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A Night of Lust in New Orleans

The Benefits of Embrace Carnality

What’s New Orleans without a bit of urban spelunking? (Image by Author.)

The horniest night I’ve ever had took place on a steamy July evening in New Orleans.

I was there with a lovely woman I met at an orgy in France in 2010, and immediately started crushing on. (I still have that crush to this day.) She learned about my crush during my wedding dinner in 2017, when my girlfriend looked over and remarked casually, “You know, Eunice, Franklin has a crush on you.” Yadda yadda yadda, next thing you know we’re writing novels together. Fast forward a couple of years and we’re exploring New Orleans, a town neither of us had ever visited before, wandering about the flooded ruins of a long-abandoned power plant in decidedly impractical footwear and just generally enjoying the hell out of ourselves.

Shortly after we arrived in the Big Easy, we made plans to set aside an evening for some orgasmic carnal debauchery. After all, if you’re in Nawlins for the first time, what could be more appropriate than planned debauchery?

The United States is a nation that still has not shaken the dust of Puritanism from its shoes, so I’m sure someone reading this is already rolling their eyes and imagining your humble author as a sex-crazed lunatic, unable to think beyond the next orgasm. As it turns out, that’s almost the opposite of reality. Hang on, I’m getting to that.

Bedroom Adventures, Now With 20% More Tentacles

I brought quite a collection of sex toys for our Louisiana getaway, including a whole batch of prototypes I’d not yet tested. (For several years before this vacation, I’d been teaching myself to design sex toys—generally with a tentacle theme—in a 3D rendering program, then printing molds on a 3D printer and casting silicone to make sex toys. I packed enough tentacles to raise eyebrows at TSA. A bunch of silicone tentacles looks…weird on an airport X-ray scanner, though alas, they did not allow me to take photos of the screen.)

Anyway, there we were, with a week to spend in the birthplace of jazz, big plans for some sexy funtimes, and a suitcase of untested tentacles.

When the night came, we went out to dinner at a Japanese steakhouse. I was already feeling pretty frisky…well, I guess that’s a given, since I generally have a high libido to begin with. But I was feeling particularly frisky that evening, something that wasn’t helped by the fact that ske kept whispering the most amazing, delicious filth in my ear. (If your tastes run to creative, amorously adventurous lovers, date writers. You can thank me later.)

After dinner, we walked to the AirBnB holding hands. Periodically, she kept leaning close to whisper more inspired filth, so as you might imagine, by the time we’d made it back I was ready to kick a hole in a cinder-block wall, and I don’t mean with my foot, if you catch my drift.

There’s something…transcendent about being that turned on. The world around me seemed to vibrate slightly with an almost subliminal hum. Everything was more vivid, like someone had turned up the knobs for contrast and saturation. All my senses, from her hand in mine to the sounds of the street around us, came to me filtered through this fog of intense sexual desire. Words are wholly inadequate to describe the state my condition was in; even now, years later, I still recall that giddy, heady, sublime level of quivering lust.

I was, not to put too fine a point on it, ready to get it on.

We went inside, proceeded to the bedroom, and made ready for the delightful evening of carnal bliss we’d so carefully planned and prepared for. Whilst we were unpacking the sex toys and, as they charmingly put it on her side of the pond, getting our kit off, I started thinking, as one does, about the new post-cyberpunk novel we’d been tossing around.

So as I got down to my skivvies, I asked her a question about the world where we planned to set the story. She thought about it for a bit, then, in between laying out the tentacle strapon and spiked sheath, answered in a way that set the gears in motion in my head. I asked her another question, she answered, I said “we should be writing this down,” I got out my laptop, and…

…next thing you know it’s past 2AM, we’re sitting naked on a bed covered in sex toys we haven’t touched, and we’re well into writing a world-background document for a new novel.

Sex as the Great Corrupter

It’s common in some circles, especially in the US (arguably the most Puritan of Western countries), to view open embrace of sex and peasure with suspicion bordering on fear. Many folks seem drawn to thinking of sex as a drug, something that must be surrounded by high walls to prevent it from getting out of control like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

Sex, according to this idea, is corrupting. Sex is addictive. If you give in to the hedonistic impulse, bit by bit it will control your life. Soon you will be able to think of nothing else but the next orgasm, the next fix, the next fling, even if that means shagging strangers in some seedy gas station bathroom.

And yet…and yet…

It has consistently been my experience that the most sex-positive people I know, the people who embrace sex as fun and sexual pleasure as good, are also the people who can take it or leave it. Sex is fun, sure, and sexual pleasure is good, but lots of other things are also fun and good.

Like, for example, sitting up until 2 AM working on a new novel.

When you embrace the idea that sex is fun and not something to be feared, sex loses the fascination of the forbidden. More importantly, though, when you let go of the idea that sex is some scarce thing, always jealously guarded and only to be let out of the cage on rare occasions, you lose the “starvation mentality” of sex. If you miss an opportunity to have sex, that’s okay. There will be another.

Treating sex as something rare and dangerous tends to reinforce a starvation mindset: if I have a chance to have sex, I better take it, because who knows when I’ll get another? Removing the fear and shame from sex makes it less scary, which makes it less scarce, which makes it easier to relate to in a healthy way.

Starvation, Abundance

Sex-positive people tend, again in my experience and observation, to approach sex from a place of abundance: I don’t need to be searching for sex all the time. I don’t need to grab every opportunity for sex with whoever I can get it from. I can be selective in when I have sex, where I have sex, who I have sex with…because I’m not driven by fear that an opportunity missed is a catastrophe.

When I say sex-positive, it’s important to understand I don’t mean “always believing all sex is good all the time.” Being sex-positive doesn’t mean believing everyone should be having all the sex they can get, or that sex is always 100% positive. Rather, being sex-positive means believing there’s more than one right way to have sex, sex is not intrinsically shameful, and grown adults who choose to have sex for pleasure aren’t doing anything wrong.

It also means that grown adults who choose not to have sex aren’t doing anything wrong, either. If you don’t want to have sex, that’s okay. If you’re asexual, that’s okay. You like orgiastic group-sex romps with like-minded adults in castles in France? Cool! You prefer reading the Discworld novels with a cup of hot chocolate to sweaty grunt-n-thrust? Cool! The whole point of a sex-positive mindset is not “sex is good and you should do it,” it’s “some people think sex is fun and that’s okay, and some people would rather read (or write!) and that’s okay—there’s more than one right way to think about sex, so grown adults should be free to make their choices without being shamed by others.”

Point is, when you’re sex-positive, you’re less likely to treat every potential sexual encounter as though it’s your last.

Which means you can be more horny than you’ve ever been in your entire life, naked in bed with a partner who’s into it just as much as you are, you can still say “You know what? Let’s write instead.”

Embracing the idea that sex is fun and sex for pleasure is okay does not make you a slave to sex. Just the opposite: it’s more freeing than you can imagine.



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