormones. You’re all backed up with testosterone. When’s the last time you jacked it?
Dean – Wwwwwwhat?
Lorelai – You know: chocked the chicken, spanked the monkey, beat the meat.
Dean – I, I, I. . .
Lorelai – You see, you’re just too uptight. You have to learn to relax a little bit. [She runs her hand down his chest to his crotch.] Look, I think I know how we can find a way for the two of you to work together. Follow me.
The three of them go up to the bedroom. Lorelai strips naked and pulls down their jeans. She positions Jess in front of her and Dean behind her and bends over. The two of them are going at it with her and she’s about to cum when in walks Luke.
Luke – What the hell is going on here?!
Lorelai – [With a mouth full of Jess’ cock.] I can explain.
Luke – Explain?! Rory said you’d probably need me to break up a fight and make some coffee.
At that point Lorelai positions Jess below her so his cock is in her puss with Dean’s.
Lorelai – Come here, Luke. If you’re hung anything like Jess, then – I never thought I’d say this – the coffee can wait.
When Lo was done acting all this out, she pulled out her two dildos, putting both in her puss and taking me in her mouth, going at me like never before. I finally came deep in her throat and she came in convulsions that shot out the two dildos followed by a cascade of girly juice.
“Holy shit!” she said.
“Holy shit is right,” I said. “You deserve an Academy Award for best writing, direction, acting, and best picture.”
Fap Gap
Fap. Jill. Vibe. Flick the bean. Solo time. T.C.B.
However you call it, Lo does it. And she does it more than any woman I’ve ever met and more than most women whose rumored self-pleasure sessions have reached my ears.
That said, it came as no surprise to me when I heard. . . well, just sit down, get comfortable, and I’ll tell you.
Lo had gone on her date. I was home, alone. At least she had had the courtesy to jack me off before leaving. But what to do with my time? You see, dear compassionate reader, when Lo goes off like that, it puts me in the greatest state of tension and anticipation. If only I could be there on all of her dates, sitting at the bar, watching from afar.
But Lo needs, deserves, and wants her space. I get that. And, to be fair, the eager expectation is more than half the fun. The other half is hearing her tell the tale to me in bed.
Still, that gap between her departure and arrival must be filled. A hard, very hard task.
I can’t just go out with friends. My mind would be preoccupied. And what if I missed Lo’s return?
Reading is futile. My every wandering thought is of Lo, and the thoughts wonder frequently, just like Lo.
Writing? Well, sometimes that is a good pastime.
But on this occasion I got up to some mischief.
You, my faithful reader, are well aware from long ago that Lo is insanely jealous. Not just of my attention, not just of other women, but of literally anyone who might remotely rival her in my eyes. Hence, she was frequently frowning upon my watching Weeds, and especially Mary-Louise Parker, whose character, Nancy Botwin, not only intrigued me, but reminded me of Lo in a number of ways.
Somehow, during Lo’s late night adventures most likely, I managed to get through all the episodes of that series. And for a good long time, nothing replaced it. . .
. . . until SMILF came along with its very Lo-like star, Frankie Shaw.
Lo and I had watched the first episode together, but when Frankie got down and dirty, Lo hit the power button and said, “Nope. No more for you.”
“But. . .” I tried to protest.
“But nothing. If you’re getting hard watching, then I’m shutting it off and you and I can go to the bedroom and get fucking.” And that’s just what we did.
Now that Lo was out, and most likely getting fucking with someone else, the image of Frankie Shaw on the “recently watched” option of the T.V. menu was calling to me and I thought, “This is ridiculous. This is more than a double-standard. This is cruel and unusual punishment.” So I hit “Play.”
My suspicions were borne out; Frankie Shaw is just like Lo. When she frantically scrolls through the photos on her computer with one hand down her panties, it was a replay of a vignette I had seen so many times with Lo in the starring role. In my mind, though, Frankie Shaw was fapping it to mysexlifewithlola.com, scrolling through all the desultory images of Lo fapping it to who-knows-what – probably to Frankie Shaw, if I’m being honest, since Lo loves to condemn with me that which she condones privately.
I only got through another two and a half episodes before I saw the headlights of a car out front stop and let out a passenger. It was Lo. I could tell by the swivel of her hips as she walked. The T.V. was off before she was in the house.
“Hello,” she called from the door.
“Hello,” I called back.
She peered in the unlit living room. “Sitting in the dark?”
“It’s my best light and greatest comfort.”
“Well, it can be dark in the bedroom too,” she said, walking down the hall, her leather boots on the wood floor sounding like seductive music to my ears.
I got up and followed her and said, “You bring the light,” as I turned on the nightstand lamp to see her. Upon reflection I added, “You know, that’s where Lucifer gets his name.”
“What?” she asked, looking at me quizzically.
“Lucifer, it literally means, ‘carrier of light.’ It is said that he, like Prometheus before him, had stolen the holy light of God and ferried it to humans. Artists for millennia have understood that light to be metaphoric for creative inspiration, not literal light. That’s what you are, my Lucifer.”
“Well, get in bed if you want to fuck like the devil.”
I waisted no time. I hopped under the sheets as she stood next to the bed looking at herself across the room in the full-length mirror.
“Good date?” I inquired.
She took off her black leather jacket and removed her shirt. No bra. She was wearing a bra when she left. It must have been a good date.
She bent over, took off her boots, and then slid out of her skirt. Still no panties.
Her naked body eased up next to me and she whispered in my ear. “Did you miss me, Daddy?”
“I always miss you when you’re gone.”
“Did you wonder what I was doing?’
“Of course.”
“What did you do while I was out?”
“I’m more interested in what you did,” I said. (See what I did there?)
“Slide in me and I’ll tell you,” she said.
As I complied, she moaned and said, “I missed you, Daddy.”
I guess I have a type.
I entered her and, truth be told, all I could feel was how very wet she was. It made me think of the scene from SMILF where Frankie Shaw is having sex with the tall, big, basketball player, surrounded by all the other guys from the team, and he says, “Am I in you?”
Just as I thought that, Lo said, “Can you feel me, Daddy? Am I loose?”
“So loose,” I said, “Like the opening of a tent flapping in the wind.”
“Well,” she said, “you don’t have to be so explicit about it.”
“I wasn’t explicit,” I said, “it was a simile.”
“Here’s a simile: Get in my ass, it’s just like my pussy, only tighter.”
I laughed and followed her instruction. She moaned.
“Your ass is a vice,” I said. “That’s a metaphor.”
“I thought you meant that my ass is a vice, like gambling or liquor,” she said over her shoulder.
“It’s that too, and so many other things.”
“Oh yeah, what else?”
“It’s the seat of my love for you.”
“Look, Daddio, I want to get fucked good, hard, long, and hard. I want cock, right now, not poetry, so get up there and give it to me.”
“You said hard twice.”
“I want it twice as hard.”
I gave her what she wanted and said, “And I want to hear about your date.”
Once she was good and pumped, she began talking in between gasps for air.
“I showed up, looking slutty, smelling sweeter than cotton candy, and wetter than a flower in the rainforest.”
“Who’s the poet now?” I asked.
“Shut up and keep pounding.”
“Keep cumming and carry on,” I said, feeling her gushing.
“He was a perfect gentleman. He stood when I approached him.”
“I’m sure he stood at attention.”
“And he had saved me a seat at the bar. I sat down and after he got me my drink, I swiveled toward him and spread my legs so he could see, very clearly, what I was wearing under my skirt.”
“As I recall, you weren’t wearing anything.”
“That’s right, not even a merkin, as you had suggested.”
“I still think the merkin was the way to go.”
“Maybe next time, dear, but this time I was quite exposed.”
“Quite the exposé.”
“But not quite the big reveal. Not yet anyway.”
“I’m listening.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but not fucking. Deeper Daddio.”
I grabbed on to her ass with both hands and spread her as far as she would go for maximum insertion. She moaned deeply.
“Don’t get lost in your orgasm,” I warned, “I’m just as deeply invested in your story.”
“I asked him if he felt like eating.”
“The ambiguity of your question is delicious.”
“He paid the tab and we walked out of the hotel bar. I thought we were going to go to his car, but as we were in the lobby, we saw the guests of a wedding filtering into the ballroom. He stopped me and said, ‘I have an idea. You look too good not to show off. Let’s go.’ And then he took me by the hand and we crashed the wedding party.”
“Very impulsive.”
“We danced for a good hour before the food was served. He twirled me and dipped me, sweeping me off my feet.”
“Giving great views of your gams, I’m sure.”
“My what?”
“Never mind.”
“From there we went to the hotel room he had ready.”
“Just for a nightcap.”
“In the elevator up to the room, he kissed me passionately and his right hand began going up my skirt.”
“I bet the elevator wasn’t the only thing going up.”
“In the hotel room he sat me down in the chair and asked if he could make a request.”
“What was that?”
“He wanted to watch.”
“What?”
“He wanted to watch me finger myself, with my clothes on. He said that his wife has a fear of fapping. She never does it. And it’s one of his favorite fantasies – women masturbating.”
“Well, he found the right woman, alright.”
“That was no coincidence. He had been reading the blog for a long time. He tried to get his wife to read it, to open her up to new ideas.”
“And, did it?”
“He said it didn’t. I told him, ‘Well, I’m wide open.’ That’s when he could resist no more and he fucked me good, hard, long, and hard.”
“There you go again,” I said.
“What?”
“You said hard twice.”
“Well, he was hard. I was easy.”
I couldn’t take it any longer and I ejaculated deep inside her.
“Lo, you are the poet here,” I said as I slowly pulled out. “You pain such vivid images in my mind.”
“And now that you’ve dipped your pen in my inkwell, I’m sure you’ll write all about it.”
“I’m full of ideas.”
“And I’m full of cum. Get me a towel.”