RAW FOOD RAW SEX

Raw foodists are a strange bunch. They're always thin, for starters. Well, ok, some are thinner than others, depending on their 'percentage' of raw to cooked, but I can guarantee you'll never find an overweight raw foodist. In fact, some are positively emaciated and look like you could knock them over with a feather (dangerous in tantric circles, where feathers are often found in abundance). But maybe the really thin ones are the Raw Food Anorexics......? I ponder this question regularly as I happen to live in a town where there's a high number of raw foodists. You'll find them in places like Totnes, Ashland and Glastonbury, where devotional groups gather in hushed reverie in the sprouting beans section of local health food shops, discussing digestible minerals, preservable enzymes and such like. I can guarantee you won't find one in Hemel Hempstead (but don't get me started on Hemel Hempstead.......)
Please don't think I'm dissing the RFs! Being a woman who begrudges spending time in the kitchen, especially trying to find room in her fridge for the weekly shopping and who randomly shoves high calorie, sugar-laden treats into her mouth in moments of stress, I have infinite respect for people who are willing to spend so much of their days in superconscious awareness around food - what they're eating, how they prepare it and where they buy it from. Wow! The thought that people can actually spend time on the phone talking about food fills me with amazement when there are so many more exciting topics to cover, like orgasms or nipple clamps.......
'Why is she telling me about raw foodists?' you're asking yourself. It's important information which leads to a sexy story of lustful, orgiastic fun which 'really, really happened in true life'. This is the kind of thing my youngest son would have said when he was four and full of enthusiasm for anything that was occuring whatsoever. I love small kids for that. They seem to just gobble up life without preference, expressing themselves with gay abandon, with no thought for what the neighbours might think.....It's very healthy spending time with toddlers who haven't yet learned how to monitor their self-epression. I pride myself on sometimes acting exactly like a four year old.
I've digressed, so back to the story - the Raw Food Blindfold Naked Party which I'm going to tell you about in great detail, took place last month, in a suburban, 30's detached house in a quiet corner of commuter-belt England, the location making it all the more surreal and all the more entertaining to relate.
The one prerequisite for being invited to this experimental food party was that you had to have previously completed a residential tantra course. (See www.tantralink.com if you wish to find such courses after reading this story.....) This was obviously intended to a) guarantee a high chance the guests would get naked and b) keep the riff raff out.
I didn't bother with my usual pre-party drama of pulling every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe, wailing to my ever-patient boyfriend, 'I've got nothing to wear!' as obviously it didn't matter, considering we would more than likely be naked by the time the food was served........
Up the quiet, unassuming, provincial road we trotted, bottled mineral water in hand. Alcohol was forbidden (as is often the case at tantric parties, guests generally preferring conscious bottom-pinching as opposed to unconscious groping) as it would 'detract from the profound effects of the refined food combining system'. These were strict instructions from the chef. 'Chef' is a term that's used loosely here, as raw food chefs tend to sprout, soak, liquidise, massage (yes massage!) their food rather than (heinous crime) fry, boil or oven bake it. Fair enough about the alcohol I thought, if he was going to spend a week before sprouting, soaking and blending for us. Apparently we were going to 'get high' from this food. One of the reasons I guess that there were ten eager couples about to descend upon this leafy suburb for a culinary knees-up, or rather forks-up.
The chef (I'll call him Francois for the purpose of this story, although in actuality he's a nice Jewish boy from North London) was in full flow upon our arrival, waxing lyrical about the aphrodisiac qualities of uncooked cacao and warning of the damage you do to a beetroot by cooking it. Surrounding him, and generally getting in the way was a rapt audience, watching him wring the liquid out of cucumbers, whilst instructing his gorgeous (thin) blonde girlfriend to painstakingly slice long strings of spaghetti-shaped courgettes for a raw broccoli soup. Francois is a passionate man, who gives a heart-felt discourse while plunging his hands into dubious looking mixtures of godknowswhat, causing a combination of laughter and awe amongst the fascinated audience. He needs his own TV show! Naked Chef move over. Here comes Tantric Chef.......
There's no bottom pinching occuring yet, as the women are too intrigued by this ornate meal being conjured up out of raw ingredients before their eyes, and the men are too hungry.
Finally, the food is ready, the feast laid out and a sight to behold. We've never seen such vibrant colours on a dining table in our lives, and many photos are taken, accompanied by the sounds of men mumbling 'Come on, I'm starving'.
We take our plates and blindfolds through to the living room which has been filled, wall to wall with mattresses and cushions. Indian music is playing softly and anticipation fills the air as the couples choose their spots. Partner A is blindfolded and reclines gracefully whilst being spoon fed. There's a moment where I'm reminded of feeding my children when they were small - images of highchairs, bibs and food being thrown on the floor, but this is not an erotic picture, so I banish those memories quickly and conjure up more exotic images of Persian princes being fed by harem girls in tents draped with embroidered fabric.........
It seems we're up the raunchy end of the room, because after three spoonfuls we, and our three neighbouring couples have removed all traces of clothing. I wish someone had taped the sounds emanating from various mattresses - 'Mmmms....' and 'Aaaaahhhhs'......and 'MYGOD'......and 'JESUS' (why does he always show up in moments of passion?)
Whenever I took my blindfold off I would notice it wasn't only forks being used...... it was impressive and creative! Fingers, penises, breasts.....goodness! the guests were creating a whole new genre of feeding utensils. If blindfold dinner parties catch on we could put Viners out of business!
If only I could find the words to describe the taste of the food. Every bite was a new continent, a new language, a new lover. Certainly a lot of the dishes didn't taste like they were raw. The textures were exquisite. There was liquidy, chewy, crunchy.....see, words just don't do it! But you could truly understand what he'd meant when he told us it was aphrodisiac food. All the senses were waking up. Bits of me I didn't even know I had were waking up! It was sensual, raunchy, inspired. Two couples disappeared between main course and dessert. You could hear from the sounds drifting down the stairway that they'd found nirvana on the first floor.
At one point I was chowing down on the most incredible concoction of sweet and savoury and felt my nipple being sucked. It must have been a neighbour because I could quite clearly tell where my boyfriend's bits were. I can't describe how perfectly natural it felt to be enjoying food in this way. The dessert was awesome. Most of it was spread over naked bodies and licked off. You can imagine how dirty the sheets were by this point. No one cared. We didn't care about anything. Just sharing food with a blindfolded partner and a few friends had led to a sartori of a kind. We were completely in the NOW. No desire..........no past........no future........transcendental...........NO MIND..........heaven on earth.........aaaaaahhhhh.......... You get the picture? Do a tantra course and I'll invite you next time :-)