Posts Tagged ‘a year of sex’
I enjoy reading books that my friends have written because it offers me a glimpse into who they are. Even a fiction book can allow the author’s perspective to peek through. But a friend’s memoir is the most fun for me to read because it is an accurate account of an interesting period of time in their life, and likely one I was not a part of. Like I said a couple of weeks ago, disclosure is a way in which we form bonds with others. For those of us who speak or write openly about our experiences, we do so somewhat blindly, unsure of exactly who is receiving the information we are putting out there. It creates a sort of one-way connection, which means that the lucky reader gets to feel as if they actually know the person who has written the memoir.
Such was the case with the memoir written by my friend and BedPost Confessions collaborator, Mia Martina. I mean, I already know Mia, she has a popular sex podcast that I listen to… but now I really know Mia.
Mia has written A Year of Sex: tales from New York city’s erotic underground and it is a fascinating glimpse into one woman’s journey of sexual discovery after the heartbreak of a relationship whose end had come. In fact, it occurs to me that perhaps I should try going on a sex-splurge like she did and see if I can find my way back to myself, just as Mia proves is a possible outcome of such debauchery. But I suppose I’ve done that already (and wrote my own book about it), so I guess I’ll have to be contented with reading about Mia’s sexual journey and discoveries. Content I am. Among other things. It’s a scorching hot, erotic tale that is perfectly tempered with sweetness and humor. Here is a passage that I love, and be assured there is more from where it came ~
Reclining in the chaise, I soak up the last titillating moments of this party. I revel in my vodka buzz, the low ambient music, the heavy breathing of the couple, and the faux-fur throw tickling my back. I let a hand tousle my hair, trace my curves, squeeze my breasts—which are exceptionally soft from all the lotion—and travel the length of my body into my panties. My fingers slide down my wet pussy and trace a circle around my opening. Keeping the couple in my gaze, I begin to finger-fuck myself. My finger moves in and out of my smooth, slick snatch. Unconsciously or not, I match the rhythm of the couple. Our breathing is heavy, and we’re all moaning quietly. She tells him she is going to come soon. Their bodies move quickly against each other, the springs of the bed squeak, and their bodies slap together rhythmically. My body tenses, and I rub my clit hard and fast. I hear her climax, then his, and I keep rubbing until I reach mine. Watching them kiss and stroke each other, I press hard on my clit, and when I come, I imagine the two of them kissing and stroking me. Yes, I am single and I am hard up.
Yeah, sister. I feel ya.