Naked City captured Michele Capozzi beautifully.

I seriously LOVE Michele Capozzi. He’s not only an interesting New York figure, he’s family. I call him my dirty uncle. I met Michele back around 2001, when he was wearing a T-shirt with a whole gaggle of lobsters fucking in a variety of positions. He’s been my friend ever since. I love knowing him. Michele is awesome. I hope you enjoy a little piece of him now.

I was on the phone with the Reverse Cowgirl, Susannah Breslin, today discussing a piece that she’s writing for Salon.com. I can’t say what she’s writing about exactly because a) I’d rather wait for the finished product and b) I’d rather you wait for the finished product too, but we talked a bit about Sex and the City, which apparently a lot of bloggers and sex pundits would be happier to refer to as Satan in the City. I know there are lots of people out there who think that Sex and the City is the worst thing to happen to female sexuality, but I disagree. I think we need to embrace the bits we can from the show, and discard all the rest. I watched Sex and the City, not religiously, and not at all at first, but eventually, and over time, I enjoyed the weekly ritual that changed the way we talked about female sexuality in mainstream media.

I’m not saying it’s the best thing, or even that it isn’t, at this point, an overdone, overcooked thing, but it is it’s own thing, four perspectives on sex and dating and shoes. And I’m happy to see Sex and the City attempting to wrap things up with what should be one final hurrah. I think that women all over the country, and probably the world, will benefit from the extra boost of SATC talk that will trickle down around water coolers across offices in buildings in places where the most exciting thing to happen all day may be nothing at all.

I think that even if we don’t agree with these four women and their quest for eternal manly happiness, there’s something of value to take away from the experience of talking about sex, whether it be Charlotte’s orgasm addiction, which introduced myriads of women who may never have ever owned a vibrator before or again to the Rabbit Habit, (NOTE: If this is the only vibe you own, and you are not completely satisfied with the results, please, I beg of you, try another vibrator. There are way more practical, functional and tactilly pleasing vibes out there, and for me, and lots of other women, the rabbit is not the even close to the best! vibe! ever!), or Carrie’s search for the perfect relationship, or Samantha’s sexuality after breast cancer. I also think it’s okay to hate things about Sex and the City. Things like Carrie’s obsessive compulsion for shoes, or Charlotte’s obsession for money, or the compulsion for all of them to find men with money, looks and love for sale. But it’s TV, which means even if it’s based in a real time and place, it’s not reality. It’s illusion, it’s the place where people tune in to tune out of their other lives, to live along with a group of fictitious women that don’t really exist. We all know that there’s no way a writer like Carrie would live how she lived and still have loads, upon more loads of money to throw at a nice pair of shoes and a designer outfit. Unless, of course, she was a very rich trust fund baby.

So I ignore the facts that are there for the fantasy and I look at what we can learn from the rest of the show. And please don’t cringe when I say this, but I think that there are still conversations to be had, the kind of conversations that this show can facilitate. There’s still time to remember that a lot of women get their sex “education” (and I use the term lightly) and fashion advice from watching Sex and the City. I mean for some women this is the only exposure they have to talking about sex, relationships, dating. For some women this is how they have a conversation about sex. This is the conversation starter about sex. Whether we like it or not.

As a sex educator, I hope that Sex and the City, the Movie, will grant me some teachable moments. Moments that I can bring to my workshops, moments that people I know and people I haven’t yet met, can relate to. The types of things that can lead to intelligent discussion, to dissection, to education.

Even if I don’t agree with all that it represents, I’m happy that Sex and the City exists. Think about it really. Right now, what’s the alternative?

Sometimes I feel confused about sex. About my own sex life. About sharing a lot, or a little or nothing at all. Sometimes I think that as a person immersed in talking, studying, reading about sex that I should want to have sex all the time, that my relationships should be defined by sex. I have good sex with my boyfriend of over 3.5 years, but even now, when we’re packing to get out of town for the weekend, he isn’t so optimistic on the number of condoms to bring.

“Just three?” I question, as he begins to pack them in our bag.

“Should we bring more?,” he asks.

Three. That’s one for each day, as long as we don’t have a mishap like a rip or an *erection defection. Three. Once a day for three days. Is that a lot or a little in my relationship right now?

If three is my lucky number, and we really only need one per time, and we will be with my parents, and we do live together, and we aren’t getting out of town to have sex in new places, is three enough?

Yeah, I’ve been giving myself orgasms (albeit often with his help) almost every day this month, but then I read someone like debauchette, whom I greatly admire for both her mind and the one time I met her, her body too (when I say met, I mean introduced as in “Jamye this is Debauchette,” who had a different name now than then). And she makes me think of how important sex can be in a relationship. But I ask the rhetorical question, should sex define a relationship if the person’s line of work is in sex?

Even sex with myself doesn’t define who I am. Even if sometimes I have to have an orgasm. Sometimes I have to stop everything I’m doing to whack one out. But I’m more than my orgasms, even if that’s all I’m focused on this month. And yes, I had two, one each day the past two days that I’ve been in bed, doing nothing, not even wanting to lift my eroscillator to my clit. I’ve managed to bang two out..and move on. Because I’m just that committed.

But I’m stuck on the importance of sex in a relationship. I know it changes over time, but does it change you over time too?

*erection defection - when a hard dick goes flaccid as a result of putting on a rubber

Here’s my masturbation breakdown from LA to NY.

May 12th – Flew to LA from NY. Had no alone time, until it was time for bed. Tried Screaming O’s new Fing-O vibrator but it was too loud for me to use in my friend’s apartment. Finished myself off with my hand.

May 13th – Spent one night in another location. Used Fing-O vibe while everyone was out at a ball game. Happy to have gotten it done, and even happier to have had some alone time to do it in.

May 14th – First day of shooting (a lot of sex) for Playgirl TV. While the day went well, I have some bad news. Really bad news (well, bad news relative to my masturbation mantra for May). I never got to masturbate today. Nada. No finger, no vibrator. Today nothing came between my clit and me. Other people came; mainly men, but I didn’t touch myself. By the time we got home it was after 2AM, and the day was done and so was I.

May 15th – Masturbated in the afternoon after spending the morning with an amazing psychic and appearing on the first ever sex.com radio show.

May 16th – Second day of shooting for Playgirl TV. Needed to get a solo scene out of all my male, and female, talent. Had one male talent that I didn’t think would perform. He said he’s never done a solo scene. So, while the female talent was busy taking still photos, I took matters into my own hands. Literally. Translation = he masturbated; I touched myself (over and under my clothes with my own hand, but nobody ever saw anything but my hand over or in my pants). Yes, I may have crossed the line between director and talent, but I got a great performance out of my actor, and I believe I did what had to be done in that situation. Besides, I got to fulfill my masturbation quota for the day. Didn’t have an orgasm, but didn’t need to. Had a new experience, and that was most important.

May 17th – Was sick, really sick, as in not well in the body. After finishing up shooting on Friday, I came home to the beginnings of a cough. Cough turned into some form of illness that left me feeling zombified, and I was most uncomfortable in my body. It felt like if I could rip off all my skin and go soak it somewhere far away, and then maybe, just maybe, I’d feel better. I spent all of Saturday sleeping, watched a little TV and forced myself to masturbate because I couldn’t just lie around and not get the job done. Forcing myself to masturbate (with Fing-O vibe again) made me feel better, much better, and I slept soundly the rest of the night.

May 18th – Felt better, much better. Masturbated while my friend was in the shower. Did it quickly, with the vibrator. I am really missing my favorite eroscillator these days. But I know I’ll be home soon enough and we shall be reunited.

May 19th – Super sick again. Was feeling better yesterday, but not today. I had no desire to masturbate, although I really wanted desire, and I even wanted to make it happen on the plane. Thought it would be fun to join the My-Oh’ll High Club, but it didn’t happen. Instead continued sneezing every three minutes. It’s like I’m a full-blown snot manufacturer. I could probably produce enough snot to feed a village of starving children in a third world country, that is if snot was something that could sustain a village. I suppose snot could be used like glue too. It’s got that consistency. Fine, snot isn’t sexy, but masturbation is. Especially when someone’s watching you. Tonight J. had sex with me while I masturbated with my eroscillator. It felt really good to be home.

May 20th: Still sick. Very sick. Tried an e-Stim electrosex kit. Felt good and bad at the very same time. Couldn’t use it on my clit because it felt like someone was shooting my clit with needles. But liked it around my vagina, so kept it there while I used my vibe. Got off, but barely have been getting out of bed today.

me and Chelsie Rae 5.14.08

At least too much to say right now. I’m heading back into the studio to direct three more “love stories” for Playgirl tomorrow, and then I’ll tell you more. A lot more.

Until then, watch me - and my friends - on Man and Wife TV.

And check out my new crush, Chelsie Rae. I directed a scene with her and Jack Venice yesterday and let me just say she’s magically delicious when it comes to both her personality and her hotness.

Also congrats to California..where one can be happy and gay and together, legally, until death do them part. Yes, somewhere in that sentence there was a pun intended, but basically I’m happy to see that California is the next full privilege state, at least when it comes to marriage..for anybody who’s ever wanted to get married to anyone they want to marry (well, as long as they’re human beings I guess…)

Read more here.

Days 9 through 11 have come and gone.

I’m back on track with my jilling off. Back on track in that I haven’t missed a day since I decided I almost missed a day, but now, days after the initial minute and minute (one is a measure of time and one means sooo small) masturbation mishap, I’m feeling good again. However, there are challenges abound as I head into a week of living on couches and guest rooms that don’t belong to me and my man. Yes, I’m in Los Angeles right now, without my handy eroscillator, without my trusty man meat and without the comforts of doing it in my own apartment, on my own bed, my own couch, my own rug.

But unlike having sex with your partner when you’re out of town, the good thing about self-love is that you can do it anywhere. On second thought you can do your partner anywhere to, if you clone a copy of his willy. But that isn’t warm like the real thing.

Anyway, I don’t necessarily need dick to double click my own mouse, but being away from my handy plug-in vibe means that some nights it’ll be back to my good old handy hand. I did bring along the Screaming O’s new Fing-O finger vibrator, which I don’t even think is out yet, but since I’m the lucky recipient of a first edition, I’m going to give myself one manual finger and one vibrating one. I figured it’s small, potentially quiet, and really quite cute, and this way when my hand needs a hand, I can give it a finger.

I’m a bit worried about how I’m going to masturbate tonight though. Day 12 could prove tricky as tonight is definitely a sleep-on-the-couch night, and that means I won’t have much privacy. I’m already exhausted, but I know that a girls got to do what a girls got to do.

And this girl has gots to get off. Because, pardon me for repeating myself, but it’s my homage to masturbation and I will come everyday this month come hell or high water.

I’ll also be directing for Playgirl TV while I’m out here, so that could give me some good fodder for self-stimulation. Really when it comes to my own fantasies I can be quite dull. Actually often times I’m just boring. Bland. Banal. My favorite fantasy involves thinking about getting my pussy licked or having a penis, usually my boyfriend’s, inside of me. No plot. No story. Just action.

This week I’ll get to see lots of penis, but none of them will be my main man’s. And so, as Poison says:

You can look but you can’t touch.

Well, actually that’s what my boyfriend says too. And so that’s what I promise to do this week. Get great sexy footage that makes me want to masturbate even more, and then they’ll be turned into vignettes that help other people get sexy too. Yes, it’s sexy time .Whether you’re alone or together. Or alone and together. Or together yet alone.

I am racked with guilt today. Yes, it’s probably because I’m Jewish. And while this may be giving Jews a bad name, it’s also something I believe is inherently built into my Jew genes. This guilt thing. It may be more accurately a Jewish-Long Island thing, but whatever you call it, I have it, right now.

Why?

I started to go for an orgasm yesterday, but I finished after midnight. J. and I were well on our way to giving me one, but when I looked at the clock it said 11:54PM and I got this bad feeling in my tummy. The kind of feeling that says you’re going to blow this, you’re not going to have an orgasm before the clock strikes 12. I tried hard to make it happen by 11:59, really I did. I even told myself my clock was fast, and I shouldn’t worry (unfortunately I double checked the accuracy of my bedroom clock, verse my kitchen clock and my computer clock, and found although they were all a little different, but my bedroom clock was no more than two minutes fast), but even with telling myself that, I knew that time was too precious to waste.

I wanted him inside of me when I came. I like it that way. Not fully in. Not deep thrusting, not even deep, shallow thrusting, which is sort of an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp. It’s the kind of thrusting where he’s in, but not moving a lot, which also happens to be the best way for him to effectively use a vibrating cock ring like the Screaming O when trying to give me an orgasm (he wasn’t wearing a cock ring last night though). No, last night I just wanted the tip of his head to gently nudge the first bits of my pussy. By the time we found the right position, and by the time I got my vibrator revved up for action (my clit is still recovering from all the fingering it took last weekend), it was 11:59. When you have to have an orgasm in under a minute, it’s a really hard thing to do. Besides, I knew that my thinking about it would make it even more difficult. I tried with all my might to shut my brain off and believe. Believe it would happen when I needed it to. Like right now.

It would happen. It had to. Right?

Of course. I mean all the elements were in place, but unlike that movie The Girl, the Gold Watch and Everything (whatever happened to Pam Dawber?) I couldn’t freeze time. And last night, time wasn’t on my side.

I had my orgasm. It was 12:01. I’d like to say it counts as yesterday, since I didn’t go to sleep before then. But I don’t know. I’m mixed. I had an other orgasm after that, just to make sure I had one that counted for today as well (just in case), but I still feel sad about missing the mark.

The good news is there’s no money riding on my orgasm-a-day and it was still technically before I went to sleep, so it may count. I’m going to keep coming anyway, because I like the idea of celebrating Masturbation May this way. I’m having orgasms every 24 hours or so. I’m getting off. I’m doing it for me. And for Jonny too (sometimes) cause he likes when I come.

But I did miss the mark this time. By one whole minute. Or two if you count the 12:00 minute. But somewhere else, like in California, it was still May 6th. And so by west coast standards (heck, even mountain and central time) I came in time.

Regardless I still feel guilt because I didn’t technically have an orgasm, in my time zone, yesterday. Less guilt than before I started writing this, but guilt nonetheless.

But I take a licking and keep on ticking. And so I carry on…and I will come…again.

Contemplative Pussy.

I have a sentence in this week’s Time Out New York “The Horny Issue.” I’m in the article, How About a Quickie? The TONY staff challenged a bunch of us to come up with some titillating, sexy talk in ten words or less.

I just thought of another hot quickie phrase.

“Fuck me now.”

That’s a good one. Straight to the point. Doesn’t leave you questioning how far you may go with this person. Nope. Not at all. This person wants to get fucked. Fucked now. And right now this person is me. And even though it’s what I want, I’m not going to get it. Cause I have to go.

No masturbation yet today. Me and my man didn’t have sex last night because I came home at 1AM (What can I say I like good times, and when I’m having good times, I hate to leave them). I had so much fun with Lux, Rachel, Twanna and the Man and Wife crew. Good thing I masturbated early yesterday, or the whole masturbation-every-day-for-a-month would be over. Today I’m saving myself for tonight. For the “fuck me now” that will happen after I teach a BJ class, which usually makes me pretty horny. After the class I’m going to come home and give a BJ, which will lead to other things like the “FMN”…and then, then I’ll have my orgasm.

You can read my sentence in TONY, the one that got published, here.

Today, as in a few minutes ago, I lay in bed masturbating in the usual way (on my back, eroscillator on my clit), having a discussion with my boyfriend because he wants me to stop. “No more masturbating every day.” he says. He tells me we can have sex tonight, later, when we both get home. He says he’ll make me come. But tonight is much later than now, and I need to know that I can have my first orgasm of the day now. Now is not later. Later is me going out to talk sex with Man and Wife, or at least Wife, and then who knows if I’ll be up for an orgasm. Or if he’ll be.

He really wants me to wait but I can’t because like Days 1-5, I have to make sure I have an orgasm by myself, for myself TODAY. As in before it’s tomorrow. Because tomorrow is not today. Not yet.

He doth protest too much. He tries to distract me with silly dances and conversations about the weather. It’s hard to come. I close my eyes, pretend he isn’t getting ready to go out in our room, right now, getting dressed as I undress. And this kind of sucks cause I like seeing him there when I come. But alas, I do what I have to do to stay on track and to get the job done.

And I do it. I overcome the obstacles and let the vibrations oscillations take me away. That’s two more days (May 5 & 6) and two more orgasms.

Victory is mine. Victory and an orgasm.

I am serious about getting off every day this month. Yesterday I decided that I, myself, had to be responsible for at least one of my own orgasms every day. That doesn’t mean I can’t get help, but in the end it has to be me, giving me, an orgasm. That’s my definition of masturbation. Not mutual masturbation, that’s a little different, well if you’re mutually-exclusive (with yourself) during mutual masturbation, then it counts as my definition of masturbation, but if you touch the other person’s genitals and “masturbate” them, that’s a different kind of masturbation. Sometimes it’s called a handjob.

Day Two: Got off in between shopping and dinner. In a bathtub with my man. In a position where my back was in the air, and my feet were pressed down, knees up, like I was doing butt exercises at the gym. A sort of half bridge. Found out - after my orgasm - that I actually was doing butt exercises, and now, on Day 4, still can’t move my upper thigh/glut region without pain. Butt (bad pun alert) I’m glad I did it, because it was a good position for him to help me out in . Now I want to make a t-shirt that reads “Exercise your ass through masturbation. Ask me how?” It reminds me of the “I lost 45 pounds. Ask me how?” pins. How many people actually ask?

Day Three: Was relieved to know I’d be going home to my vibrator. I prefer it to my hand, most of the time, and my clit needed a professional massage. Biggest challenge on day three was when to do it - I didn’t get home til late in the evening. Turned out, challenge was not that big of a deal, and I had plenty of time, and more help from my man (what a guy!)

Day Four: I “masturbate” my man- using various body parts, and he enjoys himself. Then I masturbate, with vibe, while he’s lying next to me. It’s quite nice, and romantic - something I’m glad we’re both comfortable doing. I imagine there are lots of people not comfortable doing that, but it’s really nice. I wish everyone in a happy relationship would try it.