The Truth About the Most Electric Sex of My Life

It started with a bathhouse bench, a married man, and a phone call to his wife.

I’m sitting with (let’s call him) John, sweating on a tiled bench, fresh out of the hottest room at the Russian and Turkish Baths in NYC.

The OneTaste Mastery workshop had ended that evening, and a group of us have gone to the baths to decompress. He assisted at the event and is flying home to the West Coast the next day.

I can feel John’s attraction by the way he keeps looking at me, appraising what he sees. My body lights up in response, every nerve ending on high alert.

Though he’s handsome in a wholesome way, he’s not my typical “type.” That said, I’ve learned to trust my body’s yes over my eyes.

I ask if he’d like to come back to the OM house where I live (a communal apartment for Orgasmic Meditation practitioners that I wrote about in this essay) to have a make-out.

In our community, a “make-out” is a catchall term that covers anything from kissing to penetrative sex.

He says, “Yes… and I’m married. My wife and I have a rule about make-outs.”

“What is it?”

“Whoever I’m going to make out with has to talk to her on the phone first. She has veto power. We’re starting to open up our relationship and have had this rule in place for two months. No one’s had the guts to call her yet.”

I look him in the eyes. “I’ll call her. No problem. Let’s go.”