Just Say No to Love

By Katharine Miller

Love. I want to talk about this certain four-letter word. A word that is potentially dangerous and can have serious repercussions upon using it. Some of you may have heard about it or seen it on television. Some of your parents may have been in love. You may have already been in love yourself.

Now television shows and movies want us to believe love is groovy, swell, “da bomb.” Hollywood has glamorized it for us. Love is beautiful, love is grand, love can make the world go ’round. Michael Bolton says that love is a wonderful thing and can make you smile through the pouring rain. But who’s going to trust a man who has bad hair?

Tune out the hype and listen up. Love is a full-time addiction. Oh, it starts out small with a seemingly harmless crush. But soon, you’re hooked and looking for something stronger. You’re enamored, lustful, and filled with desire, leading up to the hardest drug of all: l’amour. And boy, can it be dangerous. Look at Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde, or any couple on the Jerry Springer show.

Love can happen at any time, in any place, but it most commonly occurs in the spring. Mr. or Ms. Wonderful enters your life and it begins. You discover that you enjoy the same type of music and motion pictures. You find your special Celine Dion song on the jukebox at the local diner. Things are going great and there is a great deal of swooning and baby talk. But soon, he needs more. She needs a commitment. You’re lost in a moment and it slips out. “I love you.” And it’s such a rush to say it. You say it again followed by empty promises of forever. You believe in it, like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus or that the Cubs will win the World Series.

You’ll find yourself latched onto a person and losing interest in other things, like eating, bathing or working. Sure, it’s great at first, like any high. But soon you find yourself in a loop of questions. “Where is he? What’s she doing? Who’s he with? Will he call me today? What will we do tonight? Does she love me as much as I love her? Will he always love me? Will I get laid?” This is often followed by unexplainable rashes, nausea, and a host of very annoyed friends.

It causes you to do things you wouldn’t ordinarily do, like serenade a woman outside her apartment building on a moonlit night, leave the toilet seat down, or rummage through bargain basements searching for Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits.

Love has been the leading cause of marriages, making out in parked cars, suicides, and bad poetry by 13 year-old girls. But even armed with the knowledge of the side effects, people still insist upon falling in love. And no rehab clinic or 12-step program can cure it. So my mission, and I do choose to accept it, is to prevent love from spreading further and causing even more damage.

Therefore, I propose the “Just Say No to Love” campaign. Make the youngsters aware of love and its harmful side effects, frightening pitfalls, and dangers. Together, we can save some lives and restore some semblance of sanity to the world. If you or someone you know has the following symptoms: loss of appetite, sleeplessness, glazed-over eyes, aloofness, and a fondness for Michael Bolton music, they may be in love. Act quickly, get help, and just say no.

Katharine Miller has been published on several websites including Relationship101.com, Hotspots.com, and CurableRomantic.com

Erotic Play: Biting for Love

By Lauri Jean Crowe

Teeth gnash. Teeth bite. Teeth mash. Teeth can titillate. The average mature adult has thirty-two of these shining enamel pearls in their moist mouths. I have twenty-four – one for every hour of the day. You see, my jaw just wasn’t big enough to hold them all so I had eight removed as a child. As an adult I value the twenty-four I have; they allow me to masticate and take in all the pleasures of eating, tasting, chewing, and sex. Yes, sex.

There is something utterly primal about being bitten. If it’s a dog or a wolf it can be frightening, terrifying. Even more so when it is a human being with all of societies taboos against cannibalism. When you think of teeth you think of fangs; teeth equal vampires, monsters, nightmares, wild beasts. Teeth are the things which make you close the doors and windows tight at night. But what about the door to the bedroom? What if that sheep in wolf’s clothing suddenly takes a nip at your nipple? Erotic biting can bring all those terrors into your mind and turn them into unimaginable pleasures. That is, unless you’ve already been bitten. Then you can not only imagine, but deliciously recall those moments of intense stimulation.

I remember the first time I was bitten. It was in the early days of my blooming sexuality. I was nineteen and a lover leaned in and bit my nipple at the point of orgasm. It was intense. My first thought was outrage, my next was “ahhhhhhh”, that followed with “I think I’d like more of that”. Unfortunately that lover left almost as quickly as the sensation of that first bite and it wasn’t until I met my husband that biting was again a factor of lovemaking.

He asked permission. I acquiesced. It was an exploration into a realm of intense erotic stimulation I didn’t even know existed except for that one quick bite years prior. He began at the nape of my neck, a quick nip followed by a tongue trailing down my vertebra. Then another bite just along the center of the spine. Then another, down a bit further, always followed by that tongue leading the way to the next delicious bite. When he got to the small of my back, I had climaxed twice already without any form of penetration. That first time had me screaming for more, and screaming with intense pleasure. He went slowly, gently, with soft gentle nips and twists of the tongue.

Since then, much of my body has been privy to his bite. There’s no region I have barred, but there is always a safety net. There is always a point where I can say no. It has been rare that I have wanted to. Intense stimulation is just that, and those of us who enjoy it know that biting can be a passionate discourse into erotica. For those who are just beginning the journey into intense stimulation and erotic biting, you should be aware that certain guidelines need to be set:

1. Have a safety word. Make this word something that you wouldn’t  normally say during sex. Choose the latin name of a flower (gypsophalia) or an everyday object (stove). If the biting becomes more pain that pleasure, or simply too intense you have a safeguard, can scream the word and the biting stops then and there.

2. Know your partner well. Make sure he or she will abide by the safety word. If not, you can be in danger of physical harm. Erotic biting is not something to engage in with a random you picked up at the bar. It entails trust and trust can only be garnered in a more intimate, regular relationship.

3. Go slow. Biting can be dangerous. You should not have open wounds after a session of this form of erotic play, however you may have slight red discolorations which will fade or even bruises depending on how ardent your bitemate is.

4. Recognize that biters usually don’t like to be bitten. Biting back can be a complete buzz kill. Biting is more often than not about control, it is not out and out combat with the teeth.

5. Have a first aid kit on hand with some triple antibiotic and Band Aids. In case your lover gets a bit too vicious, or accidentally breaks the skin in the midst of sexual fervor you should immediately wash the area, apply triple antibiotic and a bandage so that infection doesn’t set it. A human bite can be just as, or even more deadly as one from an animal such as a dog.

On an end note, erotic biting may seem like a safe sex alternative, however the mouth harbors many germs. If you engage in genital biting you run the same risks of STD and HIV infection as if you were penetrated. The mouth often has small tears in the gums or tongue which can easily transmit not only bacteria, but blood, regardless of if you are the recipient of a wound from erotic biting. Be wary, be careful and if you do have your lover bite your clitoris or penis or other sensitive areas such as the nipples be sure that you know your lover’s communicable status which is always a good idea in any time of relationship but especially in those of intense stimulation where control is often a factor. It may be your lovers idea to control the spread of his own disease while getting off on biting you. Dangers exist in any sexual situation. Take precautions. That said, teeth gnash. Teeth bite. Teeth mash. Teeth can titillate. Let them!

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Love Letter

By Lauri Jean Crowe

March 3, 1997

Dearest Timothy:

I’ve spent the last hour fielding calls from factory workers in ditches, seeing how thin I can slice a granny smith apple with my dragon egg blade, wondering why more people don’t make use of the cyanide in apple seeds.

Meanwhile, renditions of Beethoven float through the dust clotted air, ice forms on the window screens.

There has been a dead mouse for well beyond weeks across the street from where I work. Each evening I pass it as the sun begins to set, have watched the progression of its slow, torturous decay. Tortuous because I know others are watching it as well. You see, in these weeks it has not moved. It’s frail boned body has remained fixed to the concrete walk, arms and legs curled, but for one right forepaw just above it’s tiny head.

It died on its right side.

When I first saw it, must have been a fresh kill, red blood still flowing from intestines that ran out ahead of its stomache. The whiskers still perked toward the sky. In these weeks I’ve watched it as sun dries, erodes its flesh. As white bones begin poking out of flattened neck and belly. As the cheeks became sunken until teeth poked through the hollow walls and as the rain puffed it out lifelike again.

These city streets see busy feet, in heels, business shoes, the sneakers of small children. They beat on the concrete in a cavalcade of sound around the quaking dead flesh of the mouse, though none step upon it.

They simply watch.

Before that hour spent with knives, seeds of death and ditches, I went out to my car. The mouse was still there, silent, eyes long fried open and sightless. Beneath two inches of ice. I thought of wooly mammoths and you.

Love,

Lauri Jean

Although part of this is fictive, it was a letter I originally wrote to the man who is now my husband. Love letters come in all forms.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.