This traditional dating convention kills great sex!

romantic-dinnerWhy one of the most conventional social dating customs that kills great sex:

You’ve all done it. That ‘oh so traditional’ social dating convention that is supposed to lead setting the mood.

Thinking you’re following the perfect script.

Taking your date out to a delicious sushi dinner, throw back a few sakes and split a green tea ice cream, or that delicious steak dinner with two martinis and then catching an Uber home in hopes of a wild romp.

Ufff, how unfortunate.

Despite the common social myth, taking your date out for a romantic dinner often leads to a subpar experience in the bedroom. Great food and alcohol  = bad sex. Here’s what happens  – the belly is full and your libido goes almost exclusively towards digesting. Your inner fire that could be devoted exclusively to your lover is now in a relationship with your supper. Granted, you might have loosened up with a few drinks and flexed your flirting skills, but you also dulled your sensual perceptions and diluted your ability to feel and be embodied. Your date probably had this experience as well and is currently trying suck in their belly from two many California rolls.

If you need to loosen up before sex, trying synchronized breathing, eye gazing or walking in nature together.

If you’re worried about being hungry, or run low blood sugar, why not try a finger food feast where you have to feed your beloved each bite. I guarantee you’ll eat fewer mango slices from your partner’s lips because you will most likely be focused on your partner’s lips and the pleasure in your body.

Why not give big dinners before sex a rest or savor in the joys of afternoon delights.

“Pleasure to the point of insanity”

Cosmic Lovers“I’ve wanted to feel pleasure to the point of insanity. They call it getting high, because it’s wanting to know that higher level, that godlike level. You want to touch the heavens, you want to feel glory and euphoria, but the trick is it takes work. You can’t buy it, you can’t get it on a street corner, you can’t steal it or inject it or shove it up your ass, you have to earn it.”
― Anthony KiedisScar Tissue

“My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh…”

‘He’s equal with the Gods, that man’ by Sappho


The True Lovers by Ericka Herazo

The True Lovers by Ericka Herazo

He’s equal with the Gods, that man

Who sits across from you,

Face to face, close enough, to sip

Your voice’s sweetness,


And what excites my mind,

Your laughter, glittering. So,

When I see you, for a moment,

My voice goes,


My tongue freezes. Fire,

Delicate fire, in the flesh.

Blind, stunned, the sound

Of thunder, in my ears.


Shivering with sweat, cold

Tremors over the skin,

I turn the colour of dead grass,

And I’m an inch from dying.

“Erotic Artist”

Nude Woman Artist“Erotic Artist” by Isadora

I am an erotic artist.

I sculpt sensual energy.

I am a Dakini Priestess of the sexual second coming.

Lost, directionless, dreamless

Wanting, aching, yearning,

Lay your body before me

And let’s unbuckle this fetishized binding

To expose the perfect taut stretched canvas

Incasing the sensory appetite of your soul


Imprisoned from your ecstasy?

Undress your swaddled illusion

And demure rejections of the lust hidden

In your energetic undergarments.


I guide those blinded by their own light

I awaken souls and open them to their authentic divine selves.


I am a painter of pleasure.

The brushes of my fingertips

Create gliding strokes of divine love.

I mix the energetic colors

Of the aura and brush them over the body

To create a divine masterpiece.


I am a madam of sculpture.

I chisel away blocks of energy

And polish streamline curves of

Free flowing orgasmic bliss.


I am a maiden of metalwork.

I craft the copper keys to the lock

That confines your erotic potential

And melt the metallic alloys keeping you from the divine


I am a black widowed weaver.

I link the silk threads of passion

Creating a web to catch the flies

That fuel your fire.


I am an erotic artist.

I paint, I sculpt, I chisel, I weave

The swirling energy of the source.

I am the brush, the chisel, the torch and the loom

I am the artist of Eros

Lay your body before me

And let’s make a masterpiece.

New Orleans, you tawdry lover…

Bourbon St. PiningNew Orleans, you tawdry lover… I’ll be seeing you on Monday. It’s been far too long. Your midnight jazz and bourboned streets call to the sweet sultry parts of my soul. My lounging lady of luxury longs for the swirls and mysteries of a city that enfolds me in her deep bosom like a madam embracing a new convert to the french quarter’s red lights. Dance with my nighttime desire and undress me softly with your southern seduction. It’s going to be a gorgeous week in your arms.

Sensual Blessings,