5 Lovers, 4 Days

Date: Spring of 2018

So let me give you just a little bit of background: for 4 months I was celibate on purpose. No kisses, no sexual partners, no dates, maybe a few cuddles here and there, but nothing explicitly sexual. I focused on work and Self, my yoga practice, eating well and an elaborate and demanding training for professional development.

After about 6 months, I met a woman, who was and is the first woman I have ever madly fallen in love with. It was brief, but Jesus Christ, it was deep. After that ended, I realized that my sexual appetite for men that had been lurking in the shadows for a good 8 months all of a sudden was back! I kept on having sexual dreams of being penetrated slowly, deeply, quickly, being teased and tied up. Sweet kisses, wet kisses, first kisses. Public sex, safe sex, at home and alone, cozy canoodling sex. Lovemaking, leg shaking, passionate oozes and squeezes. Sweet, tender and connected sex, pinned down, forceful, choke my words out of my mouth sex…I was dreaming about all of it and would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night from a rowdy romp, panting, sweating and really disappointed that it was just a dream.

So I decided to turn my dreams that kept haunting me at night into a reality that I would fully and completely relish in.

I love running experiments on myself and trying new things so I decided to consciously open up to encounters that came my way, prioritize saying YES and just seeing what would happen. I accepted this mission and wave of desire which turned into having amazing rock my world sex with 5 amazing guys in a span of four short, short days…

Wednesday night…and Thursday morning…

One of the lads, a very handsome southern gent I met on my birthday vacation in Florida sure showed me how homesick I was for that southern comfort, conservative and wholesome man. He reminded me of guys I used to date in Texas, back in high school and showed me really old parts of myself that I haven’t seen in over a decade. It was the first time in 6 years that I had heard a country music song played on purpose! It was the first time in a LONG time that I was picked up in a car, had my door opened for me, was taken on a proper dinner date with a beautiful view of my favorite backdrop: the ocean. This guy was kind of amazing and ever so sweet. We just met but he surprised me with a birthday cake and sparklers! And oysters!

We walked the pier under the full moon, both salty kissed and siren seduced.There was something really nostalgic and wonderful about him, how he made me feel, how he treated me, something that made me miss Texas.

We had met at the beach earlier that day and had our first kiss in the ocean, in the water after playing beach volleyball which took me back to my teenage years of living and growing up near the beach. I couldn't help but get flashbacks to when I was sixteen, would sneak out of the house, be picked up by my boyfriend in his loud, oversized and obnoxious to me now truck, skinny-dip, kiss in the water, make love under moonlight after a few cheap beers and be taken home before my parents would wake up.

His warm hands and kiss reminded me of the best parts of my past. Something simple, something kind, something familiar and something a lot like home. He stayed the night and what we created was a soft, simple and gentle love. It felt so familiar and our bodies made me fall in love with missionary again. Squeezing his arms as he kissed me, looking me in the eye, making love to me like the girl I used to be. He drove me to the airport the next morning, kissed me good bye. I walked away satisfied, acquainted with something new found in the old, and also really ready to get back to my city.

Thursday…and all throughout the weekend…

When I returned to NYC, I had a lover in town from LA. I told him he could stay the weekend with me, which is certainly a rare offer from me, considering how much space I desire and how few humans I actually want to share prolonged time and space with. He is different and I decide to gamble a bit with my need for space…

He is a sexy wild haired California man that I met when he was visiting NYC last year who is also into tantra, yoga, a fellow Pisces and impresses me with random facts about how lights and technology work. I find his nonchalant style insanely sexy. He never seems like he’s trying…and it works well. I find his hands sexy. I find his suitcases sexy. Big industrial Pelican suitcases for his art equipment, cameras and tools to make shit and make shit happen. Even his feet I find sexy.

He looks so innocent but surprises me by telling me wild stories of his own dark escapades, twisted stories of his past with my legs twisted around his too. He feels cozy and wonderful and safe in a way that I know whatever state I am in, it would be okay…not only okay, but sincerely welcomed. I feel safe enough to cry, but haven’t ever needed to. He feels like another piece of home, but a more modern piece in my eccentric life. Something that I both chose ten years ago and also ten minutes ago. He’s someone that blends into more parts of my life and I trust that I could take him both to a yoga studio and a sex club and he would survive, thrive, be fine and wouldn't need to hold my hand.

He understands my work and encourages it; he understands my curiosity, my openness, my wild spirit. He’s taken me to a party in NYC and we ran into some of my friends. He makes sense. We overlap in all the right ways, just not consistently geographically, but I have wondered what we would be if we lived in the same city.

Our lovemaking is deep and sensational. He makes love to me probably in the most rare way: tenderly, slowly, deeply, energetically and very spiritually. His amazing Lingham finds my cervix and we become still. We breathe together and look at each other deeply in the eyes. He begins moving in the slowest of ways.

We are artful and nuanced. We melt our chests together and I close my eyes and see colors dancing, so psychedelic and not at all synthetic.

It’s like he’s reading my body, mind and heart in the most acute of ways—- It feels like a homecoming to my spirit, filling me with stars, offering me the moon ever so slowly.

Present and crescent moon climax.

He has magic pixie dust in his eyes and leaves me some between my thighs.

We come and climax at the same time, pretty much every time. But just because we cum doesn't mean it’s over.

We are synced up and sweating without ever trying. It’s so loving, so sweet, so playful…just like kittens. We are similar in our ways of wanting to love others, of wanting to connect, of deeply being interested in humans and extending connection. We understand open love, traveling and connecting to the moment with whomever we find ourselves with.

We are both a little wild and honestly open hearted. He’s an artist, filming beauty when he finds it, and lets the world touch him deeper than most. He’s thoughtful, intuitive and intelligent, bringing me flowers and buying me groceries so he can make us breakfast while I run out of the house to teach just before kissing him quickly.

He feels like a temporary test drive live-in boyfriend. And for this weekend, it’s wonderful.

He surprises me.

He whispers that he loves me in the morning, while I’m sleeping, words we have never shared. I’m still unsure if I dreamt that part or not… but if it happened, I believe him, because he knows certain parts of me that a lot of others don’t and won’t and couldn’t…even if they wanted to.

“Did you tell me you loved me this morning?” I ask later as he scrambles eggs in my kitchen naked.

“Maybe” delivered with a smile is all I got.

I take it, let it be a mystery and let myself be loved, for I am so worthy of his words, his love, his affection even if it’s just temporarily and for right now.

I accept it. With my full body and my full heart.

I can tell him the truth—-the whole truth, not just censored parts—I trust he can handle it. I tell him about my fling in Florida—he smiles and feels joy for the joy I was able to feel and find. Our time together is always short, but its soulful and real. We share secrets, make a lot of love…yet also keep it really lighthearted and fun. I love him until the very last second that he has to leave back to LA.

There are no regrets and no secret safety nets to protect the free flowing feelings of love and energy we share. It’s full and remarkable until the very last second! We savor and delight in each others very last drop of darling…before take-off and back to living on opposite sides of the country, satiated by a few random texts and maybe a phone call here or there.


There is no room or time for fear or attachment—-I never stop to think how much I will miss him when he leaves, or when we will see each other next…I just stay in the moment with love and curiosity. I kiss him goodbye, his bags packed, a last early morning convo over coffee…not knowing when or if I will see or talk to him again, faith that I probably will—-but also this certain okay-ness and gratitude for what we just shared, even if circumstances never tide us back together or if the winds of fate and fortune send us on very opposing journeys. I am left deeply knowing that we are both better, more whole, and more healed for having shared this weekend of wonder together.


My LA lover had plans with friends so I decided to finally meet up with a sexy guy I matched with a month prior on an online dating site. He took me on a wicked awesome first date and is already in a committed, open and long distance relationship. Two days before meeting him, I was telling a friend that I wanted to see Rhye live at the Brooklyn Bowl—-sure enough this magic man took me to the exact concert on our first date. Just by chance. Surely something magical here—-if anything, maybe just excellent timing and quick manifestation. This man brought a lot of exciting energy to my night. A darker energy that brought out a darker and kinkier side of me. Something nasty and curt, irreverent and clashing. He reminds me of a bad boy, a heathen—- and his filthy-fucking-dirty-talking mouth turn me on in a hot sultry way where I viscerally feel my panties heavier with humidity. He reminds me of a dark, cold, wet, oiled latex late night in Berlin. Such trash talk coming out of this perfect tooth, jaw-just-right oral surgeon and doctor of other things oral…

Yes, he actually is a doctor.

I wonder if he’s into role playing. I wonder if he could just pretty please wear the white coat or please start to unbutton mine. I wonder if he could tie me to his sterile, clean and cold medical chair. I wonder if he ever has fucked in his office. I wonder if its a button that he presses or a foot pedal that makes his clients chair move up….and down.

After the show, we go to dinner have some nice cocktails and talk frankly and openly about love, sex, relationships, work, power dynamics. It’s fun and hot. After dinner, he drives me home and I invite him upstairs for a glass of wine.

We end up playing a kinky game of control and submission—-I have a feeling he usually gets what he wants but hey, that’s mostly me too so this should be some kind lot of fun. He’s cocky, domineering and this incorrigible character that I find both alarming yet also intriguing.

He’s sure acting like he’s wanting to take me raw, sheer me like a little lamb, gut me, fuck me, leave me hooked and high, heart still pumping and bloody as he cooly leaves, closes the cellar and never thinks about me again for days or what happened during our fantasy play. There’s a crazed lunacy about him and pretty much every other day of the year, this would not actually work for me, but I guess I was just having a day or maybe it was the moon.

So back to this game about domination and submission…when I say it’s my turn, he must surrender and do everything I say, and when it’s his turn to be in control, I must obey.

When he is in control, he is on top: when I am in control, I am on top. To switch the roles, we either throw the other from the bottom to the top, or whisper with pure power and seduction, “Switch”. The agreement is to tease and absolutely no penetration even when he is in control until I absolutely with verbal words express my consent and ask for it. I don’t know him but I decide to surrender and trust him.

I whisper with my whiskey breath everything my body is feeling and how I feel a powerful pulse coming from between my…he loses his position and starts to reach for my cunt.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME”, I shout, surprising myself with how stern I sound. It’s effective and I grab his wrists above his head. I feel the will in his wrists as they slowly stop trying, his dominating demeanor slows and his pulse softens in my pin, as my hands, body and eyes need less and less force.

When the blood feels like it has drained all the way out, when he starts to feel too much like the lamb that he initially wanted me to be, when the fun stops, I whisper, “Switch.” We keep playing back and forth like forceful animals, trying to assert some kind of make-believe dominance, turning on and off power with undercurrents of rage.

We talk about rage and he’s the first person in a while that I have met that can connect with their rage authentically, safely and wildly in sex. Most men are afraid of this energy or abuse it entirely.

I like this synergy with him and feel woken up to something but I can’t figure out if it’s new, old or maybe ancient. When he can’t take it anymore, it’s his turn and he gets to have his way with me. He chokes me, pulls my hair, tells me what a sweet and naughty slut I am and how he can’t wait to fuck me. I look at him and connect with his inner animal that is completely insatiable. I understand him, at least on this particular day, and respect his honesty that is precise, quick, clear and almost surgical. I tell him he’s the third guy I’ve been with in 3 days and it doesn’t surprise me one bit that we met under such interesting circumstances.

I don’t care what he thinks about me, or if he never thinks about me after tonight. I don’t care if he calls me, in fact I hope he doesn’t.

We push each other around a bit longer, titilating and teasing, calling forth each others honey. He finally can’t stand it any longer, I shake my head yes, mouth practically dripping, he pulls my underwear to the side and fucks me like a bull finally charging out of the stable. We fuck furiously and my god does it feel amazing.. I cum. He comes. It’s hot and charged and full of energy, power, lust and in an unusual way…mutual respect. I don’t know him well, hardly at all, but I definitely respect him.

I respect him for being so honest.

I respect him for telling me exactly what his intentions were, because on that particular night my intentions were the same.

I respect him for being a part of my experiment.

I respect his silence for the next few months.

I respect him for not pretending that our night was something it wasn’t.

I respect him for being exactly what and who he was on that evening.

I respect his relationship and I respect the GODDESS in his girlfriend that I will probably never meet for having such an open agreement, where I was able to take and be taken from in a mutually, consentually, ethical, modern and erotic way.

He doesn’t stay the night, which he initiates and I second. I sleep like an undisturbed, full furred lamb that night, unscathed, unharmed, so warm, so complete, so satisfied, and yet again, so deeply okay.

Saturday….before noon :)

The next day I go to visit my sexy bisexual couple in the West Village that I have played with a few times in the past and consider to be two of my most lovely friends. They are sexy and their love for each other inspire me. Their relationship works and I respect how they manage work, play and playing with others so well. I love experimenting with these two men because it feels so damn special. I mean how many true bisexual, in a deeply loving, open and committed relationship men are even living in NYC?! THEY are so damn special and each have a warmth that is unmatched. Most threesomes involving two guys are not at all like being with them. It is so sacred, special and I am SO glad I waited so long to have my first male, male, female 3some with them. I can hardly imagine being with any other two men at the same time, after knowing how sweet being a part of their union is. I also love watching them together—there is something so hot to me about two men kissing, touching each other and giving each other oral sex. I also thoroughly enjoy playing with one of them while the other one gets to watch…

I request they kiss.

He requests that I kiss him.

Then he requests I kiss him.

He requests if he can take off my panties.

I say yes.

He requests I open my legs to taste me. 
 Again, I say yes.

I ask to touch them both at the same time.

They say yes.

He asks if I want them both.

I say yes.

“At the same time?”

I say yes.

He lays down. I mount him and I kiss him.

I guide him inside of me.

We both say yes.

Then he comes behind me.

Kissing my shoulders, being so gentle, whispering how sweet and sexy I am.

“You ready for me too?”

I say yes.

He gently and slowly fits his amazing lingham, next to his beloveds amazing lingham already inside of my yoni.

They both penetrate me and I love it.

We move together in a dance. I hold my hands above my head and close my eyes. I slowly lift and lower my body with the power of my thighs. I let them take me over, not because they ask to, but because I want them to and because I trust them.

Both of them.

So much.

I love them both.

SO much.

I love them both together, as a couple, so fucking much.

It’s so beautiful, graceful and simple. I lay my chest on him as he is under me, and then he lays his chest on me as he is above me. I’m sandwiched and wrapped in a couples love that actually knows and practices what love is.

A couple that knows how to share.

A couple that knows how to let each other go.

A couple that trusts one another.

And includes each other…

In all of their adventures.

We cuddle for a bit and then decide to go out for brunch and go shopping.

It’s sexy, simple and sweet, just like Saturdays should be.

Aftercare and Aftermath:

So from the outside, none of these 5 men were actually available: which is why I think this experiment worked out so well. Two of them live in other states, one is in a long distance (and open) relationship and two are deeply in love with each other and committed to each other. I feel like if these boundaries were not there, I wouldn’t have chosen these five men to make love with and fuck, nor would they just have appeared so perfectly, elegantly and right on time in my life. I don’t want a relationship with any of them and I certainly don’t want to break any hearts, and to my knowing no hearts were broken during this short, yet very busy week. If anything, I think we all got exactly what we needed.

I felt sexually empowered and sexually responsible before, during and after these four days. Condoms were certainly used; to be more specific Trojan, Sustain, Skyn and another brand that I’m still looking for the wrapper for.

I felt powerful and responsible as I went to the doctor (not the kinky Dr.) to get a full 100% STI test-for-everything check-up.

No STI’s were passed, shared or retrieved during my bacchanal boinking week of bliss.

In our culture, the biggest STI’s are FEAR, SHAME and GUILT and none of that nonsense was passed, shared or retrieved during these four days either.

There was also absolutely no buyers remorse nor regret.

These interactions were truly walked into with heart, eyes and mind open. I wasn’t intoxicated, inebriated or altered by drugs. I wasn’t being led by fear, insecurity, or trying to fill any sort of void.

I felt blissfully happy, content and joyful before my Wednesday even rolled around.

I wasn’t running away from myself; I was actually running towards myself and learned so much by each conversation and encounter that felt remarkably deep and heart felt, true and honest, and in a crazy way…very meant to be.

I also didn’t “keep up” this behavior (not because it wasn’t ecstatically fun and riviting—-but because I’ve got new things to do and create!)

I have actually gone back to my traditional disciplines that make me feel whole and a little boring, like yoga, trying to go to sleep early, trying to drink less coffee and going to bookstores.

So I’d say by my own standards, my behavior has been pretty “slutty” “scandelous” and even “premiscuous” —-but I think these words need to change or be re-claimed as POWER words, because thats how I felt.

I felt powerful in my choices.

I felt powerful in my ability to share my body, my wisdom and my heart.

I felt powerful to own myself.

I felt powerful to share myself.

I felt powerful to see myself in another.

I felt powerful when I wasn’t ruled by fear or living in a scarcity mindset, instead riding the waves of love in abundance.

I felt powerful in my one-night-stand and think it deserves a standing ovation. (Thank you!)

I felt powerful to play nicely with power.

I felt powerful in my pleasure.

I felt powerful in my letting go.

I felt powerful to use every single thing that happened as a way to gain deeper insight into myself.

I felt powerful and so much love for men and everything they have represented in my past, present and future.

I felt powerful when I felt like I was “fucking like a man” even more powerful when I realized at the end of the week, in a bath full of Epsom salts, lavender, and listening to Rhye, that I was just fucking like a sovereign, awakened empowered GODDESS of a woman.