Love You. Love Me!

By Odeon Black

Sexuality abounds in the media, from scantily clad Calvin Klein models who seemed malnourish, to hundreds of bikini wearing women running towards a man spraying cologne on himself.   They are all beautiful, sexual, and sexy, they ooze pheromones and more to the point they sell products.  These ads are made so that you don’t want to look away, made to keep you enticed until your sold.  But what are you buying? A product or an image of what is perfect?  The truth is many times we don’t know what we are being sold.  But often it makes us feel like we bought the underline message, they are pretty and we are not.

We look in the mirror and see deficiencies, which are compounded by everyday negative comments and messages we receive from those around us.  Bombarded by stares of public and private disapproval we forget the day we stopped feeling beautiful.  The day a simple dress made her feel like a princess, or when a pair of shoes put him “on top of the world”.  To many of us with disabilities those memories are a distant fog.  It is sexuality, denied! It is beauty unreachable! Most of all, it is self-inflicted.  Like cutting into your skin every time you get depressed, until you no longer feel the knife, but the scars are clearly visible.

I have met them.  I hear their self-disgust and see every cut in their eyes.  Society, What has thou done?   They talk to me of feeling un-loved, hating their bodies, their looks and the hand they were dealt.  The screams of pain have been real and imagined, but the suffering is constant.  The new dress has lost it’s magic, and those shoes no longer shine.

Why?  Because we grew-up, watched too much television, and actually became the person most displeased by our looks.  We devalued our contributions and our sexuality and forgot what made us beautiful.   Someone told us that our dress was not pretty and our shoes were outdated.  They crammed their negative views into our special pleasures, and we let them.  To this day we cry because we miss them, because we let them.

My theme of sexuality and disability is usually spicy and upbeat and so we will end on an upbeat note.  First, it is time to take back what is yours, your beauty, sexiness, positivity and your ability to look in the mirror.  Time to love the imperfections, which have, become knives to your soul. It is truly time to tell the negative influences, including, media, mind and “friends”, to keep their comments to themselves.  So, make a date with yourself.  Do your favorite things, and fall in love all over again with the little girl who lit up a room with her smile.  Reach deep into the well of darkness and pullout your favorite shoes and wear them.  If by chance you run into someone who tells you how ugly your shoes or dress may be, tell him or her, Fuck You!

Where did I leave my vibrator?

By Odeon Black
Please note this article contains adult content and language.

Where did I leave my vibrator?  Well as it happened, my vibrator was eventually found, but I will get to that later.  First, let me give you the back-story.  My girlfriend (we will call her Becky) and I had always liked traveling.  We would travel any chance we got.  It was so great to get away from the dull drum of every day existence.  To go someplace where no one knows your name, or cares.  You are just a visitor or tourist, there to have fun.  My disability would often get lost in the dancing, sun, drinks and my favorite, sex.  This was and continues to be an escape, a place to simply be a sexual gimp with a hard-on for life.

One of our exciting trips took us to the Bahamas, fabulous beaches, great drinks, and so many foods made with conch.  There was deep fried conch, stewed, sautéed, boiled and the ever-popular sandwich.  The hotel was filled with tourist, clean and surprisingly wheelchair accessible; given it was over 10 years ago. Becky and I could not wait to check-in and get to our room, flying always frustrated us, but also made us very horny.
If you think flying with a power chair is hard now you should have flown 10 or 15 years ago.

We check-in to the hotel and race to the room, the door swings open and the clothes drop like heavy raindrops in a storm.  She tears off my t-shirt, and I rip the three buttons that hold her skimpy shirt together, off with my teeth.  The smell of sea salt wafting in through the window and the scent of sweat fills the room.  Then we remember, we brought a new sex toy; a 7 inch pink vibrator.  It was an average size I suppose, made of silicone and took two AA batteries.  We also, brought a bottle of lube and of course condoms to our mini-soirée.  She unwrapped the vibe and we worked it until the batteries died.  I held it in my mouth, my splint, and she held it in every position imaginable.  All our hotel neighbors heard was, “Oh my God, I love this Vibe”, “that’s my vibe”, “nothing better than your tongue and the vibe”.  Yes, four days and three nights of lube filled, condom smacking, pink vibrations.

Well, on the last day we pack and are ready to go; but we cannot find the pink vibe. We must have searched the whole entire room.  We came to the conclusion that maybe the maid took it or accidentally fell in the garbage can.  We had to go or miss the plane. We left wondering where it was?   We arrived at the airport and rushed to security.  They had a system where they run your carry-on baggage and suitcases through the X-ray machines, while one stands there.

We wait for our bags to go through, as the line behind us gets longer.  The Security officer, in standard white shirt, shorts an official Bahamian hat, begins his review.  One carry-on goes through, and then another, and finally the suitcase has a turn. As it is starting to come out the other end the officer stop the conveyer belt, and backs up the suitcase, he yells to the other guard.  “There is a long metal object in here!” at the same time Becky remembers where she put the vibrator.  She packed it in the suitcase first,  “so she would not forget it”.  She leans close to me and says,  “oh my god, I hate that vibe”, that’s not my vibe”, “how embarrassing”.

Now everybody is looking at us.  We have become microbes under a microscope of possible wrongdoing, passenger curiosity and Security guard indiscretions.  Yikes!
The guard slowly but methodically un-zippered the suitcase as two others watched, Becky, turned a beet red as they lifted the flap and felt around for the “long metal object.”  Yes.  His expression said it all when his hands clutched what could only feel like a worn down silicone cock.  As he “pulled-it-out”, the other guards simultaneously looked up at the young girl and her “friend” in the wheelchair.  Becky looked mortified, horrified, she was not into the “vibe”, right now.  I shrugged.

The guards quickly threw the vibe back, zipped the suitcase and yelled, next!  I was so glad we were not next.

Sex Travels By Odeon Black

This blog is not about going to Indonesia, Thailand or some other exotic land to get your “rocks off”.  It is about getting them off where ever you are!  It is about the ease of “mental masturbation” like you want it.  No holds bar. So take a trip with me.  Clothing optional.

Sometimes when I close my eyes I can picture the perfect sex.  The kind that makes you want to “stay in the moment” and never leave.  Sometimes it involves the ultimate surrender, one that only a quadriplegic can provide, where my vulnerability is part of the sexual game she and I play.  She knows I cannot move, but ties my hands anyway.  She knows I will be where she left me, but commands me not to move.  She believes that I will follow her every command and understands the sexuality of my stillness.  She feels the sexual energy where she makes it, where she allows it to be – like the monks of a thousand years, her understanding is enlightened by the fact that she believes.     It is what it is, for it can be nothing else unless we make it so.  I could be a prisoner of her lust because she treats me like her other lovers.  She does not lessen my ability to be bound.

In another instance, I close my eyes and see myself in the middle of a crowded bus towards Frisco Bay, my wheelchair pressing into the folded-up seat and the heat just rises.  It is an unusually hot day for the Bay and even hotter for me, as I pretend not to notice her.  She stands so close.    Human bodies pushing upon each other in their summer wear, pressing in a careless manner and acting like they don’t realize it.  She realizes it!  Her bohemian blue and green skirt tightens as other passengers push her towards the side of my wheelchair.   I pretend not to notice, but can feel myself getting a mental hard-on to challenge the Washington Monument.  There are small beads of sweat on her neckline and they run down to meet her white tee.  Her hard nipples reveal no bra and she catches me peering at her.  She stares back, and with her fingers, brings back her dark straight hair.  I do not look away.  Then, as if we rode the bus together, she leans over and starts whispering in my ear.  Her voice is soft and her breath is warm like Redwoods in July.   She smells like incense and sex.  Her words are deliberate and meant to evoke the animal instinct in men and women.  They pour into my ear down to the tip of my dick and they dare me not to cum.

I understand how good sex is in the flesh.  However, I am captivated by the places I can go by just closing my eyes.  The scents and the taste I can have without ever leaving my space.  I fall in love and make love with people I will never meet.  I am the thought that flowed into a river of passion because I wanted it.  Where do you go when your eyes are closed?

Kissing: The New Black By Odeon Black

Kissing: The New Black

By Odeon Black

People with disabilities often think about making love, some think about having love made to them.  Yet, kissing always seems like a side dish in the love making scenarios.  Always an appetizer never the main course that’s what three different individuals told me, two women, one man.  They said that they really never thought about it-like they were preprogrammed to think about the end result only.  What is the normal end result? You ask. A mind-blowing orgasm!  In weather terms, the Tornado that brought Dorothy to Oz.  In party terminology, the cork popping off a champagne bottle and In Las Vegas lingo hit the Jackpot (hard).

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the big “O”, whether you are a man or a woman.  I have had them and often the lady I am with has them.  However, many of us have forgotten the basics.  We forgot the time we longed for the “first kiss”, it was the most important event in our life.  I dare say it was the big “O” and the old steam train that makes so much noise in black & white movies.  If it was a small peck on the lips or a sloppy first French kiss, we felt it in our soul.  The first girl I remember kissing, smelled like bleach.  I still remember her, anytime I smell bleach.  However, I cannot remember her face, only her sweet kiss.  One minute.  Forever ingrained in my memory.

A kiss can also be a way of being erotic without having to “go all the way”, for someone with a disability this can really be a game-changer.  When our disability makes it difficult to have those “table toppling”, “wall smashing” and might I add dangerous, sex scenes we see in the movies, there is kissing.  Many, individuals use it as a form of prolonged foreplay, while others have reported actual orgasms from kissing.  Here are some great quotes I managed to find which help us redefine “the kiss”:
‘Twas not my lips you kissed
But my soul

~Judy Garland

“May I print a kiss on your lips?” I said,
And she nodded her full permission:
So we went to press and I rather guess
We printed a full edition.
~Joseph Lilientha

Kissing is like drinking salted water.  You drink, and your thirst increases.  ~Chinese Proverb

Her kisses left something to be desired… the rest of her.  ~Author Unknown
Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loathe to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met.
Keep them not in waiting yet;
Kisses kept are wasted.
~Edmund Vance Cooke

Amazing, what we have forgotten about the simple act of kissing.  The depth and complexity of kisses abound and we should try to find them.  We should close our eyes again and remember the first time, even if it smelled like bleach.  With that said I leave you with my own kiss poem, enjoy and happy smooching.
A kiss can this year be  a nicer find than gold,

As you place your lips on mine fireworks explode upon my soul.

I had forgotten how to kiss and thought of just one goal.

But finding my lost kiss was a wonder to behold.

Kiss me with your kisses and suck away my soul.

-Odeon Black