Hot Sex on Tuesday: Good Touch

For the next few months I’ll be posting under the category Hot Sex on Tuesday, as a way to promote Hot Sex, my newest book (coming out this October). This is an actual rotoscoped photo from the book, meaning it’s real people who look a little less real. Hot Sex was co-written with Emily Morse, of Sex with Emily fame.

And since tonight is Sexy Tales, an LA event I’ve created to bring sexy, silly and Burning Man together, and because the above picture reminds me that good sex can involve slowing down and being touched, whether by voice, hands, or an angel, today’s post is about stopping and thinking about how you can touch, or be touched, by someone you love now (including yourself), or someone you will love in the future.

I did an exercise in my Recycled Sex class last week at the Pleasure Chest. I asked, what is it that you love about your partner, of if you’re single, about yourself? Is it body parts, like breasts, as appreciated above? Or is it passion? drive? brains? use of vocabulary?

Whatever it is, take some time to write a list of five things that “touch” you about the person you love. And then, after you’ve thought and written five things you love about yourself and/or someone you love, find ways to do actions that let you appreciate, or feel appreciated. If you love your partners body, make a date to worship it, without receiving in return. If you love their passion, go skydiving or do something else adventurous and after, or during the adrenaline rush, find a way to say I love you longtime. Write a card to touch their heart. Hold a hand or give a hug and touch their soul (OMG, yes, I can be that cheesy and still feel good about myself). Use your hands and cup them over a vulva, like above, and use your fingers to touch around. Touch yourself while your partner touches you (see above picture again) and teach each other, or yourself, the ins and outs of touch.

As soon as we’re born, babies hunger for touch. It’s better not to spend your life denying that. So touch and be touched, unless of course it’s rubbing up to a stranger on the subway, or at a crosswalk. That’s just creepy.