The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt
January 19th, 2011
Just finished reading The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt, original edition. I was only a few chapters in when I realized that I would be reading it over again, with pen and paper in hand, if not moving up to the revised edition with the same. I’m not looking for free love any time soon, but I do have a freer love than a lot of the people I know. I currently have two partners, my husband and my boyfriend, and for a couple years I had another boyfriend as well. I do a more poly-fidelity type thing, than free love. I establish solid relationships these days more than random hookups. So, what do I need with The Ethical Slut?
It is not a book just about sleeping around and getting it on with anyone you find attractive. It is a book about relationships of all types, and communication, and being sex positive, whether or not you’re actually having intercourse with someone else. It is about being comfortable with yourself, and your wants, needs and desires first. Then going out and talking to your partners about them. Then considering the possibility of other partners. And lastly, learning to live safely in the world you are creating.
Something I’ve posted about repeatedly is my shyness around sex and asking for what I want. This book addresses it directly. Talks about societal causes and gives ideas on how to work through your social programming to get what you want out of life. It is not just about intercourse, but about any of your wants that aren’t being met. Sex can have a lot of different connotations to a lot of different people. I’m kinky, sometimes I get better orgasms from an intense rope scene than I do from traditional intercourse. Is this sex for me? It can certainly be highly sexual.
Recently, a game was proposed in which points could be redeemed for activities, and lists would be required of said activities. The game did not commence, but the idea is still stuck in my head. Simply because it is an organized way of thinking about and asking for what I want. What with the convention this past weekend, I have not created said lists, but as I am currently couch-ridden, they will probably be created soon. Getting past my insecurities of “what if he doesn’t want to” or “what if he says no” is something I am still working on. But putting ideas out en masse for future consideration, seems easier than saying I want something right here and now. One step in the right direction anyway. With more to come.
The book also talks about communication, and the importance not just of communicating, but of setting aside time to do so. In poly life, time is a valuable commodity. And sometimes we hesitate to use it fighting, or having hard discussions. “I just want to relax.” “We can talk about it next time.” “It’s not really that important.” And then we spend the whole evening stewing about it and it is days before we see them again. They call it scheduling a fight, and I resisted this terminology at first, because I don’t like fighting. The reality is, however, that high emotions can turn into a fight, and if you set a time to discuss something, it gives a release valve for the emotions. It gets rid of the feeling that “he doesn’t even know anything is wrong” and replaces it with “okay, I just have to wait until X and then we’ll sit down and figure this out.” A much more useful thought to have, and it gives you both a set time frame to get clear and ready for the discussion.
Overall, a great book, with lots of good things to think about and discuss. One read through is definitely not enough.
Day Six – Weirdest Fantasy
January 6th, 2011
Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.
I had a lot of trouble with the words “weird” and “most interesting” while considering this question. Thought about a variety of angles and scenes and potential fantasies. Discarded some for not being all that weird after all. Discarded others for having been written about before. Wondered what would be “most” interesting of all the thoughts in my head. Then I remembered my Monday post. It seems these first few are building on each other.
My best friends and I used to look at each other randomly and pose the question “Jack or Spot?” In fact, a few weeks back, I got that in a text from one of them for no apparent reason. My answer was always Spot. Spot Conlon, head of the Brooklyn newsies, in Disney’s live action musical about the newsboys strike of 1899. Shorter than Jack, more wiry, but tougher and more feared than any other newsie in the city. And those eyes, clear and sharp.
So, my weirdest fantasy that still persists to this day? Being Spot Conlon’s girlfriend come submissive. I didn’t know the latter term when I was young, but all the fantasies hinted at that type of interaction. A look from him and I would immediately still, unable to move under his gaze. A pointed finger and I would stand where he directed. Any order, I would immediately follow. If I did something wrong, he’d put me over his knee right there on the docks in front of everyone. Spanking me by hand, with a belt or with his cane until I sobbed. As I grew up, the fantasies turned more sexual. He’d take me off the dock, to a private room in the back of a warehouse to put me over his knee, so he could toss me down and fuck me afterward. Even then, we tended to have an audience, a few newsies would follow to listen and make sure I was being punished.
Perhaps the weirdest part of the fantasy when I was younger, I’d incorporate Star Trek, the newsies either being a holodeck program, or a favor from Q, taking me back in time.
Lessons in Negotiation
December 30th, 2010
These last few weeks have provided many lessons in Negotiation. First as an observer and then as an active participant. I watched several new people learn their first lessons in trying to fence with him, and in trying to assist one of them, became part of the scene. Bear with me and I’ll tell you all about what I ended up agreeing to do. So, what have I learned?
No wishing for more wishes. This seems simple enough, most of us remember Robin Williams’ genie quoting this to Aladdin. But in the heat of the moment, when you don’t have any better ideas. A blank check, while dangerous, seems simple enough. You must, however, remember to stipulate, that it cannot be cashed in for more blank checks, otherwise, a single scene at his whim becomes many more.
Don’t forget your limits. Not that you might forget your limits such as they are, but always remember to include them in a negotiation. Whether it is telling a new partner what your limits are, or stipulating that the above blank check(s) cannot violate them. It is all well and good to push your limits when you want to, but make sure you want to.
Be specific. At all points of the negotiation, be clear and precise. What are you offering, what are you getting, what are the terms and the rules and the boundaries. “Test me!” might be a fun thing for an excited student to shout, but it behooves one to specify what they want to be tested on. “School girl outfit” can mean different things to different people. “Skirts” come in many different lengths and styles. “Tied together” sounds fun, but do you really want to leave the binding material up to his imagination? Stockings, hose, fishnets, knee-highs, socks all very important distinctions in how much leg is covered or uncovered.
Offer something of value. Different people value different things from different people. Some people value sex. Some people value service. Some people value suffering. Some value the passing of knowledge. Learn what it is that will be of value and find ways to offer it.
Be creative and then be even more creative. Don’t offer things you have already given or things he already has. Offer something new, offer something bigger, offer something more interesting. Start with new and interesting offers, and then push them one step further. And don’t be afraid to make them well rounded – paint the full picture, not just the center of it. Bootblacking is good, but bootblacking while naked and kneeling is better, and bootblacking while naked and kneeling followed by some boot worship is even more interesting.
Don’t let other people negotiate for you. Stay in control of your side of the negotiation. Keep your wits about you and keep your mouth moving. If you want to be happy with what is agreed to, stay actively engaged in the discussion. Stick up for yourself and stand your ground when you have to. You do not have to agree to everything they say, keep seeking compromises that work for both parties. Unless agreements to the contrary are already in place, you can always say no, and most times even then.
Be reasonable and trust the other people in the negotiation. If you have a real problem with something, explain it, trust that they care about you and will listen. (If you don’t trust them or they don’t care about you, well, that’s another entry entirely.) Then, negotiate to find a way to make it work for everyone. Try not to just say no, that is impossible. Look for solutions that benefit everyone. Most problems are only little bumps in the road.
Be flexible and open minded. Understand that everything is not going to go the way you want it to. Understand that your definitions may not be the same as his definitions. Accept that sometimes comfort zones are meant to be left behind, it is how you can grow. I am incredibly curious, sometimes I have to let the curiosity override the fear.
Relax and enjoy it. Negotiation is where you get to learn about the other person. You get to see how their mind works, what they like and don’t like, how they feel, what their state is. You get to know them, and get to share yourself with them. You are not going to get it all right, but you’re not going to get it all wrong,either. But if you’re both/all happy when it is over, then everyone wins. Keep talking until you’re happy.
So, I promised to let you know what I got myself into. A new friend was starting a negotiation with him, and I was offering some advice. When he was presented with that fact, he suggested that since I was trying to help out, perhaps I should join the negotiation. Her fate and mine became intertwined. We spent most of the rest of the night negotiating. When it was all said and done, we had quite the scene lined up:
Three of us, dressed as school girls (clothing was one of the largest parts of the negotiation) – Japanese, American and British, respectively (I hear there may be a chalkboard hung high up on the wall for sentence writing). We may not say no for the entire night (creativity will be flowing). The evening will start with bootblacking, and we will be available at any time for massage. At his leisure, he may put us in the dog cage (with a violet wand kit nearby), or bind us all together (quite possibly with saran wrap, followed by ice and then hot wax). And at some point during the evening, there will be a Japanese song and dance (whaddya mean I have to dance when I’m sober?) in front of an audience of undetermined size (our voluntary third musketeer is joyfully plotting choreography to the song chosen last night).
It shall be a Very interesting evening. I can hardly wait.
What are you thoughts on Negotiation? What traps have you fallen into?
Writing, Patience and Happiness
October 15th, 2010
I failed at the writing an extra post to make up for last week’s non-kinky post. I spend at least forty-five minutes every day, writing for him because I promised myself I would. Because I was having trouble communicating, and writing is the medium I feel most comfortable in, and I felt it would facilitate better communication over all. I think it does and I think it has, and so I keep my promise, to myself and to him, to write at least five hundred words every day. These writings are very personal, occasionally nonsensical, and include every day things and other people. Sometimes they are profound, sometimes they are flowery, and sometimes they are just as randomly off the wall as last week’s post on social networking. Some days I wish I could just get up in the morning and write all day, send him his words, send my other partners their own words, and write beautiful blog posts, and let the rest of the world just float by.
Complete Shibari: Land and Sky is quickly rising to be my most popular post. It only has thirty views and two posts to topple until it reaches number one. I really wish I’d done a far better job with that post. Maybe I’ll actually get the books during the holidays and work up a better review. It’s not terrible, especially as I’ve never written a book review in my life, but I feel it doesn’t do the works justice. I’m eagerly awaiting his third book(Stars) to be released, too.
So far this post isn’t any better than last week. I keep thinking if I just keep writing, it’ll get better, I’ll come up with something intelligent to say, some great topic to post on, something insightful at the very least. I was chatting with a friend of mine earlier, saying that “Jealousy, Neediness and all those other things you try to ignore” was probably not a coherent topic. Last week I was dealing with bits of jealousy popping up. But instead of dwelling on them and letting them rule me, I quickly recognized and squashed them. With logic and compersion. Jealousy is not something we can get rid of, it reminds us what is important, but controlling it instead of being controlled by it is the key.
This week, I’m dealing with neediness. I hate it when I feel needy. Of course, I need other people and need love and attention. Sometimes, though, I feel like the need consumes me and jumps up and down like a five year old shouting for attention. It doesn’t help that this is an incredibly inconvenient time for that to rear its head. Five year olds rarely care if the time is right or horribly, horribly wrong. So, logic and empathy to squash that for now. I have many ways to fill my needs, and patience will get me everything I need in plenty. As proof, I’ll end this post with a list of things from the last three weeks that made me happy:
Over the knee spankings
Oral sex wherever we happen to be
Sleeping in
Kneeling
Rope
Suspension
Sex
Simple goals
Achieving them
Boot blacking
Second chances
Plans
Acknowledgment
Service
Carrying and holding a drink in my open palm
Drumming with anything that comes to hand
The leatherman on my skin
Bruises
Seeing and helping with someone’s first suspension
Teaching and sharing the violet wands
Fantasies
Massage
Cuddling
Sleep
A phone call from far away
A latex skirt
A kiss on the forehead
Feeling protected
Latex panties
An unexpected spanking
A relaxing evening
A good discussion
Consensual Non-Consent
September 30th, 2010
I have had fantasies about someone hiding under my bed and jumping me or catching me coming naked out of the shower since I hit puberty. I don’t go for the full on beat the crap out of me type of fantasy that some people may enjoy. I prefer more mental than physical taking of control. Use of fear instead of violence. The threat to keep me still and compliant, rather than being beaten into submission. I’ve never been one for violence. Yes, I like pain, but for it’s own sake, not for taking of control. It is the mind where control truly lives. When I write or imagine such scenes, the assailant usually has a gun or a knife, some physical representation of potential violence, but they never use it.
The other day Lover and I were playing and he said he was going to force me, but when we got to the bedroom, he ordered my clothes off and I complied for no reason other than he said the word Strip. Then we played and had sex. The only consensual non-consent part of the whole thing were the nipple clamps. Later that night, I was thinking about the willingness taking the power from the scene. The idea of my pants being opened and shoved out of the way, my shirt being pulled up just enough for breast access, is far more a turn on than full nudity. It feels more non-consensual that way, feels more like there is resistance, feels more like being used.
Being used. Why is that a turn on? Why on earth would I want to be used?
It is part of the overarching fantasy of giving up all will and control to someone. Being an object, a tool, a toy for their use and pleasure. The added spike of someone taking that control makes it that much hotter of a fantasy. Sex, for me, is the most intimate act, and therefore, taken without consent, the biggest violation. Therefore, it only works with someone I love and trust, it has to be consensual non-consent to turn me on in reality. It’s a fine line to walk. How do you make non-consent hot when it is consensual?
Creating the scene in the mind. Talking as though it was real. Whispered threats and hints at pushing too far. Role playing it out, creating the roles and fully stepping into them. Allowing for resistance and the taking away of control. The element of surprise can be used as well. Having agreed to the scene, but not the time and place. Choosing an unexpected place, perhaps a place with just a bit of danger of being caught, to heighten everyone’s awareness during the scene. Doing things that are unexpected. Forcing actions that are allowed, but not particularly liked. Agreeing to continue the scene until the top is done, regardless of when the bottom is done unless there is dire need to end the scene early – allowing for emergency Red, but not for Yellow.
Facing My Fears
August 5th, 2010
Phobia – an irrational, intense and persistent fear. I have three. Two have been tested recently. The third, needles, I am still working towards. Sparklers were used in the most recent scene. A snake was used some weeks ago. I knew these fears were strong, but I didn’t know how much.
The Snake
We were moving flats in the backyard. A small garter snake was curled up under one and I quickly moved away.
What’s wrong?
I pointed at it and he picks it up, bringing it towards me. I circle in the opposite direction, keeping the distance between us. He gets to where I was and looks up. Arms crossed, heart pounding, I grimace back at him. The snake is running through his gloved hands and he starts towards me again. I try to be still, but I keep backing up, whimpering and twitching my eyes between him and the ground.
Come here.
I shake my head, harder than my body already is.
Come here.
I whimper and take a step, but only one. He steps forward and I back.
Stop.
Another step towards me and I tense my whole body to stay still. Another step and my foot slides back.
Stop or I will throw it on you.
I force my foot a step towards him. Eyes tight to the ground, filling with tears. Overflowing as he walks towards me. Sobbing by the time he is beside me. But I stay still. Then he takes it away. He puts it near the woodpile. I calm some – enough to move the last flat to the pile. He frees me and checks in. With the snake gone, I can breathe again and the terror melts away.
The Sparklers
Stripped, handcuffed and tossed to the ground. Ankles tied together. Lover is counting and spanking and fucking.
I know you know the box score.
I cannot stop the laughter.
I know you are keeping track. At least the third box.
The laughter continues.
I know you are know the answer. At least a good guess. I have these sparklers here.
The flick of a lighter and I twitch away.
No.
The lighter flicks again.
They’re old. Might not light.
I writhe, trying to throw him off me.
No!
Yes, unless you know the number of 3′s.
I laugh again, desperation, now. More flicking of the lighter. I whimper and squirm. Lover has mercy.
How about a deal? Plus or minus two if you agree to sleep in your straitjacket with my cock in your mouth.
It won’t help. The straitjacket is okay.
Yes or no?
It won’t help.
Alright, how about plus or minus four? You’re a good guesser. I’m sure you have some idea.
My answer hasn’t changed.
Then I’ll just have to light the sparklers. Here, hold it for me.
Lover puts it in my cuffed hand. I writhe and try to let go, breaking it with my other hand to get it away. He plants it in the carpet in front of me.
Look at it. I’m going to light it if you don’t give me an answer.
No.
Lover pulls my head up, and I look at the sparkler.
Don’t burn my carpet.
Laughter, not mine this time.
What’s your answer?
It hasn’t changed. The straitjacket is okay, but it doesn’t matter, I don’t know.
I’ll have to light it then.
No.
He picks it up and flicks the lighter, while I squirm beneath him. The flare of the sparkler lighting and I scream and cry, face in the carpet. Trying to force him off my back, but helpless.
The sparks are dropping on you. In your hair.
No, no, no, no, no.
Fizz of water and it’s out. Gasping for air and shaking beneath him.
So? What’s your answer?
It hasn’t changed. It doesn’t matter, I don’t know the number.
Another one then?
No!
Yes, or agree to the deal?
It doesn’t matter.
The flick of the lighter and the second is burning above me. Lower this time the sparks hitting my bare flesh. Hands brushing at the sparks. Sobbing into the carpet. Struggling to get away, to not get burned as he tells me where they are falling. Sizzle and it is out. Lover lets me sob for a little while, until I can breathe and speak again.
So, what’s your answer, or do I light another one. I have four more.
No. Sure. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.
Are you agreeing? Agreement needs to come with a number.
Sure. 60.
Oh, very good. Good girl. Very good girl. If you had guessed just a little higher…
Thank you, Sir.
Fears faced, but not diminished. The terror is still there, deeply there. I have faced them and sobbed my eyes out. I have faced them and been overwhelmed. I have faced them and surrendered. But facing them has not made them less.
Inspired by the Storm
July 15th, 2010
A flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. The storm broke and rain began pounding on the roof. She turned to him and grabbed his hand, the look in her eyes something between arousal and pleading. He smiled down at her and nodded. They stood together and rushed to the kitchen.
Standing in front of the sliding glass doors they stripped off their clothes. He shrugged out of his quickly while she removed her bra. His hands found her shirt and slid it up over her head. Together they pulled off her jeans and panties. He kissed her eagerly, one arm sliding around her waist as the other flung open the door.
The rain poured down as, giggling, they rushed out into the yard. Hands stroking each other’s now damp skin, they wrapped their arms around each other, mouths pressed tightly together.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
They tumbled to the ground, bodies slick and hungry for each other in the hot summer storm. They kissed and stroked and wrapped each other up. The cool drops matting hair against their heads doing nothing to stem their fire. He slid into her and she clung to him as they made love in the grass, with the lightning and thunder their music.
When they were done, they lay together, water running over their steaming bodies. Fingers trailing raindrops over fleshy curves. Happy to be together and to love each other. Grateful there were no neighbors to peer into the yard. This was their paradise with each other.
Hard Limit – Sex in Public
June 10th, 2010
My current hard limit around public sex is no intercourse with more than two other people present. I don’t do orgies. I don’t do penetrative play at parties. I don’t have sex with an audience. For me, this is about the intimacy of sex. Sexual intercourse is a private thing for me, it’s about a deep love and connection with my partner.
I play in public, at parties, at clubs, in dungeons. I get aroused, I get pushed into sub space, or pain space, I orgasm. And these scenes can be very much about connection and love. They can be very intimate, very personal.
Lately, I’ve been edging towards the line with him. Masturbation and oral while driving down the road, but that felt mostly private and it was a different kind of energy we were creating. Riding his boot in public while wearing a short skirt, with people around – a new edge for me, but not sex.
So, what’s the difference?
Sex, naked and completely vulnerable. Giving everything to each other, sharing everything. It has always involved a deeper level of trust for me. A deeper connection, that I don’t want to share with other people. I want to feel our energy, our connection, not that of other, unconnected people. I have trouble with playing at big parties where the energy of strangers is flowing everywhere, and people interrupt connections. It is even more important to me that sex, and the energy it creates with my partner, be kept private and personal.
What Turns You On?
April 15th, 2010
I often think of this question in terms of the physical. What can he DO to turn me on? This is often the easy answer, the safe answer. It involves the surface of my being. Often it involves involuntary physical reactions. Kissing, licking, sucking, touching, groping – these things are meant to turn us on. Spanking, pinching, biting, paddling, caning, whipping, squeezing, grabbing, holding, restraining – these things turn on a masochist, it is no secret.
But what about mentally,what about my fantasies, what do I think about to get turned on? This is more risky territory. These are things that aren’t straight forward, are more vulnerable and personal. Not that I think my fantasies are unique to me, if you can imagine it, you can find it on the internet, after all. But to offer my thoughts and my mind has always been riskier than offering my body. The hurt when my thoughts are rejected is far higher than when my physical desires are rejected.
So, what are my fantasies? What are my daydreams? What do I think about to get turned on?
School girl. Kidnap victim. Slave girl. Are my top three.
1)School girl. Typical short skirt, white panties, button up top. It always involves getting in trouble and being made to bend over a desk for a spanking or paddling. It then generally devolves into sex on the desk. Sometimes it begins by being caught having sex on school grounds. Sometimes it involves bad grades or incomplete assignments, and trying to trade favors for good grades.
2)Kidnap victim. Blindfold, duct tape, handcuffs, rope, being driven off in the back of a van. Stripped naked, threat of violence for noncompliance. Photos or video taken as blackmail. Forced to pose or perform sexual acts seemingly willingly for the camera.
3)Slave girl. Collar, shackles, little else. Taught to please and serve. Often involves being raised specifically for this purpose and and may start with meeting the one I was raised to serve, or being shown and tested to find a buyer. Occasionally, involves being taken prisoner and forced into slavery for a more rebellious and discipline oriented fantasy.
So, what turns you on?
Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby…
April 8th, 2010
Sex was never discussed in my house growing up. Mom never had “the talk” with me, I had it at school from a silly video. It was mentioned by her twice in my life. Once, when a friend of hers had been embarrassed when her 8 year old daughter told her not to have sex if she didn’t want more kids and described the act very poorly because I had misinformed her, being only 9 and just previous to the talk at school when she had asked Me about it. So Mom asked if I knew how it really worked now, and I said yes and that was that. The second time was when we were out buying flowers for my wedding and she wanted to know if I had any questions and to tell me the first time might not be great. I rolled my eyes and said Mom… in that tone most of us perfect as teenagers. My Dad never discussed sex when I was growing up, though as he’s gotten older he’s discussed a lack of sex due to the ineffectualness of Viagra… thanks, Dad.
I only dated one boy for one weekend in High School, and that was only a couple phone conversations, so I’d never even been kissed before I got to college. My first three boyfriends freshman year took me from kissing through oral sex at a not-too-fast pace. It was not until the summer after my sophomore year that I had sex for the first time. Subsequent first visit to OB/GYN for birth control was a godsend as far as period control. I am now nearing 30 and have had a total of 8 sexual partners, 9 if you count 3 seconds of penetration as a sexual partner, I generally don’t. Only 4 of which were/are continuous sexual relationships. I had a few STD tests a couple years ago at the request of a life insurance company and in the past couple weeks, my new doc ran a full panel for me, results still pending, but I’m not expecting any surprises. (That’s why they’re called surprises, eh?)
So that background is all well and good, but what am I really on about? One of my hard limits is sex in public. Public generally being defined as more than two other people(other than the one I’m having sex with) being present. I blush when talking about sex, avoid using sexual terms in public and even in private sometimes. I’ll swear like a sailor, but ask me to say cock or admit I’m thinking about oral and I’m suddenly shy and flustered. Sex, to me, is a private thing, but even more than that, it’s something I find it difficult to be forward about.
One, on the private matter of sex. It is a personal thing, a private thing. Sex, to me, is an expression of intimacy shared between two people, maybe three. It’s a special kind of energy and I don’t fancy the intrusion of other energy into the mix. The excitement of having sex somewhere inappropriate and public has its allure, but the thought of other people watching and the threat of being arrested most often kills it for me. That’s not to say I haven’t had sex in a public park at night, but only when those two factors have been reduced to almost nil.
He asked me to go without panties recently and it was a huge deal. Let my most private and intimate bits be exposed under my skirt? Proper girls just don’t do that(when the hell did I become proper again?). What if someone sees? What if someone grabs me randomly? What if I get pulled over? It took some very serious conversation for me to get past the fear and realize that I was in control of myself, my safety and my personal space. Not to mention, my friends would be around me to protect me should anything go wrong. It was a very freeing experience, and the edge of fear kept under control was wonderful.
Two, on not being sexually forward. Communication is key. I’ve learned, though my journey in kink, that I have to ask for what I want, be clear about what I want and to accept what I want without being ashamed or embarrassed by it. Why hasn’t this transferred to sex as well? I looked back at my posts, even my erotica, I only mention fucking once at the very end. I don’t write overt sex scenes very often and it is even rarer that I share those that I do. I could blame my parents, I could blame my sheltered early life, I could blame being an introvert and generally shy, I could blame a Puritan society. Excuses, excuses, excuses. These are excuses I have let run my sex life.
How do I stop that? How do I let go of fear and embarrassment? Why am I afraid? What am I afraid of? Rejection? Do I think that if I suggest sex or oral or say I’m thinking about your cock, he’s going to say “No, how could you? What kind of girl are you?” How ridiculous is that? Seriously, I can asked to be beat, set on fire, tied up and swung from the rafters, and yet sex, that pretty much everyone on the planet has, trips me up. How silly and neurotic is that? Talking about sex is my Boggart in the closet (yes, a Harry Potter reference). Laugh at the fear to make it go away.