Archives for category: games

As long-time readers of our blog know, our events are generally not sexual in any way. In fact, that’s sort of the point: we want to demonstrate that it’s no more sexual for a woman to relax with her shirt off on a warm day than it is for a man to do the same thing. You see men jogging bare-chested, or playing basketball, or tanning at the beach or reading in the park all summer long, and no one accuses them of being exhibitionists or doing something shameful or immoral. A man’s chest is just a chest, no more interesting or worthy of comment than his elbow or his ear. Our goal is for a woman’s chest to be treated the same way.

That said, many of us — most of us — do also enjoy sex. And sex is one thing (among many, many other things) that it’s fun to do naked. Is it surprising, then, that once in a while, especially when it gets chilly out and our events move indoors, we find ourselves enjoying our nudity sweetened with a touch of the erotic?

What has that meant in the past? Once we were joined by alums of Betty Dodson’s famous Bodysex instructional group, which has been helping women discover their bodies and achieve orgasm since the 1970s. They shared a practice they call “erotic recess,” which is basically group masturbation, and we have to say, it was pretty great. Another time, we took over a spa in midtown for an evening and lay around in the relaxation room telling a very satisfying, very dirty story that we all collaborated on — sort of a group fantasy, unfolded by everyone, and having learned our lesson from the Bodysex crew, we had vibrators on hand for anyone who wanted to indulge.

That event was so popular that we decided to hold another erotic storytelling event this past October, only bigger and better. Instead of just $15 CVS vibrators, we got these imported beauties:

And instead of a little spa room we took over the penthouse suite in a fancy hotel, complete with its own private terrace,

We stocked it with macarons and fresh berries and Writers’ Tears whiskey,

and we lit candles,

and then we turned down the lights and all sat around in a circle and started telling each other about our fantasies. Because we wanted to come up with a story that would excite everyone, you see. So we could do our storytelling again.

Well, that was the plan. But you know what Robbie Burns said about plans — that the best-laid ones gang aft a-gley, and if you’re wondering what ganging a-gley might be like, well, we used to wonder too. Not anymore. We have an idea what he meant now.

Not a single story got told that night. Not with words, anyway.

And at some point pretty early on, we put the camera down too. Some things are private. But we also believe it’s important and healthy to be open about topics like this, so let’s not draw a gauzy curtain over it and leave you wondering what happened. What happened was one of the most positive and pleasurable experiences any of us has had: ten people of good will and kindness and enthusiastic consent deciding to explore their own bodies and each other’s, with love and without judgment, shame, or embarrassment. But maybe that’s still too much of a gauzy curtain. What happened was, we had sex, in pairs and triads and quintuples and whatever you call a pile of nine people. For a few people there it may have been their first lesbian experience; for pretty much everyone it was their first orgy. And so different from the cliched sort of sex party you read about, or that some of us have gone to. Without men there, for one thing, no one felt the burden of the male gaze or the sense that we were performing for someone else’s pleasure rather than our own. (We did have one solitary male in the group, but that’s very different from a room full of men.) And in the manner of the very best all-female events, everyone was supportive and thoughtful and collaborative. No one yucked anyone else’s yum. Orgasms cascaded from body to body like St. Elmo’s fire. It was a beautiful demonstration of what the female body is capable of and how good people can be to each other if only they want to be.

After it ended, we were all a little giddy and breathless. We took a little break to get our heads together again.

And then we went out into the night, hugging our secret close to our chests. We’d done this wonderful thing. But who could we ever tell?

Well, now we’ve told you. And we hope you’re open-minded enough to see it for what it was: a little moment of magic that made us very happy. Nudity does not equal sex. But sex is nothing to be ashamed of either, and we’re not at all sorry to have had this experience. Every girl should have the chance to set her inhibitions aside for a night and just enjoy what her body can do.

We’ll return to our usual sorts of events soon enough. But we’ll never forget this one. And maybe, once or twice each year, we’ll do it again.

Freedom comes in many flavors. It’s good to taste them all.

IMG_9106Are we better known for reading traditional words-on-paper books than comic books and graphic novels? Probably. But since our group’s founding we’ve always had some comics in the mix too, and our comics-loving members are passionate indeed on the subject. So it’s maybe a bit surprising that until now we’ve never taken the time to visit Comic Con.

UPG-Comic Con_10062017_Gary Jean-Juste1 (15)Except for one thing — in New York, Comic Con comes in October, and October is usually too cold for outdoor toplessness. But not this year! This year it was 83 degrees on the con’s opening day, so several of us made our way to the lawn nearest to the convention center to get into our best cosplay gear.

IMG_8541IMG_8695The convention center itself has rules against toplessness, and we didn’t especially feel like fighting them (even though we would’ve been in the right), but there’s certainly nothing to stop a half dozen women dressed as superheroes, unicorns, anime characters, or some unholy combination of all three from leaving their tops off to better enjoy the breeze off the Hudson River.

IMG_8817IMG_8791IMG_8961One of our cosplayers drew her inspiration from Dark Phoenix…

IMG_9025FFP-Comic Con_10062017_Gary Jean-Juste1 (5)SKB-Comic Con_10062017_Gary Jean-Juste1 (1)…while others drew theirs from realms unknown.

IMG_8655(There was a brief moment when one of us was almost going to go for a topless rendition of Joy from Pixar’s¬†Inside Out, but that somehow felt wrong and modifications were made.)

IMG_8864There is something doubly liberating about being half naked and half costumed — it’s twice the chance to show you’re not afraid or ashamed of who you are.

IMG_8763Now we’re wondering whether it’ll be this warm, still, when Halloween rolls around?

Maybe. Maybe. We’re thinking about what we might do. And if you think you might enjoy being part of it…? Drop us a note: toplesspulpfiction@gmail.com. All women are welcome, whether you’re already comfortable topless in the great outdoors or you’re nervous about your first time.

Remember: you can always wear a mask. ūüôā

IMG_9034BBM-Comic Con_10062017_Gary Jean-Juste2 (4)[NOTE: Special thanks to photographer Gary Jean-Juste for some of these terrific pictures!]

 

IMG_6430We’re always hunting for interesting, cool things to do around NYC, and when someone told us about Escape the Room we totally had to try it. Fortunately, they were happy to have us come by and play naked in their space.

IMG_6453What¬†is¬†Escape the Room? It’s this cool puzzle game where you and half a dozen¬†other people (your friends or total strangers) get locked in a room full of puzzles, and you have to solve all the puzzles in order to find a key and get out of the room in less than 60 minutes.

DIMG_5146We had enough people to fill two rooms, so half of us did a Victorian/Sherlock Holmes-themed room…

IMG_6452…while the other half did an espionage/James Bond-themed room. Here’s us as secret agents:

DIMG_5299The Victorians managed to get out well before the hour wound down — not quite record time, but a good enough showing to land us on the Wall of Fame.

IMG_6472The secret agents got right down to the final puzzle…but in the end time ran out.

IMG_6478But it’s okay. Fun was had by all. And how often do you get to unlock secret doors and string mysterious¬†clues together and race against the clock, all while hanging out naked with friends?

Not often enough, is the answer.

We’re thrilled to have gone and can’t wait to go back.

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IMG_6608We’ve Got Balls

Playing With Someone’s Balls

Balls, Deep

The punny titles just write themselves, don’t they? And while we bow to no one in our capacity for innuendo and juvenile humor, this time we’ll let it go.

What’s the story behind these rather unusual pictures? Simple. We heard that the downtown ad agency Pearlfisher¬†had¬†installed a giant ball pit in its reception area and invited members of the public to come and enjoy themselves in it. It’s meant as some sort of paean to childishness and playfulness and free-spiritedness, three things we like to like to think we embody. So we called them up and asked if perhaps they’d let us commandeer the space¬†some afternoon¬†and disport ourselves like the overgrown children we¬†are. They said yes, and a subway ride later it was us and 80,000 white plastic balls¬†in a battle royal.

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The experience was exhilarating, though perhaps more physically taxing than we expected. (Ever sink beneath a truckload of plastic spheres and find yourself unable to get up again? Fortunately some of our members are in peak physical condition and could fish the rest of us out.)

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There were selfies to take and ball fights to have…

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…juggling to practice and pretend spa treatments to enact…

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…swimming metaphors to explore and Chuck E. Cheese memories to blissfully expunge.

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No, we didn’t read any books in there; we didn’t even discuss any. But by god, we had fun. Hats off (bras, too)¬†to the cool, supportive¬†staffers who let us come and were super-nice to us while we were there. To the handful of ad execs in the back trying to get some actual work done while we frolicked noisily in their entrance after hours, our apologies. But tell the world it’s okay to come over and play with your balls, you’ve got to expect some people to take you up on it.

Ah, smutty puns, we can’t resist you after all!

Perhaps for our next outing we’ll have to go to the Jewelry District and try on some pearl necklaces.

In the meantime: Balls.

Enjoy ’em. We did.

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IMG_9120For several years now, we’ve talked about visiting Manhattan’s Museum of Sex, but somehow it never happened, mostly because the folks who ran the place didn’t answer our tweets and emails. But a few weeks back we finally resorted to the old-fashioned approach and showed up in person to demonstrate how well-behaved and urbane we are. It must’ve worked, since they allowed us to come as a group to experience their FUNLAND¬†exhibit, which puts a sexual spin on carnival attractions.

The thing kicks off with a caped barker ushering you into a hall of mirrors, a tricky, pitch-black area of dead ends and (consequently) fleshy collisions among participants.

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Then on to a booth where you toss balls to make mechanical penises race across a field, then a climbing wall where the hand- and footholds are sculpted body parts.

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But the centerpiece (and the reason we really wanted to come) is a bouncy castle made of giant inflated breasts. Points to the designers for diversity: the place has a variety of shades and colors. But it’s the size of the things that really impresses — you instantly feel dwarfed, returned to infancy or, to be more bookish about it, like Gulliver in¬†Gulliver’s Travels, straddling the¬†Brobdingnagian girls’¬†gargantuan nipples. (What, you don’t remember that scene from the cartoon version? It’s in the book, trust us.)

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We also checked out an odd exhibit of gyrating mechanical puppets and one exploring the life of porn superstar Linda Lovelace (of Deep Throat fame, and sure enough you enter to a wall-sized projection of LL deep-throating some fortunate fellow).

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Was it worth a visit? Oh, yes — it’s not every day that you get to bounce like a little kid again, or hang from a wall-mounted cock, or watch an act of fellatio blown (you’ll pardon the expression) up to King Kong proportions.

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It ain’t the Metropolitan. But on a rain-swept autumn afternoon, there are worse ways to kill an afternoon. And a bouncy castle made of giant bare breasts has to be one place in the city where no one could possibly complain about our ordinary¬†person-sized ones going uncovered.

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