Event: HANDS ON reading June 20 at the Center

Including an excerpt from DADDY LOVER GOD to prime the pump

San Francisco-based somatic sex educator Remi Newman has just published Hands On: Stories of Sexuality Work, Intimacy, and Healing, an anthology of essays by 16 practitioners about the role of compassion in sex work. I’m one of five contributors who will be participating in a reading/book-launch tomorrow night in New York City at the Bureau of General Services - Queer Division at The Center on 13^th Street. Come join us!

In my memoir Daddy Lover God: a sacred intimate journey, I wrote about a client whom I called Eugene, who shows up in three separate chapters. The piece I wrote for Hands On, “The End of Eugene,” tells the story of our last encounter. To pique your interest in coming to the reading and/or buying the book, I’m posting here a chunk of what I wrote about Eugene in Daddy Lover God.

I don’t know if anyone who reads my Substack needs this kind of warning but be aware that this story gets very sexually explicit. Just saying.

“Eugene (Part 1)”

Yesterday I had a session that I worried about in advance. This was with my client-husband Eugene, the affluent black businessman who's going through a divorce. Since our second session, he's been nudging me about "going all the way." I've resisted that mentality and tried to convey to him that erotic massage/bodywork/sex can be lots of different things besides penetrative-intercourse-to-ejaculation. But in our last session we found ourselves in a place of experimenting. He was feeling especially aggressive and horny, and we were lying around in bed in the afternoon, rather than on the massage table.

There's a particular moment that I love. It's when a guy is sprawled invitingly on my densely patterned Australian comforter in front of my architecturally splendid bay window, either in his underpants or completely naked with a healing boner pointing up toward his navel. I love walking slowly toward him and draping myself over his body, as our arms and legs find just the right position to interlock like jaws. That coming together feels great. I like to wrap my arms all the way around his back and bury my face in his neck. I like it when he stretches his legs around my hips and we lie there, a happy clam. The thing about Eugene, too, is that he loves to kiss. He has big fleshy lips that are fun to chew and suck. His mouth tastes good. He knows how to use his tongue. He's sweet and warm and never uptight about his body. He has an open curiosity about his body and mine and a taste for affection that seems neither desperate nor chary.

In our last session, he quickly slid me onto my stomach and lay on my back with his knob resting in my crack, the way I usually do with him. He nibbled on my neck and the top of my back. I took a couple of his fingers in my mouth and sucked them deep into my throat. He leaned back and put some spit on the end of his dick and then lay back on top of me. We were heading into the danger zone. He seemed intent on sliding into me without benefit of either lube or love-glove. Uh-unhhh baby. I rolled onto my side, and we had a little chat. He was happy to have that chat, happy to agree to using rubbers, happy to go slow -- but mainly happy that I seemed to have consented to letting him, you know, put it in me.

Eventually I did roll him over onto his back, put a rubber on him, lube myself up, and slowly lower myself onto him. It took a while, and it went slowly because his dick is extra-large. We never got to the point where he could let go and fuck me the way a guy likes to fuck, long strokes, bang bang bang, with abandon. I hovered on the threshold between pain and surrender. I kept trying to relax, which generally made my erection wilt. Then I'd work myself up to full hardness again. I know that's a way to override the sensations in my butt, to go a little numb and avoid the feelings, which I'd rather not do. But it does keep me interested in prolonging the process.

Every time I would start jerking myself fast, Eugene would say, "Don't cum yet! Don't cum yet!" Finally I had to stop and dismount. It wasn't pleasurable anymore. I took off the rubber. We switched positions, him on top butt-surfing me, and I introduced some sacred hot chat. I imagined him entering me and fucking me and cumming inside me, and blam! He shot til he was wobbly in the knees.

Afterwards I felt like it was time to have a conversation with Eugene and try to steer him away from the straight-guy mentality that all our sessions were building up to some version of fuck-the-pussy-til-you-squirt. That's why I was nervous.

When he came in yesterday, we spent 45 minutes fully dressed talking. He told me that our last session was enormously meaningful to him. Fucking with a man was something that he'd thought about doing since he was a teenager and had always suppressed the desire. To act on that desire at last, in a slow and conscious way with someone who's intelligent and able to talk about the experience together, showed him a piece of himself that he was grateful to have.

So we weren't as far away in our thinking as I imagined we were.

Nevertheless, I made it a point to talk about my interest in interrupting the pattern of upping the ante with every session: progressing toward intercourse, or defining our sessions as checking off a list of sex acts to perform. He admitted that he's a linear thinker, but that he truly didn't have that agenda in mind.

I did have an agenda for the day. I didn't want to launch right into erotic play with him. But I knew that Just a Massage wouldn't do today. We only had 45 minutes left, too. So I decided I would introduce some classic Taoist erotic massage with conscious breathing, which I'd never done with Eugene before. At first he didn't like the idea of a session predicated on not ejaculating. "I'd be lying if I didn't say that I do like a sense of completion" was how he put it. But I reframed it this way: Taoist erotic massage is not about denying pleasure but about expanding your capacity for sensation and making contact with spirit.

It's hard work breathing vigorously for 25 minutes nonstop, especially the first time you do it, before you know that there is an ecstatic experience on the other side of your initial resistance and discomfort. I worried the whole time that I wasn't allowing enough time for this experience. Trying to cram it all into half an hour might give Eugene a bad impression of this kind of energy work. But he was erect throughout the massage and kept going with the breathing. I led him into a Big Draw and gave him a few minutes to simply luxuriate in that feeling.

When I asked how it was for him, he liked it. It did feel like a spiritual experience to him, more so than an erotic experience, which surprised him. "I think I needed this today."

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