By Airial Clark
SEX ISSUE 2011 I'm a writer, mother, and social science researcher (in chronological order) who is passionate about poking and prodding at perceived cultural norms while raising two tweenage sons. Bawdy is the best outlet for my raucous compulsion for over-sharing. Here's a tale I shared at a recent installation of the series:
I'm a sex geek. I'm working on a master's degree in sexuality studies at a local university. It's a social justice program focused on oppression and stigma.
I'm really careful to tell people that I'm studying sexuality as opposed to sex. It's not like I'm researching how you specifically have sex, but more like how you cry about it in the shower afterwards. Really. Not. Sexy. So I've gotten used to deflecting people's sexual advances based on my field of study.
Except there was this one time. I had an assignment to keep a seven day sex diary. I had to record all of my sexual encounters for one week, then write up a summary looking for patterns of behaviors. Our professor doesn't read the diaries, just the summaries.
I'm a competitive student. Most of the students in my program are in their mid-twenties and fucking every night in the Castro. I can't compete with that, I have kids! But I'll be damned if I let them show me up for an assignment.
This was going to require a strategy.
I'd been flirting this really hot guy I'd met online for a while, but we hadn't been able to hook up — yet. I'm a single parent in grad school and he's a consultant traveling all over. But since he was finally going to be in town, I messaged him saying I needed his help with an assignment: I needed to cram seven days of sex into one night together. He said he willing to do anything for the sake of academia.
We meet for drinks and I'm all about it. First a hand job under his jacket at the bar, then we walk to a park where he goes down on me. But none of this feels exceptional enough. It was hot and awesome, but was it grade A material? Then he tells me he has 24-hour access to an office building downtown, we could fuck in a really nice bathroom there.
Perfect! So we make our way there, and as we're in the stairwell heading to the bathroom, I can hear our footsteps echoing above and below us. I'm beginning to think that bathroom sex isn't really all that unique either. People fuck in bathrooms at bars all the time.
I got a new idea. I say, "I don't want to have sex in the bathroom." You should have seen his face! He says, "Oh, okay, if you're not into it, let's go..." Then I grab him, pull him close and say, "I want to do it here, right here, in the stairwell."
He smiled and we started kissing and grinding and clothing is starting to be removed, and then I have the best idea yet: "Wait! In the ass, fuck me in the ass! Yes, that is perfect."
So he flips me around, bends me over and I'm holding onto the metal steps for dear life as I think to myself "I'm having butt sex in the stairwell of an office building with a man I met on Twitter. I am so going to get the best grade."
And that's when I came. *
BAWDY STORYTELLING is a monthly show-and-tell sesh with some of the Bay Area's most forthcoming pervs. It next hits the stage, hard, on Thurs/22 at Oakland's Uptown Nightclub with a "science fiction" theme. For tickets, go to www.bawdystorytelling.com